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Why The Genderswap Is The Best Thing About Warriors
Here's another post on The Warriors genderswap because I’m still not over how good it was!!!
You've got to understand that changing the Warriors to women was a sacrifice. No matter how good a choice it was, it alienated a lot of the people who would otherwise be obsessed with it.
Warriors is already a cult 70s movie - it doesn't have a huge fanbase. Making the main characters women basically alienated that entire fanbase. Because Warriors is very much a movie about masculinity.
The fans liked it because it was about masculinity, and masculine themes (courage, honour) done masculine-y.
You can find megafans of the movie on reddit or tumblr, who are very much annoyed that the story is no longer about men being men. The story isn't the same anymore, and they aren't interested.
But the change wasn't made without reason.
Lin Manuel Miranda previously thought it was impossible to turn the Warriors into a musical, despite it being one of his favourite movies. The thing that changed his mind? The genderswap.
The Warriors album was made because of the genderswap. Lin thought it was the only interesting way to tell the story in the modern age - and you know what? He was right.
Everything just hits harder when they're women.
Orphan Town and We Got You are hilarious because they're women.
Turning a male/female seductions on their head. Male seduction is a k-pop Ballad about being a nice guy? Genius.
Moments like Call Me Mercy and Park At Night are empowering and emotionally charged because they're women.
Mercy looks at the Warriors and for the first time in her life sees women that have empowered themselves, and drops everything in her life to join them, because she wants to feel like that too.
Ajax sees a catcaller sexually harassing all of her friends and thinks "I need to teach this guy a lesson, because no one else in the world will ever do that"
The story feels more intense - it feels scarier.
On some level, every women is afraid to walk home at night, and Warriors is just that feeling elevated to a musical. The threat doesn't just feel more real - it feels intimately relatable.
The genderswap was heavily inspired by gamergate. Warriors is now a story about women not being believed, being falsely accused and taken advantage of.
But the story's moral still ends up being that these women need to keep their pride, need to keep pushing on. Through everything they still hold their heads high.
God it just works so well.
Re-intepreting Luther into an incel-type villian who wants the women out of his "space"? Brilliant. Turning the controversial Swan/Mercy romance into a lesbian love story? Fantastic! Shifting the story from being about courage, to being about the courage to hold your head high even after being attacked with gender-charged abuse? Life-changing.
The emotions just... work better when they're women. Reversing the genderswap now would be taking the story's teeth away.
You can't reverse time now guys!
Much like Warriors evolved the book - the musical evolved the movie. The dudebros are scratching their heads - angry they can't relate to the musical, without realising that they aren't supposed to.
Warriors is no longer a story about masculinity. It's about femininity now and I couldn't be happier.
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biancadoes1 · 16 hours ago
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Hi. IMO I agree with long theory, anon.
I have never said this specific theory out loud in fear I was projecting my own relationship past into that narrative. However, I have experience in this specific dynamic & thought I could share some examples of why it isn't even close to delulu. If anyone is interested.
I had my best friend fall for me while he was with another woman. It happened accidentally, over time, by us becoming close & working together for 6 years. I denied it all for a long time until someone close to us both called HIM out, point blank. In real life, uncoupling without causing damage to everyone involved is extremely difficult. Maybe N didn't want to be a rebound, but also, maybe L didn't want anyone to think bad about both of them for "breaking up a relationship." Outside influences/opinions can be detrimental to a new relationship, especially when work is involved.
The idea of A, J, or even E being a decoy is extremely plausible (we had a plan to use one, too). Was it screwed up? Absolutely, but... sometimes, to be together, it has to wait to be shown to the outside world & we WEREN'T EVEN FAMOUS. So what did we do? We continued how we always did with friends & we eventually snuck around (once he broke up) to get alone time. As millennials, I wore a chain with his initial, we posted ambiguous songs, lyrics, thirst traps for each other & OMG SOMETIMES WE DIDNT LIKE each other's posts!! 🙄 Business as usual. In the year we worked together after, only ONE person noticed ONE time we flirted more than usual. Otherwise, NO ONE knew. However, if we went on that WT, I can GUARANTEE we would have been just as unhinged. This is where IMO, the body language expert (for those who watched), didn't have a full scope of their entire dynamic.
I will say, the family of it all does make it tricky & I can't speculate on theirs, but to show dynamic for understanding... Mine knew.. my sister had actually mentioned his googly eyes 2 wks before our mutual friend, but she didn't approve. My mom knew & approved. His real mom knew & was semi supportive, but his dad didn't know & wanted him to fix his relationship, which was rough. Taking family into consideration is extremely tricky, especially if there is concern on any side.
The SM postings between them all are also very telling to me, lol.. drama. Love it! & to pretend it doesn't exist is dumb. I won't go into my personal feelings on it all, but it's TELLING. Specifically, the Italy pap pics.
The truth of it all is... REAL relationships are messy AF. The jackolas are too immature to fathom a non fairytale scenario. This is why they make JD out to be so many things he is not & project their rejection onto L. Their lack of life experience is causing them to try & manipulate the narrative like the children they are. I hope they all get some life experience real soon because it's all creepy to watch. I also hope that one day, they grow enough to experience the love & admiration of a gay bestie.
Anywho, I hope yall see these theories are all very plausible for real life. Stop saying it's too delulu, please. It's not.
Thank you, long theory anon for saying all the things I wish I could. Youse the real GOAT & MVP.
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alwaysyouuuuuu · 1 day ago
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So i was thinking about your Wolfstar Marvel AU again (it should pay rent with how much it's spinning around my head) and like,,,, Sirius not having any kind of closure about Remus,,, he doesn't know what happened to him, they never found a body or any traces of him and then he was pronounced dead and Sirius just. Doesn't know. He doesn't even know why they took Remus in the first place. And he probably feels guilty about it too (bc ofc he would!!!). Just, the lack of closure of it all, the big question mark haunting him, up until 70+ years later when he's face-to-face with Remus again (I'm loving it)
Hi hi hi!!!! 💕💕💕 Thank you so much for the ask! I am so happy we both find it consuming haha and I agree. AU needs to start paying me hourly wages for just how much it keeps me up and wondering at night. I would be in tears and at the end of my wit, if I had to do just part of this research in school (I was not into history or any literature for school, and that's putting it mildly.) and now I do this willingly lol.
You know one of those, "I'm so glad you asked"- *7 hour long vm* memes? I fear this will end up like that. Bear with me.
Before we get into that, I'll clear up some background? So Remus was first taken along with a lot of their troop (ambush?), and they were partially injected (plot reasons plot reasons!! I feel like you can guess why!!) and the Sirius and co rescued them etc etc. And then Remus was targeted specifically.
So before the permafrost, I feel the situation was very bad for Sirius. For one, he would have agreed to the Serum in the first place because Remus was in captivity (also for the war effort, of course, but to Sirius, at that point there really was no room for question which may have been there otherwise), and then he got Remus back. Just to lose him again.
And then, to the Military and almost everyone else, Hope and Lyall Lupin lost a son, but Sirius Black lost a fellow soldier. He lost a comrade. Sure, they were friends, so him being vengeful is believable, to an extent. And no one really gets the blank look in his eyes, after.
I believe there was a quote that went like, "Should you lose a spouse/partner, there is a shared understanding of the relationship, but when you lose a friend, there's no tangible evidence, no widely acknowledged way to mourn."
Except, for Sirius, he did lose his partner, love of his life and dearest friend of so many years. And no one understands. Maybe James and Lily know, but it is the 40s. Realistically, they are quiet about it at best. For him it is both, and all the more painful. And he doesn't get exactly why Remus was targeted either. Remus was at an integral position in the OSS, unusual for his age, recruited at the very beginning, one of the sharpest minds, so it could have been that. And god, he was cold blooded when he got to fighting. But of course, he cannot shake the feeling that it was because of him.
So, in that time, the days he spent looking for Remus with James and Lily, (which really wasn't much, they would not have been allowed to!) he is partially cynical. Not to the point of self-blaming but enough to self-destruct. James tries to get him out of it, but Lily grits her teeth. She doesn't say much, because she understands, I believe, how much at that point he just wants it to end.
*BAM* permafrost.
After he gains consciousness, he would have blanked out for a while, because what even is this? But he doesn't, because after the first few excruciating minutes, when the blood is pounding in his chest, looking at every flash of light, every building and car that look unnatural, really, the first thing he processes is Moody telling him that the War is over. Good, at least something went well, he thinks.
They tell him many soldiers were rescued, because that's the first thing he asks. After it sinks in, he wants to hope, and maybe he does. Because this is real, he can see it. As outlandish as it is, he is in the future. If this can be real, how foolish would it be to hope that maybe Remus made it too? He would be old, and he would have lived his life. Maybe with someone else, and that's okay. If he gets to see him one more time, Jesus, it's okay.
They tell him what happened with HYDRA and his family. They tell him about James Potter and how he revolutionized weapons, they tell him about Lily Potter, who later went on to join the NSA. God, he gets fucking giddy hearing all of that, because it worked out. For someone, it did. For James and Lily, it did. He wants to meet Harry.
And he starts to have a nagging thought, because with how they speak of and to him, maybe they would have mentioned his known childhood friend. And Remus was known to his own credit.
So he asks, slowly about one Remus Lupin?
And lo and behold. They know of him of course, of course, he was Captain America's best friend. But nothing was known of him post war.
He tries to hold his face and nods, but Moody gives him a strange look. Tells him that he'll look into it for him. He tamps it down, though, there is no point in a wishful fantasy. He would have begged Moody if required, but there really is no point. And he doesn't think he can open his mouth without saying something incriminating.
Moody offers him the initiative, of course, but they tell him to take a breath, see the world, find himself first. And he does, he takes a few days. But then he gets time to think about it, to mull things over, to reevaluate his last choices. When he is trying to ease into the new world, he is busy, things are overwhelming. But once he gets home, he spirals. He remembers how panicky he had been during the first rescue mission. He had been desperate. And what if that clued them in? There were others in the OSS. So why just Remus?
It had to be him.
So he throws himself into missions, trains hard, exhausts himself so doesn't have to think. He does what he's always been doing, he helps SHIELD and doesn't question much, because he is still processing. Some things stick out but one can only handle so much, yeah? Besides, James and Lily were the co-founders.
He finds out. Well. Many things about his past and it's just so much (I'll stop or this itself will spiral to 3k.)
I feel he's quite mercurial at times in these days. Unsettled, but he keeps going. He drinks sometimes, gets shit faced. Those days are increasing, really.
Then he meets Elena.
And there is something striking about her. Such a young girl, and he can see it in her eyes that she has seen a lot. Too much. He sees himself in her. And he is protective. He is maybe a little taken aback. Because she seems so much... like an old soul.
And Elena is drawn to him too. She opens up, slowly, slowly, which she doesn't normally. But he is fiery. Like her. And they mostly have the same stances. She doesn't speak of her childhood, and so he doesn't ask. She does mention she had a dad, and though seemingly not for long, she remembers her name from him.
She seeks out his company and it soothes something in him. I feel he's a little more settled? With time? I mean it's hard to pity yourself when there is someone dragging you out to bowl and join soccer clubs, when that someone is a loner too. Even though thinking of Remus' hurts a little more each day, because he feels that Elena and Remus would get along so well. Man she even fights like him.
So when he sees Remus again, it is whiplash of the worst kind. Remus is just there. Because it is Remus and it is not, and he is standing there just staring because this Remus even fights the same. And he sees Elena standing frozen there, and it suddenly hits him that she looks... like Remus.
Except for her eyes and it is like he is watching everything from afar. All he can do try to hold Remus back. Until Neville flies them away.
Because what has his life come to?
Elena is not responding. She is not even looking at him. And Sirius is thinking a thousand miles an hour. I think he'd find out everything he can about whoever this Winter Soldier is.
Before they finally bring R in for questioning I feel S would be overcome with guilty and longing and a lot of painful confusion, really.
And mostly, Sirius is guilt ridden. Remus was in there, with them doing who knows what to him, for 70 years? He never deserved that. Sirius was outwardly rebellious. It was his family helping fund HYDRA. And then there's Elena. Is Elena Remus'? Because how in the world did Remus manage to have a kid while he was trapped in a facility?
There is something really cool about her name. if you look closely.
Outside of his blackouts, Remus solely spoke Russian to everyone around him for 70 years right? So it seems logical that's what he'd speak to elena in that environment, mind controlled half the time etc, before they were separated (she was like. 7) and he'd find it a little difficult to slip into English again, or that's what Elena thinks. So when he demands to meet her first, she storms in, defensive stance (Sirius is standing right outside by the way) but Remus just blinks. Because they said it was Elena Chernova. But it's not. It's Helena Black.
And Sirius just. Dies a little.
Basically. He is spiralling.
So is this, so I'll stop here.
Based on this post. + snippet.
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zestydistress · 2 years ago
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They would be best friends.
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concrete-3ater · 21 days ago
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They deserve to be friends! They deserve to sit together and talk and joke about all the horrible things they’ve been through!
[image ID: a colored sketch of Phosphophyllite from Land of the Lustrous and Madoka from Madoka Magica smiling at each other. Madoka has been turned into a Lustrous and is wearing the winter uniform]
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sirsunky · 10 months ago
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I made these a while ago but never posted them, more SpongeBob Puyo Puyo crossover edits except this time with characters other than SpongeBob and Sig
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Also an image based on that funny art trend
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arkhavens · 2 years ago
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i see the fandom wide "obi-wan avoids medbay like its an olympic sport", and i raise you "obi-wan goes to medbay immediately after every single mission specifically because hes been conditioned to by bant's incredible willingness to hunt him down and drag him there if he doesnt"
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vulcanhello · 2 years ago
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in-class-daydreams · 3 months ago
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Imagine yours and ex-husband Gojo's son possessing both the six-eyes and limitless, just like his father.
You'd ask him how was school and he'd beam while toeing off his shoes.
"Sensei and I spent hours perfecting my domain." Sen stretched out his shoulder. "I'm so tired!"
Sukuna may have been rough around the edges (to say the least) but surprisingly his teaching style worked like a charm with your son.
Even more surprising is that Sen and Sukuna seem to actually like each other. They're Kyoto Jujutsu High's strongest mentor-mentee duo. That little detail is best kept away from Satoru.
~
Imagine ex-husband Gojo dropping off some flowers to you ("as friends!") and when you head to the kitchen find a nice vase, his eyes lock on another bouquet sitting on your dining table.
"You got another admirer, sweetheart?" he'd say jokingly, assuming they were from Sen or you bought them yourself. Your silence suggests otherwise.
He'd walk up behind you and put his big hands on your hips. Whispering in your ear, "Who're they from, baby? Does he make you feel the way I do?"
Tired of his tendency to get in your business, you turn around and push him off you. "It's none of your business. Stay in your lane before Sen puts you through a wall again!"
~
Imagine ex-husband Gojo coming over again with Sen's (tentative) permission.
Gojo would drape himself all across your couch and say, "Y'know, there's still time to transfer him to Tokyo High. There's no rules against it and I'm literally the only one who can properly teach him how to use our cursed techniques."
"It would be nice to have him learn with another six-eyes user, but he's doing very well at his current school," you'd tell your ex. "He and Sukuna work very well together."
"And how well do you and him work together?" he'd ask casually.
"Excuse me?"
"Mom, I'm back!" Sen would burst through the front door and wrap you in a giant bear hug. He only spares his father a fleeting glance. "Don't you have anything better to do other than bothering my mom?"
Satoru would ignore the comment. "Hey, kiddo, what do you think about transferring schools and learning from me? I could teach you a lot about your abilities! What do you say?"
Sen's face would contort with disgust. "No thanks. I actually want to learn how to fight, not just rely on limitless and the six-eyes to carry me."
The evening would end with Satoru storming out the house, Sen locking himself in his room, and you taking a few pills for your growing headache.
~
Click [here] for more of Sen being mean to his dad | Ask stuff about Sen and the fam [here]
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eddiernunson · 7 months ago
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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)
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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.
-
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caelivir · 2 months ago
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“are ya sure yer not dating (y/n)?” osamu suddenly asks his brother during a quiet lunch between the two of them.
atsumu chokes on the grains of rice in his mouth, coughing violently and punching his chest. when he finally settles down, he throws a glare at his brother. “what the hell, ‘samu?”
“that’s not an answer.” osamu continues to press.
“we’re not!” atsumu answers, picking up a piece of chicken katsu with his chopsticks. “i don’t like them like that. they don’t like me like that. we’re just friends.”
the bright red-pink of his ears speak otherwise. you see, osamu knows his twin better than he knows himself. he knows that whatever comes out of atsumu’s mouth is a load of crap. just friends? yeah fucking right.
osamu has never seen his brother look at anyone the way he looks at you, starlight and pure adoration swirling in his irises. he acts as if your every word were an earth-shaking prophecy sent by the heavens. his honey brown eyes stare, and he smiles so gently that it makes him sick.
friends aren’t touchy in the way you guys are. you hold each other’s hand like it’s nothing. with interlocked fingers, atsumu will trace his thumb down the back of your hand for no apparent reason. when you’re bored, you’ll take atsumu’s hand into your lap and play with it, bending his fingers, comparing hand sizes, and running a featherlight touch across the expanse of his palm to see if he’ll react.
osamu notices how you never miss the opportunity to find a seat on his brother’s lap. whether there are no seats of available or ten open ones, you will always choose atsumu. and it’s not like he’s complaining about it. in fact, osamu thinks that he waits for it because atsumu would never want to miss the chance to secure his arms around your waist and whisper into your ear amidst a loud conversation.
and you can’t forget the cuddles, and the hugs that linger longer than they should, and the way you’ll cup atsumu’s face, and the way you play with his piss blond hair.
you’re the one person atsumu lets wear his jersey to his game. he ensures you get the best seat to watch him play. osamu doesn’t miss the way his twin looks at you before every serve or the way you cheer the loudest when he scores an ace.
osamu doesn’t think that someone who “doesn’t like you” would be thinking about you every time they shop. “(y/n) likes this snack”. “(y/n) would love this shirt”. “oh hey, (y/n) showed me this”. “‘samu, should i buy this for (y/n)?”.
osamu has never seen two people so madly in love before. he doesn’t know how you guys haven’t realized it yet. and he can’t keep playing along because atsumu’s katsu looks really good right now.
“right…” osamu chooses to answer, dipping his chicken into the tonkatsu sauce. “i sure hope they’re gonna have fun on that date they have today.”
his brother’s chopsticks clatter onto the table before rolling onto the floor. the sight of atsumu’s open mouth filled with rice is unsightly, and osamu has to suppress his laugh.
“they didn’t tell you?” osamu raises an eyebrow.
“no?!” atsumu suddenly stands, slamming his palms into the table.
“yeah, i think they’re gonna leave soon.” osamu lies easily. there is no date. but of course, does ‘tsumu really need to know that?
the blond twin practically bolts away from the dining table and out of the house. when the door slams shut, osamu grins to himself, reaching for the unfinished plate in front of him.
“he can thank me later.”
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atsumu brainrot never ends. something short and sweet bc school is kicking my ass.
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suncoved · 28 days ago
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BIG MAN ON CAMPUS! — RAFE CAMERON
pairing; fratboy!rafe cameron x fem!reader
summary; you come to your first college party and have the worst panic attack of your life. who knew your knight in shining armour would be the captain of the biggest fraternity and the biggest fuck boy on campus
warnings ; panic attacks, anxiety, drugging, angst but like fluff!!
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"Liv, i'm really not sure about this"
You're best friend and roommate looked at you with a blank stare, watching as you pulled the tight white dress down that had ridden up your thighs. She had dragged you out of your dorm only 20 minutes ago, telling you that if you didn't come she was going to wake you up with a bucket of ice water.
"Cmon babe, you made me promise i would drag you to at least one party this year. and i don't break a promise. Which also means that i promise if you don't like the first 30 minutes, then we can go home and eat 30 pounds of ice cream and pass out in our makeup"
You smiled at her, trying to push yourself through whatever anxiety was coursing through you. Liv was really a good friend, even if she was harsh about it at times, you know that she wanted the best for you.
The smell of booze and sweat hit your nose immediately as you walked into the frat house, the music blasting and the rainbow lights blinding against the otherwise dark space.
Liv pulled you to the corner of the living room, smiling brightly at you and giving you an extra tight hug. "Ok! I'm gonna go get us some drinks, stay right there and don't move!"
She had to yell because of how loud the music was, wasting no time before disappearing into the kitchen.
You stood in the party like a fish out of water, biting your lip as you looked down at your feet.
You'd like to say that you weren't that much of an introvert. I mean sure you liked to be curled up with a good book from time to time, and you were studying a bit more than healthy. But you like to go out and shop with friends, talk to new people in your classes and slumber parties on the weekends.
But parties were something you did not do. It had a combination of all the things you disliked most in life. loud music, people yelling, drinking, flashing bright lights and... frat boys.
You'd already been brought out of your shell at college, you were confident enough now to present in classes and partner up with new people on assignments, but this was pushing it.
You were a sweet girl, but naive. You didn't have enough experience with greedy men and even you would admit that you resembled a lost deer more often than you would like.
You lifted your head as you heard someone approach you, looking up quickly as you assumed it was Liv coming back from the kitchen.
But it wasn't Liv.
A brunette looked straight at you as you made eye contact with him, a red solo cup resting in his hand.
"What's a pretty girl like you standing here all alone in the corner" he stated, inching closer to you as you subconsciously stepped back a bit. "I'm Jeremey"
He reached out his hand to you to shake, only to receive a dumbfounded look on your face.
"Normally people reply back with their name, Babe"
"Oh! Sorry!" you replied flustered, repeating back your name as he grinned wide, showing his bright smile.
You didn't want to admit that when Jeremy was talking to you, you continually kept glancing over at the entrance to the kitchen, hoping that the next person to walk out was Liv, who was going to hopefully come to save you from this conversation.
"Hey, I was experimenting in the kitchen, wanna try my new concoction." Jeremy dangled the red solo cup in your face, the liquid pink and smelling of strawberries.
"No thank you. I don't drink" you replied sweetly, hoping to be polite and not upset him. "There's barely any in it, promise. Pleaseee, don't wanna hurt my feelings, do you?" He replied in annoyance.
A pang of hurt shot through you as you panicked, how could you have been so rude! Jeremy was taking time out of his day to talk to you and you rejected a drink he made you?
"Oh! no, I'm sorry. Thank you so much" you replied, taking the cup out of his hands and looking down at the liquid. He watched closely as you took a sip, your face twisting at the strong flavour of vodka.
"What do you think?" he smirked as he asked, bringing his hand up to your lips and wiping the extra liquid off with his thumb.
"Its- its great, thank you" you replied, your heart beating faster as you started to feel increasingly more uncomfortable. He watched you closely as he hinted to you to drink more, looking down at you like he was a wolf, and you were his prey.
You held back tears as you felt the room start to spin under your feet, your cheeks feeling hot and your hands shaking involuntarily. It hit you quickly that this wasn't alcohol that was making you feel like this, no, it was something else. Something much, much worse.
And you didn't want to stick around to figure out what it was.
"Um, sorry Jeremy, I need to go to the bathroom" you spoke up, using all your courage to push through the crowd quickly as he followed.
Your breath was now speeding up as you fought your way through the waves of people, your steps becoming faster as you felt the room spinning more and more, tears streaming down your face.
You didn't know where the bathrooms in this place were, but you didn't have time to think about that now.
You just needed to find Liv, or someone, anyone.
Your eyes fell on a room at the end of the hall, light spilling out of the crack where the door failed to meet the floor.
You didn't have time to think, just to act. Your balled fist made it up to the door, knocking over and over again as you looked behind you, Jeremy in the crowd but looking all over for what you assumed to be you.
You didn't even want to begin to imagine how stupid you looked, or how impolite you were being as your knocks became harsher and frantic as Jeremy came closer.
"Jesus, learn how to wait your fucking turn" a voice sounded as the door opened. you didn't even look away from Jeremy as you tumbled into the bathroom, accidentally bringing the person in the door with you.
"Yo, what the fuc-" the aggressive voice came to a halt quickly, but you all you could focus on was your breathing, which was out of control.
Your cheeks were wet with tears as you closed your eyes, bringing your hands up to your face and letting yourself sob. "I- I can't breathe" You let out, unknowing if you were talking to yourself or the person in the space with you.
You couldn't even handle your anxiety and emotions when you were in control of your body, let alone now.
That's the main reason you don't drink, because you tend to freak out to the point of no return, and this, this was much worse.
Your face was buried in your hands as the person softly closed the door to the bathroom. You didn't even register him softly moving you to sit on the toilet seat in the bathroom, kneeling down and removing your hands from your face.
You opened your eyes to see a man's face looking back at you, his features painted with worry and his body distanced enough away from you as to not upset you even more.
"Hey- hey. Its ok, what's wrong?" the boy asked, trying not to show how confused he was on how to deal with this situation. "Are you hurt?"
You shook your head quickly at his statement, your tears slowly coming to a halt as your vision became less blurry. You could now see his face more clearly. Fluffy dirty blonde hair, bright blue eyes, soft pink lips.
"Uh, um. Wait" He spoke, breaking eye contact with you for the first time since you entered the bathroom. He started frantically opening draws and cabinets, stopping when he found a box of tissues under the sink.
"Here" you looked between him and the box he was handing you before taking it in your hands, your fingers brushing past each other momentarily.
"Thank you, i-i promise I'm not this much of a mess all the time." You replied, earning a soft smile from the man. "It's ok, it happens to the best of us. Have you taken anything, or just drunk?" He asked delicately.
Rafe didn't understand what he was feeling at this moment. Because he'd never felt it before.
Sure he could be an asshole sometimes, He was rude and got into fights on occasion, and he had been known to make girls complete the walk of shame out of his room involuntarily after a big night out, but that didn't mean he would ever leave a clearly intoxicated girl alone at a frat party.
But this, this was different. He had to know what was wrong with you, and he had to fix it. Sure you were a mystery to him and only met you seconds ago, but he wasn't leaving until he knew you were safe and sound... and had given him your name.
"I don't drink- or, at least I didn't. This boy gave me something, it tasted weird. Then I got all dizzy and now- now I can't stop crying" You rambled, sighing softly and looking into his eyes.
He gazed back at you, running his tongue around his teeth before seemingly snapping out of the trance he was in. "Did you know the guy?" He huffed, obviously agitated with your reply as he ran his fingers through his hair.
You shook your head softly, a wave of sadness running through you because you couldn't give him the answer he wanted. Tears started running down your face again suddenly as you kept repeating 'I'm sorry' over and over again.
He lifted his thumb up to your cheek, softly brushing the tears away. "Hey it's okay, Don't worry. I'll keep you safe"
He didn't understand the feelings he was feeling, He had never craved to protect someone so much, He had never been this gentle in his whole life.
"What's your name?" he asked, distracting you to hopefully stop the flow of tears streaming down your face. He felt like if you didn't stop crying in the next minute, he was going to lose it.
You answered your name to him, earning a soft smile. "I'm Rafe, it's nice to meet you." He finished the sentence with your name, sending shivers down your spine.
"Liv" You gasped, making his head tilt in confusion before you shot up from your seat. "Wow, ma. Slow down, what do you mean?" Rafe replied, holding your hips to stop you from completely falling over. You sat back down quickly in defeat, your eyes wide with panic.
"Liv, I-I came here with my friend Liv. I'm gonna scare her. I need to find her." You gasped, your voice trembling as you spoke. "It's ok, We'll find her. Don't worry, it's ok." He repeated, desperate for your face to get back to your normal expression, aka, not struck with terror.
It was obvious to Rafe through the glaze cast over your eyes, the shaking from your hands and the drooping of your eyelids that someone had slipped something into your drink.
He had hosted enough parties at his fraternity to know what insecure, probably small dicked boys, not men, can do to women. And it revolted him.
"R-rafe. I'm gonna go to sleep now" You whispered, your body finally giving out before you could stop it, his arms quickly coming up to stabilize you before you toppled over.
He bit his lip as he tried to figure out what to do, pulling your body into his arms as you didn't even stir. He was scared. So scared.
He didn't know what you were given, how much you were given, what would happen after you woke up, if you even woke up at all.
He carried you up the stairs and into his bedroom, unlocking the door and locking it behind him again. His room was the only one with a lock in the whole house, because he was damned if he was going to walk in on random strangers having drunk sex on his bed.
He rested you softly on his bed, making sure your head was comfortably on his pillow and resting a blanket over your body after taking your heels off.
He looked at your sleeping form, your long eyelashes resting on your cheeks, your hair falling softly over your shoulders and your chest rising and falling with your breaths.
He looked at you one last time before leaving his room, ignoring every person greeting him as he made a beeline straight for the living room.
He scanned over the large crowd in the house, numerous people dancing, some making out, his frat brothers doing keg stands, and one very panicked girl going up to every stranger she sees.
Rafe took no time before walking straight to the girl in the middle of the dance floor, tapping her on the shoulder. She turns immediately to face Rafe, her face struck with confusion.
"Are you Liv?" Rafe asks, earning a confused nod from the girl in front of him” I am! Have you seen my best friend anywhere? She's about yay height, really pretty, heart of gold, she kinda looks like that baby deer from that Disney movie, she's wearing this white dress and-"
Rafe stops her ramble with a quick nod causing her eyes to widen. "What? Where is she?"
"In my bed" Rafe replied, remembering he wasn't all that good with small talk. "What? What the fuck do you mean, in your bed? What did you do? I swear to god-"
"Ok, calm down. Someone gave her something. I found her in the bathroom sobbing before she passed out. I put her in my bed then came down here, end of story" He replied, starting to get slightly agitated.
The girl he now knows to be Liv quickly walks off, heading straight for upstairs where the bedrooms are. Rafe rolls his eyes before following swiftly behind her, though he's glad that there's someone out there other than him trying to protect his newfound soft spot.
Liv halts at all the bedrooms, looking expectantly at Rafe before he walks in front of her and opens his door. Liv immediately rushes to you, still passed out on Rafe's bed.
She sits next to you, tucking your hair behind your ear before placing a kiss on your forehead. "Of course, on the first party she goes to, some sick fuck roofies her and she ends up in Rafe Cameron's bed" Liv speaks, not taking her eyes off you.
"How do you know my name?" Rafe asks, not even bothering to look at the person he's talking to as he focuses on your chest rising and falling. "Ha, everyone knows who you are Rafe. And if I find out you had anything to do with her getting hurt, I'm gonna chop your dick off and feed it to you and make sure everyone on campus knows it"
It would be a lie to say Rafe wasn't slightly amused by your best friend's words, holding back his smile and keeping his face stern. "I would never do that shit. Especially not to her" Liv's eyebrow quirked in confusion at the last bit of his sentence.
She knows for a fact that you did not know Rafe Cameron before this night, let alone any frat boys. Liv could cry at the sight of your passed-out form, taking full blame and responsibility for the fact that you got hurt when she was meant to protect you.
She pulled her phone out from her purse, about to call an Uber back to the dorms for both of you. "No, I'll drive you" He stated, not leaving room for an argument
Liv nodded slowly before pulling the blanket off you, your body involuntarily starting to shiver from the cold air.
Rafe walked over to his closet, grabbing his warmest hoodie. Liv looked up at him as he raised your body softly, placing the hoodie over your head and softly lifting you up into his arms.
Rafe walked with Liv down to the road outside the fraternity house, receiving hundreds of stares from people in the crowd. But he didn't care, all he cared about was you.
He let Liv open the door to the backseat of his truck, allowing him to place you softly inside before Liv climbed in next to you, placing your head on her lap.
The ride was completely silent, barring Liv's directions to the dormitories, but she didn't miss the way he was constantly looking in the rearview mirror at you.
It didn't take long before Liv was leading the way to your dorm, Rafe trailing slowly behind with you in his arms.
She flicked the light on in your dorm, Rafe quickly knowing which bed was yours from the multiple stuffies and pink blankets. He lifted the covers before placing your head on the pillow once more, knowing Liv was going to get you changed before she slept.
"Thank you, Rafe, for looking out for her when I didn't" Liv said as Rafe walked to your door, nodding curtly in repose to her statement.
He gave you one last look before he walked out of your door, watching as Liv was about to shut the door on him after saying goodbye. Panicked he placed his foot in front of the door before it shut, forcing it open.
"C-can I get her number, please?"
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rainrot4me · 2 months ago
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Ticci Toby General Headcannons
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Summary: Basic, SFW, and NSFW head-cannons. My personal thoughts, feelings, and opinions about Toby as a character.
TW: NSFW below the cut, minors dni! Above the cut is sfw!
Words: 1.6k
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Basic:
- Even though he is socially awkward and tense, he’s a master at people watching. Can read a room and know more details about a person within seconds of watching them interact.
- Likes his alone time.
- He would probably say Tim and Brian are his closest friends, the same can’t be said about Masky and Hoodie, however.
- A pro at zoning out. Takes you waving your hand in his face before he snaps back.
- Bipolar? More-so emotional switch. Tends to be soft-spoken and awkward, trying his best to keep conversation while fidgeting his hands, looking anywhere but at your face. Otherwise, he’s an in-your-face, aggressive, no emotional resistance when that flip is switched. Lots of teeth gritting and yelling, swings his ax around like it’s a toy to intimidate. It takes a lot for him to get to that point, but it takes double the time for him to come back down from it.
- Not easily scared. Will throw himself into a fight and come out victorious somehow.
- Sleeper build. Wears lots of baggy clothing and layers so you can’t tell, but secretly he’s jacked. He may look scrawny, but don’t be fooled. Really strong shoulder and chest muscles from dually swinging his ax and dragging bodies around. He doesn’t think it’s all that impressive. Wishes he was bigger.
- The worst posture you’ve ever seen.
- Let his facial hair grow out from time to time. Thinks it makes him look too mature, but appreciates the compliments he gets.
- Has a secret hobby of playing a guitar he found on a mission. His tics mess him up a lot, but it’s worth the trip out deeper into the woods where no one can hear to practice a little.
- Hates the heat. Would rather freeze to death than spend one moment in the too hot sun. Favorite season is late fall, around the first snowfall time.
- Big on territory. Never had privacy or respect as a kid so he values having his own things and belongs that nobody else can touch.
- Definitely shy, but not in the “UwU” way, in the “Can you get this from the gas station for me? The girl in there looks mean.”
- Bites his nails, the skin around his nails, and his cuticles LIKE A MF.
- Very light sleeper. Unless he’s absolutely dead beat exhausted, he’ll wake up from just the floorboards creaking. Has to be physically exhausted to actually rest.
- When listening to music, he needs it as loud and close as possible. Headphones are a must and they must be at max. He wants to feel that bass.
- A stray animal lover, feels similar to them in a way.
- Breaks down a lot. Hard to console or even talk to in those moments but some time alone in his room will do the trick.
- Has the education level of a middle schooler.
- Enjoys Gorillaz, Rainbow Kitten Surprise, and surprisingly, older country artists like Johnny Cash and Willie Nelson. “Outlaw shit.”
Dating Him/SFW:
- “Love” “Y/N…” “Baby”
- Loves when he touches you and you don’t pull away. Like when his knee accidentally rests against yours or his elbow bumps your arm while sitting on the couch and you don’t tug away, just sitting there letting him rest. He gets all giddy.
- Playing with your hair. Currently trying to learn how to braid.
- “Wait. O- Okay, so, right th- then left? No? F- Fuck, okay…”
- Favorite sleeping position is with you wrapping around each other, legs and arms tangled together as he hooks his chin onto the top of your head, rubbing your back. Even though you both get extremely hot and sweaty after a while, Toby enjoys the moment before you eventually shove him off.
- Likes to feel your body weight on him, whether it’s laying or sitting, he just likes the pressure and warmth you give.
- Big on physical touch, could really care less if he’s mad or not, just needs to have some part of his body touching yours.
- You could wear or look like absolutely anything and he’d still think you’re the most gorgeous thing he’s ever seen.
- Loves how you smell after getting out of the shower, can’t get enough of it while he kisses your warm, damp skin.
- Loves the way it feels when you comb through his hair with your fingers, practically purrs as he melts into your warmth, angling his head so you have better access.
- An admirer for sure, stares even when you catch on, studying every freckle or sunspot on your cheek.
- Self conscious about being your boyfriend. In reality, he’s an amazing lover, but he’s been conditioned his whole life that he’s not good enough and that ideal carries over.
- Tried to lick you through the hole in his cheek once, you both freaked out.
- Sensitive to high stress situations or loud noises so constantly reaches for your hand or crams himself into your side to block out the panic he can feel oncoming. You really help.
- Slasher movie date nights are always a bust because he’ll describe just how inaccurate that blood splatter was, followed by what would actually happen in detail.
- “If he c- cut the arm like that, it wou- wouldn’t spray out that far. This g- guy doesn’t even l- look like he’s ever even he- held an ax before.”
- Didn’t have a favorite color until you told him yours. Says his is the same, just cause it’s your favorite.
- Tries to teach you German, but ends up just complimenting you the whole time. You still can barely understand what he’s saying.
- Doesn’t open up about anything ever. You’ve gotta fight tooth and nail for him to even mention his mother’s name. Will tell you all about his latest mission, however, whether you want to hear or not.
- Throws things or hits you playfully just to turn around and go “Who did that??”
Dating Him/NSFW:
- Boobs. Tits. Breasts. He needs them in his palms immediately.
- A big biter. Will never bite hard enough to draw blood but gets so turned on at seeing his teeth marks in your skin. Big territory thing.
- “Mine. See, I m- marked ‘ya. You’re mine.”
- His dream is to fuck your tits, too shy to ask though.
- Always been a “jerk off as fast as you can” kind of guy, fisting his cock fast to just get off. So when you slowly slide down his cock for the first time, taking your time to adjust and grind your hips at a steady pace, he nearly cums on the spot from how overwhelming it is.
- Bisexual, definitely.
- Starts at a fast pace at first, thrusting and grinding until both of your hips hurt, but then slowly his pace changes, more intentional movements and sinking deeper, more focused on stretching you out then getting deep. Just wants to get you dizzy before he gives you the good stuff lol.
- “Th- That feel good? You’re sq- squeezin’ so tight, ah-”
- His fingernail imprints all over your skin from how hard he holds you.
- Pervert but not in a creepy way. Pervert as in gets a boner from just watching your ass as you walk across the room. Has to clench his fists every time you bend over or raise your shirt up. Can barely breathe if you’re showing too much skin.
- Not big on degradation, but is very big on affirmation, loves to be told he’s doing good.
- Secretly, sooooo secretly loves the idea of anal. For both you and him. He wants to be buried in your ass, your back laid into his chest as he shoves his fingers into your cunt, panting into your neck. But at the same time, wishes you would just read his mind and push your fingers into his, fisting his cock as you stretched him so well.
- Surprisingly, very flexible. Whatever position you’re in he can easily contort to get the best angle to sink his cock in.
- Jealousy sex. Another resident of the mansion catches your glance for too long and suddenly you’re shoved into the bathroom, pants at your ankles as the brunette swipes the pads of his fingers against your clit, biting against your shoulder as he ruts into your ass.
- “Mine, mine, m- mine, nobody els- else makes you feel this good. Right? R- Right? Yeah?”
- A WHINER. Grade A pro at burying his face into your neck/pillow/chest and just sobbing his pleasure through tears and moans. He’s so loud, obnoxiously groaning and huffing as you slap your hand over his mouth. It doesn’t help though, as soon as your hand pushes down his tongue is already out and licking your palms.
- You in his hoodie? Yeah, it’s the only thing you’re wearing while he snaps his hips, pushing your knees back as far as they’ll go to get even deeper, mewling about how good you look.
- Loves to sit back and watch you suck his cock, his fingers pushing strands of hair out of your face as you try to take it all in, eyes twitching the further down you get. He’s not insanely big, just lengthy enough to make you choke and reach all the best parts. Likes to put his goggles on your forehead and watch them dangle as you bob up and down.
- Cumming in you? No. Cumming on you? Every single time. Goes absolutely crazy when he sees his seed shot across your stomach or thighs, your flushed skin and post-orgasm twitches getting him so turned on he can’t focus.
- “You ju- just look so good… Couldn’t he- help myself, okay? Sorry… Can we, u- uh… Can we go ag- again?”
Thank you for reading!
Comments and reblogs are appreciated! 𐚁₊⊹
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mischievousmoony · 3 months ago
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hi, ok i have another idea for a fic which again totally up to you to write!! but i had an idea with dad!james and r where their kid is like equally obsessed with their mum as james is with r and one day james decides to prank their kid by saying something bad about the r while their kid is present and the baby just goes off. i feel like you would do an amazing job with this! feel free to ignore too. have a perfectly splendid day!!
-🪷
"the baby just goes off" painted a hilarious picture of an infant yelling at his dad in my mind lmao. ty for the request this warmed my heart to write + special thanks to @moonpascal for chatting a little about kids, gave me the reassurance & inspiration i needed
𝚋𝚞𝚒𝚕𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚌𝚔𝚜
⟢ dad!james potter x fem!reader ⊹ 1.1k ⟢ warnings/tags: fluff, dad/husband!james, mom/wife!reader, no use of y/n, no name for the son, idk how to write a child's dialogue tbh son's supposed to sound 4 years old
── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
James gladly goes out of his way to mention to anyone who will listen that his little one is unmistakably a Mummy's boy. From family to friends to the poor souls who bag his groceries, James will talk the ear off of anyone he can.
He finds it to be the most endearing thing in the world— the way that your son is as obsessed with you as James is. Always staying close and clinging to you, touching affection radiating from every hug and smile.
Today, as he watches his son run back and forth across the carpet, handing his mother block after block just to see her face light up after each gift, his awe and admiration are insurmountable.
Last night, James surprised you with a pair of earrings that you have been wishing for. When your face lit up upon receiving the little leatherette box, so did your son's. He didn't quite understand why you were so excited about some cube, but since then he's been trying to replicate your excitement with presents of his own.
"Oh my! Another one! Thank you, buddy," you beam, you're gratefulness and delight unwavering as he hands you the sixth block.
Your son giggles, bouncing in his spot as you inspect each side of the little wooden toy, telling him how much you adore the blue penguin painted on one of its faces.
That's another thing that touches James' heart: the tender nurture and care that you bestow upon your son with such unwavering devotion and warmth. It has James convinced that you must be the best mum in the entire world.
He might just melt at the sight of you now, kneeling happily in front of a growing pile of blocks as your son scurries back and forth, adding to your collection. James sits cross-legged to your right, resting his elbow on his knee and laying his head in his hand, watching the two he loves most in the world with hearts in his eyes.
You gasp, as if surprised when handed block number seven. "Oh, this is my favorite one yet. How did you know I love zebras?" you ask, your thumb tracing over the red acrylic paint on the side of the block.
By the time you have twelve, nearly half of his collection, you say, "I have a lot of blocks here, buddy, do you want to give some to Daddy?"
"No!" your son protests immediately, running off to his toy box for the thirteenth time.
You and James both chuckle, exchanging amused glances. Finding your son's reaction hilarious, James’s mischievous side has him dreaming up new ways to push his buttons. Your son thinks the world of you, and James is curious to see what the little guy will do if he claims otherwise.
"Well, what am I gonna do with all of this? Should I..."
You leave your son in suspense for a moment, and his hands hover over his toy box as looks at you, hanging onto your every word in anticipation.
"...build a castle!?"
“Yeah!” your son cheers, scooping three more blocks into his arms, thrilled to supply the bricks for your castle.
James nudges you, a sign of his upcoming playfulness. “You sure about that, bud? Mummy is absolutely rotten at building castles.”
Halfway across the carpet, your son stops in his tracks, glaring at his father as he tries to keep his blocks from falling out of his arms.
Stifling a laugh, you press your fingertips to your lips. By now, you’re used to James’ bursts of mischief, and you’re more than happy to sit back and let them play out. Unless you’re an active participant, of course.
You muster up a scandalized gasp as he reaches for your mountain of presents, claiming three blocks in one hand.
“No!” your little one complains, rushing to drop his three in your lap to replace the ones that James stole, “those are Mummy’s!”
“You sure Mummy deserves all these blocks?” James asks, starting to stack them into a tower, “You watch, I’ll build a castle that’ll make her’s look like rubbish.”
Your son hastily makes his way over to his dad, both arms extended as he collides with the tower and sends the blocks flying. "Stop it," he says as he scoops up the nearest block and runs it back over to you, shouting, "Mummy's castles are the best!"
He climbs into your lap, clutching onto the toy tightly as one of your arms wraps around him, and you feel your heart start to melt as you rub soothing circles into his back. You look over your son's head, your eyes sparkling with affection as you meet your husband's tender gaze.
Not having the heart to mess with him for very long, James concedes, "You're right, I'm not being very nice, am I?"
"Nuh-uh!" your son replies, shaking his head with exaggeratedly vigor, the curls he gets from his dad bouncing about.
"What can I do to make it up to her?" James asks, turning the ordeal into a subtle lesson as he dramatically feigns sorrow and despair over his actions.
"'Pologize," your son commands, his head swiveling to look at James expectantly over his shoulder.
James puts on his most sheepish, apologetic smile, looking from his son to you. "I'm very sorry. He's right, your castles are the best. Can you forgive me, love?"
"Aw, of course I forgive you," you say warmly, your amusement manifesting as a wide smile. You lean back so you can get a good view of your son's face when you tell him, "You know, I bet what Daddy really wants is to build a castle with us. I love your presents, bud, but we don't want to leave Daddy out do we?"
He looks down at the block in his little hand. "No," he replies shyly.
"So why don't you ask him to build a castle with us?" You give him a pat on the back before releasing him from your arms. "Go on," you coax.
He steps closer to James, holding the block close to his chest. "We can all build a castle," he offers.
"Yeah?" James' face lights up, and it's not for show. Genuine joy takes over his features as he ruffles your son's hair, responding, "I'd love nothing more, little man."
"But you have to be nice to Mummy!" he demands, his little voice firm and earnest as he looks up at James with wide, serious eyes.
"I promise, I will be on my best behavior," James assures him, his voice sincere as he gives a playful salute. That's enough for your son, because he finally awards James with his very first block, which he accepts with pride.
"Good!" your son cheers, already moving on to the pile of blocks to start stacking them as he proclaims, "Mummy is the best, and we have to show it!"
Your lips part as you suck in a breath, a quiet gasp. Receiving your son's affection never fails to make your heart swell.
You don't feel James' eyes on you, but he's watching— admiring, more like, as he takes in the way that you soften at your son's sweet words. A smitten smile plays at his lips as he agrees, "She is the best, isn't she?"
── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
1K notes · View notes
acoazlove · 28 days ago
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A New Place | part two
Azriel x Archeron!Reader
Summary: Months after a horrible birthday, you’re happy with new friends, but soon you’ll find out that you have to face your family once again.
Word count: 1.9k
Warnings: Angst, Fluff
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It’s been three months and they haven’t come to see you. Not a single one of them. So either they don’t care and haven’t looked for you, or they just can’t find you. However, that’s a stupid thought because they could send Azriel, he is the spymaster after all.
You have to keep telling yourself you don’t care because it's easier that way. Thinking about it for too long would cause you to spiral. One that you’re not sure you could get out of.
On the bright side of all of this, you’ve made friends with your coworkers, and know a few regulars by name.
Benny has been the most helpful through it all. Was there even when you were being stubborn and trying to pull away completely. Trying to isolate yourself so nothing and no one can hurt you again.
The first week after you had moved into the apartment above the bar—which isn’t nearly as bad as it sounds—she taught you how to pour drinks, what bottle is what on the shelf, how to clean glasses efficiently, but best of all, how to deal with all kinds of fae who decide to wander in. The worst of which were creepy males who couldn’t take no for an answer.
Benny kept your mind busy, doing anything and everything she could, giving you advice despite not asking for it. One of the most freeing feelings was no guilt when you went shopping for the first time since being on your own, now you don’t feel like you owe anyone when you spend a single dollar.
Your coworkers were the next best thing for getting your mind away from your family. Odessa—the black-haired female—is probably your favourite person other than Benny. She looked quite intimidating at first but once you got to know her she was a sweetheart—kind and funny. Quick to make you feel at home. She is also a busybody, not that you complain.
Speaking of Odessa, she’s standing in front of you, her hip leaning on the edge of the bar, animatedly moving her hands as she ranted about her latest experience with ‘irritating males’ as she so kindly put it.
“Gods, then he tried to buy me a drink even though I told him I wasn’t interested again.” Exasperated, she finishes her story with a scoff and an eye-roll. You purse your lips and lift your guilty gaze to meet hers, the female tilts her head at your expression, and her mouth drops open, “Were you not listening to me?” she exclaims.
You place the glass that you were drying down on the bar top. A heavy breath leaving you and an apologetic look on your face, “I was Dessa, I promise. I just got in my head.” Mumbling the last part. A playful glare graces her features, and then a smile tugs at the corner of her lips, “You're lucky you’re good at your job. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be so nice.” A snort escapes you at that.
Just as you were about to retort, a hand harshly claps your shoulder, “She is good at her job, but she won’t be if she keeps getting distracted by you. Now go on.” The deep voice shoos her away. Frowning in return, she grabs a tray of drinks and stalks off with a crude gesture thrown over her shoulder at him.
You turn to see scruffy brown hair and tanned skin—Dominic. who is the biggest and most intimidating male you’ve ever seen, also an older male, with faint lines on his scowling face. He still won't tell you how old he is. You'd have to guess he's older than the males in the inner circle.
He raises his eyebrows at you. Flushing slightly upon realising that he must have asked you a question, while you were lost in thought. Again.
A sharp exhale passes through his lips, waving a hand in exasperation, “Can you please go check on the boys in the back? They're taking far too long to just bring out a couple of crates of booze.” With a curt nod, you turn and head into the kitchen.
Scanning the room, you find the two males you were sent to find. Oberon and Tarian, chatting away while seated in the corner. You arch a brow at the sight, arms crossing over your chest. The huff you let out pulls their attention to you, a friendly smile from Tarian and a feline smirk from Oberon sent your way.
“Dominic wants to know what’s taking you so long to get the new crates of liquor.” Grimaces shift their expressions. They share a look before turning back to you. Oberon's cropped blonde hair falls across his forehead at the movement, blue eyes meeting your own. Lips pulled into his previous smirk. “Wasn't Adem supposed to help?”
An incredulous look twists your features. “Just do it.” You grumble before turning to leave. “y/n.” Tarian’s raspy voice grabs your attention. Pale skin glimmering in the soft lights, “Cover for us?” mousy-coloured curls bouncing slightly with a tilt of his head. Grey eyes glittered with mischief.
You scoff before you exit the kitchen. “No. I got in trouble last time.” snickers are heard from behind you at that, though you do hear bottles clink together, indicating they had finally decided to do their job.
Blue hair flashes across your vision, Benny stepping into your path. “Break time.” voice with a singsong tone. Just as you're about to argue that you had your last one not too long ago, she cuts in. “Your last break was about five hours ago.” her arms folded over her chest.
Eyes widening before giving her a small defeated nod, you follow her to the bar's entrance, passing Adem on the way. The red-haired male gives you a smile, which you return as you pass through the door.
The inner circle has been miserable, sulking over every word you had yelled at them. Truly realising their own mistakes soon after the door had slammed closed behind them. Not going to look for you, with the excuse of wanting to give you space. Three months of space isn’t enough it seems.
Azriel immediately sent a few shadows after you to make sure you’d be okay. Well as okay as one could be after a horrific birthday. Those same shadows hadn’t left your side since. You haven’t noticed them yet, but it was only a matter of time before you did. Swirling dark tendrils aren’t exactly the most discrete thing when one is walking in broad daylight.
He had felt horrible that he hadn’t said anything when you looked at him that night. He just couldn’t bring himself to say that he was the only one who didn’t forget your day. Or the fact he had gotten you a present and hadn’t given it to you. The day after you left, he had given the present to Benny to give to you, which she did, but fulfilled his wish to not say it was from him. Already Feeling bad enough for not giving you it himself.
Walking down the cobbled streets of Valaris was something he and his brothers had done for years, though since Rhys had been crowned high lord, it was rare for them to get that time. The three of them looking for a place to maybe have lunch, or just sit and have a nice chat. Any excuse to spend just a couple more hours together. Their mates had sent them off so they could have a ‘girls’ day’ at home, which is most likely a cover to plan how to make it up to you.
A pointy elbow jabs Azriel in the ribs, pulling him out of his thoughts with a pained grunt. Glaring up at his brother, Cassian only replies with a snort. “What was that for?” Azriel grits out, hand rubbing his side.
“You’re brooding. No brooding on boys’ day.” At his words, a chuckle escapes from Rhysand who’s on Cassian’s otherside.
“I am not brooding.” Azriel grumbles. “Fine then, moping.” Cassian’s words have that same teasing tone as when they’re sparring, trying to rile him up as much as possible
Opening his mouth to growl out a retort, shining blue hair flashes from across the street at a Cafe, catching Cass’ attention. “Benny!” His booming voice yells towards her.
Head snapping in the direction that her name came from. a beaming smile stretching across her features seeing the three boys.
Before Rhys or Az can pull him back, Cassians already bounding over to her, pulling her into a hug before she could take a seat at her table. A laugh bubbles from her chest, hugging him back.
Joining them, Rhys grins at her, And Azriel gives her a nod of acknowledgement. “Long time no see. How’ve you boys been?” her smile still clear in her voice.
“We’ve been great, how about you? Are you having a late lunch all by yourself?” Rhysand’s voice has his usual charming lilt to it.
“I’ve been good too. Not alone, my friend is in the bathroom.” Azriel’s attention is pulled towards the bathroom door as if he could tell who her friend was from where he is standing. “Haven't seen you all in nearly a century. Busy with mates now I assume.” more a question than a statement.
“Yup,” Cassian enthusiastically pops the ‘p’ “you need to meet them, you’ll love them.” A loud, over exaggerated gasp gets pulled from him. “We should all go to your bar for dinner and drinks.” Beaming, likes it’s his best idea he’s ever had.
Benny’s own smile grows in response. “I'd love that. I’ll even reserve your old favourite table. Though I might have to pull two together considering how much your family’s grown.
a bark of excited laughter is pulled from Cassian. Rhys pulls him away before he can distract her from her lunch any more than he already has. “Sounds like a plan. Let’s leave you to it, and we’ll see you in a couple days?”
“I’ll save a couple tables for you.” She embraces each of them, before pulling away and waving them off, to finally sit down.
They depart with smiles and waves, then head off to find a place for them to have their lunch. Azriel can’t help but look over his shoulder hoping to catch a glimpse of who she’s with. Before they round a corner and are out of sight, he sees exactly who it is. You.
You exit the toilet and make your way over to the table Benny had chosen outside. The food and coffee you had picked now waiting for you.
As you pull your chair out, she turns her gaze back to you, a grin gracing her cerulean features. Deciding to ignore the mischievous undertones of that look, you pick up the pastry sitting in front of you and take a bite.
“We're going to be busy in a couple of days. A couple tables have been booked.” She speaks as if it’s an afterthought.
Your brows pull together at her words. “Since when did we reserve tables?” you inquire, never having heard that was a possibility for the bar. “We don't. They’re just special guests.” her voice light as she picks up her coffee, signalling that she won’t be answering any more questions.
Glancing in the direction that held her attention previously, you find nothing. whoever it was must’ve been important for Benny to change her usual routine with the bar. choosing not to dwell on it for too long, you turn back to the female in front of you, to enjoy your lunch.
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a/n: There might be some spelling mistakes. I’m sorry for taking so long to post this, and i know this isn’t exactly the part two you guys wanted, but the story needs to be built up just a little bit. I promise the next part won’t take as long, and there will absolutely be more interactions with the inner circle. Thank you for your patience, I have had low energy because I’ve been quite sick, and haven’t been able to get this to a place where I want to post it. I hope you liked it anyway. <3
929 notes · View notes
astonmartinii · 10 months ago
Text
reluctant cupid | lando norris social media au
pairing: lando norris x fem bff!reader
you could set your bestie up with a driver or you could confess your feelings? lando norris is dumb.
based on this request: Could you write something about being best friends with lando and he tries to help set you up with another driver you have a crush on, but then he realises he actually likes you so he has to sabotage all the wingmanning he’s done and you end up together Idk if that makes sense 😭🫶🏼🫶🏼 -@mbappesleftthigh
MASTERLIST | TIP JAR
yourusername
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liked by landonorris, oscarpiastri and 49,340 others
yourusername: someone please save me from the grips of hinge and this oh so lonesome life
view all comments
user1: girl knows the whole f1 paddock and looks like that and is still alone there is NO HOPE for me
user2: this post might have thrown me over the edge
landonorris: "i'm so lonely" "why don't you approach that guy" "no too scary"
user3: that's so real though
yourusername: thank you!
landonorris: how do you expect to find a boyfriend when you don't like to talk to anyone and treat hinge like a gameshow
yourusername: i didn't come here for actual advice let me commiserate in peace. god, can women have anything these days?
landonorris: ???
yourusername: oh! idea! pretty please set me up with one of your friends? they have to be great otherwise you wouldn't be friends with them, right? RIGHT?
landonorris: i guess...
yourusername: please lando, i've never asked for anything before
landonorris: i can feel you pouting through the phone
yourusername: so you'll consider ?
landonorris: fine...
user4: bro either gotta admit his feelings now or be condemned to be in the plot of a weird romantic comedy
user5: i personally don't think i can wait until the third act break up with this side character LANDO ACT NOW
oscarpiastri: you'd really trust lando's judgement?
yourusername: he's friends with me, he's got good taste?
oscarpiastri: touche
maxverstappen1: whatever you really wanna say oscar, you gotta keep it in, these idiots will figure it out eventually
yourusername: ???
landonorris: ???
user6: the grid are so done with their asses i can't 😭
user7: but what if the universe doesn't intervene and lando really has just lost the girl forever?
user8: bestie we can't be thinking like this
landonorris
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liked by carlossainz55, yourusername and 812,047 others
tagged: yourusername
landonorris: being back home means being bothered by her (and whatever is her newest hyperfixation - it's sylvanian families this month if you couldn't tell)
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user9: i am so sorry but they are so in love
user10: it's cute in the movies, but these blind bitches are starting to piss me off
yourusername: THEY CAN HEAR YOU, BE A BETTER DAD
landonorris: they're not my children
yourusername: you take that back right now, you LOVE them
landonorris: you spent my money on them yes
yourusername: that's fatherhood, buddy. buckle up
user11: whoever he sets her up (if he's still dumb enough to do that) is gonna be the biggest third wheel in history
user12: who would willingly sign up for that
user13: me. i would. i have two working eyes and have seen y/n
maxverstappen1: who are these funky little critters and how can i procure some for p?
yourusername: finally a man with sense, literally any grocery store or toy store
maxverstappen1: perf
yourusername: if lando stops being mr. grumpy i'll ask him if i can come to a race and p and i can play animal families
landonorris: i am NOT mr. grumpy
maxverstappen1: you kinda are dude. is it the set-up is it stressing you out?
landonorris: nO
yourusername: then why are you putting it off !!! lando i might die from terminal yearning !!!
landonorris: i have an interested candidate
yourusername: really? do you think they'll actually like me? like this isn't a pity date right?
landonorris: nope!
user14: lando is typing through tears as we speak
user15: if y/n does go on a date with someone from the paddock i actually hope it goes well, as one lonely girl to another, it's tough out here we need one win
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f1wagupdates
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liked by user18, user19 and 11,043 others
tagged: yourusername & carlossainz55
f1wagupdates: turns out lando is a bit of a cupid as his childhood friend y/n y/ln was spotted out and about with carlos sainz.
view all comments
user20: HE ACTUALLY DID IT
user21: that moment when you're so down bad for a girl that you set her up with your best friend
user22: that moment when you're such a wimp you can't admit your feelings and set up the girl you like with a literal GREEK GOD
user23: i am so bamboozled by this move he literally looked like a kicked puppy on his stream bro this is your doing 😭
user24: she's a lover girl she's going to get her heart broken :(
user25: this has mess written all over it
user26: she's literally described herself as a terminal yearner i feel like she'll throw herself in and will get hurt
user27: UNLESS! this is all part of the plan? what if lando set her up with a messy guy like carlos so he can be the shoulder to cry on and that's how he slides in?
user28: that's very convoluted, very rom-com but i'll take it if it means we get lando and y/n together in the end
user29: i know this probably won't last long but can we all appreciate how hot this couple is?
user30: lando and y/n runs rings round y/n and carlos
user31: lol lando is a bad friend for setting her up with CARLOS him and charles are THEE red flags
user32: i hope y/n is prepared
user33: also lando hasn't thought it fully out if his plan is to be the shoulder to cry on because he's just opening her up to be called a homie hopper or a paddock bunny
carlossainz55
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liked by charles_leclerc, pierregasly and 702,554 others
carlossainz55: productive weekend with my girl
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user34: well that's not y/n
user35: that finished faster than i expected
user36: lando DO NOT quit your day job
landonorris: call me bro
carlossainz55: si, cabron
user37: i don't think they'll be cabrons after this call
user38: maybe this is all just going to plan?
user39: yall gotta give up this conspiracy theory maybe these people are just as dumb and mean as they seem to be
user40: soooooo... what did we all do this weeekend?
user41: i broke a girl's heart @carlossainz55 twins 👯‍♂️
user42: AHHHH???
maxverstappen1: oh that's not-
yourusername: you're so chronically online :(
maxverstappen1: you're alive?
yourusername: yes. coming at you live from the bed i'm currently rotting in
maxverstappen1: not going to say i didn't warn you?
carlossainz55: really? in my own comment section?
yourusername: one second, we're having a conversation here
maxverstappen1: yeah carlos, gosh.
carlossainz55: i'm so confused
user43: okay power move to just start a conversation in his comments?
user44: the power of confusion is simply unmatched
yourusername
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liked by maxverstappen1, landonorris and 56,309 others
yourusername: certified boy hater
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user45: a ferrari boy will do that to you
landonorris: feeling hashtag victimised rn
yourusername: obviously doesn't include you girlypop. but you seriously need to reevaluate your judgement
landonorris: carlos is attractive?
yourusername: he ghosted me?
carlossainz55: i am right here
yourusername: blocked.
landonorris: did you actually just block him?
yourusername: yes 😀 !
landonorris: god this is a nightmare
yourusername: not if you'd take a GOD DAMN HINT
landonorris: WHAT IS THAT SUPPOSED TO MEAN?
user46: yall this is a public instagram comment section
user47: don't say that, this is their argument in the rain moment
user48: lemme grab the popcorn 🍿
maxverstappen1: this better not include the real number one girlypop here
yourusername: of course not pookie
oscarpiastri: you gonna continue the lil spat above this?
yourusername: no?
oscarpiastri: well some people (max and i) would like to listen so please continue
yourusername: no, i don't think i will
oscarpiastri: GOD YOU PEOPLE ARE INSUFFERABLE
maxverstappen1: what oscar said
user49: oscar and max are so real
user50: they can't leave us on this cliff hanger
landonorris
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liked by yourusername, danielricciardo and 1,043,788 others
landonorris: some snaps from '23
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user51: have we just been thirst trapped?
user52: i don't think it was intended for us
user53: this has "i am hotter than carlos sainz" written all over it
yourusername: posting tits on main, brave.
landonorris: i came second in singapore.
yourusername: sureeeeeeeeeeeeeeee. modesty, ever heard of it lan?
landonorris: slutshaming isn't cute y/n
yourusername: you kinda have to pull to be a slut lan. you are under qualified for the position
landonorris: if you keep being mean to me i will call your mum or my mum.
yourusername: try it. i see cisca more than you, i have faith in her
landonorris: the line is busy. are you on the phone to MY mum right now?
yourusername: maybe.
user54: we're so close to them getting their heads out of their asses
user55: don't get my hopes up
danielricciardo: i hope this works lol
landonorris: you don't think i'm sexy?
danielricciardo: it doesn't matter what i think
landonorris: i'm not sexy :(
danielricciardo: you're baiting me but yes, you are sexy.
user56: i'll fight anyone who made this man believe he's not beautiful
liked by yourusername
user57: I SAW THAT 📸
user58: someone just lock them in a cupboard at this point
oscarpiastri: noted.
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yourusername
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liked by maxverstappen1, landonorris and 89,034 others
tagged: landonorris
yourusername: yeah, yeah. you can stop yelling at us now.
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user61: LET'S FUCKING GO
user62: it was worth all that yelling. i expect an invite to the wedding now.
user63: wedding? girly they only just realised their feelings after a DECADE
maxverstappen1: it was about fucking time
yourusername: okay miss ma'am. some people are EMOTIONALLY VULNERABLE AND NOT VERY GOOD AT PROCESSING THEM
maxverstappen1: you must've been emotionally constipated because this was painful
yourusername: it was painful for me too
maxverstappen1: so painful that you dated CARLOS
yourusername: one date! ONE!
maxverstappen1: carlos said can you unblock him so he can be mean to me?
yourusername: fine.
carlossainz55: STOP MAKING ME LOOK LIKE A BAD PERSON. YES I AM NOT THE BEST AT RELATIONSHIPS BUT LEAVE ME BE
maxverstappen1: lol
yourusername: lol
user64: unblocking carlos to hit him with the lol max and y/n might be more iconic than lando and y/n
landonorris: not on our relationship announcement post 🤨
user65: OOP.
landonorris: i love you doofus
yourusername: i love you too muppet
landonorris: how much was the betting pool for your family?
yourusername: it got to over £300
landonorris: ours was £750
yourusername: are we dumb?
landonorris: no!
oscarpiastri: two dumbass girls saying 'yass' to each other
yourusername: LEAVE US BE
landonorris: oscar :(
user66: not their own families betting on when they'd get together 😭
landonorris
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liked by maxverstappen1, yourusername and 1,430,778 others
tagged: yourusername
landonorris: first win, hopefully not my only one.
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user67: MY BABIES
user68: i feel like i've been on this journey with them
oscarpiastri: thank god you guys got your shit together, i was THIS close to jumping out the nearest window if i had to watch lando mope around like a kicked puppy when y/n had the lil thing with carlos
user69: so it wasn't some grand plan?
oscarpiastri: no he's just dumb enough to actually set up his first love with his best friend
landonorris: OSCAR!
oscarpiastri: am i wrong?
landonorris: no... but! i got there in the end
oscarpiastri: good thing you're faster on track
user70: the grid being just as done with them as us is killing me
maxfewtrell: finally this unnecessarily long and overly convoluted saga has come to and end, lets never do this again!
landonorris: i'm locked in for life bro no worries
yourusername: awwwwwwwwwwwwww i love you too bubs
maxfewtrell: stop being sappy under my comment
yourusername: you just complained we didn't sort out our shit fast enough and now we're too sappy?
landonorris: STICK TO A STORY BOZO
maxfewtrell: now you're even more ride or die... can we go back?
yourusername: nope!
landonorris: nope!
maxverstappen1: i for one am very happy for you both
yourusername: thank you max !!
landonorris: not so fast, he had the biggest bet on us in the paddock
yourusername: get that bag sis
landonorris: ???
yourusername: we can't fight it anymore, let them have their jokes, we actually have each other now :)
landonorris: yes we do :) xx
user71: golly gosh this is so fucking cute
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fin.
note: i hope this is what you were looking for and that you all enjoyed!! i'm just waiting on my tester sticker sheets for my small business @badlydrawnf1cats on here and on instagram, if you wanna give it a follow x tHANK YOU FOR READING MY LOVES X
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