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honestsycrets · 8 months

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enfócate ii: non-negotiable

❛ pairing | tutor!miguel x student!reader

❛ type | explicit

❛ summary | miguel has to choose his battles: insist on removing peter from your life or get what he wants.

❛ tags | schoolgirl au, spanish tutor!miguel, Miguel's jealousy, slight obsessive qualities, fuck buddies, fuck boy Miguel, mention of physical assault, hurt peter, mention of violence, breakups, non-penetrative smut, slightly unknowledgeable reader, silly playtime.

❛ sy's notes | masterlist here. please READ THE TAGS. on this fic particularly, i seem to encounter people who trigger themselves.

Miguel had many girls.

None gave a shit when it came down to it. They talked a good game over text messages and phone calls, tried their best to please him sexually, and snuck into their bed. They might even have lunch or dinner with him. Very rarely this.

He was doing his notes that Monday afternoon, scribbling away when his phone lit up. He flicked a look, realizing it was your photo that popped up. Not the many cum stained photos he had in his phone in your own folder. Those were not safe for any of his bosses to see, but one of those sweet photos that Peter’s taken.

Miguel isn’t stupid. He knows a love-sick puppy when he sees one. One look at Peter’s socials reveals many things: volunteering with a high school club to teach photography, stupid little flowers that he finds gorgeous, a number of subjects for his fine arts degrees, and on Sunday-- you. Sitting on a chunky rock in a beautiful dress in a stream, the sun bouncing off your strawberry-dusted cheeks. He has to do something about Peter.

“¿Qué pasó, Princesa? I’m finishing my notes.”

“I have something for you,” you answered. “Come outside.”

“For me?” Miguel tucks his phone between his ear and shoulder, closing his manilla folder that held a time-sensitive report. Miguel grabbed his keys and wallet, heading for the door. Everyone else was gone for the day, but Miguel did his homework in the lab.

“Sí,” you laughed. “¿Quién más?”

“Tch,”

At least those Spanish lessons are paying off. Miguel rushes down the three flights of stairs in record time and pops out the back door. You pushed past the archways into the beautiful gardens that usually obscure pedestrians from staring at scientists as they quickly woof down their food and bolt back inside to deal with whatever piteous work they had. Miguel slips on his dark sunglasses, turning his arms one over another. You have time to stop and appreciate nature, more than he could say about even himself.

“Princesa,” he hangs up the phone and takes a few steps to the tables where you were, twirling around the scent of fragrant orange blossoms. He bites back an amused smile, his voice picking up in a humored lilt. “What are you doing?”

“Dancing!” you hopped on one stone table, then the other.

“Don’t fall,” Miguel snatches you short of falling off the third table, setting your ass down with a mindful pull of your dark burgundy skirt over your thighs. “Why did you call?”

You supply him with a wicker picnic basket that was hooked over your elbow, pulling open the flap. The warm smell of meat and corn greeted his nose, finally shaking loose the smile that he had suppressed since you first called him.

“I brought you dinner.”

He blinks.

“Me?”

“You said you had to study for your test,” you looked up at the red brick building, “It’s better if you don’t get distracted by going out for food.”

He doesn’t have the heart to tell you that he usually brings his own food, regimented as he is. Miguel sets his hands on your hips and watches as you pull free whatever it was you made him. You set aside the basket and offer him the glass container and a bag of tamales, enveloped in their warm little husks.

“Menudo. And these are tamales con carne. My familia makes them every year. I brought them just for you.”

“You didn’t have to,” he murmured.

“But I wanted to.” You reached for the envelope collar of his lab coat, smoothing it down against his chest. “Besides, every one of my primas do it for their men. I can’t keep just bringing food home for Peter.”

It’s not that serious, he wants to say. There’s something soft about the way you recount it to him. He can’t stand to go against what you’re saying and instead sets the food back in its home, tucking your hair behind your ear. He traces the shell to your lobes, flicking his finger against the dripping earrings.

“Come upstairs.”

“No,” you answer quickly, leaning up to place a meager little kiss on his cheek. “You should be studying and if I go up there…”

He’d definitely get in trouble bringing his fuck buddy up to his office. Still, it might be worth it.

“I won’t get anything done,” he finishes. “Give me a real goodbye kiss.”

“You didn’t like that kiss?”

“It was a sad kiss.”

Peter was an essential part of your life.

He was closer than a friend if such things spaces between friendship and relationships existed. You supposed that in the absence of romantic relationships, friendships were the next best thing. Who else, but family, would support you? You nibbled on a hunk of toast with sweetened cream cheese and frozen berries ala Peter, whose head draped over your thigh. Your fingers combed through his thin brown hair, twirling bits around your index finger as he lay with a full belly and fuller thoughts.

“Sooo, how did it go?” Peter asked, staring at fluffy clouds that whirled by that perfectly cozy afternoon. “Did my super awesome plan go perfectly?”

You’re too shy to talk about it.

“Aw it did, didn’t it? I knew it!” Peter reached up, tickling his fingers through the ribbons of a pearl headband you wore that day. “Is he good? I hear all kinds of stuff about him.”

“Peter,” blood rushed to your face. “We haven’t…”

“Haven’t what?” he asked. “Ohhh. Oh. You haven’t fucked him? I thought…”

“We did-- just not that,” you patted his warm pink cardigan, flapping your hand down. “We haven’t you know--”

“Had sex?”

Peter could be too much sometimes. Today was one of those aggravating days. You settled down your hunk of toast, bobbing your head in a nod, eager to explain without making the words. “Just… oral. I couldn’t Peter, I’m not ready yet.”

“I know,” Peter’s tone goes soft. “But he can’t be happy about that.”

“What do you mean?”

“Every time Miguel has a new girl, he makes sure to fuck them as soon as possible. Keeps ‘em connected, or something, or that’s what Dana says.”

“Who’s Dana?” you chirped after him. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You… looked so sad seeing him with someone else. I couldn’t… break your heart like that."

“You couldn’t tell me, but you could kiss me?”

“It was a nice kiss. Isn’t it about time for him to stomp past here?”

You wonder what Peter might mean by that. He slid his eyes shut, humming with one long leg thrown over the other. About time for his afternoon nap until you shook him awake because of your sore arms or back-- whichever came first. He slides his eyes shut, going to sleep under the feeling of your fingers twirling through his hair.

“You’re impossible, Peter.”

Peter was always right. You spotted your muscular man walking past the hedges, in a clean white shirt that obscured nothing about his muscles. You thought he would do what he usually did: wave, move on, talk to whatever whore of the day was on his arm.

He was walking with a girl who was tall and lithe. She made no moves to cling onto him as he slipped down the slight grassy slope where you sat with Peter, reviewing the intricacies of corrugated pottery before class. Your heart soared in your chest as he crouched down, a hand on his knee, scanning Peter’s face.

“I thought we talked about this.”

You didn’t expect those to be the first words out his lips, but lo, they were. He regarded Peter the same way he might an annoying animal with their favourite human, with blatant distaste and a passing hint of jealousy. You didn’t understand why.

“About…”

“Other men.”

“Peter isn’t another man. He’s non-negotiable.”

Miguel’s thick eyebrows pushed together as he processed the blatant line in the sand that you drew. You weren’t about to give up your dear friend, picnic dates at lunch, or photography shoots on the weekend for a man you sucked off. No matter how good he tasted and how thick his muscles were, crouched with those wild chocolate eyes.

“I’ll stay away from other men-- but not him. You take it or leave it.”

Miguel worked his jaw, clearly debating on the value of fighting you then and there. Miguel didn’t negotiate. It was never in his nature.

“Miggy,” called the woman on the sidewalk. She wore a dark bob, a streak of purple spiraling along her head. She has a terribly squeaky tone, one that is full of ire from having to say anything at all. “The samples.”

“This isn’t over, Princesa.”

He relented. Not because he wanted to, but because time was undoubtedly limited. You were pretty sure it was.

Miguel is breaking another rule. Not only does he glaze over Peter in your life, but he brings you to his apartment for tutoring. He’d deal with Peter after he secured you. You were proving one of the most difficult of his women to keep.

Come over, it'll be private, he claimed in a text message. It’s absolutely not to peel away your soft pale pink panties nestled up against your cunt, drag them down your hips, and onto the floor. He’ll keep those.

It’s not because the desk in the study room would do nothing to obscure his sinewy frame, shoving your legs apart and dragging you to the very edge of the seat.

“Take your vocabulary quiz.” You nibbled on your pencil as Miguel buried his head between your thighs, biting down on your thick thighs to encourage you to spread your legs wider. You breathed out an elongated hiss at another bite to your opposing thigh.

“Pero, Miguel-- how…” you murmured, making the mistake of looking between your legs. Miguel met your gaze, possessed with the smell of your body. You greet him with a choked-out groan of his name the second his mouth connected with your pussy. He knew you would taste sweet.

“It’s very simple. You start writing,” The quiz should be easy. A simple finish the sentences with the right word and vocabulary word box to boot. It was terribly easy-- if not for Miguel’s tongue suckling the juices that dripped from your core, you might have already finished it. It was hard-- too hard-- to focus on anything but Miguel’s warm tongue prodding your cunt, his fingers sliding within your hole. Miguel urges his finger around the rim. “Preferably something in Spanish.”

His tongue slid from your entrance to your clitoral hood. Another finger joins the first, twisting and pulling apart your impossibly tight hole. He just knew you would feel amazing. He suckled along your lips, suckling them wet as you struggled to read and make any sense of what was on the page. It wasn’t going to happen.

“Miguel, Miguel--” Your voice drew out, it had been so long since you had a partner. “Dame más.”

“There you go,” Miguel hummed, closing his mouth around your puffy clit in worship for the admittance. The pencil tumbled free from your fingers. Without thinking, your hand buried into Miguel’s silky dark brown hair, rolling your hips onto his face to pursue an orgasm. He suckled it fat and needy, his fingers curving in your body. With a soft sob, the pleasure caused you to gush messily all over his fingers. Your fingers knotted up in his hair, riding his face until you’re left with nothing but the cozy haze of your pleasure.

You don’t know how you’re going to pass this stupid language requirement now.

Miguel kisses you, soft and sweet, gentle and light. You taste yourself on his tongue and worry about the way you taste. Miguel doesn’t seem to have a single complaint. He grabs your hands, helping you to stand upright, even though your legs were as stable as a newborn giraffe’s. With your body against Miguel’s, you could feel the outline of his cock nice and hard, tenting his sweatpants.

“Should we take this to bed?”

“I…” you asked, shyly so. “I’m not ready for that. Is that… okay?”

Coño. It’s not the answer he hoped for, but Miguel can be patient. He dips his head down and resigns himself to a night of jerking himself off. He had been looking forward to today, fucking his new girl. He steeled himself from any reaction that may inch across his face and offered you his hand.

“Claro que sí, princesa,” Miguel finds himself saying. It’s not that you can’t retract the consent, but he knows that you have some shyness to do so. He rather honesty over concern for his ego. The session had at least been an hour-- with Miguel’s focus fading at the sight of your cute little pink dress. “We can stop here. You can take the test as homework. Have it done by next time.”

“But… you’re hard.”

“It’s not the first time I’ve jerked off,” Miguel shrugs off the thought. It wasn’t how he imagined today going, but it wasn’t-- Miguel dropped his gaze down to his waistband. Your fingers tingle over the white ties, pull them loose.

“I want to take care of you,” you shoved his sweats onto the floor, pooling around his slender feet. Miguel’s cock bobbed in the cool air, impossibly hard. You walked him back from his desk to his bed. He falls back on it, his big dick kissing his muscular stomach. “Lay back.”

He found himself eagerly complying. You snatched the lube he keeps on his desk, likely knowing that he kept it there for just this reason. Miguel likes to think that his sexual needs are usually met-- but sometimes, they aren’t. You shoved his legs apart and climbed onto the bed, gliding your hands up the inside of his thighs. A warmth filled his lower belly as you popped open the plastic bottle and drizzled it over his cock. The cool liquid made him flinch.

“It’s not that cold,” you asked, a tease on your lips.

“You find it funny? Let me pour some on you, then,” Miguel remarked, his gaze following your fingers. You gripped him, soothing your palms over the top of his cock and back down, milking him like with your soft hands. You spend particular time smoothing over his root, tracing his veins up to the tip. Your thumb massaged his slit, smoothing a soft bead of fluid that gathered there.

“Do you like it?” you asked.

“It’s nice.”

He hummed and lolled his head back onto his pillow. You met him where he was, your lips against his, exchanging a soft and wet kiss. A groan escaped his chest, clearly appreciating your affection. You want him to love it, need it, and crave it at the end of the day. Maybe you could not do all the things the other women could, but there was something about the way you looked and touched him that he knew he could not easily replicate.

“Miggy. How do I make it better?” You asked, more of a whine than anything.

"Better?" Miguel reached up, cupping your breast with one hand. He gives you a squeeze, urging your nipple to harden underneath the fabric. His hazy eyes turn to the other breast, repeating the treatment. You nodded as he worked-- and it's cute how much you want to make him happy.

“Let me fuck your tits. Get on your back, take the dress off,” Miguel looked toward the bottle of lube. He finally has you naked. Every inch you peeled away revealed a little more precious skin that he’s craved to see all week. You slipped off the dress, then your bra, laying back on the sheets. The lube is lukewarm, but when it hit your warm skin, it caused you to flinch too.

“Oh, now it’s cold,” Miguel teased. You smeared the wet lube over your breasts, pushing them together just right. Warmth bit your cheeks as Miguel mounted you, either muscular thigh on the side of your ribs. Between his large body cradling your breasts and his eyes on yours, he realized that you were terribly shy. He rubs the head of his cock against your nipples before sliding between your breasts. “You’re so shy.”

“I’m sorry,” you nodded. It becomes clear that as much as you trust him-- there is some barrier to complete trust. Miguel began to thrust, his hips cantering in the warm, wet lubricant. You could appreciate every day he spent at the gym, making a physique that other men could only aspire to. He was so thick-- so handsome. His breath came out in sharp little puffs as he worked, hands coming on top of yours for both stability and the opportunity to touch you. His fingers slid between the empty gaps of your own, eyes closed, face taut with pleasure.

You knew, as much as he knew, what he was thinking of. His cock wrecking your pussy for the first time because no matter how many times you jerked him off, sucked his cock, or let him fuck your tits, he’d always wonder. He was certain you wanted it too, wanted to feel what it would be like to be under him-- pounded pretty. Your head rose to watch his cockhead peep out between your breasts. Every sweeping motion was rewarded with a little lick, earning a hiss of your name. His measured features hardened.

“Coño,” Miguel cursed as the thick ropes of his cum coated your tits. He forced himself forward, cum pumped over your collarbone and neck, dripping into your hair. The grip on your breast was unrelenting, while the other jerked himself through the bolts of aftershock. To his surprise, you gathered his cum between your fingers and suckled it, tasting his warm salty fluid on your tongue. He watched you, enraptured, as you cleaned yourself-- then went after his softening dick, suckling the spent seed there.

“Beautiful,” he murmured as he pulled away. You followed, inching up his chest to kiss him. He tasted himself, finding that he liked how he tasted much more when it was on your tongue. “Stay the night.”

He never asked anyone to stay the night. It was a flagrant violation of another rule that all the others knew he had. Miguel was open to having another roommate. A pretty girl to fuck and keep. She just had to be the right kind of girl. He has a feeling you’re that girl, nestling between his arm and chest, holding him close.

He just had to fuck you first to find out.

The thing about having multiple girls is-- his interest wanes.

He never knows the exact cause. Only that he’s distracted with you. Perhaps it’s your resistance to letting him actually fuck you. Not eat you out, not have his dick sucked, not fuck your tits, but fuck you. He’s thought about how a hundred different ways. Against the museum, in his bed, in the library, his private office-- It encompasses much of his attention. You were at Peter’s art showing Friday night, which was how he ended up here with Dana, yet again.

She wants to see this stupidly romantic movie that no one else is really into from the looks of the empty seats. Miguel isn’t invested either, his mind is racing with thoughts of someone else. Her lips are wrapped around his dick in the dark movie theatre, he goes soft. Soft-- Miguel rarely goes soft, he’s looking for a hole to fuck into. Apparently, this one is no good. He eventually sighs, pushing on her head to remove her from his cock.

“What is it, Miggy?”

A balance of light and shadows highlight her face as she sits there, looking positively aggravated with her failed Friday night date. Miguel knows that he can’t perform like this. He glances down at the near-empty theatre and itches the back of his neck, tucking himself back into his jeans.

“I’m not horny,” he murmured, folding his arms one over the other. He’s surprised she can hear him over the beaming sound of the movie theatre. She does, shoving his shoulder in protest over his shitty performance.

“You’re usually horny,” she bites back.

“Then maybe it’s you.”

The impulse to take it out on Dana is out before he can control it. She flicks her head at him, her slight eyes popping wide open. She searches Miguel’s flat features for an apology, ruffling her fluffy purple bangs away from her eyes. He doesn’t give her one.

“Oh, now you don’t want me? Ever since you’ve started seeing that teashop bitch,” Miguel perked his brow up, “You don’t have time for me. What? Is she that good?”

Tea shop bitch. It’s been over a week of trying to get you to fuck him at multiple intervals. He hasn’t been able to. Not for a lack of trying, but your shy deflection and offers to do things like-- pick an orange off the trees by his building, walk around on a date, or just touch one another. He tried to understand: you weren’t a girl that ran out to date many men. In fact, he’s pretty sure that he is the outlier in your sex life.

“You’re right,” he says. “We should stop fucking.”

“What?”

“You’re too attached,” Miguel stood up, his hands forming tight balls in his pockets. “And I’m just not that interested.”

“When did that change? A month ago? Miguel?”

He doesn’t have time for her stupid possessiveness, her obsession with keeping her slot as his default bitch. Other women told him all about Dana-- how she tended to show up where they were, bumping into them, or the rumors she spread in the department. He jots down the stairs, ignoring her squealing call of his name. The issue with Dana was this: she loved him far too much and he loved her far too little. As with so many of his once-were fuckbuddies, it was better for Miguel to go on his way.

Or, it would have been. He received a concerning message the next day.

I don’t want to see you again.

It’s from your number. Any attempted calls go straight to voicemail. Logically, he should have been able to count it as a loss and move on with any of the other women he had in his life. Illogically, Miguel wants an explanation. If he can’t get one from you, he knows just who will give him one.

Jess already knows what it’s about from the look behind her yellowed sunglasses. Her arms are turned one over the other, clearly having some sort of reservation from this meeting alone. She seems pissed off at him too despite the fact that he has no idea what the fuck he did. He only knows that you’ve virtually disappeared from his life.

“Are you going to tell me?” Miguel asks.

The crispy bagel sits forgotten before him, alongside the coffee that plumes wisps of heat into the air. Jess flicks her eye down to the steam, then back to Miguel.

“I told you to leave that girl alone in the first place.”

“You also set us up. I should know why she left.”

Jess looked off to the wind wisping through the trees, then to everybody that walked on by. There was an undeniable truth to what he said, her involvement was obvious and disconcerting. Whatever had happened, he deserves an explanation. You weren’t going to make this easy to talk to you, but he was intent. So long as he knew the depth of your irritation with him.

“Someone burned Peter. Something about… what was it? Stealing her man?”

He hates that he doesn’t have to ask who.

"Is he hurt?"

"Bad enough," Jess answers. "Y'know how special he is to her."

He's not sure he does.

#spiderman imagines #spiderman imagine #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara/reader #spiderman x reader #atsv imagine #atsv imagines #atsv x reader #atsv x you #atsv x y/n #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderman 2099 x you

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eddiemunsonspantschain · 3 months

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Things Change Ch.2 - E.M

Author's Note: Life has eased enough that I bring you some actual writing

Word Count: 3.8k

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader

Warnings: Vomit

Tag List: @boomhauer (a patient saint), @corrodedcorpses, @wroteclassicaly . If anyone wants to be tagged, feel free to just hit me up

Going back to classes the following Monday morning hadn’t been the worst. The weekend had passed just the same as it usually did. When Eddie and you were around one another, there were the stolen glances, but otherwise things remained the same. Eddie still teased you from time to time, making you annoyed and shaking your head at him. Before you knew it, two weeks passed in a blink of an eye as finals creeped up on all of the remaining seniors. Group study sessions happened after class with Robin, Nancy, Eddie and yourself in an attempt to all get ready for finals and to get Eddie to a passing grade as he’d been doing better this year than years previously. As usual, you tried to ignore Eddie during these study groups.

Each day you grew more tired. You couldn’t place it, but you were just so tired all the time. No matter how much you slept. It had been like this for almost two weeks. Coupled with your migraines that you got on occasion, it was making you miserable. You had skipped out on hang outs a few times to opt for sitting in the darkness of your room with a cold pack on your eyes. You had suffered from migraines before, taking medication to help with them, and you were thankful the medication worked. You almost hadn’t let Nancy drag you to the party due to a migraine the day before. Sometimes the next day you were just as wiped out despite sitting in the dark all day. Recently, it was no different with your friends coming to check and make sure you were still alive. You were still exhausted but hadn’t had a migraine in a few days. You attributed it to stress from the ending school year and nothing more. After all, it was finals week.

Deciding to take a break from the stress of the end of the year, you met up with Robin to have some girl time. Nancy opted to study, leaving the two of you to have lunch after abandoning Steve to man the Family Video counter.

“I just like, don’t get it,” Robin said as she slid into the booth across from you at Benny’s.

“What don’t you get?” you laughed as you sat down.

The two of you ordered burgers, deciding to get a third for Steve when you were heading out of the place. It wasn’t uncommon for you to grab lunch with Robin when she had a shift at Family Video. You liked to keep her company and step away from Steve for a while. Besides the other added stress.

“How like he has all these girls, but none of them are perfect, ya know?”

You shrugged. “I think Steve just knows what he wants. He’s not looking for some one off. I don’t blame him.” You couldn’t, really. You didn’t date often because most of it was guys wanting to hook up. If you wanted to hook up with a guy, you would. Immediately, your mind flashed back to Eddie. Him on top of you, his breath against your face as he stretched you around his length.

You were pulled out of your head when the smell of something foul reached your nose. You scrunch your nose, trying to wave away the smell.

“Hey, you okay?” Robin stopped her train of thought, seeing you waving away at your face.

“Do you smell that?” you coughed, feeling overwhelmed by the smell. You pulled your shirt up over your nose in the hopes the smell of your perfume helped dissipate the smell of rancid meat.

Robin raised a brow and sniffed the air. She could smell only their food being made, but nothing bad. “I don’t smell anything, Y/N. Are you sure?” she asked, confused as all she could smell was the sizzling burgers on the grill.

You looked at Robin like she was nuts. “It smells like… rancid. Are you serious? You don’t smell that?!” you asked, feeling your stomach churn at the stench. It smelled like someone had left out meat in the sun, rotting away in the heat.

“No?”

You felt a sudden lurch in your stomach. One you dreaded feeling as nausea rolled through you. You slid out of the booth quickly and walked as fast as you could to the women’s bathroom. You shoved into a stall, just making it as you leaned over the toilet and expelled everything you had in your stomach. You heard the door open behind you and the stall door push open, someone pulling your hair back.

“Oh, poor thing. I’ll get her some ginger ale!” You heard someone say before they left again.

“You okay?” Robin asked, tucking back a piece of your hair as you spit into the bowl. A wad of toilet paper was presented to you and you wiped your mouth before tossing the tissue into the bowl and flushing.

You sat on the floor, rubbing your stomach as you let out a breath. “God damn,” you sighed as Robin felt your head.

“You aren’t warm or anything. Did you eat anything bad today?” Robin asked, and you shook your head.

The door to the bathroom opened again, and a waitress stepped in. She knelt down beside you and offered the cup to you, straw pointed at your mouth. “Take slow gentle sips, sweetheart. Don’t wanna make yourself sick again.” she urged, letting you take the cup.

You took a few small sips as the waitress told you she’d have your guys’ food bagged up to go. You nodded your head and got up slowly from the bathroom floor, feeling slightly embarrassed at how you suddenly got ill.

“I’ll take you home… well, more like Steve will take you home.” Robin said, leading you out of the bathroom.

The second you stepped out of there, the smell hit you again, and you held your breath. “I’m gonna wait outside.” you practically ran out the door.

—-----------------------

After what happened at Benny’s, the two of you walked back to Family Video. The nausea had subsided from the fresh air and by the time you guys got back; you were hungry once more. Robin checked in on you, asking if you were sure you wanted to eat after puking earlier. You reassured her you felt perfectly fine and had your lunch with Steve and Robin.

The stomach issues continued for a few more days. In the mornings, you woke up feeling fresh but after being awake for a little while; you felt the nausea hit you like a freight train. It never gave you any warning. You would be fine one moment and then suddenly nauseous the second. You always just managed to make it to the bathroom, only missing the bowl twice so far. You checked all the dates on the food in your fridge, finding nothing wrong with any of it. Besides, if it had been something in the house, you would have figured your mom and dad would be sick too, right? Maybe it was something you had at school. There was also quite a bit of stress going on in your life now days away from the last of your final exams.

You waited for that reprieve. Finals week was heading your way and you were ready to get the testing over with. You studied as much as you could, knowing how your parents had pride in your grade point average. You already had a number of colleges lined up that you were slowly hearing from. You just had no idea what you wanted to do in school. Something your parents kept reassuring you was fine, but being a doctor was a fine choice indeed. Or a lawyer. Being an only child was overbearing, and it made you wonder how you had survived this long. Your parents hovered, the calendar marked with every final you had and your mother shoving a good breakfast at you so you would do well on your final exams. You just wished you could keep that breakfast down and get adequate rest for once. You didn’t even admit to your mom that you weren’t going to eat the breakfast as you’d see it again soon anyway. Instead you found yourself able to eat it later in the morning.

The finals themselves didn’t feel the worst for you. It was dealing with your sickness while testing that had thrown you for a loop. You had to excuse yourself a few times to run to the bathroom to be sick, thankfully having enough time when you came back to finish your exam. When you took your last final, it felt like a weight had been lifted off of your shoulders. Steve decided to treat all of you to some pizza with finals out of the way. Eddie had seemed the most nervous out of all of you. Nancy had reassured him they prepped him well, and he was definitely going to pass this year. Even you agreed that you were sure he would be passing with you all.

With finals out of the way, the rest of the school year was more relaxed. You went in every day more so having the time to say goodbye to your peers and focus on the future ahead of you. For Eddie, as you heard from Dustin, it was about finishing out the best campaign Hellfire had ever done. Since Eddie was leaving, the helm was going to be passed down to one of the other upperclassmen.

It was close to eight pm when you heard from Nancy. Your phone rang and you picked it up. “Y/N! Hey, it’s Nancy. I’m sorry to bother you.” She sighed, “My car is dead and Steve is on another date. Is there a chance you could go get the boys at Hellfire?”

“Your car is dead?” You asked, checking the time and humming. “I can go get the boys. Don’t worry about it.” You reassured her.

“Oh, my god. Thank you! Mom would have been pissed if I didn’t get Mike home on time.”

“No problem, Nance. I’ll grab him.”

You hung up the phone and slid out of bed, grabbing your car keys before slipping your shoes on. You left the house as quietly as you could, sliding into your car and heading back towards Hawkins High. Your parents rarely minded if you were going to get the boys, but considering the time, it was best to sneak out. When you pulled into the parking lot, it was desolate except for Eddie’s van. You parked your car and slid out of it, intending to go inside to get the boys. As you headed for the double doors, you could hear them before you even saw them. The boys were rowdy as they spilled out from the doors. Mike, Dustin, and Lucas spotted you quickly, calling out your name and waving. Soon all the boys were around you as they told you of Eddie’s latest campaign that he cooked up for the end of the year.

“Honestly, it’s so tough but what should we have expected? Eddie to go easy on us?” Lucas scoffed.

“Eddie? Go easy on you boys? Never.” you laugh with a shake of your head.

“Perhaps you should have joined us, sweetheart.” Eddie slid up beside Lucas, shoulder checking him a little bit.

“You know I don’t play, Eddie.”

“I could be your Master and teach you.” he winked, prompting a whine from the younger three males of the group.

“Okay, ew! We don’t need to hear you be weird with y/n, Eddie.” Dustin complained before loudly fake gagging.

“Ha ha, very funny.” you rolled your eyes at Eddie, now ready to leave now that he was being weird.

“It’s alright. I doubt you could handle the bloody details anyway of what happens in our campaigns. Descriptions of blood, pulsing guts and rotting flesh with flies crawling out of it after laying eggs in the supple flesh.” Eddie went on with a grin.

As the boys laughed, you were the only one not laughing as your stomach suddenly was hit with a wave of nausea. Please not now, you pleaded, but before you could have more time to will the nausea back down, you could feel it coming up. You turned without looking, emptying the contents of your stomach onto the floor, but it wasn’t the floor. “Oh, my god!” Gareth yelled out as your vomit hit his shoes instead of the concrete below. He jumped back out of the way as you gagged once more. The boys all fell quiet and a moment later, someone was pulling your hair back. When you finished, you groaned softly, pulling tissues from your pocket to wipe your mouth clean. In your other pocket, mints. You lifted your head and the person holding onto it let go. When you turned, you hadn’t expected Eddie to be so close.

“Shit, sweetheart. I didn’t think gore bothered you that much.” Eddie said, watching you.

“You look a little pale…” Jeff noted, “You sure you can take them back?”

“My shoes,” Gareth whined softly, kicking his feet in an attempt to get the chunks off of his chucks.

“Shut it, Emerson.” Eddie hissed at the boy, much to the surprise of everyone in the group, as he watched your cheeks burn and your eyes move away from everyone else.

“Did you have the sloppy joe at lunch today?” Jeff asked, making Gareth gag in response.

You nodded your head, tossing two mints into your mouth. “Let’s go, boys. Before I puke on you all.” you told them and headed over to your car. The young ones were quick to follow, occasionally asking if you were okay. Each one wishing you to feel better as you dropped them off at their homes and you tried to ignore the embarrassment of puking on Gareth’s shoes.

As soon as you got home, you carefully went back to your bedroom. You shut the door, pressing your back to it and taking a breath before slowly letting it out. Your stomach was fine now. It was beginning to get annoying how often you moved between feeling ill and feeling fine. You pushed yourself off of your door as you made your way to your bathroom. You scrub at your teeth before hopping into the shower to scrub yourself clean of the memory of puking on Gareth’s shoes. Something you would absolutely have to apologize for once you could look at him again.

—----------------------------------------------

“You what on Gareth’s shoes?” Nancy asked again.

You groaned, shoving your pillow onto your face. Hearing a slight snicker you lifted your hand, presenting your middle finger in the direction of Robin’s amusement.

“I puked on Gareth’s shoes.” your muffled reply sounded.

“You’ve been doing that a lot lately,” Nancy murmured, and you could practically hear the frown in her words.

“So?” Robin had asked, “nothing else has been wrong.”

“Still, to be randomly nauseous like that for this long? It’s been what?”

You pulled the pillow off of your face and sat up on your bed. “Few weeks.” you answer. From the face Nancy is making, you could tell her journalism mind was at work. You raised a brow at her.

“I mean, have you eaten any weird fish lately or anything?” Robin asked, “cause what if it’s just a super, super bad case of like food poisoning or something. Or! Or!”

“When was the last time you had a period?”

Nancy’s question made both you and Robin fall silent and stare at her in shock. “I…” a sudden panic washed over you like a cold wave of water hitting you on a hot summer day. You slid off of your bed and run to your calendar pinned on the wall. Robin pressed behind you, watching you could up the days leading to the red dots on your calendar. “My last period… should have… should have been over a week ago,” you murmured, thankful for Robin behind you as you suddenly felt lightheaded.

“You’re late.” Robin said softly, tapping the current day and how many days between now and when your dots were. “Not over a week. Over two weeks.” Robin corrected your counting.

“That’s… that’s impossible,” you mumble frantically to yourself.

Nancy moved over to your night table, opening up the drawer where she knew you kept your medicine in. She plucked the package of birth control up easily and began counting up the pills. Her brow furrowed as she counted over them again.

“Is a dose missing?” Robin asked her and Nancy shook her head.

“No, there isn’t.” Nancy answered.

“So I can’t be! I haven’t missed any doses!” you insist, but Nancy seems less convinced.

“I mean… how effective is it? Like, can it just like… fail?” Robin asked the room.

Nancy was still inspecting the package when another box caught her eye. She picked it up, reading the label on the box and shaking it slightly. “How long have you been taking these?” she asked, showing you the box.

You looked at the bottle in her hand. “Uh, like, once in a while. I was getting some wicked migraines. Doctor told me to try those.” you answer and Nancy frowns.

“Did they mention anything about it interfering with birth control?” she asked.

You stared at her. “That… that can happen?” you asked, voice small and insecure as you realized maybe somehow you had made this happen.

Nancy turned the box over in her hands and shook out the paper pamphlet. She unfolded it, eyes scanning over the contents quickly. A breath she had been holding was let go. “That’s it. Get your shoes on. Both of you.” she announced, setting aside the paper and going for her own shoes.

“Where are we going?!” Robin asked as she grabbed her shoes, struggling to pull them onto her feet.

“The pharmacy.”

—------------------------------------------------

The drive to the pharmacy was a relatively quiet one. It seemed none of you knew what to say or do. You went to the pharmacy instead of Melvalds, not wanting to risk possibly running into Joyce who would absolutely have questions if she saw you buying pregnancy tests. Nancy parked the car and the three of you walked into the store. You stuck close to the girls, unsure what to do with yourself. When you got to the aisle you needed the three of you stood there looking at the different boxes.

“Does… does it matter which kind we get?” Robin asked. “This is terrifying.”

“I mean, I would think either way it’ll do what it has to.” Nancy said, glancing at you.

You stared at the wall of pregnancy tests. “How…” you murmur, unsure what to do with yourself.

“Here,” Nancy grabbed two boxes. “This is more than enough.”

Robin grabbed two more boxes. “Just to be sure.” she shrugged when you both looked at her. The three of you approached the counter, dumping the contents onto it as the cashier raised a brow at you. It was a teen, thankfully. Not that you needed an adult breathing down your neck right now. After paying for all the tests, the three of you shuffled back to Nancy’s car and headed straight for your home once more.

As soon as the three of you shut up into your room, the boxes were being opened. Robin ran downstairs to get you a drink, returning with a huge glass of water.

“What?” she asked when she saw the look on your face. “You have a lot of peeing to do!”

“Good point.” you answer, taking the glass and starting to chug down the water.

Nancy picked up one of the paper instructions from the box and began reading through it. “Okay, so it’s going to take a couple of minutes before we see anything. Let’s try two for right now,” she decided, taking out two of the sticks and holding them out to you.

You grab the tests, hesitating before going to the bathroom. You set the tests down before shimmying your pants and panties down then moving to sit on the toilet. You take the sticks, reaching between your thighs and watching to make sure you got them covered and wiping yourself clean. After washing your hands, you take them back out to the girls and set them on the night table. Robin immediately turns them over so you can’t see the result.

“Why did you do that?” you asked her and she shrugs.

“I don’t want you watching it develop and get your hopes up… or down.” she explains.

The three of you sit back as you wait for the tests to develop. You didn’t know what you would do if you were pregnant. You were barely graduating highschool. Your last finals were only last week. Your graduation started to inch closer and closer. Your hands found their way to rest on your stomach. Has it changed at all? You weren’t sure. You assumed it was bloating. Maybe it hadn’t been. Still, that didn’t change the fact that you still had no idea what to do if you were pregnant. Would you tell your parents? Well, you supposed you’d have to since you lived in their home. What about college? What about… You didn’t want to think about him. Not yet. It would be fine. You prayed for a stomach bug. Nancy seemed so sure of herself, though. It was hard to dispute it. A hand gently grabbed your shoulder and you glanced over at Nancy.

“It’s time.” she murmured, looking at the two sticks sitting on the nightstand.

You take a deep breath, reaching for the tests. They felt warm in your hands and you shut your eyes as you turned them over. You stare down at the tests. They were blue. You look over at Nancy as she holds the box. She bit her lip, looking up at you.

“I’m pregnant.” you breathed, looking back down at the two blue sticks.

—----------------------------

You end up using the two other tests you had purchased. All of them had come out positive. You sat there with all the positive tests, unsure what to do now.

“So, who is it?” Robin asked you, gently kicking your shoe with her foot as she sat across from you on the floor. Nancy was sitting beside you.

“What?” you asked softly, looking up at Robin.

“Who’s, ya know, the dad?”

You could feel Nancy’s eyes boring into the side of your head. You knew she knew. “I don’t wanna talk about it, Rob.” you murmur. It’s not that you don’t trust Robin, but you knew how hard it was for her to keep a secret sometimes. She would surely end up telling Steve. Even if she didn’t mean to. Which might lead Steve to wanting to ‘talk’ to Eddie. Nancy grabbed your hand, squeezing reassuringly. How could you let anyone know who it was? You didn’t want to ruin his life like that. Not when he just, finally, graduated highschool after trying multiple times. You couldn’t spring this on him. Even if you didn’t particularly like Eddie, you couldn’t ruin his life like this.

You just couldn’t.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson imagine #stranger things fanfic #eddie munson x you #pregnant!reader

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