#the pink lips and the strands of hair falling his face??

[outerb4nks]

╔═══*.·:·.☽✧ BED CHEM ✧☾.·:·.*═══╗

MDNI: 18+

contains: oral f receiving, p in v, choking, slapping, biting, unprotected sex (wrap it up!)

(a/n: this is my first ever post! i’m gonna be writing maybe twice or once a week?)

You and Rafe met locally at a cafe. His sweet smile captured your eye, his toned muscles nearly tearing off the tight white t-shirt he wore. He glanced at you, his eyes scanning your little pink sheer dress. And that’s when it all began.

Rafe brought you home that same day to the Cameron household, his hand in your delicate one, as he led you straight to his room. To your surprise, no one else was home at the time. “You okay?” Rafe asks, looking over at you.

“Never better.” You say, smiling as your gaze met his. You were a nervous wreck, to be fair you’ve never seen a place like his before. As you stepped into his room, you saw that it was a calm atmosphere. Black sheets covered the king sized bed in the middle of the room, a desk on the right side facing a window with papers scattered over it, a dresser standing beside it.

Rafe took your hand into him, guiding you to his bed and sitting you down on its edge. He then drops to his knees, his head tilting slightly as he smiles. “Have you ever done this before?” He asks you, and you shake your head no in response to it. “I’ve only done the typical things you see in those cheesy bullshit movies.” You laugh, watching as he slowly begins to kiss up your leg; you gasp quietly. He reaches for your panties, giving you a quick look, asking if it is okay to remove them.

Once you nod yes in response, his hunger takes over.

He quickly removes the soft material, his arms hooking under your knees, pulling you closer to himself without hesitation, his tongue colliding with your folds. You gasp, slightly moving your legs when his tongue then hits your clit.

You moan, "Rafe.." He smirks against your skin, pulling your legs slightly further apart. You began squirming when he then flicked his tongue on your sensitive bud. Your hands tangle in his hair, grabbing and pulling every strand. He groans in response, sending shivers down your body.

"Rafe, Rafe, m'gonna.." You jolt when his hand slaps against your thigh, telling you to release. Your body feels in utter bliss when your first orgasm hits. Rafe sits up, wiping his mouth as he tilts his head at you. "You think I'm done yet?" He asks, your eyes widening to his words.

He then pulls his belt off, grabs your hands, and ties them together with the leather material, laying them above your head as his hands trail down the sides of your body.

"So fucking beautiful." He states, sliding his jeans and white boxers down. You have seen his dick before, but every time it surprises you; nine inches and girthy as can be, leaking with pre-cum. You smile as he pulls your legs around his waist, sliding between your folds. You lean your head back, biting your lip.

"Oh fuck, you're tight. I'm not going to fucking last, Y/N." Rafe says, groaning as he drops your waist, moving in and out of you at a steady pace, leaning down, beginning to whimper against the skin of your neck. Your hands grab his shoulders, your nails digging into his soft skin. In response, he gently bites into your skin, whimpering.

You moan softly into his ear, enjoying every second of him, your legs still wrapped around his waist. "Fuck Rafe, I'm gonna cum again.." You say, your body slightly shaking as he looks up at you. Rafe smirks against your skin, sitting back up as he watches you close your eyes. Suddenly, a stinging pain comes across your cheek; you open your eyes to realize that he has slapped you. "Did I tell you to close your eyes, princess?" Rafe looks into your eyes, quickening his pace as he grabs onto your waist with one hand, the other holding onto one of your breasts. He groans, watching the way you fall apart under him.

"I swear to fuck, Y/N, you're gonna take every fucking drop of me, I don't care what the fuck you say." He states, biting his lip slightly as he begins to pant, his thrusts growing sloppy.

Rafe jolts forward, grabbing the headboard as he feels your walls grip him, his eyes landing on yours. You orgasm for the second time, moaning and panting. Rafe follows along right behind you, his cum painting your walls white as he then pulls out, taking his fingers and shoving the cum back into you, making sure it all goes into you.

"Round two?" you ask playfully. Rafe smiles as he lies down beside you, taking your hand and kissing it gently. "Sure, baby. Are you sure that you can take another round?" "Fuck you, I can take multiple." You say, scoffing.

Three rounds later, Rafe collapses beside you, hearing you whimper and feeling the shakes from your body; he laughs slightly. "Thought you said you could take multiple, pretty girl." "Fuck off, Rafe." You look at him, ending the night with a sweet, passionate kiss.

[oddinary4bts]

Be With You | teaser (cs)

☆summary: who knew that the hot guy you've been paired with for a class project is also a kind soul? Certainly not you, and you feel yourself falling even though you know you shouldn't. Will it be your demise, or will it all work out in the end?

☆pairing: Choi San x female!reader

☆rating: 18+ (minors DNI, there will be mature content in later chapters)

☆genre: slow burn strangers to lovers, college!au, smut, angst and fluff

☆warnings: I will be posting individual warnings for each chapter so look out for that! In this teaser: curses, mention of a bulge iykwim

☆word count: around 185k words for the total fic

☆series masterpost

☆add yourself to the taglist here

☆a/n: This took forever and ever to write but it's finally ready and I am so excited to share it with y'all. I hope you love this story as much as I loved writing in <3 and thank you to @moonleeai for your amazing work as my beta reader, I love you and am forever thankful for you

☆☆☆☆☆

Cold snowflakes Withered down Until you bloom As a spring flower I'll be with you

Be With You, Ateez (english translation)

☆☆☆☆☆

“Shit,” you let out. “We really can’t shut up, can we?”

That makes San laugh, a cute laugh full of dimples on his cheeks and smile lines around his eyes. It makes you look at him, like you’re proud you’re the one making him smile. He meets your gaze, and there’s a moment of silence as his laughter recedes, his gaze finding yours.

You think his eyes soften. You’re convinced they do, and then you’re leaning forward, pressing your lips on his.

Electricity shoots through your bloodstream, and if San is surprised, he doesn’t let it show. He kisses you back, his lips just as soft as you imagined they would be, and he cups your cheek before pushing a strand of hair behind your ear.

You sigh into the kiss, sigh into the life that it creates inside of you - the warmth, the sun, beauty like that of lingering summer, of a sunset painting clouds in gold and pink and everything in between. 

There can’t be shadows when the sun shines like this.

You tilt your head to the side, deepening the kiss. San follows your lead, his tongue teasing your lower lip, and you let him in. Taste him, tease his tongue with yours. His arm around your shoulder pulls you in closer as one of your hands lands on his thigh, and then you reach a little higher, putting it on his stomach instead.

His abs are rock hard under your palm, and you sigh appreciatively.

The kiss lasts for its small eternity, your thoughts scattering like dust in the wind as San’s hand gently grabs your wrist to pull you on top of him. You don’t resist, and you reckon you were expecting it.

Expecting to find yourself perched on the bulge in his pants, and this time your sigh turns breathy, more like a moan than anything.

It unleashes something in the two of you. San’s hands find your waist, and he makes you grind on him while yours cradle his face before moving to the back of his head, keeping him from pulling away.

You feel warm, hot, and nothing else matters than the way he sucks on your lower lip, slightly biting at it.

☆☆☆☆☆

sksksksk yes I swear the fic is a slow burn y'all will see haha! please come scream at me, i'm excited to talk to you about this fic <3

All rights reserved to @/oddinary4bts, 2025. Do not copy, repost or translate.

[puck-luck]

new beginnings | august 12 - 18

wc: 20.1K

note: this is the second to last chapter! i can't believe it! we're so close to the end, you guys :( honeytrev have a big week this one... some may say that this is the biggest week of them all. but i think i say that every chapter, so. that's for YOU to decide!

78:90 – HONEY

Honey takes a breath. The air washes over her knuckles. Her hands are twined together, the fingers on her left hand squeezing her right thumb while she chews on the nail of her left thumb, and she’s staring out the car window. They just turned off Providence Road and they’re just about two turns from the street where Honey grew up. All they have to do is turn on Fairview, then take the second right. Then, she’ll be home. Another deep breath. She closes her eyes. 

“You okay?” Trevor asks. He reaches over the console and slides his hand over Honey’s thigh. 

Honey sighs, leaning her head back against the headrest. She looks toward Trevor. “Nervous.” Her hands fall to her lap and unclasp, her right covering Trevor’s. 

He squeezes her thigh before turning his palm over and interlocking their fingers. “Don’t worry,” Trevor says. “I think everything will be okay. If it’s not, I’m here.”

“What if they’re not home?” Honey asks.

“I’m willing to stake out the house ‘til they get back.” Trevor shrugs and flicks on the turn signal. “Or we can give up and go home. There will be other summers and Thanksgivings and Christmases where we can see them. We don’t have to do this now if it doesn’t seem to work out.”

Honey reaches over with her free hand and fixes a strand of Trevor’s hair. He turns back to the road after daring to look at her for a moment longer. Honey keeps playing with his hair. They turn down the final street a minute later and Trevor parallel parks in front of her house.

The driveway is empty, but it always is. Unless they have company, of course. Honey’s parents prefer to park in the garage anyway. 

The dark gray siding on the house is the same as it was five years ago, the last time Honey saw it. They’ve painted the wooden front door from white to black, to match the shutters on the windows. The glass panes are clean, reflecting the lush yard that her father keeps.

The grass is mown in neat lines. The flowerbeds are bright with wildflowers, packets of which her mom used to dump into the dirt and wish for the best rather than taking delicate care of. The bushes are a little overgrown, as is the tree in the front lawn. Fifteen years ago, Honey would’ve spent a day like today outside. She would have hid in those bushes and climbed that tree and sat on the branches until her dad got home from work.

Her bedroom curtains, the left-most window on the second floor, are open.

She can imagine the rest.

Her bed is made. The pink bedspread she’s had since she was in fourth grade is folded over neatly and her favorite stuffed animal sits in the middle of the headboard, laying against the pillows. Her bookshelf is littered with chapter books and trinkets. The bulletin board above her desk is missing a spot. Several, actually, where the cork shows and the pins remain in place. There’s a scrap of paper captured by a blue thumbtack, torn from where Honey ripped a letter from Thomas away and put it down the garbage disposal in the kitchen. The only clothes in her closet are ones that she didn’t fit into at 17, when she moved away, and the white dress from her high school graduation. There’s a picture of her and Bea on Halloween in 2008, smiling over their bags of candy, tucked into the corner of her mirror.

“Any last words?” Trevor queries, gentle and teasing. He unbuckles the seatbelt for Honey, then his own, and leaves the car. He rounds the front and makes a face at Honey before he opens the passenger door and bends down to kiss her. 

Honey shakes her head, but pulls him back for another kiss when he leaves her lips too soon.

“Whatever happens in there,” Trevor murmurs. He tweaks her bottom lip with his thumb. “Doesn’t even matter. No matter what, I’m taking you to Chick-Fil-A to get Ice-Dream cones and Dokes for the ride back to Litchton.”

“Dokes,” Honey laughs. “Only Californians and pretentious people drink Diet Coke, Trevor.”

“And Bea,” Trevor adds.

Honey squints one eye and tilts her head. “Doesn’t she count as pretentious?”

Trevor grins. “Well, if you insist.” He takes Honey’s hand and leads her out of the car, closing the door behind her. “Christian and Stephanie, right?”

Honey smiles fondly at his effort, but shakes her head. “Christopher and Stephanie,” she corrects.

Trevor snaps his finger. “Damn it. I was so close. Good thing we cleared that up before I embarrassed myself.”

“I think they would introduce themselves anyway,” Honey says. 

They’re approaching the door now, walking up the stone-lined path, and they pause on the front stoep. Honey surveys the door. She’s standing just inches from it, but she can’t seem to find the energy to raise her fist and knock.

“I have a key, you know,” she says after a minute. She’s talking to Trevor, but really, she doesn’t need him to hear it. It’s more… like she’s stalling for time. 

“Oh, do you?” Trevor asks, sounding intrigued. “Do you want to use that instead of knocking?”

Honey laughs. “No, I don’t think so. That would be too normal.” She chews on the inside of her bottom lip. “I just have to knock.” She repeats the mantra in her head. All Honey has to do is knock. It’s not that hard.

Still, she doesn’t raise her fist. 

Trevor eyes Honey. “Do you want me to do it?” he offers.

All of Honey’s breath leaves her lungs in a rush of relief. “Would you?”

Trevor flashes his chipped tooth at Honey when his lips stretch upward and he nods. “‘Course, baby,” he says. He lifts his hand and knocks on the front door three times. The sound seems to echo and sink into Honey’s bones.

It isn’t long before she hears shuffling and footsteps behind the door. It’s her dad. She can tell by his footfalls.

He’s grayer than he was when she left. Honey supposes it makes sense. He was almost forty when she was born, so he’s past sixty now. When he opens the door, they stare at each other for a beat of silence.

“Honey,” he says. Honey can’t tell what he’s thinking– his face is impassive and his voice could fulfill a myriad of emotions: confused, surprised, intrigued, even a tinge of upset. Honey hopes it’s not that.

“Dad,” Honey replies. He’s wearing a shirt from their annual church Oyster bake. He got this shirt the year that he volunteered to be a shucker and Honey had to leave early with the McLean family because the seafood smell was making her sick. 

He blinks at her, then opens the door even wider. “Is everything okay?” His eyes flicker over to Trevor, then back to Honey. “Do you want to come in?”

“Yes, please,” Honey says. 

She knows the house like the back of her hand, even five years removed. Her dad leads them to the living room regardless and gestures toward the sofa. “Take a seat, Hon. Your mom isn’t home yet, she had to stay at work for a little while longer. We’re going to House of Pizza when she gets back, would you want to join us? I mean, it’s tradition, isn’t it?”

Honey sees the olive branch that he’s extending, but she can’t seem to take it quite yet. “We actually have dinner plans, but thank you.”

“Okay, no problem,”  her dad replies. He sits in the armchair across from them. “So.”

“So,” Honey echoes.

They nod at each other awkwardly, waiting for the other to say something.

Trevor looks between them. He chuckles a little bit, then covers his mouth when Honey glares at him, betrayal probably coating her features. “Sorry,” Trevor apologizes. “This is just so…” he trails off, shaking his head. He extends his hand towards Honey’s dad. “I’m Trevor. You have a really nice house.”

“Christopher,” Honey’s dad supplies, reaching out and taking Trevor’s hand. They shake hands for a second, then drop. “Tell you what,” he continues. “Why don’t I head down to the garage and see if I can scrounge us up some drinks? Honey can give you the tour. There’s a lot of house left to see.”

“Sounds great,” Trevor confirms. 

“Your mom should be home in about fifteen,” Christopher announces to the room. He slaps his hands over his knees and stands, heading towards the kitchen, which connects to their garage.

Honey can’t seem to decide what to call him. He’s familiar and she knows him, but it’s been a long time. There are two glass shields between them– the one that she put up to protect herself and the one that he raised in front of himself– and Honey can’t tell whose is thicker and stronger. It’s still her dad through the glass, but she doesn’t know if he’d respond to ‘Dad’ if she lowered her defense and called out to him. ‘Christopher’ doesn’t seem right either. That’s for people like Trevor– not his blood relative. Honey has half of his DNA. She can’t just call him Christopher.

“I think this is going well,” Trevor offers when her father leaves the room.

Honey glares at him. 

Trevor laughs and takes her hand. “C’mon. Show me around. Get comfortable in the house again, then you’ll be more comfortable talking to your dad. He seems nice.”

“He is nice,” Honey grumbles. “That’s why I’m annoyed that this is so awkward.”

“I mean, I get it, Hon. You don’t talk to the guy for five years and then show up on his doorstep? That’s a surprise for sure. I think he just needs some time. Plus, your mom will be here soon, so we’ll see if she can diffuse the tension at all.” Trevor squeezes her hand. “Show me around, babe.”

The tour starts simply. Honey introduces each room in a sullen voice, listing them. Living room, where they just sat. Dining room. Her chair was that one. Kitchen, downstairs bathroom, her parents’ home office, the laundry room. It’s once they head upstairs that Honey opens up a little bit.

It’s because of the baby pictures that line the wall. Trevor makes her stop and explain them.

“That’s me and Mom on my first birthday,” Honey says about the first one. “It was just us. They waited until my mom was 35 or 36 to have me, and my dad’s parents were elderly already, so they couldn’t come visit because they lived so far away and it wasn’t easy for them to travel.”

“What about your mom’s parents?” Trevor asks.

Honey shakes her head. “Her dad wasn’t around and her mom died when she was in college.”

“Oh.” 

Honey shrugs. “She’s okay.” She moves onto the next picture. “My daycare put on a play the first year I was there. I played a bunny and I really loved my ears, so my teachers let me take them home. I wore them every day for almost a year, probably. From the time I was two until I turned three.”

“That’s really cute,” Trevor coos, nuzzling Honey’s cheek with his nose. “Should I start calling you ‘Bunny?’”

Honey blanches and pushes him off. “No,” she says. “That makes me sound like a tramp.”

Trevor slides his hand under her shirt and taps the tattoo at the base of her spine. “Well, if this doesn’t already.”

Honey pushes him away again, further this time. “Don’t be a dick, Trevor.”

Trevor grins. “Okay, baby. Keep telling me about these pictures. You were adorable back then.”

“If the next words that come out of your mouth are ‘What happened?’, I’ll kill you,” Honey threatens. 

Trevor zips his lips and locks them with an invisible key.

Honey points at the third picture. “I’m eating pomegranate in that. My parents used to cut them up for me and let me pick out all the seeds by hand, which would take forever, but it kept me occupied instead of in front of the TV.” Her finger fixes on the fourth. “I got that bike for Christmas when I was eight and I would ride it around the neighborhood every summer until someone stole it when I was eleven.”

“I recognize that girl,” Trevor says before Honey can explain the fifth picture.

Honey smiles. “Yeah, that’s my Bea.” That was a fun day– they went ‘camping’ with their dads that day, but it was more like their dads went fishing and the girls were left to run around and get up to no good under the guise of supervision. It was Bea’s idea to smear mud on their faces like war-paint and Honey’s idea to weave ferns in their hair. They claimed it was camouflage from the monster army in the woods and their dads played along, abandoning their fishing rods in favor of playing pretend. It was after they defeated the enemy that Honey’s dad had snapped the photo on her mom’s digital camera before making them wash the mud off. They weren’t allowed to maintain their costumes in the McLean’s minivan.

“You guys have been best friends this long without a break?” Trevor asks. “Really?”

Honey nods. “Yeah. We just get each other, always have. That’s my girl.”

“That’s cool.”

They continue down the upstairs hall. Honey shows Trevor her parents’ bedroom, the guest room, and the old playroom that her parents have converted into a half-assed gym. There’s just a treadmill and a yoga ball in there. When they pass the bathroom, Trevor plants a kiss on Honey’s cheek and says he’s doing to take a leak. There’s only one room left, at the end of the hall, door facing them menacingly, and Honey accepts. Entering her old room will be like going back in time and she doesn’t know if she’s ready for Trevor to do that with her. It would be nice to have a moment alone.

When she enters the room and sees how everything is frozen in time, Honey feels tiny and seventeen and sad all over again. It was here, five years ago, that she was sent those videos of herself. She was laying in that bed when it happened. In the months before she could leave and run away to Litchton, her bedroom door would get stuck from how hard she slammed it after finding out. It was pure anger and it actually warped her doorframe.

Honey feels dizzy all of a sudden, like a sudden onset of vertigo, and she needs to lay down. She will not lay in that bed, not that rotten time capsule where she lost her virginity to Thomas Jones when she was just a child.

So Honey lays on the floor.

She used to do this a lot, actually. Bea would call it ‘Honey’s Mandatory Floor Time.’ She always said it looked silly and Honey was ridiculous. She said it with a laugh, but Honey is not laughing now. 

This is ridiculous, Honey thinks to herself. Why are you lying on the floor? Get up. Get up.

Her eyes focus, bringing everything back into view where it had fizzled away while she zoned out. She can feel thin tear tracks drying on her cheeks and at the corners of her eyes.

There, at the base of her bedframe, Honey spots a carved heart. Inside the heart lies a scribbled “H + T.”

Honey deflates, finding herself immobile where she lays. H + T. She carved that for Thomas as an angsty sixteen year old, frustrated that her parents hadn’t allowed her to stay out with her boyfriend after homecoming. She’d had to come home for curfew and she missed out on a really fun night. The letters had been her tiny act of rebellion, just out of sight.

She had forgotten about the carving. If she had remembered it, she’d have gotten rid of the bed frame a long time ago. Shortly after his betrayal, probably.

Trevor knocks at the door and enters Honey’s bedroom. He laughs, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he drops to the floor and joins her. Trevor lays with his head next to Honey’s, body close to hers but not touching, except for their hands. He intertwines their fingers. “What are we doing down here?” Trevor asks.

Honey shrugs.

He looks around, allowing the silence to rest. “H + T,” he mutters eventually, lifting their intertwined hands to run his index finger along the carving, tracing Honey's handwriting. “You and me.”

And, yeah. Honey can live with that.

She nods. “You and me,” she echoes, staring at the carving.

Out of her peripheral, she sees Trevor turn his head to look at her. She does the same, mirroring him. He smiles. She smiles. His thumb rubs her hand soothingly and Honey feels dried up. It's hard to cry whenever Trevor's around. He makes everything better.

Trevor sits up, then drags Honey up into a sitting position by her wrists. Honey goes limp to make it hard for him. “Oh, come on, Hon,” Trevor groans. “Don’t be difficult. You’ve gotta sit up so you can tell me all about this childhood bedroom of yours.”

Honey rolls her head back on her shoulders and sticks her tongue out of her mouth like she’s dead. 

Trevor lowers her back to the ground. “Fine,” he huffs. “I’ll snoop myself.”

“Good idea,” Honey says. “You knew you wanted to go through my underwear drawer anyway.”

“I only go through your Litchton underwear drawer,” Trevor retorts. “Don’t be weird.”

Honey scoffs and rolls her eyes. Duh, she’s the weird one in this relationship.

Trevor brightens and reaches across her bed. “Who’s this guy?” he asks, dangling the stuffed animal by his tail in front of Honey.

“Puppy,” Honey replies.

Trevor balks and brings the animal up to his face. “This is a monkey.”

“I know,” Honey says. “I was two when I got him. He kind of looks like a dog, though, don’t you think?”

Trevor tosses Puppy down onto Honey’s lap. She picks him up and makes him sit up on her stomach. She traces his stitched nose. “I don’t think so,” Trevor says. “He’s very monkey-like.”

“Yeah, well. His name is Puppy.” Honey rubs his soft front paw between her thumb and forefinger. 

Trevor has moved onto her desk, but doesn’t seem to find anything that interests him. He walks to her wooden dresser and eases the bottom drawer open. It’s full of pants and he rifles through them for a bit while Honey looks at the stuffed animal she left behind.

Her heart pangs a bit, thinking about how she used to take Puppy with her everywhere. It was a miracle she didn’t lose him out in public or when she’d sneak him into her backpack at daycare and kindergarten. Toy Story must have done a number on Honey. Puppy must have been lonely while she was gone. Five years is a long time to wonder where someone went. She hugs him to her chest.

“Honey,” Trevor says suddenly. He’s moved onto her second drawer, full of old t-shirts. He holds one in his hands, turning around and showing it to her.

“Oh, I used to love that shirt,” Honey says. “I used to sleep in it all the time. Bea and I found it while we were thrifting when she first got her license. I like the font, it makes me think of NASCAR.”

Trevor holds the shirt out in front of him, double checking the words. ��Baby.” He stares at Honey. “This is a Ducks shirt.”

That makes Honey sit up. “No, it’s not. I don’t even watch hockey. Why would I have a hockey shirt?”

“It is, look–” Trevor points at each of the words. “‘2007 Stanley Cup Champions, Anaheim Ducks.’” He tosses the shirt into Honey’s chest and she has to drop Puppy to catch it. “And I thought the Nike tattoo was our invisible string.”

Honey takes in the lettering. Trevor’s right– it does say that. Maybe she never cared enough to actually look at the words before now. She just liked the “vintage” design.

“You manifested me,” Trevor teases, smiling smugly.

“Fuck off,” Honey laughs. “You know that we met by coincidence.”

Trevor plops on the ground in front of her, crossing his legs. He brings his hand to her jaw and drags her forward into a kiss. “Nah, you and me are fate.”

“Don’t be a goof,” Honey chastizes. She hears the front door open, then close. Her mom sets down her bag on the dining room table. “We gotta go downstairs before you find anything else and become even more annoying.”

“I’m keeping this shirt,” Trevor declares, wrestling it from her grasp. He plucks Puppy from the ground. “And the monkey.” He’s standing and moving away before she can snatch him back.

“You can’t just take my things,” Honey whines. She stands and chases Trevor as he leaves the room and goes down the hall. She catches him at the top of the stairs, jumping on his back and trying to slow him down. 

They get down the stairs and bump into the wall in the main hall of the house. That’s where they run into Honey’s mom.

“What in the world?” she exclaims before she sees Honey on Trevor’s back. 

Honey freezes a little bit. “Hi, Mom.”

“Hi, Honey,” her mom replies. Unlike her dad, Honey can read the expression on this face. It’s pure confusion. “What are you doing here? Who’s this?”

Trevor extends his hand the same way he did to Christopher. “I’m Trevor. We’re visiting.”

Stephanie takes his hand gingerly. “That’s great,” she says warily. “But who… are you?”

“Trevor is my boyfriend,” Honey reveals, sliding from Trevor’s back and finding her footing on the ground. He keeps the shirt and stuffed animal out of her reach. “I thought… it might be nice for y’all to meet him.”

Her mom inhales deeply, chewing on the inside of her bottom lip just like Honey does when she’s thinking deeply about something. “Okay,” Mom says. She looks to Trevor. “I’m Stephanie. I’ll join you two in the living room in a few minutes. I believe my husband found some drinks in the garage.” She squeezes past them and goes up the stairs. 

The awkwardness is creeping back into Honey’s bones, but she’s doing her best to push it away. She told her mom that Trevor is her boyfriend and didn’t get this big, negative reaction. Maybe Honey is always imagining the worst.

“I found some LaCroix,” Dad says when she and Trevor sit down on the couch for the second time that day. “You still like LaCroix, right, Hon?”

Honey never liked LaCroix. Bea did, and Bea was a bad influence who swore up and down that it was better than regular water. Honey drank it to play along and avoid a debate. “Sure, Dad,” Honey says. She doesn’t want to embarrass him by saying no, especially since he seems so proud of himself for finding something she enjoys.

Trevor eyes her, but doesn’t say anything. He knows Honey doesn’t like sparkling water, but he seems to recognize that Honey doesn’t want him to do anything.

“How’s the house?” Christopher asks. He sits down in the armchair and cracks his own LaCroix, making a face when he drinks but trying not to make it obvious.

“It’s good. I’m taking care of it. The basement steps rotted out that first year, but Earl– I don’t know if you remember him– he repaired them for me.” Honey feels like she’s talking too much. That’s her own doubt and anxiety talking. She’s talking a completely normal amount.

“I remember Earl,” her dad replies. He sips from his can again and does a much better job of keeping his expression neutral this time. “He’s a good man. How’s Ada?”

“She’s good. It’s blackberry season, so she’s making lots of goodies. The patches in her garden are growing really well this year.”

“And your ladies?”

“They’re still the town gossips.”

“Honey had a very good time drinking with them at Litchton’s annual softball game,” Trevor interjects. “Scarlett especially was a hoot and a holler.”

Honey cuts her eyes at Trevor. Why is he telling her dad about how she was drinking with the ladies? He doesn’t need to know that she gets drunk… as a completely legal, 21+ year old woman.

Her dad laughs anyway. “I bet. That woman has always been crazy. I remember the baby shower my mom attended before Sarah was born. Even sober, Scarlett was the life of the party.” He quiets slightly. “Wonderful lady. She’s got lots of love to give.”

Honey nods. 

Her mom rejoins them. She has changed out of her work clothes into jeans and a loose shirt. She’s also grayer than she used to be and her hands are developing age spots. She sits on the arm of the chair that Honey’s dad occupies. “So, ‘just visiting,’” she says. “Is everything okay?”

“Everything’s good, Mom,” Honey repeats. “I just wanted to bring Trevor by. I thought it would be nice to introduce y’all, since I’m dating him and all.”

“Oh, you’re Honey’s boyfriend!” Christopher exclaims. He sets his drink down with a clink. “What do you do, Trevor? Do you live in Litchton as well?”

“Are you pregnant?” Stephanie asks.

Honey’s jaw drops. “No. I am not pregnant.”

“Definitely not,” Trevor adds. “We only just said ‘I love you’ two nights ago.”

“When did you start dating?” Stephanie crosses one leg over the other and laces her fingers together.

Honey cringes and doesn’t answer.

Trevor answers for her. “Technically, our first date was July 22nd, but Honey only called me her boyfriend on August 3rd.”

Honey’s parents stare at them and Honey stares back. She understands their concern– it’s only August 12th. Why would she love her boyfriend after only nine days of exclusivity? Trevor ignorantly sits next to Honey with a big smile on his face.

“We’ve been seeing each other since May,” Honey justifies. “It’s not– it’s not like we’re rushing into things.”

Honey’s dad squints at them and traces his teeth with his tongue. Then, he shrugs. “Eh, mountain time is different. Good for you. Now, again: Trevor, what do you do?”

The grilling is pretty normal after that. Trevor answers all her dad’s questions about hockey and the league, about his salary and about the travel. He answers her mom’s questions about how he expects to make Honey happy if he’s gone all the time. 

Trevor handles the questions with grace and ease. He’s got an answer for everything, without hesitation. He’s charming, too– Honey’s parents are laughing with him and playfully poking fun at Honey. They even offer to bring up some old home videos and yearbooks from the basement… which is when Honey cuts them off and reminds Trevor that they have dinner plans. He’ll have to see her baby photos another time– well into the future, when she’s more prepared to cringe and blush and hide her face in a throw pillow.

Trevor whines and complains a little bit, but Honey eventually convinces him that they have to go. He doesn’t leave the house without promising to see Christopher and Stephanie over Christmas, though. 

It looks like Honey now has plans for the holidays.

79:90 – TREVOR

“Where is everybody?” Trevor asks. He woke up a little while ago, having slept in late after the drive back to Litchton last night– he and Honey hooked up in the backseat of the car, too, which tired him out a bit– and the house was quiet. The only person he’s been able to find is Jack, who is out back playing around on their makeshift rink.

“Out, I don’t know,” Jack replies. He flicks a puck towards the net. “Quinn might be at Bea’s. Luke said something about meeting Emma-Kate in Greensboro for a movie. Cole is a mystery.”

“Cool.” Trevor doesn’t need all the details. Jack gave him plenty. “Can I shoot with you?”

“Yeah.”

Trevor walks underneath the covered patio, where the hot tub is, to grab his skates from the little pile they made. He laces them up, pulling his socks high enough that the skates don’t rub on his calves uncomfortably, and tugs his shirt off before he joins Jack on the patch of concrete. The August sun is hot and beaming down on them. Trevor can feel himself sweating already.

They fool around a bit. They take turns shooting at the net, then play couple of games of Horse. That eventually dissolves into a sort of 1v1 scrimmage or game of keep-away, and before Trevor knows it, more than an hour has ticked away. 

Once Jack accidentally flicks their final puck outside of the rink in an attempt to bounce it off their wooden boards, they take a rest. Jack doesn’t want to go get the puck right now and neither does Trevor, so they lay down on the concrete slab and soak up the sun.

Jack pokes Trevor with his stick.

Trevor pokes him back, harder this time.

“Ow!” Jack exclaims, catching his bicep in his hand and rubbing it dramatically. “I didn’t poke you that hard, Z.”

“You’re such a wimp,” Trevor replies, but there’s no heat behind his words. He’s just messing with Jack. “For a guy in the NHL, you’re kind of prissy. A little bruise hurts that bad?”

Jack scowls. “Fuck off.”

After a beat of silence, where Trevor watches a red cardinal hop through the branches above them, Jack speaks again.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Yeah, man.”

“It’s about you and Honey.”

Trevor is a little more hesitant now. “Okay…”

“Are you guys, like… that serious?” Jack asks. 

It’s a stupid question, in Trevor’s opinion. They’ve said ‘I love you.’ Of course they’re that serious.

“Yeah.”

“Cool.” Jack closes his eyes and spreads his arms out, palms facing the sky. “I thought I was dreaming when we all camped out the other night. When I went inside, I saw you and Honey sleeping together in the hammock. Was pretty sure it was a hallucination.”

Trevor raises his eyebrows in surprise. “You saw us and didn’t say anything?”

Jack shrugs. “Like I said. Thought I was hallucinating. I was pretty tired and still kind of drunk from all that wine we had.”

“Oh.”

“Why’d you keep it a secret?” Jack asks. “It wouldn’t have been a problem, you know. We like Honey. She’s cool.”

“Honey wanted to keep it a secret, actually,” Trevor says. “I didn’t have a preference, really. I would’ve been fine telling you guys from the start, but she didn’t want to. So we didn’t.”

“She was ashamed of you, then?”

Trevor scoffs. “No, she wasn’t ashamed of me.”

Jack tuts. “I find that hard to believe.”

Trevor reaches out with his stick and smacks Jack with the blade. 

Jack sits up and moves away, to the other end of the rink and out of Trevor’s reach. He leaves a patch of sweat on the concrete where he had lain. It’s the same shape as his shadow. “Stop it, dude. You know what I mean. She was all about pissing you off for a while, or she’s just a really good actress.”

Trevor shades his eyes from the sun and finds Jack in his eyeline. “She’s a good actress.”

“So why’d she want to keep it a secret?” Jack pries.

Trevor frowns. “That’s not for me to say. Honey doesn’t have to tell you everything just because you’re friends, you know.”

“Ugh,” Jack groans exaggeratedly. “What’s the point of even having this conversation if you won’t tell me all the nitty-gritty details?”

“I’m not just going to tell you all of my girlfriend’s business, Jack. How would you like it if I started pressing you about Lani?” Trevor knows he’s hit a chord because of the way Jack tenses up.

“Well, to start, Lani isn’t my girlfriend,” Jack grumbles.

“And yet you hook up with her every summer when we’re in Michigan. Without fail, you and Lani fuck the first night and then fool around for the rest of the summer. You do this every year and never answer anyone’s questions. Why should I reveal Honey’s secrets when you’re so dead-set on keeping your relationship with Lani private?” Trevor is on a roll, venting out the thoughts he’s had for years. “I mean, you didn’t even invite her to Litchton this summer. You’ve invited her to Jersey in the past, but you won’t bring her here. And I know you’re not talking to her. What’s that about?”

Jack scoffs and pushes himself up into a seated position. “You don’t know shit about me and Lani because there’s nothing to talk about. We’re not together. We hook up sometimes. We’re friends. It’s a summer thing.”

“That doesn’t explain why you drunk dialed her last year when you got injured and begged her to come out and stay with you,” Trevor bites back. “That doesn’t seem very summery to me.”

“That’s not your business,” Jack insists.

“Well, Honey’s isn’t yours.”

They reach a stalemate here. Trevor is mad because Jack is being stupid, Jack is mad because Trevor is trying to push him to talk about something he doesn’t want to discuss, and they’re both stubborn.

Jack breaks first. He always does.

He kicks a rock, then reaches out to pick it up and hurl it into the woods. “She’s not happy with me. I didn’t tell her we’d be gone all summer and then I told her about Bea when we were still hooking up, and she got mad at me for ‘being such a slut.’”

Trevor snorts. “Lani slut-shamed you? Good, you deserve it. You’ve been treating her like a fall-back ever since you started hooking up.”

“How was I supposed to know she wanted more,” Jack mumbles under his breath, glaring at the ground. “She never told me. And now she won’t talk to me, even though it’s been over between me and Bea. At least Bea knew that we weren’t serious.”

“Because she’s obsessed with Quinn.”

“No, dude,” Jack groans. “Like, yeah, she’s obsessed with Quinn, but hooking up with Bea was never a thing. She didn’t want anything out of it and neither did I.”

Trevor reads between the lines. Lani wants something and Jack doesn’t– or, he doesn’t know what he wants, so he just wants everything to stay the same.

“I don’t know.” Jack starts to untie his laces, his movements much more violent than they need to be. It must be the frustration. “I wish she would just tell me what she wants instead of being all coy about it. We’re supposed to be friends first.”

“You kind of screwed that when you started hooking up with her.”

Jack sighs. He pulls his skate off. “Yeah.” He sighs again and Trevor lets it go– he doesn’t want to beat up on Jack like this anymore.

They sit in silence for a few minutes longer. Trevor sits up and starts to undo his laces too. They’re done practicing for the day and he needs a shower. He can feel the sweat dripping off of his body.

Jack is the first to stand. He walks to Trevor and extends a hand, pulling him to his feet. He claps Trevor on the back as he walks towards the house. “Look, man, secrets or not, I’m happy for you.” He reaches the sliding glass door near the hot tub and drops his skates into the pile. 

Trevor is very wary of the smile on Jack’s face.

“You know, when I was hooking up with Bea, I had this awesome dream about having a threesome with her and Honey.” Jack’s grin is wicked and Trevor can feel his temper rising like steam in a kettle. “If she’s half as good in real life as she was in my imagination, you’d better lock her down real quick.”

He disappears inside and Trevor tries to stamp down the urge to strangle Jack until the life leaves his eyes. 

80:90 – HONEY

If Bea wants to cause a scene at Scruffy’s tonight, then she’s doing something right. She told all of the boys to meet at her place because she had a surprise for them. Honey was already there. Bea dragged her straight from work up to her building and got Honey hooked with the promise of a homemade margarita.

It turns out, since their Target day two weeks ago, Bea has been plotting a funny T-shirt day. She was inspired by the matching T-shirts that Cole bought for him and Honey, the bright pink one with the unicorn and rainbow. She bought a T-shirt for each person in their little group, wrapped them up in giftwrap, and now she wants to go out to dance at Scruffy’s in their new shirts.

The reveals are admittedly hilarious. 

Honey loves her shirt. Bea ordered it to be about two sizes too big for Honey, which will make it into a good sleep shirt after tonight. This is probably the only time she’ll wear it out into the world, this white T-shirt with red lettering that reads “I lost my virginity at Toyotathon!” with the Toyota logo on the back of the shirt. Honey wishes she lost her virginity at Toyotathon. That would make an incredible story. She threw it on first thing, stripping out of her work top right there in front of the boys and pulling it on. It’s too hot in Litchton in August, even after the sun sets in a few hours, to wear both layers.

Quinn loves his shirt almost as much as Honey loves hers. They’re similar in make: a white T-shirt with red writing. That’s where the similarities end. Quinn’s reads, “Women want me. Fish fear me. Raccoons find me oddly comforting.” He laughs out loud when he reads it, folds it up and looks at Bea, then reads it again like he can’t believe what it said. He starts to laugh again and covers his face with the shirt. “I didn’t know you were buying us silly stuff when you asked for our shirt sizes,” Quinn says. 

“Duh,” Bea replies with a hint of sass. She’s tugging her own silly shirt over her head– cream colored with black text that reads, “4th Wife Material.” Honey thinks any person would be happy to have Bea as their first wife, but less their fourth. If Bea is number four, then they’ve done something wrong in their life. Her shirt is cropped and tight, showing off the lower part of her ribcage and the expanse of her stomach. Honey dares to say that she sees an imprint in the suspicious shape of a mouth on Bea’s abdomen, right where her hips start. Her pleated black mini-skirt ties the outfit together so well, but it’s not something that Honey could ever pull off. She’s sure Quinn loves how tiny the skirt is.

“I don’t have autism,” Jack complains, although he dutifully pulls his “Weaponized Autism” shirt over his head. 

Bea shrugs. “Maybe not. But you memorize hockey facts and games like no one I’ve ever met. It’s your special interest, J. Would you rather wear the ‘Of course I cum fast, I have fish to catch’ shirt that I bought as a backup?”

Cole snickers. “Yeah, Jack. Do you want everyone knowing you’re a quickshot or do you want to wear a shirt with a sick pistol-wielding skeleton on the front?” He gestures at the navy shirt on his chest, equally as cropped as Bea’s, with orange words that spell out “dickrider.” The dot over the ‘i’ is a little cowboy hat. “I don’t ride dick, but this shirt is sick.”

Luke’s shirt is tight on his chest too, accentuating the feature that Bea had in mind when she bought his shirt. It almost matches hers in color and font, although it’s not quite as cream-colored. It’s somewhere between white and Bea’s shade. The font stretches, only emphasizing Bea’s point. “Small Heart, Massive Tits” declares Luke’s shirt, and Honey laughs about how real it is. She’s going to text a picture of Luke to Emma-Kate if she can sneak it. Apparently, they saw each other yesterday– but Honey doesn’t expect that it’s anything too serious. Honey thinks Luke might like having a person outside of their little group, especially one closer to his own age.

“Is this me?” Trevor asks. He’s been uncharacteristically quiet since he opened his wrapping and caught a glimpse of his shirt. His question is incredulous and the look in his eyes is equally as disbelieving. “Did you customize a t-shirt with my face on it?”

Bea grins and giggles, proud of herself. “Well, don’t hide the shirt from your friends. Put it on.”

Trevor stares at the shirt for a moment longer. “How did you even do this?”

“It’s not hard to personalize a shirt, Trevor,” Bea laughs. “Especially not when you’re a famous athlete. Do you know how many people use your likeness online?”

“Show us what it says,” Cole demands. He reaches of Trevor’s shirt, snagging the dark gray fabric in his fist and tugging it from Trevor’s hands. He holds it out in front of him and his face clouds. Cole pouts before he looks at Bea. “This is so funny, why didn’t you get this one for me?” He turns the shirt so everyone can see what it says; in the center of the shirt, there’s a framed photo of Trevor with hair that is longer and fluffier than it is now. Surrounding the frame are the words “Rest in Peace Princess Diana.”

Honey has to cover her mouth to keep a laugh in, so as not to offend her boyfriend, but she’s with the rest of the group as they try to convince him to put it on. He relents after a few minutes of begging. Honey knows that he’ll never wear that shirt again– and she can’t wait to steal it for herself. 

They’re quick to go out to Scruffy’s after that, walking down main street so no one has to drive and waste gas. They’ll sober up at Bea’s afterward anyway, on the off chance that they overdo it. Honey isn’t planning on overdoing it. She might not have to open the store tomorrow, but she doesn’t exactly get to sleep in, and she hates being hungover at Story Time.

Arn’s voice is pretty scratchy today. Honey expects that by the end of the night, they’ll be taking karaoke requests from the black binder of songs that the guys know how to play. She can’t guarantee that she’ll get up on the stage and sing, but she bets Bea will. She wouldn’t be surprised if Cole gets up there too. 

Scruffy’s is a bit more full than it normally is, to Honey’s delight. She gets to show off her shirt. All of her ladies and their husbands are in the building for once. While Honey and Bea haven’t been in Scruffy’s as much this summer because of their new friends, it’s rare to see all the ladies together at the same time unless it’s a Tuesday morning and they have their knitting needles in hand. They like to remind the younger ladies that they too have lives, even though they’re all eligible for the Early Bird Special at the Hardee’s down the road. 

The first order of business is to grab a table. The big booths are taken, unfortunately, but there are a couple of people that look like they’re close to getting up. Bea, Quinn, and Cole decide to stay back and “hover.” Honey is confident in their ability to pressure a group into leaving, just from sheer impatience.

Jack and Trevor task themselves with going to the bar and ordering drinks and food for their future table. Honey doesn’t know how they’re going to carry seven drinks and food, but it’s not her business. She and Luke are going to play pool.

It’s there that Honey experiences the first reaction to their shirts. Tyler, Jessie’s husband and Luca’s father, is in the middle of a game. He goes to greet Honey with a wave, then his eyes catch on her shirt. Then, his eyes go to Luke’s shirt. His expression is priceless– wide eyes and pure confusion, his mouth hinged open and then snapped abruptly shut. It’s funny. 

As the night stretches on, more people notice the T-shirts. When Jack and Trevor deliver drinks to Honey and Luke, there are more glances of confusion and a few laughs from those around them. The boys pay them no mind, jumping in on the pool game and making it into a doubles game. Jack pairs up with Luke and Trevor pairs up with Honey– the game is over quickly after that and Jack’s food buzzer starts to beep, so they head to the bar to pick up all of the things that the ravenous, gluttonous boys ordered. 

The bartender, a middle aged woman whose name is escaping Honey’s mind at this current moment, laughs at their shirts and makes them back up so that she can see them properly. She takes out her phone and takes a picture of the four of them. Honey stands in the middle of the guys, between Jack and Trevor, and they all have their arms around each other. Before the end of the night, she’ll have to ask the bartender to send the picture to her. It would be nice to get it printed and put it in a frame.

They load their arms up with plates and baskets of appetizers and find Bea, Quinn, and Cole sitting at a booth. They succeeded in securing one, evidently, and they get up so that the rest of the group can squeeze into the remaining space. Bea produces a pack of Uno cards from Quinn’s back pocket and they lose track of time, playing and shouting meaningless insults when someone puts down a +4. 

The band plays on and people dance around them, food and drinks from the table slowly disappear and they take turns going to get the next round for whoever feels like drinking more. Quinn has been on a cleanse for a while, since the season is coming up. Honey has a couple of drinks, but she’s pacing herself. The boys are enjoying themselves, knowing that Quinn can drive them home afterward. Bea is enjoying herself because her place is walking distance from Scruffy’s.

When the band starts to do karaoke, just like Honey expected, Bea issues a challenge to Trevor.

“I will give you…” Bea hums, tapping her chin. “Fifty dollars to get on stage and sing Candle In The Wind while showing off your shirt.”

Trevor laughs. “Where are you getting all this cash, Bea? I know Ada doesn’t pay you enough to spend $250 on your friends in one week.”

Bea shrugs with one shoulder, her smile coy as she snuggles into Quinn’s side. She slides a hand over his stomach and looks up at him, fluttering her eyelashes. “Can I borrow fifty dollars?” she requests sweetly, her voice dripping with flirtaciousness. 

Quinn grins and rolls his eyes at Bea, pretending not to fall for her charms. He presses a kiss to the top of her head. “For a dance,” he bargains. “Need you to work for my money a little bit, baby.”

Bea giggles. She scoots from the booth and drags Quinn with her. “As if you even needed to ask, Q.”

They disappear into the middle of the crowd and the boys shuffle around the booth to fill the space they left. Honey catches a glimpse of Bea throwing her arms around Quinn’s neck and tossing her head back in laughter at something he says. His hands are pinching her hips like they did when he followed her up the stairs on their first night together. He’s holding Bea’s lower half close to his and brushing his nose against hers, his mouth moving and yapping away before placing a kiss on her cheek.

Honey wishes at first that Bea wasn’t so stubborn about leaving this in the summer. It’s one of those things that she can’t control, which is sad. Honey is a little jealous of them in this moment after her fleeting tryst of sadness. Quinn and Jack know about her and Trevor now, but there are still two people, Luke and Cole, who don’t know. So she can’t really ask Trevor to dance, but she can hint at it. 

Honey frees herself from the booth and stands at the head of the table. “I want to dance,” she says. “Who’s going to dance with me?” She looks at Trevor pointedly before continuing around the rest of the table.

Jack opens his mouth milliseconds before Trevor does. “I’ll dance,” he offers, grinning. He looks delighted at the idea and Honey remembers how excited he was to dance with Bea the first time they went to Scruffy’s. 

She’ll get to Trevor later, she’s sure. Dancing with Jack isn’t a problem for Honey– it’ll actually be rather fun. It’ll be like when she danced with Jamie.

They find their way next to Bea and Quinn as the band kicks up a fast-paced, fun country song that Honey distantly recognizes as a Toby Keith original. She feels lightheaded with how much she’s laughing and how Jack is spinning her under his arm and dipping her as low as he can– he drops her to the floor at one point and falls to his knees in a fit of giggles, apologizing profusely between his laughter. 

Honey has so much fun that she forgets to ask the bartender for that picture of her and her friends. It’s a night that’ll only live in memory– except for the paragraph that she scrawls in a journal when she gets home at the end of the night, just before Trevor honks his horn to pick her up and bring her back to the rental house to sneak a sleepover.

81:90 – TREVOR

“You would think after so many weeks, I’d have to stop reminding you that my eyes are up here, Trev,” Honey teases. 

When Trevor meets her eyes, tearing his gaze reluctantly from her tits, she’s smiling knowingly with raised eyebrows. Her hair is piled in a bun on top of her head and she’s toying with one of the strands that she always pulls from the front of her updos, curling it around her finger. 

It’s early in the morning, way earlier than Trevor normally wakes up even when he’s spending time with Honey, but she has to sneak out before work and she’d proposed that they take a bath together in Trevor’s ensuite jacuzzi. He certainly wasn’t going to say no to that, so he’s up and out of bed and ogling his girlfriend with sleepy eyes. The warmth of the bath, since Honey likes her water hot, isn’t doing anything to wake him up.

Honey’s being unfair to tell him not to look at her tits, though. She made them all soapy, rubbing suds into her skin and twisting her nipple piercings. When Trevor asked why she was doing that, she said it was so she could clean the skin where the holes are because if she doesn’t, the area around her piercings will get crusty. Trevor thinks she was trying to kill the mood by mentioning crust, but she seems awfully proud of herself after distracting Trevor. 

Trevor leans forward and circles his fingers around Honey’s ankles, tugging her closer to him. “Sorry,” he murmurs. “You have my undivided attention.” He pulls at her ankles until Honey is coming to sit on his thighs and putting her hands on his shoulders. 

“I’m just messing with you,” Honey replies. She gently brushes a kiss over Trevor’s bottom lip. “It’s funny, how much you like my tits.”

“They’re good tits.”

“Mm, my best feature, wouldn’t you say?”

Trevor hums. “I’m not saying that,” he denies. “But they are very beautiful.” His hands come up and cup Honey’s boobs, thumbing over the remaining suds near her nipples. He’s sure to keep his eyes on Honey’s while he does this. “They match the rest of you.”

“Oh, shut up,” Honey groans. 

“I will not,” Trevor declares. He kisses Honey and pulls her closer, her cunt coming into contact with his semi-erect cock. “My beautiful girlfriend. The pretty girl that I love.”

Honey squirms. “Stop it,” she whines. 

Trevor peppers kisses over her face, refusing to stop the onslaught of affection. She’s squealing and turning her face away from his wandering lips, but her hands are gently tracing the planes of his shoulders and keeping him close. 

“Can I make you come?” Trevor asks. “Been a while since I had my dick inside you.”

“Not true,” Honey replies. “We hooked up in the car after my parents’ place.”

Trevor blows a raspberry against Honey’s cheek. “Ugh, you never let me get away with it when I try to be dramatic.”

Honey laughs, a twinkling sound that makes Trevor’s heart swell. He digs his fingernails into the meat of her behind, making it so her pussy is fully aligned with his cock.

“C’mon, I’ll make it quick,” Trevor says. He pecks Honey’s mouth. “You’ll still be able to make it out of the house before the boys wake up.”

“I’m not fucking you in the jacuzzi, it already felt gross enough when I fucked you in the hot tub,” Honey says. “If you want to fuck me, then we’ve got to go somewhere else.”

“Oh, your wish is my command,” Trevor sighs. He squeezes Honey’s behind once before allowing her to get up and off of him.

She cups some water in her hands and lets it run over her body, making sure that all the soap has dissipated before she stands and leaves the tub. 

Trevor’s hands trail over Honey’s thighs, to her knees, and calves as she steps onto the bathroom tile. He admires how long her legs look from this angle and how water droplets roll down her smooth skin.

She takes Trevor’s towel and wraps herself in it, leaving him with the washcloth next to it. He forgot to put out a towel for Honey before they got in the jacuzzi– that’s Trevor’s fault. When they move in together, he’ll be sure to install a towel rod that can fit both of their towels side-by-side. His and hers. H + T.

And when Honey shivers a bit from the change of warm water to cool air conditioning, Trevor vows to make the towel rack heated so that her towel is always hot and fluffy like it just came out of the dryer.

Trevor pulls the stopper from the drain and watches the water ripple as the pipe drinks it up. He sits in the water a moment longer and rushes out of the jacuzzi only once Honey starts to leave the bathroom. He nearly slips on the tile, but he catches her arm and brings her back. He presses her body against the bathroom counter and starts to kiss Honey’s neck. “Tryin’ to dip out on me?”

“No,” Honey giggles. “I was trying to get to your bed, silly boy.”

“We don’t need a bed,” Trevor tells her. “Why don’t I fuck you right here?”

“How romantic.”

“I’ll make it nice for you,” Trevor promises. He pinches Honey’s chin softly and guides her lips to his. “Just relax and I’ll take care of you, my sweet girl.”

“You’re such a smooth talker,” Honey whispers, breathing out a laugh. She touches Trevor’s brow when he pulls away and bites her lower lip, tampering with her smile. 

Trevor frees her lip with his thumb and untucks the towel, spreading the fabric and revealing her body. He hums like she’s the most appetizing thing he’s ever seen, letting his gaze wander down her body. Trevor palms her thighs and slides his hands around to the back, lifting Honey so that she is sitting on the counter. Trevor spreads her knees and licks his lips. 

She’s glistening.

“So wet,” Trevor says, dropping down to kneel on the tile. He shifts around to try and find a position that is comfortable, given the hard ground.

“It’s from the water,” Honey snaps back sassily. “Don’t be fooled.”

Trevor glances up at her, unimpressed, then playfully nips at her skin. He sinks his teeth into the meat of her inner thigh, nibbling.

Honey seizes Trevor’s hair and pulls him off. “Stop that,” she admonishes. “I’m not wearing pants to work because you want to mark me up.”

Trevor sighs, feeling put out. “You never want me to have any fun.” He’s complaining, but he’s complaining with a smile. He lowers his mouth to Honey’s core and dives in.

Honey’s head hits the mirror behind her when she throws it back. There’s a small thud that accompanies the movement, but she waves him off when his eyes flicker up to check on her.

She’s fine, so Trevor closes his eyes and loses himself in the pussy at his lips.

Trevor admits that in his hookups before Honey, he hasn’t been known to munch without being asked. He craves Honey like her slick is her namesake. Maybe that’s cliché, but while Trevor’s tongue is caressing the sweet folds at her core, he can’t be bothered to care. She tastes good and she’s his, and the only way to describe her is in clichés. That’s how much Trevor feels for Honey. 

Sometimes he thinks that he might be living in a dream. He used to dream about moments like this, where Honey would tease him devotedly and make fun of him like they’re sharing a joke instead of like she’s trying to bring him down and purposefully stop him from falling in love with her. Now that it’s happening, he almost wonders if it’s real. Honey is a dream. She’s everything that Trevor has been waiting for without her even trying, without him even realizing that he’d been waiting for Honey. 

Trevor wishes he had found her sooner. He would’ve loved to know Honey when he was younger, before Thomas got to her and before she lost her taste for her big hometown. He thinks about what it would’ve been like to tell Honey about his day while he was playing for the NTDP, how he would have called her on the buses to and from games, how he would’ve brought her to the draft with him and thrown his new jersey on her body to share that his life wasn’t just about him. It would’ve been about them from the beginning and she would’ve been by his side.

At the same time, Trevor knows that it’s not that simple. He can’t rewrite history and include Honey. He probably wouldn’t have loved her as well as he should’ve, if he’d known her in high school. They probably would have broken up in some massive, explosive fight about how Trevor only cared about hockey and not about Honey and they’d never speak again. He wouldn’t be as bad as Thomas, but she’d think of him along similar lines. Trevor will never allow that to happen.

His tongue parts her folds eagerly, ears prickling proudly at the dreamy sigh that escapes Honey’s mouth. He picks up beads of her wetness, feeling them seep into his tastebuds and warm his stomach like he’s full, even though it’s impossible and entirely a placebo effect. Trevor pushes Honey’s thighs farther apart when they threaten to close around his head, keeping his hands on her supple skin and rubbing his thumb over the area because he can. He tenses his tongue into a sort of spear and licks into her entrance, greedy for everything she offers him. His nose bumps against her clit, which he knows Honey likes, so he keeps doing it. He nibbles on her folds and kitten-licks her clit in a mundane routine that always ends with him fucking his tongue into her heat and feeling her clench down in surprise.

Honey is pressing the back of her hand against her mouth to try and keep her sounds inside, but little mewls escape her anyway. It’s only after a drawn out whine leaves her, and Honey’s muscles quiver under Trevor’s palms throughout her climax, that Trevor pulls back and comes up to kiss her again.

“Good?” Trevor asks. “Satisfied, baby?”

“Fuck me,” Honey requests breathlessly, her fingertips digging into Trevor’s lovehandles and dragging him closer. “Fuck me, Trev.”

A self-satisfied smirk comes over Trevor’s face. How things have changed– Honey once said she wouldn’t beg for him, but here she is. She’s touching him impatiently and moving restlessly to try and get closer to Trevor, and frowning up at him when he stalls.

“We should do this every day forever,” Trevor tells Honey. 

“How about we start with today?” Honey answers him, sounding exasperated.

Trevor laughs at her retort and kisses her forehead. His hands weasel underneath her arms and find her backside, palming her cheeks.

Honey shoves her hand between their bodies and aligns his tip with her entrance. As his cockhead makes contact, Trevor helps her out and shifts forward. She melts in his touch as his cock slides inside of her warm and welcoming pussy.

“Fuck,” Trevor murmurs. 

Honey hums in reply, rolling her hips. “Trevor,” she says.

“Shh, I know,” Trevor says. He takes a breath in and pushes further, sinking into Honey until her cunt has enveloped his member. “Hon, you always feel so good.”

“Wanna come on your cock,” Honey keens sweetly, her bottom lip jutting out in a cute pout that Trevor can’t resist kissing. 

“Okay,” Trevor agrees. He moves his hands to the counter beneath Honey, finding leverage by laying his palms flat against the cool granite. He tucks his head against her neck, mouthing at the skin covering her pulse and doing his best not to leave a mark, even though he can’t resist sucking a little bit. She tastes clean and sweet and Trevor knows that he’ll do this for her whenever she wants, wherever, for the rest of time. He’s completely and entirely whipped.

Honey’s hands scramble for purchase on his back and shoulders as Trevor’s hips snap forward, pounding the walls of Honey’s pussy like he’s drunk on pleasure. Her gasps are choked and quiet, though the sounds between their bodies are anything but. Trevor really hopes that none of the guys decided to wake up early for any reason– they certainly had plenty of time to sneak Honey out before they started their bath, but now… Trevor isn’t so sure. He also isn’t shy about wanting to draw this out. Honey just feels so good around him, so tight and hot and eager for more.

“Fuck, baby, I love this pussy,” Trevor groans. He kisses over Honey’s shoulder, lathing his tongue against her collarbone. “Squeezing me so tight, making me feel so good. Love you. Love you.”

“Mm, gonna come, Trev,” Honey replies. Her hand slides to his hair and pets through the curling ends at the base of his neck. She kisses his jawline and Trevor feels her whimper vibrate against his skin.

“Come, Hon. Come for me,” Trevor encourages. He kisses over her body to her mouth, capturing her lips and slipping his tongue inside.

Honey arches into him, her mouth opening against his. Honey breathes into Trevor’s mouth, writhing against his body. “Yes,” she pants. “Oh, Trevor.”

Trevor nearly loses his shit when she inflects his name like that, all needy and whiny. His rhythm stutters and he keens involuntarily, the noise embarrassingly high-pitched. 

He fucks Honey through her orgasm, even as tight as her cunt is around his cock, and her cum drips down his shaft to form a ring of moisture at the base. It’s only once her entrance relaxes and welcomes him back in that Trevor lets go and floods her cunt with his own climax.

Honey likes it, Trevor knows she does, but she’s still playing her game with him. She rolls her head back on her shoulders, then comes back to level and looks down at her dripping pussy. “Gross,” she complains. “After we bathed and everything? How am I supposed to go to work with all of this inside of me?”

“I kind of like the idea of that,” Trevor teases.

Honey glares at him, barely concealing a laugh. “You would. I don’t want to go to Story Time with a bunch of cum inside of me. I would feel so dirty.”

Trevor chuckles. He kisses the underwisde of Honey’s jaw. “Okay, sweetheart. Let’s clean you up.”

He hooks his arm under Honey’s knees, then wraps the other around her waist. He moves her to the edge of the bathtub and grabs the handheld showerhead, which makes Honey laugh out loud. Trevor washes her cunt clean, then overexaggerates to clean her more thoroughly– pushing his fingers through her folds and spreading them to let the water run through until Honey actually pushes him away and wraps herself in his towel again.

Trevor is supposed to drive her home, but they’re running out of time, so he’s going to drive her straight to work. It’s lucky that Honey plans ahead, because she brought a change of clothes with her last night in case something like this happened– and knowing Trevor, it was going to happen. He’s the first to admit that he’s going to try and soak up as much time as he can with Honey.

They manage to sneak out to the car, even though Trevor and Honey can hear Quinn and Luke shuffling around in the kitchen. They creep out of the driveway and when Trevor drops Honey off at The Reading Nook, she says goodbye with a kiss and an “I love you.”

82:90 – HONEY

Bea tugs a baggy Canucks hoodie over her head after they finish closing the Nook for the weekend. The sweatshirt falls over her athletic shorts and makes it look like she’s wearing no shorts at all. She stands behind Honey and frees her hair from the neckline of the hoodie, fluffing it up and then smoothing it down. “You’re sure you don’t want to come to the movies with us tonight?” Bea asks. “I’m sure we can find some movie that you’d like to watch.”

Honey chuckles. She jiggles the doorhandle to make sure the Nook is locked up properly before turning to look at Bea. “Nah, no thanks. I don’t really have an interest in going to see It Ends With Us, nor do I want to hang out with the boys while they watch Deadpool & Wolverine. Trev and I are going to hang out at the rental house.”

“We decided against It Ends With Us,” Bea informs Honey. She shoves her fists into the pocket of the hoodie. “The domestic abuse was a jumpscare when I looked up the synopsis. I should’ve known, considering it was a Colleen Hoover book originally.” She rolls her eyes, sighing. She and Honey share the same opinion about Colleen. They also work in a bookstore and read often, so they have their opinions about what makes a ‘good’ book. “But I like Hugh Jackman. I liked him in The Greatest Showman, anyway.”

Honey shrugs. “I’m sure you’ll have fun. I’ll see you after.”

“Alright,” Bea agrees. “We’ll probably be home around ten-ish. Do you want us to bring you any food after or anything?”

“No, we’ll be okay. Just bring some popcorn back with you.” Honey waves goodbye to Bea, since she parked in the opposite direction of the movie theater. “I’ll see you later.”

“Have fun with Ziggy,” Bea replies. She pulls her phone from the front pocket of the sweatshirt while she’s turning to walk away. 

When Honey gets in the car, she texts Trevor, asking about their plans for the night. He has very few. To be exact, he’s got one in mind: 

Horror movie!! is what Trevor says. 

Honey scoffs out a laugh. You want me to get scared and cuddle with you.

What if I want you to protect me from the monsters?

Honey leaves that one on read. She heads home before going to Trevor’s, changing into something a little more comfortable. She replaces her jean shorts with a pair of Trevor’s Ducks joggers that he insisted she steal– it’s not really stealing if Trevor forces her to take them and leaves them behind every time she gives them back– and her top with that big, faded muscle tee that shows off her sides. Honey doesn’t bother putting a bra on. Trevor will find it a hindrance anyway.

The drive over to the rental house is nice. The sun reached its peak hours ago, so Honey can tell that sunset is coming. There isn’t a cloud in the sky today. She hopes that is a good sign for the town-wide yard sale tomorrow. The town does this every year to encourage an end-of-summer cleaning and it’s never fun to shop around Litchton in the rain. 

Honey arrives at the house, lets herself inside, and finds Trevor in the kitchen. He’s flipping a grilled cheese in a pan, but he sets the spatula down when he sees Honey. “Hey, baby,” Trevor greets, reaching out to Honey to pull her into his orbit. He kisses her before turning back to the stove.

Honey sits at the island, watching the muscles in Trevor’s back as he cooks. He’s shirtless and tan, the epitome of summer, and he’s cooking for Honey. Even though his cooking is a little juvenile, she watches him with fondness. 

“Your sleeve looks like a farmer’s tan,” Honey says. “Did you know that?”

Trevor looks down at his arm, surprise quirking his eyebrows. “You think so?”

“I don’t dislike it,” Honey replies. “I love your tattoos. But it is a little goofy, just because it ends right where your clothes do.”

“I’ll just have to get another,” Trevor says, tossing a smirk over his shoulder at Honey. He plates the second grilled cheese and flexes his bicep, showing off for Honey. He smooths his hand over his shoulder and the bare skin there like it’s a canvas. “I’m thinking that I’ll put your face right here?”

Honey laughs out loud. “Don’t do that, Trevor. I will not let you get a tattoo of my face.”

Trevor places a plate in front of Honey and grabs a peach from the bowl next to the fridge. He rinses it under the faucet and hands it to Honey before coming to join her. Trevor puts a hand on the back of the chair where Honey sits. “Don’t worry. I was just messing with you. Do you want to eat up here or should we start our movie?”

“Did you choose one already?”

Trevor smiles. He tilts his head forward and lets his grin turn more evil and monstrous.  “We’re watching Smile,” Trevor reveals, the grin on his face not budging. “I heard it was very scary. There’s a new one coming out this year and I want to see the first one before it does.”

“I saw the trailer for it before it came out,” Honey says. She picks up her plate and hops up from the chair, wrapping her arm around Trevor’s waist and corraling him towards the basement. “But if I get scared, you’re not allowed to smile at me until at least tomorrow morning.”

“What if you make me laugh?”

“Do it with a frown.”

Trevor snickers under his breath, leading Honey down the basement steps. He plops down on the couch and puts his feet up on the coffee table, grabbing the remote from the cushion next to him and going to the search engine that is built into the TV, ready to scour all the apps they have to watch this movie.

Honey falls onto the couch beside Trevor, tucking herself beneath his arm, which was already extended over the back of the couch. She bites into her grilled cheese and tries to consume as much of this “dinner” as she can before the movie starts– she has a feeling that she’s going to lose her appetite at the first sign of horror.

Rightfully so. Honey knows herself well. As soon as the main character Rose’s patient Laura dons that creepy smile and starts to carve into her own face, Honey is no longer hungy. She puts her plate down and pushes it away and grimaces at the screen, knowing she’s in for a tough viewing. 

Trevor doesn’t make things better, with his own little flinches and jumps with each scare and tense moment, but he does do one thing right. After Rose traumatizes her nephew for the rest of his life at his birthday party, Trevor moves on the couch so that he’s sitting with his back against the arm and he pulls Honey’s back to his chest. 

And then he diffuses the tension altogether by putting his hands through the armholes of her muscle tee and using her boobs as his own personal stress balls.

The movie is still scary, but Honey has a real sense of security with Trevor’s hands on her breasts. It’s very grounding, even though it’s the stupidest and most boy thing ever to be mindlessly playing with her boobs to distract himself from the full effect of the scares. Granted, she wore this shirt with the intention of Trevor having easy access to her chest. She just didn’t think he’d take advantage of that fact in this way. 

When Rose arrives at her childhood home, still hallucinating, Honey senses another jumpscare coming and looks away. She studies the whiteboard that still remains in the basement. It used to be covered in Bea’s ranking system, but now the only bits of that that remains is a big circle around Quinn’s name and a yellow crown drawn on the ‘Q.’ The whiteboard has been used for something else now, which Honey hadn’t noticed before. On it are a list of dates in various handwritings, written under an underlined ‘GUESSES’ like a secret code: 12/31/2024, May 2025, 8-24-24, and 8/10. Honey assumes the last one is this year– last week– rather than August 2010. She squints at the whiteboard and tries to piece together the puzzle just based on the answers alone. None of the handwritings look like Bea’s– they’re all boyish chicken scratch, so Honey just assumes it has something to do with a hockey thing.

Her attention is ripped from the whiteboard just before she’s about to ask Trevor if he knows what’s going on with that. She’s jolted by the way Trevor jumps and moans fearfully as Rose’s mother starts to… transform… and follow after her daughter. He buries his face in Honey’s hair for a minute, then seems unable to bear the fact that he’s missing the climax of the film. Trevor alternates between the two and Honey stares at the screen, mouth wide open and heart racing.

Rose defeats the smiling demon, or whatever it is, with a massive fire. Trevor sighs in relief as she drives back to Joel’s house, releasing his grip on Honey’s skin. She turns from his back, now facing Trevor. She throws her legs over his lap and intertwines their hands before turning back to the television screen. The credits won’t be far off now.

How naive Honey is for thinking that the movie would wrap up so simply.

A sense of dread fills her again when Joel, Rose’s one ally in this movie, starts to smile at her in his apartment. When Rose wakes to find it was all an illusion, that the house didn’t burn down, Honey almost buries her face in Trevor’s shoulder and laments aloud for Rose. The poor girl cannot catch a break and the movie is shot so that the viewers are experiencing the twists at the same time Rose is. 

Rose’s mother, appearing as the demon, becomes less and less human. Honey’s skin is crawling and the monster reveals itself as this fleshy, gross… thing with razor sharp teeth. She squeaks when it touches Rose, finally taking hold and–

–screams when the lights in the basement shut off and she and Trevor are plunged into darkness.

She’s not the only one. Trevor is screaming too and getting up from the couch to do something, Honey guesses? But they can’t see anything, so his ‘doing something’ is completely futile. This same monster crawled from their screen like the girl in The Ring and is now infiltrating their lives until they’re completely overtaken by it and killing themselves because of this curse.

The lights come back on and Jack starts to laugh. “I thought that would freak you two out,” he jokes. He walks over to the couch and plops down next to Honey who, reacting completely reasonably, starts to whack Jack with a pillow over and over until he’s wrestling it away from her.

“You– are– such– a– stupid– idiot,” Honey insults between swings of the pillow, then between slaps from her own palms to the same pillow that Jack is now using as a shield. “I hate you!”

Jack keeps on laughing. The movie is ending. It’s not nearly all the way over, as Joel has only just entered the house to see what became of Rose, but Honey is wholly distracted. Even Trevor joins in, berating Jack for his trick and startling them so much. 

“What are you even doing here?” Honey finally accuses. “It’s early. You’re not supposed to be back yet.”

Jack shrugs, tucking the pillow under his arm and throwing his feet up on the table before them. “Didn’t feel like getting ice cream with the group, so I threw a tantrum until Quinn gave in and drove me back here and dropped me off.”

“Is Quinn here?” Trevor asks.

Jack waves him off. “No. He dropped me at the top of the driveway and went back with Bea and them.”

Trevor laughs. “He made you walk from the top of the driveway? That’s funny.”

“I expected it,” Jack replies. “He’s against my tantrums. But, hey, they work. I wanted to leave and he wanted to get rid of me. The walk was good. The stars are out.”

Trevor turns to Honey and tilts his head inquisitively. “Go stargazing later?”

“No thanks, babe,” Jack replies sweetly, jumping in to respond before Honey can. 

“I’m not talking to you, dumbass,” Trevor hisses.

Jack grins, pleased that he’s getting on Trevor’s nerves.

“Maybe later,” Honey says to Trevor about the stargazing. She steals the remote from his hands and clicks through the apps on their TV until she finds Peacock. “Let’s watch something goofy to take the edge off.”

She’s meaning to find New Girl, but Jack steals the remote from her hands and turns on The Office. He must have been watching it earlier in the summer, because he’s in the middle of season four. 

They get through one episode before Jack pauses the television and says something Honey didn’t expect. She should’ve, given how she’s still tucked into Trevor’s side and her legs are once again thrown over his lap. 

“I think you guys should tell everyone,” Jack announces.

Honey draws her eyebrows together and turns to glare at Jack. “Who did you tell?”

Jack lifts his hands in surrender. “I didn’t tell anyone,” he denies, defensive. “I swore I wasn’t going to and I haven’t!”

Honey narrows her eyes at him. “Not even Luke?”

Jack grits his teeth. “I have not told Luke yet, but it is very hard for me to lie to him. I told Trevor this a couple of days ago, Honey– no one cares if you two are dating. We like you. It’s not like anything is going to change for you.”

Honey sighs. Jack… she thinks. 

Trevor voices her thoughts. “Jack,” Trevor says sharply. He shakes his head. “Why–? Why.”

“Why what?” Jack scoffs. “We only have a week left here, Trevor. You and Honey– it’s going to come out anyway. You guys… when we leave Litchton, you’re not going to stay a secret forever.”

Honey swallows around a lump in her throat, lips pinched together tightly.

“We can keep it a secret as long as we’d like,” Trevor snaps. His hand grips Honey’s knee, holding her still on top of him. He squeezes Honey’s leg in a way that she thinks signals comfort, but it doesn’t quite feel that way. She sees what Jack is saying.

He continues. “You know why we came here in the first place, Trevor. It was your idea. I know those girls broke into my lake house, but you were there too. I wasn’t the only one they wanted to see. People aren’t going to just leave you alone, you know that.”

“Girls broke into your house?” Honey asks. The boys might’ve told her that before, but she doesn’t remember it– she feels like she would remember it. 

Trevor sighs heavily. “Yeah, that’s why we came here. Cole and I wanted to get away and we convinced the boys to come with. I couldn’t take another summer of everyone knowing who we were and treating us like that. Even though it’s fun to be known, it’s exhausting when shit like that happens.”

“It’s not going to stop happening,” Jack says. “But, like, me? I’d rather you guys let people know on your own terms. Especially the guys– I think Luke has a feeling already and Cole is a mystery to me, but you don’t want them to find out from other fucking people. I don’t want them to find out from me, but if Luke asks… you know I won’t be able to stop myself.”

“Maybe you should figure that out about yourself–” Trevor starts.

Honey interrupts. “You’re right.”

Trevor snaps his mouth shut and looks at Honey. “He’s right?”

Honey takes a breath. “I think it’s time the boys know. They’re the only two left that don’t know and it’s not really fair to keep things a secret from them anymore. The Thomas thing isn’t really holding me back anymore, so… why not?”

“Are you sure?” Trevor asks. His question is like a prod to Honey’s side, trying to get her attention.

Honey leans her head back on Trevor’s bicep and smiles at him, close-lipped and soft. She nods. “I think it’s time, Trev.” She misses Jack fist pumping behind her, but she does catch the glare that Trevor shoots him. Honey touches his sternum and brings his attention back to her face. 

Trevor surveys every inch of her expression and stares into Honey’s eyes, searching for some trace of doubt. Honey lets none of that shine through. 

The only doubt that she has involves the public, not the guys. Trevor’s fans knowing things about Honey is different than Luke and Cole finally being let in on the secret. A conversation about their private life going public eventually, just due to Trevor’s status, is something that will have to come later. Honey doesn’t want to talk about that right now. She’s already lucky that she doesn’t have Instagram anymore, having deleted it after leaving Charlotte. She’s sure that the second Trevor posts her, or the second she hypothetically posted him, it would be over for them. Their little bubble would pop.

“Okay,” Trevor says simply. “Let’s tell them.”

“Tonight,” Honey states.

“Tonight.”

“Finally.” Jack leans forward and hits play on the remote, starting the next episode. “I thought I was going to have to convince you a lot more.”

“Shut up, Jack,” Trevor tells him. 

Jack flicks his middle finger up at Trevor, and Honey smacks it away. 

When the front door bangs open, Honey’s legs fly off Trevor’s lap and she straightens up. She fixes her shirt out of habit, even though her boobs have been covered by the fabric– Trevor only got to them through the sides of her shirt. They might be telling the rest of the group when they traipse downstairs, but Honey doesn’t think that she should have her body thrown all over Trevor’s while they talk about it. 

Bea comes down the stairs first, hugging a bucket of popcorn to her body with one arm. “Hey,” she greets. She sets the popcorn bucket on the table and settles in the armchair, tossing her legs over the arm of the chair and facing the TV. “Feeling better, Missy Prissy?” She’s giggling at Jack when she spouts the nickname.

“Don’t call me that,” Jack complains. “And yes, I am feeling better.”

Quinn and the boys came down the steps behind Bea. Quinn goes to the armchair and pretends not to see Bea, lowering himself down slowly as if he’s going to sit right on the curve of her body. 

Bea laughs and squeals at Quinn, pushing him away. “Hey, you’re going to squish me!”

Quinn gasps in faux-surprise. “Oh my gosh, I didn’t even see you there!” He lifts Bea and spins them around so he can sit in the chair and bring Bea back into position on the chair with him, just draped over his lap now. 

Luke and Cole head to the ping pong table to play, but Honey calls to them. “Hey, can y’all come sit? I have something to tell you,” she says.

Luke’s eyebrows raise and his eyes go to Jack immediately. 

Honey wants to roll her eyes and shake her head. Of course he looks straight to Jack, she thinks. The boy who can’t lie. What are the odds he already told Luke, even though he swore he didn’t? Honey pushes that thought to the side.

Cole sits on the loveseat and Luke comes to lean against the wall. He doesn’t sit down.

“What’s up, doc?” Cole asks, his voice entirely full of jokes and laughter. “You look awfully serious. Who died, Hon?”

“No one died,” Honey says. 

Bea frowns at Honey. Her fingers drop from the back of Quinn’s head, where they were petting through his hair. “You okay?”

Honey nods. “I’m fine,” she confirms. “I just wanted to tell you guys that Trevor and I are dating.”

“Oh. I already knew that,” Bea states. She turns back to Quinn and twirls a curl between her fingers. 

Luke crosses his arms over his chest and starts to laugh. One of his hands comes up to cover his mouth. “Are you kidding?” 

“What’s funny?” Trevor asks, sounding offended. He puts his arm over Honey’s shoulders.

“That’s your big news?” Luke asks. He mirrors Honey’s nod, crooked smile overtaking his face. “Obviously you’re together. You’re wearing his sweatpants right now. You two have been fucking since Jamie was in town and you were interested in each other way before that.”

Honey gapes at him. Trevor gapes at him. Jack shrugs as if he’s saying ‘I told you so.’

“Huh?” Cole bursts out. “You two have not been fucking that long. Have you?”

“You knew?” Bea asks, half-scoffing and half-laughing.

“It wasn’t my business, I just wanted to give Trevor a hard time every time he lied about being on Raya,” Cole says. “There aren’t any girls on Raya here. I checked! There aren’t any girls on Raya within fifty miles of here.”

“When do you think we started hooking up?” Honey demands. 

“Well, he’d been having sex dreams about you for weeks,” Cole brushes the matter off nonchalantly. “But I figured you guys finally hooked up when we all got high together and he was texting you about eating you out and getting his dick inside you.”

Honey’s jaw drops. “You saw that?”

Cole laughs. “Yeah, dude. My head was laying on your lap. You were holding the phone right in front of me. You’re not slick. Was it really the third week when you started hooking up?”

Trevor looks past Honey to Jack. “You really can’t keep a secret.”

“I didn’t say shit to them!” Jack exclaims.

“Yeah, Jack didn’t say anything,” Luke says with a frown. “Don’t blame this on him. You guys are just obvious. I’m surprised you didn’t hook up immediately after the whipped cream thing. We saw how hard you were when Honey put her fingers in your waistband, Trevor.”

“Yeah!” Cole interjects. “I designed that fucking thing and you guys didn’t even take advantage of it! What’s that about?”

Honey suddenly feels like she’s on trial. “Whatever,” she sneers. “You guys suck.”

Cole throws his head back, laughing. “We suck ‘cause we’ve been trying to get you idiots together since May? Fuck off, Honey.”

Honey glares at him in reply, but it’s hard to keep a straight face. It’s even harder to keep a laugh inside when she looks to Bea for support and finds her with her index finger pressed against the tip of her nose, pushing it back. She looks a bit like she’s got a pig snout and Honey snorts.

Which, in turn, makes Bea laugh.

Then everyone is laughing. 

Honey turns her head into Trevor’s neck, curling into his side, and feigns a scowl at the others in the room. “You guys ruined my big news.”

Luke leaves the wall and goes to the ping pong table. Cole joins him, squeezing Honey’s shoulder when he walks behind her on the couch. “Sorry, Honeybun,” he apologizes without feeling. His smile is still evident on his voice. 

“Whatever,” Honey repeats. She kicks Jack’s thigh. “Just play the stupid show.”

Jack laughs and hits play for a third time on The Office.“If it makes you feel better, I really didn’t know until you told me the other night,” he offers. “I thought I was dreaming when I saw you sleeping together in the hammock.”

Honey groans and covers her face with her hands.

Trevor pulls Honey’s legs back onto his lap and slides his arm through the armhole of her muscle tee, rubbing his hand over her back slowly. They sit like that for the rest of the night.

83:90 – TREVOR

“That’s the ugliest sofa I’ve ever seen in my life,” Cole laughs, pointing at a piece of furniture across Joan’s yard. 

Trevor joins in on the laughter, following the guys over to the part of the yard laden with larger items. He sits down on the tacky couch with Luke, splaying his fingers over the plaid, contrasing colors. The fabric is kind of itchy and coarse, but it seems like it was once soft. Perhaps it’s some sort of velvet, just different than any velvet Trevor has ever seen. 

The couch is mostly green, although it’s overlaid with pinks and oranges and yellows, plus the occasionally blended blue. The edges are dark, smooth wood and Trevor likes that– he runs his fingers over the polished edges and makes himself comfortable.

The girls are shopping around, so they’ll be here for a while. It’s been an all day event, going from house to house in Litchton and finding trinkets. 

Trevor has been tasked with carrying Honey’s things, the ones that don’t fit in her little mesh bag that she uses to bag fruit from the stand on Mondays. He’s got a crocheted shawl over his shoulders and a leather belt looped across his chest like a crossbody bag. He feels like Indiana Jones. He’s also got a pair of driving gloves in his pocket, which are such a bright blue that Honey declared that she had to have them. The boys have been making fun of him all day, but Trevor likes being Honey’s personal coatrack. If that makes him whipped– and he knows he’s whipped– then so be it. Walking around with his arm over Honey’s shoulders, keeping her tight against his body, is more than enough to make up for all the jeers and chirps from his friends.

Quinn’s doing almost the same thing as Trevor, but he’s only got a jewelry box from Sacha’s house– painted and decorated by her young granddaughter, who Bea talked with for about fifteen minutes before paying five dollars more than she should’ve for the box– and a flowery apron that Bea bought from a woman Trevor didn’t know. He hasn’t even put the apron on, which Trevor thinks is a waste. It’s got a cute design. 

Honey and Bea come over to the couches, each of them holding a shoebox. Bea settles on Quinn’s lap and Honey sits on the arm of the couch next to Trevor. He wraps his arm around her and settles his hand on her hip.

Honey runs her fingers over the cushion behind Trevor. “I love this couch,” she says, just to herself and Trevor.

“You do?” he asks. He looks down at the fabric. It’s still ugly and tacky and too much contrast for his eyes.

“Love it,” Honey repeats, nodding in confirmation. “The colors are so fun. I’d put this in my living room and keep it forever.” Her fingers find the price tag and she frowns. “But not for $75. I don’t know how I’d get it to my house anyway… and I already have a couch.” She sighs with her whole body and flicks open the lid of the shoebox, pulling out a stack of pictures and thumbing through them. “I’ll get over it. Maybe Joan will still have the couch next year.”

Before she even finished speaking, Trevor had made up his mind. He’s buying this couch for Honey. He’ll surprise her with it. $75 is nothing to him. He’ll put it in his apartment, front and center, and when she visits him in Anaheim for the first time, it’ll be there waiting for her. She’ll see that he’s been making space for her in his life for as long as they’ve been together. 

“Whatcha got there?” Trevor asks, peeking into the shoebox.

Honey turns the pictures toward Trevor. “Just old Litchton pictures. I like looking at this stuff. They’re like ten cents each. Four for 25¢.”

Trevor hums. He rubs his hand up and down Honey’s side as she flicks through the photos, listening to the boys talk amongst themselves. They’re trying to decide what to do tonight and who’s going to cook dinner. 

Honey and Bea pass pictures back and forth. Quinn files the ones that they want to buy into the empty jewelry box Bea bought.

“Hey.” Trevor pokes Honey’s side. “Where does Joan get her fruit?”

“She’s got a grove out back, but most of the stuff is grown on a farm down the road,” Honey replies. “I bet she’ll show it to you if you ask. She’s over there.” She points toward the driveway of the house.

Trevor spots Joan almost immediately. She’s chatting with a middle-aged man who is holding a porcelain lamp in his hand. Trevor expects that they’re haggling. 

When he stands to go talk with Joan– the perfect opportunity to tell her not to sell this ugly couch until he can come back with a truck or a uHaul– Trevor plants a casual kiss on Honey’s lips before walking away. He gets to do that now. The boys will hum and haw about it each time for at least the next two days, but he gets to lay one on her whenever he wants now. Because everyone knows. It’s the greatest feeling.

Honey dips her head and smiles to herself when Jack whoops, then Luke follows. Trevor tweaks her cheek and walks off.

“You’ll give me fifteen for that lamp, Matthew, it is a bonafide antique,” Joan says with an air of finality as Trevor approaches. 

Matthew grumbles, but he tucks the lamp under his arm and pulls his wallet out of his back pocket. He thumbs through a couple of notes, counting them out before he hands over the cash. Trevor intercepts Joan as soon as Matthew departs.

“Joan, I was wondering,” Trevor says, his hand catching her elbow for a moment to fully gain her attention. “Honey said you’ve got a garden out back. Could I see it?”

Joan smiles. “I’m a bit busy, Trevor. I’ve got to preside over this yard sale, sweetheart. Why don’t you come by tomorrow evening and you can help me pick some goods out for the stand on Monday?”

Manual labor? Trevor questions to himself. He doesn’t expect to be paid for the work, but he can make this work in his favor. “Sure, if you can help me get that couch to the house I rented for the summer,” Trevor offers. He twitches his head toward the ugly couch where his group sits. “Honey wants it, but she won’t buy it for herself. I want to surprise her with it.”

Joan quirks an eyebrow. “Have you got a truck, young man?”

Trevor makes a face. “No. Can I borrow yours?”

“I don’t have a truck,” Joan laughs. “I’ve got a refrigerated van. Where do you think all the fruit goes, Trevor? I can’t fit it all in my refrigerator, even for one night a week.” She’s teasing, but then she turns serious. “And I’m not putting a piece of furniture in my nice van.” She looks past Trevor’s shoulder, her eyes softening as she looks at the group there. Joan looks back at Trevor and continues. “If you come back with a truck, though, you can have the couch for free.”

Trevor agrees in a heartbeat. The only problem now is… how the hell is he going to get a truck on such short notice?

“Hey, Zegras!” Bea shouts, cupping her hands around her mouth. “We’re going to the next location. Are you coming with or are you going to keep flirting with taken women?”

Trevor glares at her. He’s not flirting, which Bea knows, but now everyone at the yard sale is looking at him. She wanted to embarrass him and she has succeeded. Even Honey is laughing, so he lets it go. “I’ll be back tomorrow with a truck,” Trevor tells Joan. “Don’t let anyone else buy that couch before I can pick it up.”

“Darling, nobody wants that couch,” Joan assures Trevor. “I’ve been bringing that out during our yard sales for five years. This is just the first time Honey made her way to my house on a day like today.”

Honestly, Trevor believes her. It’s a terrible couch. It’s comfortable even though it’s slightly itchy, but it’s also ugly and it doesn’t match anything. It’s a piece that you have to build the room around, not that you can throw into an existing room. 

Honey doesn’t care. She loves it. Trevor believes that she’ll be able to fit it seamlessly into her living room if that’s what she wants to do. He is going to get that truck and pick up this sofa for Honey.

He returns to the group, walking behind the girls as they put the shoeboxes of pictures back on the table from which they came. Honey shuffles a couple of dollars into Joan’s hand as they leave, piling into Quinn’s big rental car. Quinn and Bea sit in the front, wrestling Jack away from the shotgun door when he tries to steal it from Bea. Jack and Cole are in the middle seats, then Honey, Luke, and Trevor are in the back.

They pull right into the driveway of the next stop. It’s late in the evening, nearly dinner time, so Trevor is hoping that this will be their last stop. When he sees Vera in the front lawn, Trevor thinks it will be.

A realization hits Trevor. He stares at the truck parked in front of their car, rusty bumper and all. He knows that the truck bed is big enough for a couch– it’s big enough for five boys to fit in the back with plenty of extra space. His head whips toward the front porch of the house– Earl is there, sitting in a rocking chair, asleep.

He will use Earl’s truck tomorrow to pick up Honey’s couch, even if he has to grovel and beg the old man.

They exit the vehicle like a clown-car. Honey tucks her arm behind her back and makes a grabbing motion, knowing that Trevor is behind her. Trevor slips his hand into hers and they walk into the yard sale hand-in-hand.

“Oh, my word!” Vera exclaims when she spots them. “You two finally figured that out, did you?”

Honey blushes. Trevor laughs. “I had a feeling you ladies knew all along,” Honey murmurs, rolling her eyes fondly. “I’m surprised you didn’t let me know exactly how you felt from the first day.”

“Babygirl, I would’ve if you’d have listened to me,” Vera teases. She shakes her head and waves her hand, brushing them off.  “I knew you’d get there eventually. Plus, Earl’s been telling me to butt out of other people’s business since our boy decided to get a divorce.”

“Hm, that sounds like him,” Honey says with a smile. “Is he sleepin’ again?” Her little accent always gets thicker when she talks to the knitting ladies, probably because their Appalachian accents are so heavy and prominent. 

Vera glares at her husband from over her shoulder. “Yes. He’s always sleeping on the job. There ain’t been a yard sale in the past fifteen years that this man hasn’t fallen asleep at, in that same damn rocking chair.”

“Maybe next year, you’ll have to sell the rocking chair,” Trevor jokes good-naturedly. 

Vera loses herself in thought for a second, tapping her chin. “You know, that’s not a bad idea, Trevor. I might just have to do that next year.”

Honey chuckles. “Just don’t tell Earl it was Trevor’s idea. He’ll never forgive him.”

Vera locks her lips and gives them a wink.

“Hon, come look at this,” Bea calls. “It’s perfect for tomorrow.”

Honey’s eyes light up. She releases Trevor’s hand and pushes him away. “Go, go look at something else.”

Trevor makes himself limp against her hands. “I wanna see what you’re so excited about.”

“It’s a secret,” Honey whines. “Let me surprise you.” She kisses Trevor’s jaw, distracting him with the fleeting brush. “Shoo.” She pushes Trevor off with one final shrug. 

Trevor grins, shit-eating and annoying, at Honey. He’s going to take the chance to talk to Earl while Honey is occupied. The boys won’t bother him either– Vera has commandeered Cole to get him to move some boxes and the Hughes brothers are wandering through the aisles of junk and tchotchkes that Earl and Vera are selling.

Trevor climbs the stairs of the porch, crossing the wooden slats with light feet. He sinks into the rocking chair next to Earl as the man opens one eye. 

“What do you want?” Earl grunts. “Waking me up, stomping over here without a care in the world. Being disrespectful to my house, boy.”

Trevor just bites the bullet. “I need to borrow your truck tomorrow night.”

Earl curls his lip and pinches the bridge of his nose. “No.”

“C’mon, man,” Trevor complains. “You let Bea borrow your truck.”

“I’ve known Miss McLean for five years and I rode in the truck with her behind the wheel three times before I let her take it on her own,” Earl replies. “I love my truck and I’m not letting you wreck it.”

So Trevor grovels. “Please,” he sing-songs in a sugary-sweet voice. He clasps his hands together in a praying position and bends forward, entreating Earl. “I’ll take good care of her.”

Earl side-eyes her. “My truck ain’t a boat. It ain’t no ‘she.’”

“I have a clean license and it’s not set to expire for another couple of years,” Trevor says. “I’ve never gotten into a wreck and I swear I won’t let tomorrow be the first time.”

“I said no, Trevor.”

Trevor heaves out a huge sigh. He sits in silence for a second, rocking his chair and gazing out into the yard. 

Earl closes his eyes to go back to sleep.

“It’s for Honey,” Trevor says after a minute. He listened to the wind blow through the chimes hung in the corner of the ceiling of the porch before he spoke. “Joan has the world’s ugliest couch on her lawn and Honey loves it. It’s a horrible mix of colors and it’s kind of velvety and itchy, but she had to convince herself that it wasn’t worth it. She can’t spend $75 on it. She doesn’t have the means to move it.”

Earl gives no sign that he’s listening. Trevor knows that he is.

“I need your truck so I can buy the couch. I can’t decide if I want to swap it with her couch while she’s hanging out with Bea, or if I want to put it in my apartment and surprise her when she comes to visit me for the first time. I think the look on her face would be worth it a few months down the line, once she’s forgotten about it,” Trevor continues. 

He watches Honey dig through a box and pass a bundle of fabric to Bea, nodding. Bea nods and admires it, running her fingers over the fabric before slipping it into a quilted bag that she must have found on another table. 

“The couch won’t fit in my car. So I need to borrow your truck,” Trevor repeats. “I promise I will take care of it and fill it with gas when I’m done.”

Earl squints at Trevor. “When do you need it?”

A blossom of hope blooms in Trevor’s chest. That’s basically a yes. “Tomorrow afternoon.”

Earl makes a noise like a humph. “Come to the hardware store at 4. I’ll drive you. We’ll keep the couch here until you can find some movers to take it to your place. It’ll stay in the apartment above the garage. Finally, it’ll be good for something.”

Earl lays out the plan with such conviction that Trevor knows he can’t say no. This is the most the Earl will budge, simply because Trevor explained that he’s doing it for Honey. So the old man does have a heart– he’s a softie, like Honey says.

“Do you think you can still carry a couch, old man?” Trevor teases.

Earl grabs the newspaper on his lap and rolls it up, swinging at Trevor. He dodges it. “Boy, get off’a my porch before I take my offer back.”

Trevor laughs, but scurries away from Earl like a convict who just dug his way out of jail with a spoon.

84:90 – HONEY

The silk beneath Honey’s fingers is smooth and light, but that doesn’t mean it’s not intimidating. The baby blue color and the cream colored lace around the neckline and the hem of the shorts are beautiful, but not enough to offset Honey’s hesitation. This beautiful, vintage slip with thin spaghetti straps and a lightly cinched waist was purchased yesterday for one specific purpose: to give Trevor something to remember Honey by while he’s gone. 

Of course, they’ll be calling each other and texting all the time during the season, but the principle stands. Honey wants to give Trevor something sexy and, quite frankly… she wants to prove to herself that she does trust him with something as intimate as a series of photos. 

It was an idea Honey had after Trevor went cold on Thomas, but she’d let it go. It resurfaced when they’d hooked up in the car after visiting her parents on Monday, when Trevor had run his hands over the curves of her body and whispered, “I wish there was a way for me to remember this perfectly, forever.” Since then, it’s been weighing on her mind. The idea to take pictures for Trevor has never been far from the forefront of her brain. 

She debated back and forth until yesterday. Honey had told Bea, just to try and talk it out and come to a decision, and then they’d found a box of pretty clothes that Vera had sewn when she was side-hustling as a seamstress. She said that the clothes had never been worn, since she’d never sold them before they opened the hardware store, which made Honey feel better. She was not going to buy lingerie from Vera if it was… used. Honey shudders to think about that. Luckily, Vera assured them that she would not sell that sort of thing. She’s a God-fearing woman, she says, and she will not participate in that type of public indecency. Vera, appartently, has dignity to spare.

It was a bit dramatic, but it made Honey laugh, and she loved this piece. It’s so her. The baby blue contrasts her tanned summer skin and her pierced nipples are going to brush against the silk like how clean bedsheets soothe freshly-shaven legs. 

Still, the hesitation remains. It’s very real to Honey, that she’s taking sexy pictures of herself for the first time since her nudes were leaked when she was 17, but there are a few things to console her. One: she won’t be stripping down. She’ll be wearing this slip, which covers everything but still reveals enough to pique the imagination. Two: the photos will be physical copies rather than electronic. They’ll be taken on Honey’s polaroid camera, the same one that she and Cole used when modeling their matching t-shirts. Three: the person taking the photos is very trustworthy. Bea would sooner bite the bullet by her own hand rather than share Honey’s photos, even if she was mad at Honey and wanted to get back at her, while Thomas was the opposite. Four: Trevor has assured Honey over and over again, and he will continue to reassure Honey as long as he needs to, that he will never treat her the way that Thomas did. Honey believes him and she wants to show him that she believes him and trusts him– so this is what she’s decided to do.

She takes a deep breath and eases her robe off. She just took a shower and styled her hair the way she thinks Trevor will most enjoy. It’s slightly messy, but cascading down her back in curls. About halfway through the photoshoot, Honey expects that she’ll get overstimulated and tie her hair up on top of her head in her classic bun. Trevor likes that too and he’ll enjoy being able to see the planes of her back, whereas they were hidden before.

Honey slides into the baby blue slip carefully. Since it’s old, and spent decades in a box in Vera’s attic, she’s worried about breaking the seams or tugging on the straps too much. By being careful, she’ll keep it in such pristine condition that she can continue to admire it for years to come. It’s a pretty piece of fabric. 

She tilts her head at herself in the mirror. Honey likes how she looks, but her reflection almost seems like a different version of herself. It’s still her, but her reflection just shows how much she’s changed and grown since the beginning of the summer. She smiles at herself.

“You ready?” Bea asks, knocking on the wall of Honey’s bedroom. She’d been banished from the loft while Honey got ready, but she was only banished to the downstairs bathroom to put on her own outfit. 

Bea won’t be starring in many photos today, but she will be doing a couple. Her plan is to demonstrate poses and angles for Honey and if the pictures work out, she’ll hand them off to her boyfriend when he leaves. Part of it is because he won her whiteboard challenge and the reward for winning was a boudoir shoot, but the other part is because Bea actually wants to give Quinn something to look at when he’s in Vancouver and she’s still here. Honey can’t imagine handing a sexy photo to a boyfriend who is going to become an ex by the end of next week, knowing that he’ll keep it and look at it. Bea seems fine with it, always taking every new development in stride while maintaining her decision to break up with Quinn by the end of the summer. 

Honey is trying to be okay with it. Honey’s mom always used to say, “If you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all,” so Honey is doing her best to stay silent when she disagrees with Bea. There’s nothing she can say to change Bea’s mind. It will just start a fight. She doesn’t want to fight with Bea when she’s already going through enough.

Bea managed to find a pink teddy that fits her aesthetic perfectly. It’s still girlish without being too pretty-princess-pink and innocent. It’s sexy. The flowing dress part that covers Bea’s stomach and falls halfway over her behind is sheer, while the cups of the bra push her cleavage up and make them look absurdly round. 

“Fake tits?” Honey asks.

Bea flashes a smile. “All real.” She puts her hands near her chest, emulating the snap portion of the ‘Bend and Snap,’ and poses. “I’m surprised how good they look in this, to be honest.” Her hands drop to her sides. “It’s literally fate that we both found shit that we like, that actually fits us well. You look cute, babe.”

“Well, I don’t want to look cute,” Honey says. “I want to look sexy.”

“You look sexy too, but you’re a taken lady, so who am I to comment on your bedroom appeal?” Bea laughs. She reaches out and fixes Honey’s strap, which had sllipped from her shoulder. She turns around in front of Honey, looking over her shoulder. “Do my panties match well enough?”

She’s wearing her ‘fuck-me’ panties, the pink pair that she loves. They’ve never done her wrong and, like fate (if Honey is using the same words as Bea), they match the teddy perfectly.

“Dude, they’re perfect,” Honey replies. She hums, the edges of her mouth tilting down into an evaluating frown. “I like them a lot.”

Bea shimmies her shoulders. “Oh, you like them a lot, huh?”

Honey laughs. “Fuck off.”

Bea crosses the room and picks up the polaroid on Honey’s bedside table, turning it on and moving it between her hands to get acquainted with the device again. It’s been a while since she used it. The last time was around Christmas, when they had a miniature photoshoot in the Nook after decorating. Bea points at the bed. “Okay, lay down, pillow princess. Let’s get you comfortable with the camera.”

Bea barks suggestions to Honey as she poses. They only have 24 photos for this, since polaroid film is so expensive and, as much as Honey loves Trevor, he does not need more than 20 photos to get the hint. He doesn’t need more than 15, really. The split that Honey and Bea decided is that she’ll get 16 of the polaroids and Bea will get eight. Honey expects that a couple of the photos will be entirely unusable, so she’ll probably end up with about 12. Bea might get five– but she’s also not that picky when it comes to photos.

The first picture is of Honey laying back against the pillows, one leg up and one leg stretched out. She rests her head on her fist, propping her elbow against the mattress. She turns onto her stomach next, popping her butt up and using the book on her nightstand as a prop, like she’s casually reading in sexy lingerie. Honey probably wouldn’t ever sit around and read in sexy clothing, because it’s not the most comfortable thing in the world, but Trevor Zegras doesn’t know that. He also probably thinks that a woman in lingerie, reading a big book and looking studious, is sexier than Honey without the book.

She transitions up to sit against the headboard, ruffling her hair like she’s stretching with a yawn. Bea snaps a picture of that, then snaps one of Honey settling back and lacing her fingers beneath her bent knee. 

The sexier pictures are more difficult. When Bea tells Honey to sit up on her knees and arch her back, they take two pictures that Honey hates before she tells Bea that she needs to demonstrate for her. 

The pictures turn out much better for Bea, almost like it’s effortless. If Honey didn’t know better, she’d swear that Bea has done this before. Either she’s done a lot of research or she’s a natural at this, spurred on by her confidence. Honey should really try that when it’s her turn.

The photos that she takes of Bea are a good demonstration, which Honey appreciates. She tries to emulate the positions when it’s her turn: kneeling up on the balls of her feet and pushing her chest out, spreading her thighs and W-sitting on the bed and leaning forward so that Bea can capture the V of her chest in the photo as well. Her straps slip down her shoulders again, but Honey doesn’t fix them. With each picture, she feels better and better.

By the end, she and Bea are trading pictures– one for Bea, two for Honey– and giggling as they develop. Bea is pointing at the ones that she thinks Trevor will “blow his load over without even touching himself” while Honey is waving the pictures that emphasize the round globes of Bea’s ass in the girl’s face and swearing that Quinn is going to freak.

Even if Honey wasn’t going to give these pictures away, the process still reclaims and twists her feelings from the past. For the past five years, she’s been uncomfortable in front of the camera unless she’s with Bea. She didn’t love it when there was a picture taken of just her, especially in the first year, fearing that it would be plastered everywhere online and somehow, in some insane way, her nudes would resurface and ruin her life again. 

Although Honey is going to press this stack of photos into Trevor’s hand shortly before he leaves Litchton, she feels like the photos are just for her right now. It’s like when she stared at her reflection– Honey is looking at a different person entirely. In the back of her mind, she knows that it’s herself, but Honey barely recognizes the girl in the photos. This girl is oozing sexual energy. Honey sees why this girl is sexy and believes it when Bea tells her that she looks amazing. She knows that her boyfriend will think the same thing and will probably jump her after he’s done looking through the pictures. 

That’s a different reaction than Thomas, too, but Honey is certain of it. Thomas used to go back to the pictures and videos Honey sent him and was balatant about it. Maybe it’s because he was a stupid 17 year old at the time, but Honey knew how much he liked the photos and asked for them, and she felt pressured to give them to him because she wanted to make him happy and she loved him. He started demanding them much more often when he started partying and abusing drugs and it started to feel like he would treat Honey as his personal OnlyFans model (before OnlyFans even existed). She was right there, but he liked the pictures more, and she still wanted him to like her, so she kept sending them. It backfired in a way that nearly killed her and certainly changed everything about her.

And Honey knows that Trevor’s eyes are going to go wide at the pictures, but he’s going to put them to the side and touch her after he sees them. He’s still going to prioritize her, as a real person, because that’s who Trevor is. He loves Honey, not the things that Honey does for him.

It’s the thing that she least expected when she turned to May on the calendar hanging in the back room of The Reading Nook. Honey wasn’t looking for anything at the beginning of the summer, and now she’s taking sexy pictures for her boyfriend and giggling about it as she looks over them. There’s nothing but giddiness coursing through her veins. Honey doesn’t want this to ever end.

[daddy-long-legssss]

anticipation has a habit to set you up

[gf2bellamy]

explanation — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x reader ( no use of y/n ) summary: an officer won't stop talking to you content warnings: annoyed spencer, light flirting between reader and spencer a/n: had to write something for glasses reid also he looks so good in this gif ohymgod also this is short sorry

You forced a polite smile, though your patience was wearing thin as the police officer in front of you continued his overly enthusiastic explanation.

His words blended together, a relentless drone that made it increasingly difficult to concentrate.

Still, you nodded along, trying not to seem rude despite the growing urge to check your watch or glance elsewhere. 

What you didn’t notice was Spencer standing just a few feet away. He had been watching the exchange, his hazel eyes flickering between the officer and you.

From his position near the evidence board, he clutched a file in one hand, the papers inside creased slightly from the pressure of his grip.

His other hand, balled into a tight fist, remained at his side. 

It wasn’t like him to eavesdrop—at least not intentionally—but something about the way the officer leaned just a little too close to you made it impossible for Spencer to look away.

His jaw tightened as he struggled to focus on the task at hand, attempting to study the crime scene photos tacked to the board in front of him. 

But his mind wasn’t on the case.

It was on you.

On the way you shifted uncomfortably, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear as you nodded at the officer, and the way your lips curved into that soft, practiced smile that Spencer had seen you use before when you were trying to be polite but had no real interest in the conversation. 

He knew you well enough to read the subtle signs.  

He didn’t want to interrupt—he wasn’t sure if he had the right to.

Finally, Spencer cleared his throat, the sound sharp and deliberate as he took a step closer. 

“I’ve already explained it to her,” he said flatly.

The monotone delivery caught you off guard, and you turned around quickly to face him, your eyes meeting his behind the familiar frames of his black glasses. 

Spencer wasn’t typically one to interrupt, especially not in such a dry way.

The officer, clearly thrown off by Spencer’s blunt interjection, shifted his weight uncomfortably and gave a half-hearted nod. “Oh, uh… right. Well, if you’ve got it covered, then…” His voice trailed off as he stepped back, offering an awkward smile before retreating. 

You raised an eyebrow at Spencer as the officer walked away, leaving the two of you alone near the evidence board. “What was that about?” you asked, tilting your head slightly. 

Spencer shrugged, the file still clutched tightly in his hand. “Nothing,” he replied, his gaze darting to the board as if suddenly engrossed in the timeline pinned there. 

But you weren’t convinced. Spencer Reid was many things, but subtle wasn’t one of them—not when it came to how he felt.

You noticed the way his jaw tightened, the faint crease in his brow, and the tension in his posture. 

“Spencer,” you pressed, stepping closer.

He hesitated, his fingers flexing around the edges of the file before letting out a small sigh. Finally, he glanced at you, his expression softening just slightly. “I just didn’t think it was necessary for him to keep… explaining things to you,” he said, his words measured. "I already told you everything."

You frowned, trying to piece together the odd behavior. “I mean, he was being—” 

“He was wasting your time,” Spencer interrupted, his tone firmer now. His eyes flicked to yours, the frustration evident behind his glasses. “You already know what you’re doing. You don’t need someone like him hovering over you like that.” 

The realization hit you like a slow-moving train, the pieces falling into place.

Spencer wasn’t just irritated—he was jealous. 

A small smile tugged at the corners of your lips as you watched him try to keep his expression neutral, though the faint pink tinge creeping up his neck betrayed him.

“Spence,” you said softly, a teasing lilt in your voice, “were you jealous?” 

His eyes widened briefly, and he immediately shook his head. “Jealous? No, I… I wasn’t—” He faltered, his ears turning red as he fumbled for a convincing denial. 

“Sure you weren’t,” you teased, crossing your arms as you leaned slightly toward him. “It’s okay, though. It’s kind of… sweet.” 

Spencer opened his mouth to respond, then closed it again, realizing there was no way to argue without making it worse.

Instead, he sighed and pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. 

Your smile softened, and you reached out to gently touch his arm. “I’m glad you’re looking out for me. But you don’t have to worry—I’m not interested in anyone hovering over me. Unless, of course, it’s you.” 

That earned you a shy smile from Spencer, his shoulders relaxing slightly.

“Okay,” he said quietly, his voice tinged with relief. 

And just like that, the two of you returned to the case—but not before you caught the subtle glimmer of satisfaction in Spencer’s eyes. 

[mahgyu]

Shiu smut + N$FW audio

• minors do not interact!

──── In Shiu's eyes, you were a goddess. And if your neglectful boyfriend, Toji, didn't treat you as such, Shiu would gladly fulfill that role.

Your moans echoed throughout the room as Shiu's tongue roamed your vulva. One of the man's hands firmly gripping your exposed breasts while your eyes rolled back feeling Shiu simulate a thrust with their tongue at your tight entrance.

Your fingers gripped the black strands of his nape as the male hands descended now to grasp your quivering thighs. Fingers sinking into your sensitive skin, Shiu's agile tongue snapped loudly as it explored every inch of your needy intimacy.

"Ugh... Shiu~" You called out in a plea, lifting your partially naked torso to look at him. The dark deeply hypnotic eyes granted you attention, that sensual gaze making you wet within seconds. "Toji will be back soon, y-you have to go..." You cautioned, practically struggling to resist Shiu's intoxicating touch.

In response, Shiu held you even tighter between his hands, inching his face away from your needy area. "Don't talk about your little boyfriend while I eat your pussy, doll." Kong's pink moist lips formed a smirk before he returned his attention to your intimacy.

Your relationship with Toji was not on the best way, often feeling like he used you as a toy only for his moments of boredom. Today, for instance, Toji had agreed to spend the whole day with you, but the disappointing reality came to light when you found out through Shiu that he had gone out to gamble again. But despite feeling neglected in your own relationship, you still felt terrible for cheating on Toji with his own friend, even though Shiu gave you the attention that Toji never even bothered to give you.

"We both know he doesn't deserve you, sweetie" Shiu said, dragging his wet lips along the inside of your thighs. "He shows you off like you're an accessory, but doesn't even care to truly take care of you" Shiu's face quickly turned dark and serious, his slightly wet hair covering his forehead. "Toji doesn't know how to appreciate the queen he has by his side, my love." As painful as it was to hear those words, it still felt so good to be appreciated like that by someone.

"But, we're acting wrong... Hmm, shit! " You said, trying to control yourself from fucking your needy pussy against Shiu's face who just laughed mockingly at your protest and moved closer to your pussy again.

"I wonder what his reaction would be if he saw us like this. Would he learn how to treat you properly?" Shiu said, dismissing other thoughts, leaving a chaste kiss on your sensitive and swollen clit. "I'd love to see the look on that jerk's face watching another man devour his girlfriend's needy pussy" He needled, staring at you.

Shiu sucked your clit hard, hungrier, more ravenous, delighting in your tearful moans that escaped straight from your throat. "Let me enjoy your sweet little pussy just a bit longer, doll, I promise it'll be worth it in the end." You felt Shiu's hot tongue slickening you up more as he promptly inserted two fingers into your needy and slippery hole. Your eyes rolled with the intrusion, Shiu's name repeatedly falling from your lips in the form of a moan, causing him to grunt. "Let me take care of you, my goddess."

⠀

⠀

Shiu's version! I'm curious to know what you guys think. 🤭

Any other character suggestions? Tell me.

Your interaction is very important to me, reblogs and comments are always welcome. 🫶🏻💕

[sttoru]

sukuna never understood humans. they always say and do things that annoy him in a way. though after meeting you—his favorite little concubine—that annoyance has slowly started to turn into fondness, something he isn’t ready to accept or even acknowledge.

“come inside and quit your foolishness,” the king of curses groans, sighing for the nth time. his four arms are crossed over his chest and his expression is unreadable. he’s exasperated by your silly antics once more.

it’s raining—pouring—yet you’re outside in the courtyard. you’re smiling from ear to ear as you hop from puddle to puddle, enjoying the cold droplets that continuously fall and wet your skin. “oh, come on! it’s fun,” you giggle, urging sukuna to join you.

the pink-haired man only shakes his head and clenches his jaw. he doesn’t see the fun in being out there when it rains. he doesn’t understand why you’re so happy about getting dirty and wet. the kimono you’re wearing is one he specifically ordered for you and here you are, ruining it.

sukuna wants to get angry, but for some reason he can’t bring himself to raise his voice or show his disdain. the smile on your face and your happy giggles refrain him from doing or saying anything too hurtful.

if it were any of his other concubines, he’d probably have punished them the second he saw them being somewhere they shouldn’t.

but that doesn’t mean sukuna isn’t going to talk you out of it. or try to.

“y’ll get sick, brat. get back here i said,” sukuna calls out with a frown. he lets out a low groan of frustration when you simply continue to walk around happily in the rain. are you seriously not aware of how fragile humans are? being in this cold with little coverage is going to make you sick.

sukuna has had enough of your antics. he stomps forward, not caring about the rain that’s wetting his clothes. he just wants you to get inside and dry. he frowns and opens his mouth, ready to scold you.

however, as he closes the distance between you two, his voice got stuck in his throat. the sight that greets him makes his frown slowly disappear. his eyes wander over your face and body from up close, finally noticing just how beautiful you are while enjoying the stormy weather. the pure joy looks good on you.

you’re soaked, clothes and hair dripping wet, and yet you still manage to captivate him. the carefree smile on your face only adds to your charm. sukuna stops just an arm’s length from you, eyes narrowing.

you turn to face him properly and chuckle. “thank you for coming out to play with me,” you comment half-jokingly. you reach out to hold onto two of sukuna’s hands, tilting your head back to stare at him with those eyes.

those puppy eyes that will make even a ruthless monster like him calm down.

sukuna clears his throat and grumbles, “this is stupid.”

you laugh softly as you notice how he’s trying to hide the effect you have on him, though you know better than to address it directly. you wrap your arms around his waist, your bodies now pressed together. you tilt your head with a teasing grin, “reaaally? is it now?”

sukuna rolls his eyes, but doesn’t make a move to push you away. he can feel every curve of your frame pressing against his through your wet clothes and the sensation sure is tantalising.

his large hands move on their own. two settle on your waist while one other creeps up your back to come tangle into your hair, yanking slightly at the strands to make you tilt your head back.

sukuna leans down, his red eyes focused on your parted lips that are calling out to him. his mouth is on yours before he realises it, claiming you in a fierce kiss.

the rain continues to fall around you two, but neither of you seem to care. you’re too lost in the feeling of each other to pull away from the intimate kiss. your lips are moving in tandem, tongues brushing together.

you only pull away when you run out of air. you breathe heavily as you look up at sukuna, seeing the same yearning reflected in his piercing eyes. it makes your tummy tingle—makes you feel all giddy to know the power you have over such an unfeeling man.

sukuna doesn’t say a thing. the tension between you two is only emphasised by the rain. the continuous pitter patter of the droplets seems to only increase with time, making it harder to see, yet also intensifies the unspoken feelings. perhaps now he can understand what humans find so romantic about being in the rain with their someone.

but there’s this all-consuming thought that drives his mind towards a more dark place. looking at you with your kimono hugging every curve, the water drops dripping down your bare skin and your half-lidded eyes staring at him like he’s all you care about—it’s making the king of curses want to devour you whole. a carnal desire that threatens to take over every time he feels that foolish, sappy emotion which humans call love.

sukuna snaps out of his daze and a muscle in his jaw ticks. he grabs your wrist and cocks his head towards the doors leading inside. “alright, let’s get y’r ass inside,” he huffs and starts dragging you off with him, “i don’t want you complainin’ to me when you get sick, y’hear?”

you whine but now better than to struggle. you walk with him, heart still racing as you think of the intimate kiss you shared. you know you’re the only one who gets the privilege to kiss the king of curses, to be so close to him, to have him indulge your silly requests, to have him look at you with such insatiable desire.

it makes you even giddier thinking about it.

you look up at the back of sukuna’s head as he guides you inside of the palace, attempting to convince him to extend your little romantic outing, “can we do it agai—”

“no.”

well, it was worth a try.

[pynkfairyheart]

pairings: peircer eren x black reader

warnings: smut 18+, kinda pervy eren

Good girl

“Hello?” Your soft voice rang over the chimes as you entered the tattoo parlor.

The shop was quiet, seemingly empty besides the softening chimes of the door and surprised cursing down the long hall.

“Shit- yeah. Just give me a minute. My apologies” The culprit of the cursing called.

In the meantime, you took a look around the lobby. The reviews didn't do the place justice. The largest wall contained a bright colorful mural, contrasting beautifully with the dark floors and connected black walls.

While admiring the piece of artwork, heavy thudding from the long hallway turned your attention to the most gorgeous man you had ever seen.

You never believed in love at first sight, up until now. You hadn't even known the man's name yet, but you craved him. The reviews warned you the entire staff was attractive but they clearly left out that this man was a god.

His long hair was pulled into a low bun, strands falling in his face, the color contrasting against his pale skin. He was tall, with a full sleeve on one of his muscular arms, and his green eyes had you drowning immediately. He couldn't be Onyankopon, they said he was a brother. Maybe Connie or, Levi-

“Hi, I'm Eren” He introduced himself after swallowing the large knot in his throat.

While in your own trance, you failed to notice how he froze the moment he saw you. The bright light you stood under showcased the sparkles of your pretty brown skin.

Your legs were on display as a result of the simmering heat outside, thick thighs causing them to roll up slightly. The fitted t-shirt you wore allowed the hardened buds of your nipples to peek through, despite the hot weather.

Eren never considered himself a pervert but the way his mind instantly thought about sucking on them till you begged him to fuck you had him thinking otherwise.

“Hi, I'm [☆]. Is this a bad time?” Oh, he could have come on the spot, your voice sounded even better without the numerous walls separating you and god your perfume had him wanting to devour you on the reception desk.

“No, no I just don't know how much I can do for you, the AC is out in all the rooms but mine and I don't even know how long that's gonna last so if you're looking for an hour long tat session you'll have to come back” He crossed his arms, muscles contracting against the white tee.

“Oh no, I'm just hoping to get a few piercings but I can definitely come back another time”

“No, I can do a couple of piercings. What were you thinking?” He grabbed the paperwork from under the counter, praying one of them would be your chest.

“Uh well, I want the other side of my nose, belly button, venus dimples, and my nipples but I understand if you can't do all of that or the last one I'll just come back”

“No, no I can do it,” He said too quickly, clearing his throat awkwardly before handing you the paperwork.

⋆⭒˚.⋆

“Good girl. You're doing such a good job for me, pretty. Just hold on for one second, lovey”

He was currently doing your last dimple piercing. The pain was unimaginable at first but as soon as the praises left his mouth all was forgotten besides the growing stickiness that rested between your thighs.

He praised you after every piercing a variation of “Good girl” “You're doing such a good job for me” “That's it, baby. You did so good” flowed from his pink lips. You could never decide which throbbing to focus on, the one from your new piercing or the throbbing of your clit.

With three new holes in your body and damp panties, it was now time for the piercing both of you were dreading yet excited for.

“Do I just take my shirt off here?”

“Wherever you're comfortable, baby. You can go in the bathroom or stay in here and I'll give you some privacy” He felt like a teenage boy again. His dick twitching at the thought of seeing you exposed.

“No, it's okay you can stay in here I don't mind”

“Oh. Okay,” He perked up. Giving you some privacy he turned his back, pretending to be busy when in reality he was trying to think of anything but you getting undressed behind him. Despite his concentration, all he could focus on was the sound of your necklaces and bracelets clanking at the movements you made.

He knew your nipples were still hard, especially since he took advantage of the working AC and he wondered what your moans would sound like if he flicked his tounge repeatedly over the bud, or if he pinched them in front of the mirror while you begged him to fuck you as you pressed your ass against his hard-

“I'm ready” Your soft voice broke him from his thoughts.

If his self control was any less he'd have gotten on his knees to worship you. There you were. Looking everywhere but him, tits exposed. If it weren’t for the fact other men besides him would see, he'd tattoo this image of you on his bare forearm.

“Are you ready?” He suppressed a groan.

“Mhm”

“Okay stand up for me” He led you to the mirror where he prepped each bud. During the process, you felt as if you could crawl into yourself. The most beautiful man you'd ever laid eyes on had his hands on your breast. Despite the occasion being nonsexual, you were convinced your arousal would start running down your thigh at any second.

“Is this okay?” He stood behind you.

You gave a simple hum of approval, thoughts gone as he explained how the process would go. You convinced yourself you could handle it, that it would all be over soon.

That was until he rolled the bud in between his fingers, the whimper you'd been holding escaping you.

‘fuck’ ‘fuck’

“Shit, I'm so sorry I- I didn't mean to do that, please understand I had no malicious intentions I just” He stumbled over his words.

He was just explaining the step by step process of the piercing. He wasn't thinking, just craving. He wouldn't have realized his actions if it weren't for the sound you let out. The sound he knew he'd replay in his head the moment you left the shop, stroking his cock as he imagined it were you down on your knees in front of him.

“It's okay” You reassured him. Your big eyes staring up into his through the mirror.

“I didn't…I don't mind”

⋆⭒˚.⋆

Before you knew it you were bouncing on his cock. His moans muffled as his mouth engulfed your breast. Tongue slightly grazing your nipple with the flickers of his tongue before sucking harshly.

He was stretching you out so good, leaky red tip repeatedly hitting your cervix as his frenum piercing brushed against your walls. The added pleasure contributing to the pace of your bounces as you chased your high.

“E-eren please” You whined, attempting to push his head away from the assault on your breast. His hair was everywhere, the ponytail holder long gone the moment your hands entangled in his hair. Your buds were so sensitive, every suck and swipe of his tongue had you squeezing around him, every clench releasing your cream that pooled at the base of his cock.

“Fuck” He groaned, reluctantly giving your boobs a break. His hands gripped the soft flesh of your ass, groping the brown skin before placing a hard slap on your cheek.

“Talk to me, pretty. You like this? Like bouncing on daddy's cock hmm?” His arms wrapped around you tightly as he fucked up into you.

“Oh my- fuck” You gave him control. Your head resting on his shoulder as you let out pornographic moans into his ear.

“Answer me, mama” Another slap landed on your ass.

Before you had time to register the mix of pain and pleasure on your flesh, the gentle pressure of his finger rubbing circles on your puckering hole had you seeing stars.

“Fuck y-yes. I love it so much, daddy. Please don't stop” You whined. Tears of pleasure wetting the crook of his neck.

By no means was Eren a fast finisher but boy was he trying his best to hold on, you're pussy was just squeezing him so tight, the added tension on his scalp as you tugged on it every time he hit the spongy spot along your walls had his nails digging crescents into your skin.

“I'm so close, daddy, please”

“Let go mama” He pressed hot kisses along your neck and shoulder.

In that moment you came, your pussy tightening around the large girth of his cock. Clear liquid squirting from you in streams as he continued his thrust. Your arousal splashing and dripping onto the chair.

With sweat dripping down his forehead, and stray hairs sticking to him, his thrust became sloppy and his breathing became heavier.

“S-shit” He whimpered, head thrown back as he came harder than ever. Repeatedly pushing his load back into your pussy.

“Lemme take you on a date. Please” He panted once you both came down, his hands roaming your body as he looked down at you, green irises peeking out behind his blown pupils.

“Okay, yea- oh” A broken moan escaped you as he moved your hips up and down his length once again.

“Eren” You whined

“Don't tell me you're wiped out after one round, pretty girl. I know you have more in you, mama. Be a good girl for daddy”

for my eren girlies. this is probably the fastest I've ever wrote bc i just needed peircer eren. oh also how do yall feel about pegging bc i feel peircer eren can be a bit subby sometimes ttm. mwah <3

pt.2 wit the pegging ໒꒰ྀི˶˃ᆺ˂˶꒱ྀི১

[flwrstqr]

✧ BAD IDEA : WHEN THEY'RE YOUR HOT NERD BOYFRIEND ╰—— 𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖺 𝖻𝗈𝗒, 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖺 𝗀𝗂𝗋𝗅, 𝖼𝖺𝗇 𝗂 𝗆𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝗂𝗍 𝖺𝗇𝗒 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗈𝖻𝗏𝗂𝗈𝗎𝗌?

𝑜𝑓 · 𝖲𝖧𝖮𝖶𝓉𝖨𝖬𝖤 ⦂ loser bf!enhypen x f!r 1OOOwc. ── est relationship, skinship, petnames, enha being such losers TT ｡｡ ⠀fluff ✦ 𝓒ATALOGUE ♡ ◞

 DANi : i know i did loser bf enhypen hyung line before.. but i guess this is a remake of it ㅠㅠ

𝗟𝗘𝗘 𝗛𝗘𝗘𝗦𝗘𝗨𝗡𝗚 heeseung’s sitting cross-legged on the floor, headset slightly askew, eyes glued to his monitor as he furiously clicks his mouse. “babe, just one more round—promise,” he mumbles, though you know it’s a lie. his hair’s a mess, the strands you’d combed earlier now falling into his eyes, and he’s wearing that stupid hoodie he refuses to retire. he flinches when you plop into his lap, arms draped lazily around his shoulders. “i’m playing!” he protests, cheeks flushing as you press a kiss to his jawline. “you’re losing,” you tease, watching his avatar get obliterated on-screen. he groans, leaning back against you, headset falling off entirely. “this is sabotage, yn.” you grin, peppering his face with kisses until he’s a flustered mess, stammering something about focus. “i’ll stop... if you win,” you add, knowing full well he doesn’t stand a chance. he’s so helplessly cute, your hot loser boyfriend.

𝗣𝗔𝗥𝗞 𝗝𝗢𝗡𝗚𝗦𝗘𝗢𝗡𝗚 jay leans against the kitchen counter, half-eating an apple and half-staring at you like you’re the only thing keeping him alive, and it’s so stupidly obvious he’s down bad. “you look tired,” he mumbles, eyes flickering to the dark circles under your eyes, but his ears turn pink when you catch him staring. “come here, idiot,” you say, tugging his hoodie sleeve to pull him closer. he obeys instantly, like the certified no-rizz loser boyfriend he is, dropping the apple to wrap his arms around your waist in an awkward position. you rest your forehead against his chest, his warmth wrapping around you like a blanket. “you smell like apples,” you mumble. “is that bad?” he asks softly, voice almost shy. “no,” you say, tilting your chin up, “but i like this better.” and then you kiss him, while his hands tighten on your waist like he can’t believe you’re real.

𝗦𝗜𝗠 𝗝𝗔𝗘𝗬𝗨𝗡 jake is sprawled across your couch, one sock half-off, looking entirely too attractive for someone who just tripped over your laundry basket five minutes ago. “hey, my sugar plum boo,” he says out of nowhere, grinning like he’s invented a new way to embarrass himself. you blink at him, halfway between horrified and amused. “your what?” he flinches, already regretting it but trying to play it cool. “sugar plum boo? thought I’d try something new.” you stare for a moment before bursting into laughter, and he groans, dragging a hand down his face. “okay, yeah, terrible idea. forget I said that.” but you’re already climbing into his lap, cupping his face, his ears burning red as you kiss the corner of his mouth. “you’re lucky you’re cute,” you tease. “just stick to ‘baby’ okay?” he nods, pulling you closer, a shy smile tugging at his lips. “noted, baby.”

𝗣𝗔𝗥𝗞 𝗦𝗨𝗡𝗚𝗛𝗢𝗢𝗡 sunghoon stands in your doorway, holding up a pair of matching t-shirts with the goofiest grin, like he just solved world peace. “ta-da! couple goals, right?” he says, clearly proud of himself. the shirts say something ridiculous like “she’s my waffle” and “he’s my syrup” and you just stand there, blinking. “hoon,” you start, already fighting a smile, “are you serious?” he fidgets, running a hand through his ridiculously perfect hair, and somehow he’s both a greek god and a total loser at the same time. “what? i thought it’d be cute…” he mumbles, looking down. you sigh, walking up to him, and his shoulders relax the second you slip your arms around his waist. “you’re unbelievable,” you murmur, tilting up to kiss him. his hands find your back, warm and steady. “so… no keychains, then?” he asks, trying not to smile, and you can’t help but laugh against his lips.

𝗞𝗜𝗠 𝗦𝗨𝗡𝗢𝗢 sunoo’s hand is warm in yours as you walk through the mall, his lips pursed in concentration as he scans the signs. “baby, wait—wait, they have the new plushies!” he gasps, dragging you toward the toy store. people are staring again, because of course they are—he’s ridiculously pretty, and his blonde hair catches the light. you can’t help but smile at how oblivious he is to the attention, too busy squishing a stuffed bear against his cheek. “doesn’t this look like you?” he grins, holding it up, and you laugh, tugging him closer by the collar of his oversized sweater. “you’re cuter,” you murmur, and his ears turn red. “stop that,” he whines, but he leans in anyway when you kiss him softly, his hand shyly cupping your jaw. “you’re unfair,” he mumbles, pouting, but he doesn’t pull away.

𝗬𝗔𝗡𝗚 𝗝𝗨𝗡𝗚𝗪𝗢𝗡 it’s 2 a.m., and jungwon’s sitting cross-legged on the couch, reading glasses perched on his nose, hair slightly messy from running his hands through it every time he gets excited. “did you know cats have a special purr that’s called a ‘solicitation purr’? it’s how they get humans to do what they want—it’s genius,” he’s been at this for over an hour, flipping through articles on his phone and gesturing dramatically. you’re curled up beside him, head resting on his shoulder, watching his lips move more than you’re actually listening, but he doesn’t seem to mind. “look, their whiskers even tell them how wide a space is—how cool is that?” he says, eyes sparkling. you lean in and press a kiss to his cheek, cutting him off mid-sentence. “you’re cooler and cuter,” you whisper, and his face goes red as he mumbled, “stop—you’re distracting me,” but he doesn’t move away.

𝗡𝗜𝗦𝗛𝗜𝗠𝗨𝗥𝗔 𝗥𝗜𝗞𝗜 riki sits across from you at the diner, wearing that ridiculous shirt that says “I paused my game to be here” like it’s peak humor, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose with the side of his hand. his hair’s all messy, and he keeps fidgeting with his fries, stacking them like tiny Jenga pieces. “stop staring,” he mumbles, his ears turning red, but he doesn’t look up, knowing full well you’re doing it to fluster him. “why would i stop looking at my baby?” you tease, leaning over the table just enough to poke his cheek. he freezes, then scowls (a weak attempt, really). “you’re insufferable.” but when you press a quick kiss to his jaw, he melts instantly, leaning into it like the softie he is. “i hate you,” he mutters again, but his hand finds yours under the table, lacing your fingers together, and it’s all too obvious he’s lying.

[eddiernunson]

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He melts. “Sure.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Payback?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Eh, ten.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Absolutely!”

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Um Chrissy. Chrissy Cunningham?”

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

“She asked you out?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We’ll do it on Saturday, yeah?”

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

Your heart shatters. “That good?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“She’s such a cool girl, you know?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sure.”

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

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

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

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

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

That, and it’s right beside Steve Harrington.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You hesitate. “Is this a trick question?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Because it turned into hell.

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Right?

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes please!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Where she’s a friend.

You have to try.

“What are we watching?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hawkins looks a lot different from Eddie’s backseat.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She nods.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“When did you start coming?”

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

“Why didn’t you want to go?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hmm?”

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

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

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

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

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

That was when you changed from sweetheart to slugger.

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sweet.”

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

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

“Oh,” she mutters, curling into him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh. He’s not going to.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

You shrug. “It’s fascinating.”

“To who?”

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

“Any plans upcoming for next Wednesday?”

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

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

That, you agree with.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey. How was the cupcake?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…that never happened.

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Another sip. Another gulp. Make it go away.

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

Daniel.

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

“Retribution.”

“Huh?”

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

What the fuck?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He stands there, blankly watching.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Anything after that?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Eddie.

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

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

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

“Is that all?”

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

That’s why your breath tastes like vomit.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s me.”

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

-

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

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

You would think.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck this guy. Fuck him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That conversation goes as well as can be expected.

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

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

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

“Is she okay?”

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

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

“Physically?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Should Eddie have called the ambulance?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Excuse me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

“Do you wanna come over for a movie?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Uh, three movies. Pick one.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

He’s more than willing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Probably.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What was that?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mm, almost there, baby.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Cum–cum in me, Eds. Fill me up.”

“Fuck-you, y’sure?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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bold means it wouldnt let me tag you so I DM'd you in private to you know.

[yawnderu]

You can never take the military out of a man. Not when that man lost so much thanks to it, giving it his very own soul to serving the Queen and saving the world. Not a single thought about retirement ever going through Simon's head, fully accepting and embracing the idea of dying on the field, of having a warrior's death, fighting tooth and nail until someone gets lucky enough to finally put him down— until you came along.

Simon Riley is a proper lad now, well in his 50's and on his fifth year of retirement, strands of grey adorning his dark brown hair, a thin layer of fat covering his bulging muscles that seem to be getting bigger by the years, never one to stand still for too long and secretly loving the way you praise his body like he's a God.

He looks down at you with half-lidded eyes, another deep moan dragging its way out of his throat at the way your hand wraps around his thick cock with a vice-like grip, your warm tongue circling his leaking tip, his salty precum mixing in with your saliva.

“Like tha', baby.” Simon whispers, his hand wrapping around a fistful of your pretty hair the moment you lick a teasing stripe over his bulbous, pink tip. His free hand quickly replaces yours— something you're too familiar with after being together for so many years, your hands resting on his thick thighs just to feel the way his muscles ripple beneath your soft palms.

“Open your mouth.” It's not an order, it's a plea, his gravelly voice becoming slightly whiny with each deep groan leaving his lips as he wanks over your face, his broad shoulders rising and falling with each deep breath he was forced to take. Your lips part with no hesitation, the warmth of your breath as your tongue pokes out of your mouth is what sends him over the edge, ropes of thick, hot cum landing in your mouth with an accuracy that could have surprised you if you weren't too busy being enthralled by your husband.

Simon looks like a fucking painting, the light coming from the ceiling giving his bulging muscles the perfect shadow, his thin lips slightly parted and a light stubble adorning his pale cheeks, half-lidded eyes staring down at you with blown pupils as he mindlessly smears his hot, creamy cum all over your face with his sensitive tip, just as enamoured as you are.

[lovermake]

sitting in their lap ! ( ft jjk men + women )

synopsis : short cute headcannons that involve sitting in your partner’s lap and how they react to it. some are suggestive / nsfw, others are pure fluff !

content warnings : NSFW 18+ ( viewer discretion advised ), fingering, sitting in lap, grinding, dry humping + dry sex, wlw content ( men dni ), praise, slight degradation, possessive & soft sex <3

choso

it’s unexpected when you plop straight into his lap, when you ask if you could “sit here.” He did not realize he was an option, as you your back rested against him. But nonetheless he is happy with the choice you made and lets you make yourself at home. ( though if you spend too long sitting on his crotch, don’t be shocked when you start to feel something rubbing against your ass ! )

“mind if I join?” you greet entering the living room to choso scrolling on his phone as some news channel plays. he raises a brow confused as to why you asked because you would usually just plop besides him and gossip about your job. before he could even say or react to your question, you plop right onto his lap with your back to his chest, sighing loudly as you are finally comfortable.

you don’t have to turn your head to know that his face was turning to a soft pink, and he was fighting the urge to not gently place his hands on your waist. Choso is left defeated not knowing exactly what to say to your random gesture, so all he does is truly lay back and let you find comfort in his lap and chest.

it’s adorable when you fall asleep after a little while of chatting, for he gently rubs your back and plays with the strands of your hair as you sleep softly against him. he mumbles how cute you are, before eventually drifting off into a sleep of his own.

nanami

it’s grown a regular routine for you to sit in your husband’s lap usually when he is eating the food you have made for him after a long day of work. he never makes any advances, or at the very least tries not to, for he doesn’t want to ruin the intimate moment with devious urges. despite how much he wants to take you over the kitchen counter. but it seems tonight you seem to want him to.

you’re wearing a short apron with not much underneath other than a cute pink pair of panties with a bow, and of course Nanami notices your advances, given that you aren’t much of a chatterbox as always and rather tend to rub yourself against him on his crotch. and while the steak you have cooked and seared for the night was delicious, he was much more interested in devouring something else.

but what was dessert without finishing dinner ?

he does his best to not react to your advances as an attempt to at least finish the meal you have prepared, but you’re really dedicated to get what you want, straddling him and gently pressing your hands against his chest. and with a simple gesture of loosening his tie, he is quick to have you laid upon the dining table, apron pushed up, panties pulled down.

you tried to play it off by reminding Kento of his food, but that could always wait for later. “I’m sorry my love, I don’t have much patience and it seems neither do you.” he presses a kiss to your temple before his lips drag themselves from your cheek, to your neck, to your waist, and to your clit.

though nanami promises to finish his food later, he never does, for you became his priority for the rest of the night.

maki

your favorite thing to do with your girlfriend was surprise her out of the blue, especially by randomly scaring her with a hug, gently biting her cheek, sometimes smacking her ass and playing a game of tag, or plopping yourself in her lap. which is what you decided to do today. she had just finished washing her hair and was taking a moment to relax on the bed when you decide to plop onto her lap. her initial reaction was to scold you and tell you, you should be studying, but she decides to take advantage of your impulsive gesture.

“oh MY god, stop !!” you scream, tears forming at the corners of your eyes, laughter falling from your lips as she tickled your waist and stomach. your kicking your feet, but it doesn’t keep her from tickling you, as your throwing your head back and attempt to push away her hands.

she can only giggle along, satisfied with how ticklish you were. “this is why you should be studying,” she playfully scolds and you can’t help but laugh even harder. at this point she would be knocking the breath out of you. “this is what you get!”

after so long she finally frees you of her mercy and you hop of the bed to go study as she mentioned. she smacks your ass as you leave the room, “and make sure to practice your domain.”

you only stick your tongue out as you leave, earning another chuckle from your sweet girl.

geto

he had asked you to help him dry his hair, given its length. and usually you’d stand behind him as he sat down and rambled about his villainous activities, but today you decided to try a new angle and decide to sit in his lap and dry his hair. the gesture surprises him, but he adores it, keeping a hand on your waist as you dried his hair.

“oh!” he mumbles softly, as he watches you straddle his lap. you’re body is facing his and it’s very close eye contact as you begin to dry his hair with a towel. at first he is looking you up and down as you begin to dry the damp strands. “you’ll be able to get the lower ends of my hair?”

you giggle. “I’ll be able to, don’t worry! continue you on about your day.”

he’s a bit reluctant, for he hated having his hair wet, but he loved having you on his lap like this so he continued on with his rambling, thought he could barely focus again. you were wearing a black tank top and fuzzy shorts, so the sight did his lead his mind to wander. but nonetheless he needed his hair dry so he kept his urges to himself.

nobara

you both take turns sitting in each others lap but you tend to do it the most. and every time you do, it’s always a soft intimate moment you share with your fiancé for she adores combing through your curls. her favorite thing to do as you sit in her lap is either braid or try new styles with your hair since it’s much longer and more different than hers.

“ow!” you whine, squinting your eyes as your girlfriend brushes through your hair. “be careful!”

she whispers a sorry and kisses your cheek. you grow more relaxed in her lap and she continues brushing your hair to a perfect slicked back bun, keeping a couple of curls to bounce out in the front.

“how do you like it, [ your name ] ?” nobara asks, holding a mirror up for you. she has given you a side part, slicked back with two curls on each side of your ears and a beautiful curly bun in the back. you’re so quick to turn back and give him a big kiss and thank her for her work, which she softly blushes for in her ears.

toji

He’s initially pissed when you sit on his lap, rather than taking a seat on his couch (a couch he thrifted for $3 and a wing) but when your rub his ass on his crotch, all that anger immediately rushes to pleasure, hands strapping to your waist. Suddenly his pants have been pushed down, your panties ripped (per usual).

“fuck,” you whimpered, your hands on his thighs, as you bounced on his cock. his eyes constantly going up, and down, up and down. it was a shame you weren’t facing him because he would have adored, seeing your titties bounce in his face to. but the two of you had time after this, so he wasn’t all that concerned. “making me do all the work?”

toji leans back and laughs at your question. “making you work too hard princess?” you aren’t given much time to answer because he wraps his hands around your waist and by keeping you still he begins to thrust deep inside of you, watching you hiccup and whimper in pleasure. his name leaving your mouth all too many times.

at some point you couldn’t even moan words, everything falling from your lips was incoherent and before you knew it you were screaming in pleasure as his seed pumped deep inside of you. your legs shaking and your chest going up and down.

“fucking shit, toji.” you whimpered and he only chuckles, signaling to you that this would only be the beginning.

gojo

in all honesty he’s been waiting patiently until you would hop onto his lap. because it gives him the advantage to tease you and crawl his hands under your shirt with his cold hands. but of course his teasing is never just an innocent tease.

“gojo!” you squeak. you had decided to plop into your boyfriend’s lap unexpectedly, and he then decided to unexpectedly slip his hands under your shirt with his icy cold hands. he can only throw his head back and laugh. “your hands are cold!”

“I heard being cold makes sex all the more exciting” he lies through his teeth, and you can only turn your head with a glare. he lies but somewhere in his heart he does believe that’s true. the type of boyfriend you have is the type to click on exaggerated ads and then wonder why his computer been hacked again.

his thumbs gently flick over your nipples in surprise and you can’t help but moan this time at the feeling. there’s a devious snicker that escapes his throat and you glare again. “see I told you that was true!”

© lovermake’s works 2024. Do not use my writing for language translation, re-editing, plagiarism, heavy inspiration, posting through other social media apps, or stealing.

[maybanksprincess]

face sitting with munch!jj

warnings: smut and face sitting obviously, pussywhipped!jj, dom! jj, ass slapping, squirting, pet names, and dirty talk.

pairings: gf!reader x bf!jj

requested by this ask! (thank you anon!🤍)

jj had tried convincing you all day to sit on his face, you were afraid of suffocating him, or even more so you were afraid he wouldn't like it, and would regret asking.

you'd think after three hours of asking, he would drop it already. but of course he didn't because he always gets what he wants, especially from you.

after a while you finally had enough of his begging and pleading, all of his "please mama"'s and "ill do anything you want"'s, you had enough of it and just gave in.

following the pleads that comes out of his mouth, you sigh and agree. "okay jayj, fine. ill do it"

he looks at you with surprise, raising his head up to look at you from your chest. "yeah?" a smirk suddenly spreads across his face.

"yeah." you echo. his smirk grows wider and he sits up, laying on his back, arms behind his head, his blonde hair messy and all over the place.

"cmere mama." he beckons you over with one of his hands, that mischievous smirk still plastered on his face.

you can see the way his eyes go up and down you body, his tongue darting out to wet his lips, as his dimples poke thru his left and right cheek.

you can feel the pool between your legs getting wetter by the second, and as much as you were scared to sit on his face, you knew he would do a good job at it.

you sit on his lap, and he moves a pillow behind his head, peeling your pink laced panties off. he watches as your pussy and your panties connect with a string of wetness from your arousal.

he lets out a soft groan at he sound, you can feel his length pressing up against you in his boxers, then suddenly he pulls you up by your thighs using his strong arms.

your now hovering over his face, your pussy so close to his pink and plump lips. you slowly sink down onto his face uncomfortably, not putting your full weight on him.

he grunts disapprovingly, he gives your ass a warning slap, pulling you all the way down.

he moans as he feels all of your pussy on his mouth. "mm good girl" he mumbles against your heat. his tongue flattening against your core.

his tongue does fast figure eights on your clit, then licks long stripes up and down your pussy.

you relax against his face, and your hands fly down to pull at his hair, your hands tugging at the blondes unruly strands. "yeah. jus' like that jay." you were enjoying this a lot more than you thought you would. you were starting to think maybe you should've agreed to it the first time he asked

he buries his face inside, his strong arms flexing around your ass, he feels like his cock could explode at any moment from how hard it was. it was literally painful at this point.

you look back and see his cock strained against his boxers, and that only adds to the moans flying out of your mouth. you didnt know if it was the way his cock was jumping or the way his tongue was rapidly flicking at your folds. but all it once, the pleasure hits you, and your cumming. tugging at his hair, your head thrown back, and eyes rolled to the back of your eye socket.

your moaning pathetically, trying to prolong your orgasm as much as possible, riding his tongue, his nose nudging your clit. and before you know it your cumming again, except this time you feel liquid flowing out of your hole. and the orgasm feels much more powerful this time.

your legs are shaking and your body falls limp against his, you move off his face, and down to lay on top of him.

after a few minutes coming down from your high, he breaks the comfortable silence.

"so your letting me do that again sometime, yeah?"

"yeah."

[shuafiles]

juno [h.js]

MDNI, 18+

SUMMARY | one of me is cute, but two though? give it to me baby

PAIRING | nonidol/fiance!joshua x afab!reader

CONTENT | unprotected sex (pls stay safe), fingering, few degrading names, use of handcuffs, breeding, mentions of pregnancy, just smut in general lol. lowercase intended

WORDS | 2.6k

A/N | inspired by juno by sabrina carpenter, highly recommend listening to it while reading. have fun babes!

joshua was perfect. it was no surprise that when he asked you to marry him, you said yes with no hesitation. even after four years of dating, he knew how to keep you off your feet, he knew how to love you right, and he knew how to fuck you right.

even out of your past relationships, no one knew how to make you feel good as much as joshua did. which is why you couldn’t help but stare at him as he took group pictures with his friends.

you were at a bar with his friends to celebrate seungcheol’s birthday. joshua was wearing a white button-up with the sleeves tucked up to his arms, which you couldn't help but go insane at. you don't know what it is, he has looked the same as he pretty much has all the four years you have known him, but somehow he looked even hotter than you could ever imagine. before leaving the apartment, you were already in a needy mood from watching your fiance prepare for this party. he was trying on different shirts in front of you and was asking for your opinions on them, even though you’d rather he just take them off.

you were pulled out of your thoughts when you spotted joshua walking towards you with a sweet grin on his face. you reciprocated his smile, his hand reaching your waist once he was near you.

“hi, beautiful.” joshua kissed you on the forehead, which sent sparks all over your body. “enjoying yourself?” his thumb rubbed circles on your waist, a small habit he found himself doing a lot once his hands were near your body. you already were in a dizzy state from the mere sight of him, him touching you in any way made you feel like your body was on fire. maybe you were ovulating?

cheeks flushed, you hummed in response, putting your drink down on the bar and admiring his slicked-back hair with strands falling off on the side. this was one of your top five favorite looks of him. he looked so sexy tonight, even with the dim lights of the club, you could make out the way his lips looked so plump and kissable, you couldn’t wait to just kiss the fuck out of him when the two of you are finally in private.

“y/n! joshua!” a distant voice called out, leaning your head towards the voice, you saw a very drunk seungcheol making his way towards the both of you, a small gift bag in hand. halting in front of you, a cheeky smile on his face. “here’s a little thank you for coming to my party tonight, " he said, handing you the bag, a confused look on your face, glancing over joshua, who just shrugged at you. you took the bag from his hand, peeking over the top to see the contents inside.

pink fluffy handcuffs. that’s what was inside the gift bag. you couldn’t help but laugh at the silly gift. “really, cheol?” handing joshua the bag so he could check it out for himself.

“i want all my guests to have a fun afterparty!” he said, wrapping his arms around joshua’s shoulder. as much as the gift was indeed silly, you couldn’t help but imagine joshua using them on you in bed as if you weren’t already craving for him.

joshua smirked, eyes facing you. as if he could read your mind, he leaned in your ear. “can’t wait to try them out tonight.” making your stomach flip.

-

the entire ride home, joshua was teasing the hell out of you. his hand on your thigh while the other was on the steering wheel, sliding it down dangerously near your cunt. the little shit knew what he was doing, complementing you the entire time, telling you how your ass looked great in your red dress. he even mentioned the stupid pink handcuffs, asking if you were down to use it. you were more than down, of course, it wasn’t the first time you and joshua were going to incorporate toys into your sex life. but you couldn’t wait for the ride to end because you were so fucking horny, and he was all to blame.

you barely made it past your apartment door, and your lips were already attached to your irritatingly handsome fiance. he reciprocated your hunger, his hands roaming all over your body, pushing your coat off of your shoulders before settling his arms around your waist and pulling you close to him.

“what got you so worked up, princess?” he whispered, flipping you around so your back was against the door. your hands reached up to unbutton his shirt, his head leaning down to nuzzle his face on your neck, leaving soft kisses against it. you were too embarrassed to admit that you were just adoring him and got yourself horny.

successfully unbuttoning the last button, joshua lifted his head and tapped your thighs before helping you wrap your legs around his waist. he guided you towards your shared bedroom, grabbing the small gift bag dangling from your wrist and throwing it on the bed. he gently propped you down on the edge of the bed and kneeled in front of you, eyes lustfully trained on you. you couldn’t help but bite your lip at the sight of him, his unbuttoned shirt giving you a peek of his toned chest. his hand made its way to your ankle, unclasping the lock of your heels. of course, he had to be a romantic lover. you kicked the heels off your feet, grazing his fingers on your feet, up to your thigh as he stood up. you felt a pool gather at your underwear.

“shua…” you whimpered. he shrugged his shirt off, leaving him in his black slacks. his hard cock evident against his pants. you wanted nothing more than to stuff your mouth with his thick cock.

“look at you, you’re practically drooling.” his finger hooked the strap of your dress, dragging it down your shoulder in an awfully slow manner. you glared at his pace, which he only chuckled at. “patience, princess.” your dress was now resting on your waist, boobs on full display which made joshua lick his lips. “beautiful.” he walked in between your legs, hand reaching to the nape of your neck, leaning down and pulling you into a sweet kiss. you reached up to undo the latch of his belt, excitement roaring throughout your body at the thought of finally having him after an entire day of endless torture. he pulled away from you, chuckling when you were obviously having a hard time getting rid of his damned belt, aiding you in removing the belt away from his pants.

joshua walked away from you, making you frown, but he just circled the bed to grab the gift bag that was discarded on the bed. returning to you, he sat next to you, patting his lap for you to climb into. you stood up, your dress falling to your feet, leaving you in just your lacy underwear. you sat on his lap, straddling his legs, feeling his hardened cock against your still clothed core. you whimpered at the sensation, jerking your hips forward to feel some kind of friction, making joshua tut.

“what an impatient little slut, hm? i bet you can’t wait for my cock to be stuffed in you, is that right, princess?” you couldn't care less about how pathetic you looked right now, you needed to be fucked by him badly.

“i need you so bad, shua.” you whined, placing your hands against his chest. your core practically aching with need.

“since you said it so nicely.” he supported you by your ass, flipping you around so that you were laying on the bed. he quickly unbuttoned and unzipped his pants, sliding them off of him. his cock practically begging to come out of the restraints, which were his boxers. you bit your lip at the sight of him, wanting nothing more than to bury his cock in your mouth. his body hovered over you, climbing in between your legs, giving you a sweet kiss on the lips before his mouth trailed over to your jaw, neck, and finally, your breasts. he enclosed one of your nipples with his mouth, swirling his tongue over the sensitive bud while his hand kneaded your other breast, fingers toying with the nipple. you moaned at the sight of him desperately licking your breast, hand flying to grip his hair.

“fuck, baby.” you gasped as he gently used his teeth on your nipple, feeling him smile against you. pulling away, he reached for the handcuff that was inside the bag.

“hands above your head, princess,” he ordered, and you followed quickly; you absolutely loved it when joshua took command in the bedroom. he wrapped the fuzzy handcuff around both your wrists, not before leaving a gentle kiss on your hand. “tell me if it’s uncomfortable, hm?”

“shut up and fuck me already.” joshua laughed, hooking his fingers around the waistband of your underwear, pulling them down your legs and discarding them somewhere in the room. he circled his fingers around your clit, which made you shiver. he lined his index finger in your entrance, sliding your wetness between your folds and up to your clit, rubbing it just enough to drive you crazy. teasing you, he lightly inserted the tip of his finger before quickly pulling out, which made you gasp. “shua, please.” you pleaded, and he finally inserted two digits in your entrance without saying anything. soft whimpers escaped your lips, as he pumped his fingers in and out of you, slightly curling it every so often.

“you like that, baby? look at you, you're a whimpering mess just because of my fingers.” his gaze on you intense, as he quickened his pace. his thumb toying with your clit as he moved his fingers inside you. your hands fell to wrap it around his neck, but he grabbed your arm and returned it above your head. “if you move, i’ll stop.” you nodded. throwing your head back and arching your back when he added another finger. he attached his lips to your breast that was in his face, lapping the nipple around his tongue which drove you over the edge.

“oh my god! that feels so good, please, baby.” jerking your hips upwards to meet his hand.

“fuck, baby, your pussy’s always so tight for me, huh?” you felt an all-familiar knot gather at your stomach, and joshua must have felt that you were close because he picked up his pace even more. “so perfect, so needy for me. how bad do you want to cum, baby?” his eyes trained on you as you could barely keep yours open.

“so bad, baby, p-please let me cum. i want you to fuck me already.” joshua leaned down and placed kisses on your neck, feeling your pussy clench around his fingers as he repeatedly hit the spongy part that makes you dizzy.

“you take my fingers so well, princess.” grabbing your hand, he placed it against his clothed bludge. “can’t wait to have my cock inside you. come on, baby, cum for me.” that was all you needed to hear before you felt your inside explode, moaning his name as you came undone on his fingers. pulling his fingers out, he brought them to his mouth, collecting your juices with his tongue, not wasting a single drop. your body still recovering from the high you felt

when joshua was finally done, he pulled away from your body and removed his boxers. his cock springing against his stomach, all hard and spurts of pre-cum dripping from the head. he wrapped his hand around the shaft, pumping it a few times before reaching up to your wrists. he unlocked the cuffs, hands gently rubbing the skin that was in contact with it. he returned his position over your body, hands on either side of your head as he attached his lips to yours once again. feeling his cock graze your cunt.

“wanna fuck you so bad,” joshua whispered against your lips, gripping his cock with one hand as he rubbed the head against your folds. “you’d like that, wouldn’t you? you’re such a slut for my cock, huh?” he pushed his cock into you, your mouth falling open into a silent gasp at the sudden sensation. you have been waiting for him all day and now you have finally received your wish. he stops inside you for a second to let you adjust, but it doesn’t take long before he starts moving in and out of you. “so fucking tight for me.” he groaned, grabbing your legs and pushing it against your shoulder as he repeatedly rammed his cock against you.

“o-oh my god, josh.” grabbing a fistful of sheets as you felt his cock kiss your cervix from the position you were in. his every thrust left you breathless, panting his name as he quickened his pace. sweat was forming on joshua’s forehead, his free hand sneaking down to your clit, rubbing circles that made you see stars.

“i fucking love your tight pussy, baby.” crying out for him as he leaned down to kiss you while continuing his thrusts. you felt your second orgasm forming at your stomach, which caused you to bite his lip lightly. “mhm want to come inside you, baby. let me make you pregnant.” he grunted against you which made you even more wet, if that was even possible.

you moaned at the thought of joshua filling you up. you loved him, and you couldn't wait to marry him. giving him a baby was definitely one of your plans, so it did not faze you when he wanted to do just that.

“make me a mommy, shua.” you managed to let out, which made joshua smile. he pulled his cock away completely before slamming it inside you without warning, making you throw your head back.

“good girl, take my fucking cock, baby.” the pained pleasure of his cock repeatedly hitting your cervix brought tears to your eyes. it hurts so fucking good.

joshua’s eyes focused on your tits that were bouncing with every thrust of his. you looked perfect taking in his cock so well. you would look even better with his cum spilling inside your pussy.

“baby, i can’t–” you cried out, your hands gripping his shoulders. walls clenching around his cock, as your orgasm forms around your belly. he straightened his body, his hands guiding you to wrap your legs around his waist. his pace absolutely addicting as you felt his dick twitch inside you.

“fuck! baby, i'm so close.” his thrusts got sloppy as he neared his climax. you turned into putty under his grip as he fucked you through your orgasm. chanting his name as you came for the second time. seconds later, you felt his warm cum paint inside your walls. “god, i love you.” he groaned, leaning down to desperately kiss you.

after a few moments, he pulled his cock out of you, cum spilling out of you. he dragged his fingers into your entrance to push back the cum that was dripping out, which made you jump.

joshua laughed, “sorry, baby. wouldn’t want to waste a drop for mommy.” his body dropping beside you, pulling your body close to his chest. “did you mean it? do you want to start a family with me?” wrapping his fingers with yours.

“of course i do. one of me is cute, but two though? i bet we’d be even cuter.”

[hanniesbrat]

wake up, sunshine | c.sc

somno + breeding kink with seungcheol

pairing: choi seungcheol x reader

genre: smut, est. relationship

wc: ~1.2k (again… not proofread)

synopsis: morning sex w seungcheol and yall lowkey want babies but you also don’t (rn).

!other kinktober fics!

a/n: 11am on the due date… HELP you guys please i know this is MID as FUCK!! i have zero motivation right now for this, but i wanted to put something out. i’ll come back one day w a better cheol fic to make up for this tiny thing ): also there’s a lot of “fuck”s in this idk… what happened. oh and one last thing…

SM SUPPORTS BULLYING!

it was just past 7am. the crisp fall breeze whispered through the bedroom window, nipping seungcheol on his shoulder. his eyes fluttered open as he rolled over onto his back. he stared at the ceiling for a couple seconds before looking to his right side where you were still lying fast asleep. a soft smile crept onto his face as he watched your peaceful form rise and fall with each breath. he reached his arm out to tuck your hair that had fallen in your face, behind your ear. he shifted onto his side to admire you more comfortably, never growing bored of this hobby. uninterrupted, getting to stare at the beauty in front of him that he was lucky enough to call “mine”.

unless you had an early shift, seungcheol was always awake before you. always exhausted from work, you loved to milk your sleep for all it was worth, whereas your boyfriend would prefer to start his days early. you’d normally wake up an hour after him to the smell of bacon permeating the air in your room.

however, this morning was different.

“fuck,” he mumbled under his breath, nowhere near loud enough to wake you. something about the way your nose had a slight pink tint from the open window, the way your hair was draped beautifully behind you, and the way he could catch a glimpse of your chest down the top of the comforter had his cock trying to break free from his boxers. you looked… devine. in your sleep, you rolled onto your back, and seungcheol took it as an opportunity to get some early breakfast.

he couldn’t help himself. he ducked under the covers, moving himself in between your legs. even in pitch blackness, he knew your body like the back of his hand. he effortlessly moved his arms under your thighs, lifting them over his shoulders, holding them tightly. he gave your inner thighs a couple soft kisses before kitten licking your clit. gentle enough to not startle you, but the feeling so blissful nonetheless, you start shifting your hips slightly under his hold. seungcheol smiled against your core before using an arm to lift the comforter up to see your angelic face already looking down at him. “wake up, sunshine,” he cooed before taking your clit into his mouth, still maintaining eye contact. you gasped at the sudden warmth, in contrast to your now cold, exposed skin. “ch-cheol, what’re you doing?” you giggled out. you don’t even remember falling asleep fully naked but, whatever. you’re currently glad you did.

“having an appetizer before breakfast,” he stated very matter of fact. “i woke up extra hungry, i guess,” he shrugged with a tender smile on his face.

you giggled again before running your fingers through his hair, tugging lightly on the strands to hint that you wanted his face up here with yours, and (even tho his tongue was magic) something else between your legs. your boyfriend couldn’t help his sweet nature, though. as he crawled on top of you, eyes locked on yours, he whispered, “you have the prettiest eyes baby,” before attacking your lips with his. when he pulled away you smiled, “imagine if we made little me’s… ya know… my eyes and stuff…” he chuckled at your flushed cheeks and flustered demeanor. were you trying sweet talk him? dirty talk him? your half-asleep brain had no idea, but he knew exactly what you were getting at.

he hummed before kissing your forehead, then your cheek, then your jaw, and then your neck... he lingered there, leaving tender, wet kisses on your skin. the softness of it all slowly sending you back off into your dreams. “cheol…” you whispered, almost completely asleep. seungcheol pulled away from your neck, once again hovering over you. he smiled at your sleepy face. knowing that he was soothing your body so well that he’d sent you back to sleep was making his cock swell up with even more need. he loved taking care of you in every way. he lived for it. he craved your happiness. when you were satisfied, so was he.

he reached his hand down to grab his cock from his boxers, inhaling sharply at the contact. he rubbed his tip lightly up and down your entrance, smearing a mix of your slick and his spit all over your cunt. he pushed himself inside of you with a low, quiet groan in hopes to not disturb you too much. you squirmed a bit, definitely not asleep, but still too tired and relaxed to open your eyes. “mmmph cheol…”

seungcheol sluggishly started thrusting in and out of you, his hand moving up to cup your face. “are you awake yet, sunshine?” he breathed. “uh uh,” you whimpered, smiling softly with your eyes still closed. “gotta fuck you awake then hm?” he smirked before picking up his pace. you moaned out at his increased determination to get you both off out of nowhere. in no time, seungcheol’s hips were snapping into yours and he was demanding you to look him in the eyes as he wrecked you from the inside out. his voice started to raise in pitch. “do you feel me in there, love? f-feel me all in your stomach hm? god~ -m gonna fill you up with my cum yeah?” he panted, resting his forehead on yours. “y-yes p-please cheol, please… breed me” you pleaded, fully awake at this point. seungcheol’s hips stuttered. he had to stop himself. “fuuuck,” he growled at your words. he started thrusting in and out of you again, far more brutal than before. “such a good girl. so g-good begging for me to breed you huh? p-pump you full of my cum? fuck~” he panted out, chasing his high. you were right behind him, the knot in your tummy ready to snap at any moment. “ch-cheol i’m gonna cum,” you cried out, screwing your eyes shut, arching your back. you crying his name, pressing your tits up against him… he was done for. “fuck~” he moaned out pushing his cock all the way inside you, filling you up completely.

morning showers weren’t your thing, but you had no choice this morning. you and cheol were both a mess.

“so,” cheol started from inside the kitchen, grabbing you a plate of food. your eyes admiringly watching him cross over to the dining table where you were. “you want babies hm?” he asked in a teasing tone. you chuckled grabbing the plate from him, then he sat with his. “i mean yeah one day… not now, though,” you poked at a piece of scrambled egg with your fork before bringing it to your mouth. “that’s too bad..” cheol jokingly sighed. “too bad?” you raised an eyebrow. “yeah… i don’t know i got like… a warm fuzzy feeling over the thought of little yous running around.” you beamed at his words. “that’s called a paternal instinct,” you giggled, then you continued, “and i’m glad you have one.” you reached over the table patting him on his head.

tag list: @skzooluvr @jenoslutie @map0fthes0ul7 @unlikelysublimekryptonite @goblynnrockz @actuallynarii @glttrlix @iluvhoshi

[yayll]

~ a little something about waking up next to Dazai, and he's unbearable as always ~

"I might just eat you alive..." He mumbles to himself, barely audible. His eyes are half-lidded, and he's barely blinked.

He's been watching you sleep next to him curled up like a kitten for the past hour, way past the time you usually wake up. He's the oversleeper, not you, and it makes him hyper aware of your bodily functions and if they're okay. He hasn't eaten properly in days, but you don't need to know that. He's rabid, and he knows he's being a total freak right now, but who will worry for you if not for him? He must rise up to be the voice of reason, the watchful eye that keeps you on track even if he can barely keep himself alive! He wishes you'd stay forever, where he could avoid his problems and take care of your every single need. He should be everything you need... He hopes. Then you'd never leave, and he would make sure to eat more, just for you. How perfect... selfish.

God, he just wants to crawl inside of you and make you his home, it's almost pathetic. You'd find him vile for the things he would do for you and your happiness, despite you already being so accepting of his dark past... You're simply heaven sent. He takes a deep breath, and lightly runs his knuckles down your jawline, as if carving them out of the precious material that you're made of. You begin to stir, and his pupils dilate instantly as he pulls back with anticipation.

"Mmm... Osamu..."

You murmur sleepily as your chest rises up and down ever so slowly. He's freaking out. It's bad for his health to hear the way you say his name as if it were a healing oath, a spell that only works on him.

"Wakey wakey~"

Dazai's propping himself up on one elbow, a calculating smile plastered on his lips as if he were in on something you weren't. You pop open one eye, and groan softly.

"You're up... early"

"Yes!"

"Why..." You yawn like the silly little thing you are. He gasps in mock offense, clutching his chest.

"Can't a fortunate guy like ME just be happy that we both live to see another beautiful day?!"

He winks, and boops the tip of your nose, this gets a muffled snort out of you that causes you to bury your face into the pillow. He's addicted to the rush of causing any joy in your life, it's disgusting. When you don't lift your face back up, he scrunches up his face, and reaches out to stroke a strand of your silky hair, but his intrusive thoughts win and he tugs on it as payback for possibly falling asleep again. He needs your attention, and you're sleeping? Insanity. You swat at him, blindly smacking his arm away.

Oh, how he loves that you're the only person who truly sees him past his myriad of theatrics.

"Oh my... a slap from you feels wonderful!"

He rubs his arm, and grabs the hand that swatted him, bringing it up to kiss the pulse point on your wrist. Feather like kisses, almost undetectable... until you lift your face up from the pillow, finally.

He gazes at you as he rubs his face onto your hand like a cat greeting its owner, purring as if he were starved for affection. For a moment, his gaze becomes more serious, detached, as if he were thrown back into a distant memory. He can't describe the feeling, but the way your hand feels against his cheek is a warmth he hasn't felt in ages. His eyes sting, and he blinks the wetness away before you can notice as he hears your angelic voice again. He's back to his usual self.

"Osamu... You're being annoying"

"You think I'm just annoying?~"

His voice comes out in a tender whisper, his mouth curled up into a mischievous grin. He's insufferable. He could be anything for you if you wanted it. Especially annoying! He almost drools when you roll your eyes affectionately at him, the coldness in his heart disappears as he leans in just a little, invading your personal space as always, eager to hear your reply.

"Amongst other things, yes..."

You flash him a sweet little smile, and it mends all that is wrong in the world. The pink in your cheeks is starting to turn red, and it sends him to the moon. He hums, slowly nuzzling himself into the crook of your neck, it's his turn to curl up. You run your fingers through his messy hair that tickles you, feeling the warmth of Dazai's breaths against the back of your ear.

"Hmm, do I look like a pillow to you?"

He can hear the smile in your murmur, and he pulls back from your neck briefly, peering at you through his messy bangs, those intense hazelnut eyes demanding your attention, and his voice drips with an aching devotion that oozes like honey. he moves his lips to your ear, and whispers.

".. You look like an angel to me."

He watches you self destruct at his painfully smooth delivery of a compliment, and secretly rewards himself for once again giving you another reason to never leave. He's got it all!

Romance, self deprecating humor, an inability to properly process his emotions and grief, but more importantly, an undying commitment to stay alive against all odds so that he may see another day of you in his arms... or you helping him change his bandages... or-

He's cut short by you grabbing the sides of his face and pulling him into the most sinfully delicious kiss known to man, and he could swear that despite all his efforts, this might be what ACTUALLY kills him.