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theemporium · 2 months

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[7.6k] jack totally wasn't in love with his frat's president. and he totally wasn't in love with his president's girlfriend. and this totally isn't the story of how the three of them realised they fell in love with each other. (smut)

“Really?”

You bit back the grin threatening to take over your face, attempting to school your features to a neutral expression as you glanced down at the textbook opened up in front of you. You let out a hum in response, but didn’t glance over at your boyfriend who was sprawled on his bed a few feet away from you.

“You are a menace.”

You glanced over your shoulder, finding Nico already staring back at you with an amused expression on his face—despite what his downturned frowning lips said. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you answered eventually with an innocent look.

Nico shot you a look. “Baby.”

“Nico,” you retorted in the same serious tone.

A few moments passed before he looked away, rolling his eyes and shaking his head as he glanced down at his phone. “He’s going to get such a big head if he sees this,” he murmured, though there was something fond in his voice. “God knows Jack doesn’t need a bigger head.”

You raised your brows. “Does that mean you’re gonna keep it?”

“You’ll just change it back anyways,” Nico retorted, and you didn’t disagree with him.

Instead, you stood up from the seat by his desk where you had been studying before he came in from class around thirty minutes ago. You made your way towards the bed, not even fighting your boyfriend as he reached for you and tugged you to lay on top of him. You propped your head on his chest, grinning at him.

“The contact name fits him and you know it does,” you said in a knowing voice.

“Favourite Pledge is hardly a creative name anyways,” Nico deflected, but you saw right through him.

One of the things you loved about Nico Hischier was his loyalty. It was one of those defining traits that made you fall more in love with him than you ever deemed humanly possible. He was loyal to his family, to his friends, to anyone that meant the world to him. His heart was split, little pieces given to those he trusted with it and the whole frat inevitability was a part of that.

He loved his frat brothers. He loved them when he first joined. He loved them as more of them entered and pledged. He loved them when they appointed him president, even when he was just a sophomore. The frat loved him as much as he loved them.

But it was an undeniable fact to anyone with working eyes that he had a soft spot for the new pledge, Jack Hughes.

He didn’t admit it out loud. He always claimed to love his brothers equally, that it was impossible to have favourites. Though, you knew he just felt a little bad about it. He felt guilty that the younger boy had claimed a little bit more of his heart than the other frat brothers had.

Yet, no matter how hard he tried to deny it, Jack Hughes had wiggled his way into his heart.

You knew it stemmed from the fact the Swiss saw a bit of himself in the boy. Though Nico adored the frat and the community it gave him, he wasn’t shy of the fact he only joined to follow his older brother’s footsteps—something Jack himself had also done.

The fact Jack had also tried out for the university’s hockey team—and was incredibly talented on the ice—was the final nail in the coffin for Nico (even if he still tried to deny the coffin existed).

“But it’s true,” you sang with a smug look on your face.

Nico rolled his eyes but the action was fond. “He was gonna grab some coffee on his way back from class, do you want anything?”

“The usual,” you answered, leaning down to peck his lips before you moved to sit back at his desk. “Oh, ask him if he can get one of those muffins too. The lemon one.”

There was a pause as Nico typed out his reply before he snorted. “He said he already picked one up for you.”

Your expression brightened. “Well, if he isn’t your favourite pledge, then he definitely is mine.”

Nico shook his head. “So now you’re stealing him from me?’

“Is this you admitting he’s your favourite pledge?” You retorted.

A few moments of silence passed, neither one of you saying anything nor looking away. Seconds ticked by, Nico’s phone continued to buzz on the bed and a ping sounded from your laptop when an email came through. But still, neither one of you looked away.

Until the buzzing became more insistent and Nico’s eyes snapped down to look at his screen, something fond in his gaze as messages about Jack complaining on how long the coffee was taking came through.

“Ha! I was right!” You grinned, clapping your hands together but Nico didn’t have it in him to argue this time.

He had shifted to sit with his back against the headboard and his laptop lying across his thighs when Jack finally burst through the bedroom door fifteen minutes later, holding a carrier of coffees and a bag of sweet treats.

“Miss me?”

You turned to see Jack already beginning to make himself comfortable as he dumped his backpack by the door and toed off his shoes. He handed you your coffee first with the lemon muffin in his other hand. “Mrs President.”

You snorted. “Thank you, Jack.”

He beamed before he grabbed Nico’s coffee and the cookie Nico pretended not to like (even though he really, really did). “Mr President.”

“You’re in a chipper mood today,” Nico noted as he thanked the younger boy, taking the coffee and cookie to place on the bedside table beside him. He then turned towards Jack again, mouth open like he was about to say something—only for Jack to faceplant down on the bed the second the coffee was out of his hands. “You good?”

“Tired,” he grumbled, his words muffled with his face buried into the duvet. “Plus, algebra sucks.”

Nico’s face softened a little. “You should take a nap, we have a big game later.”

“M’fine,” he murmured in response, but it convinced no one.

“Sleep, Jack,” you said as you glanced at the boy, his eyes already shut but his shoulders tense like he was preparing himself to sit up again. “You can nap here.”

Jack froze before lifting his head, blinking slowly as he stared between you and Nico. “Really?”

“Sleep here,” Nico confirmed with a nod, reaching over to playfully ruffle his hair. However, the act just made Jack slump back down onto the bed, his face buried in the duvet once again. “I’ll wake you up so we can eat before the game.”

“M’kay,” he managed to mutter out, seconds away from falling asleep.

Nico watched with a small smile before he grabbed a blanket, placing it over Jack and making sure he was settled before he grabbed his laptop to work again. He cleared his throat a little, though the smile never left his face as he began to type away.

“Oh, you’re so obvious,” you murmured with a snort.

Nico glanced up at you. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Hm, I’m sure,” you mused as you settled back in your chair. “So, you’d just let anyone nap on your bed? With your favourite blanket?”

He shot you a look. “I let you do it all the time.”

Your grin widened. “Exactly.”

Nico rolled his eyes, refusing to continue the conversation any further. And because you were a nice girlfriend, you chose not to mention the light pink tint to his cheeks. Or the fond smiles Nico would give Jack whenever he glanced over.

Or the photo you snuck of the two of them, curled up and looking so comfy in bed together.

…

To absolutely nobody’s surprise, the boys smashed the game with a 7-1 win to continue their nine game win streak.

And to celebrate their win, the frat decided to hold a massive—and last minute—rager in honour of Nico, Jack and the rest of the hockey team. Though, you weren’t convinced it was as last minute as Trevor made it out to be considering the kegs were definitely being delivered to the house before you left to go watch the game.

The house was packed with frat brothers, hockey teammates and strangers alike, with no real invitation but with an overwhelming need to celebrate by getting shit-faced drunk nonetheless. Music was blasting from the countless speakers set around the house, every open surface looked like an Ibiza bar with bottles sprawled across it and the hockey boys were getting their chance to really celebrate with no practice or game until next week holding them back.

“Drink up, Mrs P!”

You bit back your laugh as you inspected the cup Trevor was handing you. His cheeks were flushed, his grin was huge and you had no doubt that whatever was in the cup was the result of him and Cole concocting their own makeshift cocktails to get people as drunk as they were.

“Do I even want to know what’s in this?” You questioned, a teasing glint in your voice as you sniffed the cup.

Trevor didn’t even look bashful. “Don’t worry, we made sure to add more of Nico’s fancy Swiss lager in yours. He can’t get mad at us then.”

You actually did laugh this time. “You boys need to stop putting me in the crossfire. He’s your president.”

“And you’re our Mrs President,” Trevor retorted. “It’s literally your job to stop him from killing us.”

“I don’t remember signing up for this.”

“You do it because you love us?” Trevor replied, a boyish grin on his face that made your heart warm in your chest.

“Yeah, I do love you idiots,” you grumbled, though there was a smile on your face as you patted his cheek, amused at the way his grin widened at the action.

“Maybe some of us more than others,” he supplied, something mischievous glinting in his eyes.

You sighed. “Trevor, if this is about me giving Cole the last slice of apple pie—”

“I’m talking about Jack and we both know it.” he sang, delighted in the way you quickly stopped talking. “I see the way you and Nico look at him.”

You frowned a little. “We don’t love him more than we love the rest of you—”

“You love the rest of us like we are your kids,” Trevor corrected, still thoroughly amused by the conversation. “You and Nico look at Jack like you want to sleep with him.”

You let out a startled laugh. “Trev—”

“And he looks like he would take anything you give him,” the boy continued, looking far too smug at the way you trapped your bottom lip between your teeth. “Don’t worry, Mrs P, I’ll keep your secret.”

You didn’t get a chance to respond before the boy had wandered off, disappearing into the throng of partygoers. Though, if you were being completely honest with yourself, you weren’t even sure what you would have replied with. Maybe it was a blessing he walked away first.

“You good?”

You blinked before turning your head, finding Nico standing there with his brows furrowed in concern. You could feel his hand on your lower back, a soft and comforting touch that you leaned into.

“Yeah,” you said and flashed him a smile. “Just contemplating if I want to risk drinking whatever Trevor and Cole made me.”

Nico snorted but it was fond. “I’ll hold your hair back later if you risk it.”

You grinned. “My hero.”

“Always,” Nico grinned back, leaning down to peck your lips before he dragged you back to the party in the direction of the back garden where the hockey team seemed to have accumulated.

Yet, no matter how hard you tried, Trevor’s words lingered with you for the rest of the party, playing on a loop you couldn’t stop.

…

The irony of it all was that you knew, deep down, Trevor was right.

It shouldn’t have been a shock when it was something you had been aware of for a while, even subconsciously. As much as you teased and taunted Nico, there was something different about Jack in comparison to the other pledges and frat brothers. It wasn’t a favouritism, it went beyond that. There was something more with Jack, something deeper.

And you always knew it.

It just took the realisation that other people—that Trevor—had noticed it too. It wasn’t this secret hidden in your heart or an inside joke between you and Nico, it was beyond that. Your feelings weren’t as subtle as you thought. And neither were Nico’s. And apparently neither were Jacks’.

Everyone saw it but you three, and now you were painfully aware and pining.

Because that was the only way you could describe how you had felt since the party. You had been pining after Jack. It was like the conversation with Trevor opened the box you had desperately been locking shut, and now you were overwhelmed with your feelings for the younger boy.

And Nico noticed too.

He hadn’t mentioned it, not directly. But he noticed a shift in you since the party. He noticed the way your eyes lingered on Jack a little longer than usual when he walked in a room. He noticed the way you seemed to drag Jack to sit with the two of you whenever you got the chance. He noticed the way your touch would linger on Jack, the way you did with him.

It made his stomach twist with a desire he didn’t know was possible, he didn’t know he wanted.

It was enthralling to watch you watch Jack, to watch you look at Jack the same way you look at him. Maybe because he knew he was no different. He knew it was all leading to something, you did too.

Neither of you expected it to happen just two weeks after the party when the frat found themselves at the campus bar on a random Thursday.

It was somewhere between your second and third drink. The frat were spread across the establishment: some were by the bar chatting with some strangers, others were playing pool on the tables at the back, the rest were sprawled over the booths and seats around the room.

You had settled on a small couch, a vodka rum in hand as you watched Trevor and Cole attempt to talk up some girls from one of their shared classes a few feet away. Trevor had been insistent he could get their numbers, and Cole had just wanted to be close enough to see the trainwreck. And you had thoroughly enjoyed watching them both.

“Budge up!”

You let out a small huff when Jack unexpectedly collapsed onto the couch beside you, but you didn’t argue as you shifted until you were both squished together. Your thigh was pressed against his, your shoulders shoved together, but neither of you moved away even if there was enough space on the couch to put a few inches between you.

“You seem chipper,” you commented, eyeing the flush to his cheeks and the grin on his face. You wonder how many beers one of the older brothers had slipped him through the night.

“Just handed Turc’s ass in pool,” Jack told you, puffing his chest proudly.

“That’s shocking considering you’re shit,” you teased, nudging into his side a little.

“Hey, that was an unfair advantage one time!” Jack huffed, but he was still smiling. “Nico was cheating.”

You snorted. “How?”

“I don’t know but nobody is naturally that good at pool,” he grumbled as he shifted back into the couch, his body sagging like the night was starting to catch up on him. “I think we should team up.”

You raised your brows. “To what? Beat him at pool?”

“Mhm,” Jack nodded in confirmation. “We could distract him.”

“And how do you propose we do that?” You questioned, thoroughly amused.

“I think our pretty faces are enough,” he answered confidently. “Bat a couple eyelashes, maybe throw a few flirty comments in there and he’ll be useless.”

This time you actually laughed and Jack’s smile widened at the sound.

“What? You don’t think I could do it?”

“Oh no, I think you could and you’d be dangerous,” you assured him, shifting in your seat until your body was facing him. “I think my flirting would be lacklustre in comparison to yours.”

He gave you a small shove. “Nah, you have him wrapped around your finger. He would fold at whatever you said.”

Almost instinctively, your eyes began searching the bar for your boyfriend before you found him on the other side of the room. He was standing by one of the pool tables, leaning against the cue as he watched Jesper take a shot with a fond smile on his face. He looked laid back, his flannel abandoned somewhere to leave him in the tight-fitting t-shirt, his cap placed backwards on his head to keep his hair out of his face. He looked relaxed, young even. Like he didn’t have the responsibility of a frat, hockey and college on his mind.

And like he could sense you, his eyes turned to look at you and his smile widened. He glanced at you, and then the boy beside you, before his gaze returned to you.

And then, the little fucker winked.

“See,” Jack said, laughing a little but it sounded off.

You turned back to look at Jack, finding his eyes still locked on Nico. You noticed the slight flush to his cheeks, and a part of you wondered if he was just as affected by your boyfriend as you were. You wondered how long you had been oblivious to it if this was how he was staring at Nico. You wondered if he looked at you the same way.

“He’s no better with you,” you eventually spoke, watching as his eyes quickly snapped back to you. His cheeks went redder. “Don’t underestimate that pretty face of yours.”

And you could see the cogs turning in his head. You could see him picking apart your words, can see the way he shifts in his spot. And you can see the way he tries to act like it doesn’t affect him when it does.

“You think I’m pretty?”

Because he’s Jack and when things get overwhelming, he resorts to some weird mix of joking and flirting because it feels safer than whatever the truth is. Because you knew as much as he wanted to believe you, he couldn’t quite admit it out loud yet, admit it to himself.

And you also knew he sometimes just needed a push in the right direction.

“I think,” you started as you lifted your hand, hesitating for a small moment before you pushed your fingers through his hair. You watched his eyes flutter shut, his body leaning further into your touch. “You’re one of the prettiest people I know.”

He gulped a little, blinking his eyes open. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you confirmed with a nod.

And maybe it was the newfound realisation of your feelings. Or maybe it was the confidence you felt in the way he stared at you, like you hung the fucking moon. Or maybe it was a cumulation of the alcohol you had drunk since you arrived that fuelled it all.

You weren’t sure what it was.

But his eyes dropped to your lips for a few seconds too long and the next thing you knew, you were leaning in and pressing your lips against his.

Your hand dropped to cup his cheek, the growing stubble brushed against your palm as you deepened the kiss. He let out a noise, something sweet and whiny and you wanted to bottle it up to listen to it forever. He let you guide the kiss, let you take control as your tongue swiped along his bottom lip.

His eyes were still shut when you parted for a few seconds. But yours were open and staring just past his head, where Nico was standing.

He was already staring at you, both of you. And you knew he wouldn’t be mad, but there was still something about the pure lust and want in his gaze that made your stomach dip. The way his lips twitched upwards when he saw you staring back, the way he nodded his head a little like it was a challenge.

He was halfway across the room and, yet, still seemed to be enjoying this as much as the two of you.

But before you could even bring yourself to take him up on his challenge, before you could close the distance between you and Jack and kiss him again, he was pulling away completely.

“Shit,” he breathed out, his wide eyes staring at you with an expression full of surprise and shock.

Your brows furrowed. “Jack?”

“Shit,” he repeated, and you barely had a chance to wrap your head around any of it before he was quickly standing up. He stared at you, his face scrunched up and his lips parted like he wanted to say something but couldn’t seem to find the words.

“Jack,” you called out, your voice soft and concerned as you reached out for him but he jerked away from the touch.

“I am so sorry,” was all he managed to get out before he made a beeline towards the door.

You watched him rush out like he was being chased before your head turned, finding Nico watching the exit with a mixed expression of hurt and concern.

And as you stood there, in the middle of the bar, feeling oddly cold and confused about the last thirty seconds, you couldn’t help but feel like you fucked something up without realising it.

…

Jack was avoiding you.

He thought he was being subtle with it, but it was clear to everyone what was happening. He was hardly in the house anymore unless it was to sleep. And even then, he was still going out of his way to leave insanely early and come back very late. You hardly even saw him on campus.

You hardly saw him at all.

And it was one thing if he was avoiding you, but he was avoiding Nico too and you could tell it was hurting him. You could tell it bothered him that Jack was hardly around the house, that he was having to get updates from Trevor or the other boys, that he went out of his way to avoid Nico at hockey practice too.

It hurt and everyone could see the three of you suffering, but Trevor the worst.

“He thinks you hate him,” the boy said one day when you were in the kitchen, pushing your pasta around your plate with no real appetite to eat.

You frowned. “What?”

“Jack thinks you and Nico hate him because of what happened at the bar,” Trevor continued, shrugging his shoulders. “Something about making you kiss him and getting between your relationship.”

Your frown deepened. “But I kissed him. Not the other way around.”

“Yeah, well, that’s not how he sees it,” Trevor muttered, the usual smile on his face replaced with a concerned frown. “He thinks Nico is going to kick him out the frat.”

You dropped your fork. “What? That’s insane! Nico would never do that.”

“That’s what he believes though and the guy can be fucking stubborn,” Trevor huffed out. “I have tried telling him he is overthinking it but he just gets upset about it. He thinks he is delaying the inevitable.”

You let out a sigh.

Trevor continued. “He just needs to realise that he didn’t ruin his president’s relationship and that you both actually want to fuck him—”

“Trevor.”

“—and then everything will be fine,” he concluded like it was easy. Like you could just walk up to Jack and tell him as much. As if he hadn’t been actively avoiding you for the last week.

“Yeah, that’s all,” you murmured, your mind wandering as the boy continued to ramble on about some business analytics class he was taking.

…

In classic president fashion, Nico was the one who had enough of the weird game the three of you had been playing for the last few weeks. He couldn’t take it anymore, so he was going to do what he did best, and he was going to fix the mess.

He couldn’t handle seeing you heartbroken over it any longer.

He couldn’t handle Jack hiding away from him like he was a stranger.

He couldn’t handle the overwhelming emptiness in his chest that had been haunting him since Jack ran out of the bar.

He couldn’t fucking handle any of it anymore.

All in all, it was embarrassingly easy to manipulate and puppeteer the whole thing. It was a bit of a slap in the face, to realise that something could have been done weeks ago. But Nico tried not to linger on the thought for too long.

Plus, getting Jack in the same room as the two of you was the easy part.

Convincing him the two of you were just as gone for him as he was for you was going to be the hard part. Especially considering the fact Jack was one of the most stubborn and iron-willed people he had ever met in his life.

But he would be damned if another day went by where Jack Hughes didn’t know how the two of you felt for him.

“Trev, how many books do you have that you need my help with?”

“I borrowed a lot! The librarian likes me.”

“And why have you not returned then?”

“...I forgot.”

Nico could feel you tense beside him as the voices on the other side of the door got closer. He reached over, placing a warm and comforting hand on the small of your back as you sagged back against him. The footsteps got closer and closer until there was a pause.

“Isn’t this Nico’s room?”

“Uh, no!”

“Trev—”

The next thirty seconds passed in a blink of the eye. The door swung open and you could pinpoint the exact moment Jack saw the two of you. His eyes widened, his face fell and he was frozen in his spot. It gave Trevor more than enough time to shove him deeper into the room, call out a ‘you’re welcome!’ before he slammed the door shut behind him.

Jack cleared his throat. “Sorry, I’m just gonna—”

“No,” Nico stepped forward, trying to hide the desperate tint to his words. “No, stay. Please.”

Jack shifted in his spot. “I have some homework to—”

“Jack,” Nico interrupted, a deep sigh following as he shot the younger boy a look. “We know you’re ignoring us.”

Jack froze before he let out a strained laugh. “What? No! I’ve just been busy—”

“Jack.” This time you stepped forward, a frown painted on your lips. “Please, we know. We aren’t stupid.”

“Talk to us,” Nico said as he continued to walk forward until he was only a few steps from the boy. “Talk to me.”

Jack glanced between the two of you, a conflict clearly playing out in his head before he eventually blurted out, “I didn’t mean to be a homewrecker!”

Nico blinked, his brows furrowed together. “A what?”

You shook your head. “Jack—”

“I-I just…listen, you don’t have to say it. I get it. I know.” Jack swallowed, shifting in his spot once again. “I didn’t mean to…I…” There was a pause before he let out a breath. “You don’t have to worry about me…doing anything again. I won’t. I promise. And…and if you want me to leave the frat, I get it.”

His eyes were focused on the ground, staring at some random spot between his feet as he finally got out the words that had been weighing heavily on his chest for the last few weeks. But with his gaze downward, he missed the way Nico’s face softened completely at his admission.

“And if we want you to do it again?”

Jack blinked before he lifted his head. “What?”

Nico swallowed before he closed the small distance between them, keeping his eyes on the boy. “And what if we want you to do it again? What if we don’t want you to stop?”

He blinked with a look of pure discombobulation on his face. “Huh? But I…I kissed your girlfriend.”

“Jack.” Nico sighed, and it sounded so fond as he lifted his hands to hold the younger boy’s face. “You kissed my girlfriend.”

“Uh, yeah, I just said that,” Jack murmured, his cheeks burning.

“I am not mad, I like kissing my girlfriend too,” Nico told him.

Jack frowned a little. “Well, yeah, she’s your girlfriend—”

“And,” Nico interrupted, taking a deep breath before he continued. “She liked kissing you too.”

Jack blinked.

“If anything, I was jealous she kissed you first,” he continued, his thumbs lightly swiping over the apples of his cheek.

“Oh,” was the only response Jack managed.

You made your way over, leaning against your boyfriend’s arms as you stared at Jack with a soft smile on your lips. “He’s wanted to kiss you for a while. You are his favourite.”

Nico’s lips twitched upwards but, for the first time, he didn’t deny it. “Yeah. Yeah, you are.”

Jack looked between the two of you as he tried to process the last thirty seconds in his head. And then he let out a laugh, a little nervous and hesitant. “You…you want to kiss me too?”

Nico nodded.

“Is this, like, some weird couples kink?” Jack blurted out, blood roaring in his ears and he was half-tempted to pull away if he knew he wouldn’t miss Nico’s touch on him. “Or has Trevor set you up to this? Because that is not cool—”

And then, Nico was kissing him.

Albeit, it was short and nowhere near as passionate as the one you and Jack shared at the bar, but it got the job done. It shut the boy up. It showed him this was far from a joke.

“For fuck’s sake, Jack,” Nico groaned as he pulled away, resting their foreheads together like he tended to do after goal celebrations on the ice. “We are in love with you, you idiot. You wrecked nothing.”

Jack let out a shaky breath as he pulled back a little. “You’re what?”

You stepped forward, catching his hand in yours before he stepped away completely. “This isn’t a joke. This isn’t some weird kink. This is just us telling you that we like you. Love you, even. This is us asking you to fix whatever mess we accidentally created because, Jack, I can’t handle you ignoring us again. We can’t handle that.”

His face softened. “You mean it?”

“Every word,” you confirmed with a nod.

“You want me?” He asked, and it broke your heart a little. You don’t think you had ever heard Jack Hughes sound so doubtful, so unsure of himself.

“We want you, baby,” Nico murmured, his hand dropping to cup the back of Jack’s neck as he smiled at the boy.

“I—” Jack’s shoulders sagged a little, like he could finally breathe for the first time in weeks. Like the weight and lingering guilt had been removed from his shoulders. “Shit, I really dragged this out, huh?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “We got there eventually.”

“Even after I ran out on you?” Jack questioned.

“You can make it up to me,” you retorted, something mischievous shining in your eyes.

Almost instinctively, Jack’s eyes snapped over to Nico like he was seeking permission.

Nico smiled a little, squeezing his neck once again in reassurance. “You don’t have to ask. You can just kiss her, baby.”

“I know, I just…” He trailed off, his cheeks pretty and rosy and it made something twist deep in Nico’s gut.

“You want me to tell you what to do?” Nico asked, his voice a little lower. A little gruff. “Need a little guidance, hm?”

Jack swallowed but nodded, a little shy.

“Hm, gonna listen?” He continued to taunt the boy, feeling Jack’s pulse thump beneath his palm. “Not gonna be a brat?”

“Promise,” Jack nodded.

Nico smiled and it made his heart lurch with desire. “Kiss her, baby. Make it up to her.”

Jack’s eyes shifted over to you.

You were watching him with a fond smile, head tilted in curiosity as you watched the interaction play out between the two of him. The second his attention was on you, you raised your brows in challenge, waiting to see if he really would listen to Nico’s instructions.

There were only a few beats of hesitation before Jack leaned forward, one hand on your face and the other on your waist as he pulled you towards him. The kiss was nothing like the one from the bar, it was far better. It almost felt like he had been holding back on you before.

A soft moan escaped your lips as you sunk into the kiss, as you let Jack take control this time, as you let him express the months of wanting and pining he had been holding onto him. You could feel his arm around your waist tightening, could feel his body pressed against yours as he held you close.

Nico settled behind Jack, his hands on the younger boy’s waist as he watched with pure desire and intent in his gaze.

You let out a small gasp when he nipped your bottom lip before pulling away, both of you panting and desperately breathing in the air your lungs were crying out for.

“Hm,” Nico hummed, his chin hooked on Jack’s shoulder as he looked at you. “What do you say, baby? Think he made up for the last few weeks?”

You almost felt like you were in a daze as you shook your head. “More.”

“More?” Nico grinned, squeezing Jack’s waist. “What do you say, Jack? Wanna give our girl more?”

He gulped a little at the use of ‘our girl’.

“You want to make her feel good? Beg for her forgiveness?” Nico continued, his head dipping down until his lips were tracing over Jack’s neck. He felt the boy shiver as he pressed a kiss to his pulse point. “Want me to teach you what she likes?”

“Please,” Jack breathed out, his eyes fluttering shut. “Fuck. Please. Yes.”

Nico lifted his gaze to look at you—a look you knew all too well.

“Bed. Now.”

The hands on his waist kept Jack locked in place as he watched you step out of his hold. He watched you continue to walk backwards until you reached the edge of the bed and quickly settled yourself down on the mattress, looking at Nico with that same expression Jack had given him earlier.

Nico pulled Jack closer, his chest pressed against the younger boy’s back as his breath tickled along his skin. Jack’s eyes fluttered shut as he began to kiss along his neck, teeth grazing against the sensitive spots that made his body push back into Nico’s.

He leaned back against the boy, his head falling back on his shoulder as Nico’s hands began to wander.

“Take off your pants,” Nico said to you, his voice rougher than moments earlier as he pushed one hand under the hem of Jack’s shirt.

Jack let out a small sound, a whimpering noise that was borderline embarrassing but Nico didn’t seem to mind. Instead, the boy lifted his head from Jack’s neck and used his free hand to grip his chin and turn his head so he could finally kiss him properly.

You watched them from your spot on the bed as you shimmied your jeans down your legs. You watched the way Nico held Jack’s face, the way his tongue swept along his lips before sinking into his mouth. You watched the way Jack’s body keened under the touch, the way his body shifted to seek more of him. You watched the way they fit together so well, like a perfect match.

Your boys.

Yours.

“Look at her,” Nico grumbled as he pulled away, despite the fact Jack kept shifting closer to kiss him again. “So impatient. Such a brat.”

Jack blinked slowly, his brain feeling like it was ten seconds behind as he turned his head to look at you. His lips parted in surprise as he found you sitting on Nico’s bed, clad in your shirt (it was really one of Nico’s) and your panties with your fingers tracing the waistband.

“M’not a brat,” you responded with a huff.

Nico grinned, leaning down to lightly nip Jack’s earlobe. “She’s such a brat,” he murmured, his large hand still splayed on Jack’s stomach and it made his head feel funny. “Gonna help me take care of her?”

He nodded.

“Go on then,” Nico said as he lightly patted Jack on his ass before stepping back. “Kneel in front of her. Be a good boy.”

He bit back the small whine he wanted to let out as he closed the distance between you and him, pausing for a moment when you reached for his shirt and yanked him down to kiss him. He sunk into the kiss quickly, letting out a relieved moan as he felt your tongue exploring his mouth.

He placed his hands on either side of you, happy to just feel your lips on his and hear the little sighs you let out against his mouth.

“Touch me, Jack,” you murmured softly between kisses.

Jack’s brain short circuited as he pulled back to look at you, hooded eyes blinking as he took in your glossy eyes and flushed expression. Almost instinctively, his eyes darted downwards to see the way you were clenching your thighs together.

“Beg him,” Nico spoke from a few feet away.

Jack gulped a little as he glanced back up at you, seeing the same hint of desperation he felt bubbling inside him.

“Please touch me, baby,” you whispered, leaning closer until your noses were brushing against each other and you could feel the shaky breath he let out. “Fuck, Jack, I wanna know how you feel. Thought about it so many times. Thought about you inside me.”

His eyes fluttered shut. “Shit.”

Because, if Jack Hughes was completely honest with himself, the whole thing felt like a dream. He had many of them since he joined the frat, since he met you and Nico and felt every perspective he had on his sexuality be thrown out the window. He had so many that eventually the guilt washed away to a more permanent emotion.

He lost track of the amount of times he dreamed of your soft hands or Nico’s board shoulders or his lips on either one of yours. He lost track of the amount of times he woke up hot and sweaty and panting in his bed. He lost track of the amount of times he fisted his cock in the shower, early in the morning when no one else was awake and he didn’t have to hide his pants and moans of your names as he came.

A small part of him was waiting for the moment to hit. He was waiting for the dream to no longer feel so real, for the edges to start to blur as his body began to wake up. He was waiting to wake up in his bed, hit with a pang of longing and loneliness with only a hard cock to show for it.

But he didn’t want this dream to end.

This felt like one of his most realistic ones yet and he wasn’t ready to let it go, he wasn’t ready to face his reality. He wasn’t ready for it to be fake.

He squeezed the fat of your thighs as he guided your legs over his shoulder, as he kissed and sucked up and down the skin of your inner thighs like he always wanted to do. He clung onto you like his dream would rip you away, like he could prevent himself from being torn away from between your thighs.

Jack listened to the way you moaned and sighed beneath his touch, the way you cried out his name as his tongue swiped along your clothed cunt and sucked the fabric in his mouth. He clung onto the way your thighs squeezed his ears as his fingers tugged the fabric of your panties to the side, as he finally got his mouth on your pussy.

He wasn’t ready to wake up and lose this. He wasn’t ready to wake up and lose the way Nico’s fingers felt tangled in his hair as he guided Jack’s head up as he ate you out. He wasn’t ready to lose the way Nico’s body felt pressed against his back, whispering what a good job he was doing as his lips wrapped around his earlobe the same way Jack was doing to your clit.

He needed to keep this.

He needed this to be real.

He needed—

“You’re so perfect, Jack,” Nico groaned from behind him, his hand reaching around to dip under the waistband of his trousers. “So fucking perfect. Our pretty boy, hm?”

He needed it all to be real.

Jack groaned against your cunt when Nico wrapped his hand around his cock, his hand so much bigger than his own. He took a moment, leaning his forehead against your thigh as Nico’s thumb lightly circled the head of his cock in a way that made his whole body shake.

“C’mon, baby, you said you wanted to make our girl feel good,” Nico whispered in his ear, pressed up against him as he continued to stroke his cock. “You only get to come when she comes.”

“Nico,” Jack panted out, his eyes clenched shut as the older boy’s fist tightened around him.

“You said you’d be my good boy, Jack.”

“I will,” he breathed out, groaning as he bucked his hips. “I am.”

“Then make her come.”

He needed this to be real. He wanted it to be real so fucking badly. He wanted this to be the life he lived, the life he had wished for constantly. He wanted for it to be you and him and Nico, he wanted it all. And maybe it made him greedy, but he needed it.

And Jack could feel everything building up.

He could feel the way your body tensed and shook underneath him as he licked and sucked and kissed your soaking cunt, as he wrapped his lips around your clit until your back was arching off the bed. He could feel the hot rush of pleasure wash down his spine as Nico continued to stroke his cock, whispering filthy words in his ear that would haunt him for the rest of his life. He could feel the overwhelming rush of emotions bubbling inside him, ready to spill into some cold, bitterness when he woke up alone.

He could feel it all and it all came crashing down at once, it felt like it fucking winded him.

And he couldn’t bear to open his eyes at first. He couldn’t bear to open his eyes and see his own room around him. To see the sun shining in through his window because he forgot to close the curtains the night before. To see himself alone in his bed. To see whatever ungodly hour he had woken up at this time.

He couldn’t bear it just yet.

And then he felt a warmth against his back. It was comforting and familiar and he craved to feel more of it. And he felt a hand in his hair, lightly scratching his scalp in a way that made him whine a little.

“Shhh, you did so well, baby. So well for us, Jack,” a voice whispered, deep and rich and soothing. A voice he craved to hear constantly.

Nico.

Because it wasn’t a dream. None of it was a dream. It was real. It was all real life. It was him and you and Nico. It was the three of you and neither of you were going anywhere and Jack wasn’t about to wake up in his room alone.

It was all fucking real.

“There he is,” you mused, your hand running through his hair as you watched his bleary eyes blink up at you. “Our pretty boy.”

His cheeks flushed in response.

“C’mon, need to get you cleaned up. I’ll get you another pair of sweatpants to wear and then we can nap, okay?” Nico asked, hardly giving Jack a chance to even answer before he pressed a kiss to the side of his head and stood up.

He hated how cold he felt without Nico behind him.

“You okay?” You asked, your voice soft and concerned, and he just wanted to close his eyes and rest his head on your lap and stay there forever.

“Is this real?” He blurted out, only slightly embarrassed by his own bashfulness as you smiled down at him.

“So real, baby,” you murmured before tugging his head back enough to lean down and kiss him. “So fucking real.”

“Good,” he hummed as his eyes fluttered shut. “I love you both too, you know?”

“Yeah, we know.”

And there was more to talk about. So much more to discuss and work out and really talk about. You knew that. Nico knew that. Jack knew it too. But it could wait. You had waited months to admit your feelings to yourselves and each other. You could wait just a little longer.

It was a conversation to be had later, when you weren’t cuddled on Nico’s bed with both your boys pressed up against you as you surrendered yourself to the sleep your body was fighting.

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sourcherryandsprinkles · 10 months

Note

for a conrad x reader request- could you do one where conrad is just really overwhelmed and stressed out and just needs comfort and physical touch?

When I saw this hug in the trailer, my heart could not handle it. He looks so soft and sad and- It's probably one of my favorite moments

warnings: mention of cancer, sad!conrad

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

You knew something was off with Conrad when you received five calls in the past three days.

This was a stark contrast to his usual pattern of calling you every night since he started college. Despite telling him it wasn’t necessary to call every night and prioritize his studies, Conrad was insistent that it wouldn't affect his grades.

During your calls, you noticed a change in his demeanor. He seemed distant and unengaged, merely listening to you without his usual laughter at your humor, which raised further suspicions that something was off. You suspected it was related to Susannah. She started this new treatment a few weeks ago and Conrad didn’t like being away from her. It worried him to be so far away from her.

You wanted to surprise him. Sparks some happiness into his sad eyes and bottles up hardships.

You stood on the other side of his dorm door, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness. You wanted everything to go perfectly, knowing that the impact of your surprise could mean so much to Conrad in his current state.

What if his roommate doesn’t want you there and gets into an argument with Conrad? What if Conrad doesn’t want you there?

Your stomach twisted into a knot.

Pushing those thoughts aside, you took a deep breath and gently knocked on the door, your heart pounding with anticipation as you waited. Moments later, the door opened, revealing Conrad's tired but surprised expression.

‘’What are you doing here? I was just about to call.’’

You gave him a soft smile. ‘’This is much better than a phone call, isn’t it?’’

He nodded, the corner of his mouth curling slightly despite his overall tired appearance. The dark circles under his eyes could be from school alone, but this wasn’t just from getting less hours of sleep. His gaze was distracted, absent, by times.

Like now.

‘’Are you gonna invite me in or do I have to camp outside your dorm?’’ you asked, snapping Conrad out of his thoughts.

‘’Oh, eh…yeah, sorry.’’ He stepped aside, inviting you in. ‘’I had a class at 8am, my brain is a bit tired.’’

It was a lie. But you didn’t say anything.

‘’My roommate is at some frat party,’’ Conrad explained, closing the door and locking it. ‘’Shouldn’t be here until late. Very late. Unless he crashes at Deborah’s dorm.’’

You nodded, setting your bag on the floor on Conrad’s side of the room. It was small for two people, but what were you expecting? It’s a college dorm.

A frown formed when you saw how untidy Conrad’s space was. There was a mess of papers and textbooks scattered around on his desk, indicating the stress he was under with his studies, and the dirty laundry basket was full and spilled onto the floor a little. This was so unlike him.

On his nightstand, you noticed a piece of photobooth strip and smiled. You took these at the mall last spring, right before Conrad overheard his parents and learned about Susannah’s cancer. It was the last time you saw him truly happy. The last time his mother’s health wasn’t constantly in the back of his mind.

‘’You keep a picture of us by your bed,’’ you pointed out, picking up the photobooth strip.

Conrad turned his head toward you. ‘’Yeah,’’ he admitted, rubbing his palms over his blue jeans.

You set the photobooth strip back to its place and slowly stepped toward Conrad. Through the phone, he could hide behind his many walls, but in person, it was easy for you to see that he wasn't okay. You could see right through him.

‘’Connie? You know you can talk to me about anything, right?’’

Conrad nodded as he lowered his head.

He tried to put on a brave front, but deep down, he wanted nothing more than to fall apart in your arms and stay there forever. Life had become such a heavy weight lately, he wasn't sure he could deal with it.

‘’Come here.’’ You drew him close and, like pieces falling into places, his arms wrapped around you and he rested his head on your shoulder with a vulnerability only you was allowed to see him in. You raised a hand to his shoulder, soothingly rubbing his back. ‘’Nothing is alright,’’ he admitted, his arms tightening around you, seeking comfort and reassurance.

—

All and more taglist: @spiokybirdstarfish @kenqki @liidiaaag @hawkegfs @gillybear17 @areaderinlove @acornacreacure @black-rose-29 @fudge13 @cece05 @rosie-cameron @Caxddce @laylasbunbunny @gemofthenight @beautyb1ade @hi-bored-as-fcuk-rn @lovelyy-moonlight @mellabella101 @vxnity713 @marzipaanz @bisexualgirlsblog @queenofslytherin889 @thatbxtchesblog @softb-tterfly @ethanlandrycanbreakmyheart @xyzstar @graceberman3 @Heartsforneteyamsully @aerangi @hallecarey1 @bxbyyyjocelyn @mikeyspinkcup

TSITP taglist: @msmarvelknight @maritaleane @dingus0401 @idontknowwhatimdoing777 @nomorespahgetti @lomlolivia @5sosbands @bloodyhw @depthsofdespairr @a-band-aid-for-your-heart @gilbertscurls @brandirouse86 @leilani-nichole @Veescorneroftheworld @papayaboyluvr @bchindureyes @bellysbeach @slytherinambitious @darylscvmdumpster

#conrad fisher #conrad fisher imagine #conrad fisher x reader #conrad fisher fanfic #the summer i turned pretty imagine #the summer i turned pretty

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dexlexia · 5 months

Text

studies in relaxation - bokuto x reader

pairing: kōtarō bokuto x reader rating: 18+ summary: It was finals, oh how you hated finals. But that wasn't something was concerned your boyfriend. He made it through university on an athletic scholarship. While he was amazing at volleyball, he only marginally passed his courses. But unlike him, you had to make sure your grades were up to par. You couldn't slip in your marks. tags: college au, pwp, smut, couch sex, gentle sex, massages, praise kink, fingering, oral sex (f receiving)

It was finals, oh how you hated finals. But that wasn't something that concerned your boyfriend. He made it through university on an athlete scholarship. While he was amazing at volleyball, he only marginally passed his courses. But unlike him, you had to make sure your grades were up to par. You couldn't slip in your marks.

And he worried so much about you.

He hated seeing you so stressed.

You both lived in an apartment just off campus, and while it was rather nice and domestic. It was hard when you had to study. Your hyper-active boyfriend was more engaged with the idea of doing anything else with you BUT studying. But you needed to cram every last piece of information from your textbook.

You couldn't afford to fail the final exam of the semester. You were a top student, but being at the top meant the weight of expectations fell on your shoulders. You couldn't be an ace player like your boyfriend.

Currently you are hunched over the desk in the living room, with all the lights off except the lamp over your desk. With one pen in your mouth and another tapping at the open notebook. You felt like you were losing your mind.

This all made sense about an hour ago, but now it felt like nails on a chalkboard inside of your brain. When you started to doubt yourself you felt your heart start to race. But you had no time to have a panic attack, you needed to absorb everything in this textbook ASAP.

You took the pen out of your mouth and exhaled. This was all getting to be too much. You dropped the pen in your hand and buried the heels of your hands in your eyes to rub the sleepiness out of them. “Goddamnit.” You muttered under your breath.

“Is everything okay, babe?" You heard from the couch nearby. There sat Bokuto with his laptop propped up and his earphones in. He hated being apart from you, so while you were swamped with studying for finals he was as close as he could be. He wanted to make sure he was there if you needed anything.

You exhaled, ”Everything's fine, Ko. I'll be okay. It's just a lot.“ You watched him take the other earphone out and put his laptop to the side. He got up from the couch and walked towards you. He always looked like a lost puppy when he didn't know how to help you, but not everything could be solved with Bokuto's classic smile.

”Do you want a back rub?” He asked as he held up his hands and made a grabbing motion with his fingers as to indicate that he was willing to massage you.

You sighed once more, “Just be gentle.” And pulled the chair away from the desk. You rolled your shoulders and straightened out your back which caused some cracking of your spine.

“Akaashi told me that they help more if you're away from where you are working.“ He reached to pull the chair out further. You had no choice, you got up and followed him to the couch.

You flopped down on top of it and rolled your neck from side to side. Bokuto sat beside you and manoeuvred you with his back to him. ”Relax.“ He prompted, ”Please.“ Then leaned in and kissed you on the cheek from behind. Then with those large hands he started to massage your back.

The first bit of pressure made you tense up, but the careful movements at the base of your neck made you relax. But the sound of your neck being massaged was far from appealing with all the cracks. You really did need something like this. He went in for another kiss and gave you gentle praise.

”You're my smart girl.“ He assured you, ”But you work too hard, I don't want you to hurt yourself.“ You could hear the frown in his voice even if you couldn't see it.

“I'm fine, Ko. It's just the end of the semester, it'll be over before you know it and we can enjoy our break.” You reassured him. You felt his kisses against your neck. You knew he worried. He didn't worry about much, but he did worry about you.

He continued to work at the muscles of your back. The occasion crack or pop of your back as he tried to smooth out the tension. It only increased his worry with how tense you were. He soon applied more pressure and you kicked out your legs from it. You tilted your head to the side and moaned as he pressed his palms into your skin.

“Do you like that?” He asked.

“I love it, honey.” You responded, “I haven't had a massage in so long. I forgot how sensitive I was.” You exhaled deeply as you felt another sensation through your body as he touched you. It wasn't painful but it also wasn't a nonexistent feeling. There was pressure to it that made you grip onto your knees to keep yourself steady.

“Good, good. I want my honey to feel good.” He started to kiss at your neck, “Akaashi told me that the more relaxed you are, the better you learn. So I need you to relax.” His warm breath was against your neck as he massaged your lower back which made you let out a small squeak. He chuckled and continued to rub you down.

He was just perfect, there was no one like Bokuto. He was just perfect. He kissed your neck some more, and his hands went to your front. He smiled against your skin and started to grab at your breasts. You moaned and it encouraged him to keep going. To keep touching you while he attempted to make you comfortable.

"Do you like that?“ He asked, his lips were close to your ear, ”Does my lovely, amazing girl like that? Because I want you to feel good.“ He chuckled softly.

You tilted your head to the side away from him and shakily exhaled, ”It feels amazing. I guess.” You trailed off, “I could take a break.”

“Yeah?” He perked up, “You want a break with me?”

You giggled and turned on the couch. You faced him and reached to stroke his face, “After all, you know how to make me the most relaxed.” You leaned in close to him. “I only ever feel safe around you.”

He chuckled and kissed you. He laid you out on the couch under him, his broad body covered yours as he cupped your face. Those gold eyes gazed down at you and you smiled up at him. He felt so close, you felt so loved. And maybe the feeling of stress was starting to leave your body. He pulled you in for one last kiss as his hand started to trail down into your shorts.

The waistband was stretchy which allowed his hand to slip in perfectly. He groaned into the kiss as he reached the band of your underwear. He smiled into the kiss as he felt around. Soon his longer fingers reached past the waist of your underwear and towards your pussy.

“Ko.” You said.

“I got you, honey.” He replied as he pulled you in for another searing kiss as he started to play with your clit. His pointer finger rubbed up against your sensitive spot as he passionately made out with you. The feeling made your toes curl in your socks, you felt the urge to kick out your legs from the pleasure but managed to restrain yourself.

“Ko. Please.“ You moaned before you went in for another kiss.Your heart pounded in your chest as you held onto his arms for support. He was so strong compared to you, you could feel the strength of his muscles in his arms.

”Don't worry.“He reassured, ”I'll make you nice and relaxed honey!“ Then continue to play with your clit. The feeling made your back arch as you moaned loudly. He smiled down at you like a ray of sunshine and went in for another searing kiss. He was just a perfect boyfriend.

You loved him with all your heart, he was just so perfect that there was little to put into words just HOW perfect he was. He wanted his number one girl to get her finals done and he'd make sure that through any means that you were the most comfortable and safe with him.

He'd make sure that you were taken care of, and he adored you for that. He just thought you were perfect and there was no replacing you. He pulled away once more and gazed at your face, every expression you made as he dipped two fingers inside of you. His movements were rapid as you moaned loudly.

”That's it, honey.” He moaned against your skin. His cock throbbed in his pants but that was a problem for another time. He closed the gap between you even further, and pushed his fingers even deeper into you. He felt your hot breath on his cheek as he played with your pussy.

Your heart raced in your chest and you felt warm all over. But you also felt the stress melt off of your body and pleasure tae over. Especially since his skilled fingers were stroking your sex. You held onto him as he pleasured you.

But soon that wasn't enough. He pulled away and got down to his knees in front of the couch with a 'thud' and started to pull down your shorts to reveal your pussy. He licked his lips as he got your legs spread and more of your sweet sex exposed.

“Such a good girl.” He praised you. Those gold eyes gazed at you with such love, and hope. He adored you so much, he thought you were just a beautiful creature, “You're going to do so well on your exams.“

”Promise?“

”Promise.“

He gazed up at you and gave you one last grin before he held your legs open and started to pleasure you orally. He thought you were just divine, a holy object of worship. To do anything in his power to help you be the best you could be. I loved you so much.

His licks were quick across your clit. You curled your toes and held onto his silver hair as he pleasured you. He held your legs open so you didn't crush his head with your thighs!

He kissed your pussy and left wet licks across your clit. You felt the pressure build up in your stomach as you clutched onto him. The feeling was immense, you knew that Bokuto had a skilled tongue but everytime it took you off guard.

”You're amazing.“ He said, ”So perfect.''He groaned into your skin before he went back to lapping at your sweet sex. He was enthralled by you, he thought you were just so perfect. He couldn't get enough of you. But he knew you were getting close so he took one hand and began to tease you while he lapped at your clit.

You almost kicked out your legs once more as you clutched onto him. You moaned out loud and leaned your head back as you felt the surge of pleasure. Your toes curled once more and you gripped onto him further.

He lapped at your pussy lovingly, he felt a swell in his chest. He loved your sweet noises, he loved how you sounded when he pleasured you. It was a remarkable feeling that he couldn't deny.

It wasn't long before you felt the mountainous feeling of pleasure run through your body. You felt onto him tightly, the feeling of soft silver hair past your fingertips. You moaned and panted, and as you climaxed you kicked out your legs in pleasure.

”Ko!“ You moaned out loud as you finished on his tongue. And every anxiety was out of your body and you were relaxed against the couch with your chest heaving. You let go of him and relaxed. Your mind felt fuzzy but in the best way possible.

He got up and leaned in to kiss you on the cheek. You felt your heart flutter.

He beamed at you and reached out for you, “Now why don't we go for another round in the bedroom. I know another way for you to relax.” And winked at you. You smiled up at him and followed close behind him as you tried to pull up your pants.

#dexlexia writes #reader insert #bokuto smut #bokuto x reader #koutarou bokuto #bokuto #kotaro bokuto x reader #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #haikyuu smut #haikyuu scenarios #haikyu x reader #anime x reader #female reader #fem reader #hq x reader

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sunnysidestories · 11 months

Text

Introductions Pt 2

Pt 1

Pt 3

Summary: Reader is a vigilante on young justice who goes to the same school as Walls. Only Wally doesn't know the readers identity, but she knows his. SLOW BURN

Wally West x Fem!Reader

"Hi, I'm Wally West. It's nice to meet you."

As his voice rang in my ears, and he seemed to look back at his book, my heart would begin to race. I sat there for a moment too long, so I quickly would pick up my own voice, even if it cracked. "I'm y/n l/n. It's nice to meet you too." He doesn't know. He can't know.

Wally would once again look back up from the textbook, his eyes seeming to scan along my face. "You're not new. I know you." shit. "Well, I just changed classes, not schools. I've been at Keystone my whole life. I'm just not the most popular person."

"Oh cool, I hope you like the advanced course. If you ever need any help I'll gladly give you my number. Science is one of the only things I seem to be good at." he genuinely doesn't know? I'm glad, at least this is my chance. Let's find out who Kid Flash is under all the spandex.

He's a nerd. He's a total nerd.

Often, before class, I would find myself in a conversation about the latest scientific fact, most of them being obscure. He seemed to always speak with his hands, a grin never leaving his face. I found out his uncle is a forensic chemist, which helps explain his passion for all things scientific. Even if he didn't outwardly say it, I could tell he meant a lot to him. But when the class would eventually begin, Wally would totally shut off the conversation, rarely continuing it over a note. He took the class very seriously.

He's not exactly how I would have expected him to be. Compared to how he is as Kid Flash, he's much more sporadic. He seems to always lead a conversation, which I don't always mind, but when he asked me about what I liked one time, he didn't interrupt. He let me rant for a while before I realized what I was doing, though he only encouraged me to go on with a smile.

...

"So that's why I've got to go to Central City for the week." Wally lied about some other excuse for a mission. It felt wrong knowing he's really going to fight crime. I have no room to talk, really. I'll be busy at Keystone myself. I wonder how much of it is actually a lie and how much is really fact.

"It's fine, I understand it's not your fault, but i'll miss you." Wally seemed to avoid eye contact almost if my comment had made him uncomfortable. I was telling the truth though, I would miss him. Even more than I would like to admit. I didn't pressure him about it further as the class went on.

But when it was time for us to take notes from the textbook, and the whole class was sent on their own, Wally would slide me a folded piece of notebook paper. He didn't even look at me, so if any outside eyes had seen the exchange, it would look as if he was returning something of mine. I would quietly open the slip to be greeted by Wally's hastily written writing.

Hey, text me the work I'll miss next week

My eyes scanned the page only to land on his number at the bottom. He could just get it from the teacher, but the fact he trusted me enough with his perfect grade was flattering. Wally's handwriting is another one of those things I didn't think would differ from note to note. Ones he had the time to write at home are always much neater, though his handwriting is much bigger than normal standards would accept, I don't mind. The notes he writes me at school are always messy, almost like he's trying to write faster than he can but doesn't want to use his speed, so in the end, it's just much slopper. If one didn't know Wally, they could rightfully assume the contrast between his writing could be the work of two different people.

Sure, but is it just for the notes right?

I would put in my own words under his before slipping it back to him. He would immediately slide it back into my hands. I didn't even think he wrote anything until I opened it again. This time, his handwriting was perfectly placed, almost as if it was typed.

Yes.

I tuck the paper in my jacket pocket, I'll put it in my drawer with the rest when I get home. I feel bad about throwing them away, so they sit in my bedside table, its not like anyone would ever go into my room and find them anyway. Sometimes, I like to read over them before I go on patrol. It reminds me of our conversation at the warehouse. One where I'm not as alone as I think I am.

Yet the nervous tapping of Wally's pencil brings me back to the class. He taps it ten times before flipping the pencil back over, continuing to write. No matter what, he seemed to always tap it ten times. In a way, it felt like he knew I zoned off. It was him bringing me back to everything. Even if it wasn't intentional. Wally fidgets a lot when he tries to focus or distract himself, the repetitive movements being a form of comfort.

...

It's Tuesday now, and I'm perched on top of a building in full gear. My phone sits in my hand with Wally's contact staring back at me. I need to text him the work from yesterday. I haven't even said hello yet. Hello is too formal, we are friends, a hey would fit better.

These past two days have been abnormally quiet. His empty seat in class is only a reminder of why he's really gone. I hope he's okay.

FLEETFEET

Hey, it's y/n. Here's the work from yesterday and today. Hope everything is okay in CC

2 attachments sent 11:20 pm

I would sit there for a bit, looking at the screen. Maybe he's already on some sort of mission. Why is texting so stressful? As soon as I started to shut off my phone, it would light back up with his reply.

FLEETFEET

2 attachments seen 11:27 pm

Hey y/n! Central City has

been pretty cool, my Uncle Barry

showed me around his work at Star Labs today. That place is surprisingly

really huge. Thanks for sending

the work.

Seen 11:27 pm

Sooooo wyd?

Seen 11:28 pm

Its almost midnight, he should really go to sleep. I should really start patrol. This really isn't a good idea.

Nothing much hbu? just watching

traffic go by. I swear I've seen three

crashes in the span of two

hours ppl r wild.

Seen 11:31 pm

Dude you should see it here.

Traffic is actually so slow it

makes me want

to scream. We sat at a

red light for 4 whole mins.

Seen 11:31 pm

Oh. My. God. 4 whole mins?!1!

How can they do that to you!

Don't they know who you are!!!

Seen 11:33 pm

The hottest guy alive thats who.

Seen 11:34

I couldn't help but laugh at his statement. Typing back a quick 'pls lol' before turning off my phone. It was getting too late I needed to start. I wish he was here, sometimes I could get a glance of the yellow and red highlight speeding by back home, on this road, about this time. He never worked late at night. That was more left up for the other heros, ones like me. I look to the streets, the dim lights from the lamps only shone back with a faint glow. No streak of color to be seen, but a part of me hoped it would still apear.

My night was full of stopping petty crimes, luckily I didn't have to go against any metahumans, but still like any other night everything would start to hurt after a certain threshold. Inbeetween threats I would find myself checking to see if Wally had kept our conversation going.

He did.

Until 4 am.

He was asking me mostly about myself, which was weird in a way. But in another, it made sense. The questions were more deep then anything since he already had asked the basic getting to know each other questions months ago. In the end, though, he stopped the conversation telling me to head to sleep, as I had school in the morning. Which was true. Even after patrol, I was still texting him from the comfort of my home, but I would eventually listen, heading to get some rest.

The week would continue the same as the night before. I was sending Wally the work and him dragging on our conversation throughout the night, but never long enough for the sun to rise the next day. On Saturday was when one of his messages caught me by surprise.

FLEETFEET

Are you free to call?

Seen 1:12 am

Before I could even protest how that could be a bad idea or how that might reveal who I was, his contact was flashing onto my screen along with his picture. I place the phone to my ear and answer it. I hoped the interstate couldn't be audible up from here.

"I told you shes not going to- hey! Hey..."

Wally's voice picks up on the other line, he seems to be in some sort of living room, as the hum of a television can be heard in the background as well as someone else having a conversation.

"Hey Walls? What's up?" My voice sounded strained from not speaking for hours, I hoped Wally couldn't tell. "Oh, um, I was just wondering about some of the work you sent me. Like you took the photos of the work perfectly okay, but in the background, I saw something." At the word something, his voice would slightly jump.

Did I leave my equipment in a photo? was my reflection shown? Was it something he wasn't supposed to see?

"Yeah It's-It's going to sound really stupid. What... what were those papers spread out on your bed?" Oh. Ohhhhh no. The notes, I left out his notes on my bed. I must have got some of them into the frame. I quickly opened out a chat to the last photo. There they were. Luckily, they were not in focus, so he couldn't really tell what they said, but still. There they were.

His voice would start up again after my second of silence. "Are they really swamping you with that much work?" "Yeah, yeah. My other class, a big final its uh its is coming up, so I was studying the notes." I let out a sigh of relief. "But that's not your handwriting? It actually kind of looks like-"

"Wally, I have to go. I'll see you Monday at school."

*BEEP BEEP BEEP*

That was terrible. He would never let me live that down if I told him I was keeping such things. That even more was embarrassing, I have to explain why I had to go. And I have until Monday for these excuses. Which is technically tomorrow. Fun.

...

I was saved. I got called into a mission before school at Mt. Justice. Even though Wally would be there, y/n technically wouldn't. When I arrived, he was already in costume talking to Megan about something. He still did the thing with his hands while he spoke. Making his statements larger than life and thoroughly exaggerated. "I just don't know what to do. I trust her more than anything, I wish she would just tell me. It's not like im going to judge her. She knows that. I mean, you heard the conversation. "

His back was turned to me, so I couldn't see his face while he went on. Although I knew what he was talking about. "Hey Megan. Hey Wally." I waved at the two while I walked past them to the kitchen. "H/n! You're a girl. I need advice. What do I do when my friend is keeping stuff from me." I would stop and slowly turn around to his pleading gaze. "Walls, aren't you keeping stuff from her? You have to trust her in that sort of regard. Give her time to open up."

"Thats...Fair." Wally would drop himself back to normal as my words got through to him. "Besides, it took me a while to realize I trusted you." Both in and out of costume. I do. I trust him more than anything. More than anyone.

So I should have told him. He said he wasn't going to judge me, and I know he wouldn't have. I let my emotions get the better of me at the moment, If he asks again, I'll tell him the truth. No matter what.

...

The mission went by with a breeze, the biggest threat being now as Robin sent Wally falling towards me at full speed. I ended up catching the both of us before he could send us tumbling over a building. I held us there for a while, my arms wrapped around him in a hug. He just looked at me. His heightened breathing trailed my neck as he grasped onto my arms. He didn't admit it, but he was scared, I was too. Fifteen stories were a lot to fall from.

The other heroes, as well as criminals, paid us no attention, too occupied in their own fights, as I held Wally at the edge of the roof. One of my feet hanging halfway off. I was closer to falling than he was. My back was to the city.

"Hey, h/n." Was all he said as his face began to knowticablely regain too much color. "Hey West." Wally would move his head to rest in the crook of my neck as he tried to calm his rapid breathing. He told me late at night over text one time he was scared of heights.

As I started to try to move us back away from the edge, Wally would only plant himself in my hold even more. I needed to help him snap back into the situation. Before he messed up and tipped us over.

"Wally. You've never asked me who I am before." Trust. He needs to trust me. "Be...Bec..Cause! You're not comfortable... ye-yet." Inbeetween words, he would let out large audible gasping. "You won't judge me, right?" He shook his head side to side, keeping his eyes remained shut. I would let out a sigh of my own.

"I trust you. Kid Flash, I need you to trust me. Not only as h/n but as y/n. y/n l/n. The one who's going to get you off this roof. Back to the ground floor."

#wally west x reader #wally west #young justice x reader #young justice imagines #young justice #kid flash #kid flash x reader

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 8 months

Text

The Grey Zone 4

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon, manipulation, age gap, bullying, toxic parental figures, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your relationship with your parents has never been good, and that with a family friend takes a strange turn(goth!reader)

Character: Lloyd Hansen

Note: We're back

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Your bedroom door swings open, the handle knocking against the short shelf of figures behind it. You clutch the black skirt in your hands and face your mother as she gives you that look. The one dripping in disappointment and loathing. She’s hungover, you can tell by how she squints.

“Are you not ready yet?” She sneers, a Louis bag dangling from her elbow.

“Almost,” you assure her, rolling your tongue nervously, “mom, are you sure I should come? Work isn’t very happy about the time off and–”

“How dare you,” she accuses, flinching at the spark of her own temper, bringing her manicure to her temple, “Lloyd has been very nice in inviting us all to the lake house and I will not have you spoil it with your attitude.”

“I wasn’t trying to… I just thought…”

“Stop thinking,” she points at you with a long shellacked nail, “you’ll ruin everything.”

You snap your mouth shut. For her, this is another vacation. You know her plans don’t extend past wine and naps in the sun. And it is supposed to be a ‘family trip’. If you don’t go, your father might just tell her to stay behind too. It’s not that she wants you to go, but she wants to be sure she gets to go.

“I’ll be ready in like ten,” you spin back to your bed and tuck the skirt into your duffle.

“Make it five,” she huffs with the click of her tongue.

She prances off and you shake your head at the stacks of clothes in front of you. You cut it down as you roll up each piece to fit into your bag. You don’t need much. You shove your chest of makeup at the end and tuck your toiletry pouch inside.

You grab your leather knapsack and slide your laptop inside with your textbooks. You wonder if you’ll even have a signal all the way up north. If not, you’ll have a lot of catching up to do. Oh well, maybe it will be nice to get away. Or maybe you’ll be in hell, trapped in an isolated cabin with your own parents.

And him.

You shove a few novels in along with your computer and zip it up. You drag your stuff towards the door and grab your jacket from the clothes rack against the far wall. The long black trench goes well over your wide-leg curtain paints and razor back halter. You pop on a wide brimmed black hat and your favourite pair of sunglasses; black lenses framed with silver.

You grab your bags and haul them out of your room, making the slow and perilous descent to the first floor. You leave your bags right behind your mother’s pile of matching Louis luggage and wiggle your feet into your clunky Mary Janes.

Your mother emerges with a sunhat and a pair of large square framed sunglasses. She winks at you as she tucks a flask into her purse. You say nothing and cross your legs, perching on the bench impatiently.

“Is that what you’re wearing?” She harrumphs.

“Yeah?” You look down.

“You don’t have anything… lighter? It’s sunny out.”

You shrug, “we’ll just be in the car.”

You stare at her bags. How much does she need to bring? The physics of packing all of it into the SUV worries you. You fully expect to be crammed in next to her bandouliere bag.

“Constance!” Your father’s voice booms as his steps pound onto the porch. You look at the screen door as he rips it open, “well,” he stops short inside, “I told you to start bringing your shit out.”

“I told you, my shoulder,” your mother pouts, “yell at your daughter, she’s the one sitting around.”

Your father huffs and grabs her largest bag, pointing at you then the rest of her things, “well, let’s get this going. I don’t wanna be driving past midnight.”

You get up and grab two of the lighter bags. You roll your eyes behind your lenses, knowing you won’t be caught. You follow your father out the front door, the weight of your mother’s excess chafing your fingers. What did she pack?

The hatch door of the SUV is already open. Your father’s things are neatly placed against the wall of the trunk. He hikes up your mother’s suitcase in the other side and it takes up much of the remaining space. You place the two in hand on top and ponder the last three. It’s like a very unfortunate game of Tetris.

“Go,” your father snaps his fingers, “get the rest.”

You don’t argue. As you come up on the porch, your mother emerges with a bright pink travel tumbler in hand, slurping on the straw as your left to wonder at the contents. You dip inside and retrieve her smallest bags; a perfect circular valise and two more oblong ones.

You hand them off to your father and he grumbles under his breath as he tries to fit them into the hatch. You return to the house to get your own bags. You won’t mind sitting with your own things.

The backseat offers little hope as you find a large cooler taking up more than half of its length and fishing rods across the floor. So, where exactly are you supposed to sit?

As you stare, perplexed by the puzzle of your own belonging, a horn toots and a car rolls up the driveway, coming just short of your father as he turns to stare down the Bentley. You keep your knapsack on your shoulder and your bag clutched tight.

You face Mr. Hansen as he climbs out of his car, leaning on the door as he looks over it at your dad, “Ray Ray, ready to go?”

“Just loading up,” your father answers.

“Holy shit,” Mr. Hansen snorts, “you know you’re not moving in for good, right?”

“Connie’s shit,” your father snarls.

Hansen shuts his car door as he strides up the tarmac. His focus shifts as he sees you standing listless. He flicks his sunglasses up and gives a crooked smirk.

“Hey, sunshine,” he greets, “uh, Ray,” he stops, just a few inches from you, pivoting towards the back of the SUV, “where exactly is the baby girl supposed to fit? You strapping her to the roof?”

“She’ll squeeze in,” you father dimisses.

“For eight hours?” Hansen’s fingers tickle along the back of your arm and he squeezes just above his elbow, “I got lots of room.”

“I don’t care. Take her, then,” your father barks, “I got Lonny bringing up supplies, I don’t needa worry about all that.”

“Hear that, starbright, go toss your things in mine,” Hansen twirls his keyring and holds it out to you, “lots of legroom.”

“Um, it’s fine–”

“Don’t argue,” your father slams the hatch door. “He’s right, we don’t got the space.”

You could suggest your mother leaves a few things behind but you know that will only end the same. You take Hansen’s keys and thank him. He grins and steps back, not much, just enough for you to pass, just close enough for you to brush against him.

You go down the drive, surprised to find yourself trailed by another set of steps. You glance over your shoulder as Hansen circles around you, “bottom button, sunny.”

You hit the fob and the trunk pops open. He seizes your bag before you can react and puts it in next to his. You slip your knapsack down your arm and he just as quickly has it in hand.

“Couldn’t imagine eight hours in a car with those two,” he says quietly, “you’re welcome.”

“Uh, yeah, thanks.”

You cross your arms and step back as he closes the trunk. He keeps his hand on the sleek pant and eyes you up and down. He tilts his head and his tongue pokes out.

“You feel like driving,” he asks, “I don’t mind.” He pats the butt of the car, “she handles well.”

“Um, it’s okay…”

“Come on, you get the first hour and we can switch at the rest stop,” he goads, “I woke up fuckshit early.”

“Alright, I guess,” you keep the keys in your hand and go to step around him.

“Wait, wait,” he blocks your path, “one more thing.”

“Alright?” You frown.

“I didn’t say…” he reaches to tap the brim of your hat, “you look fucking good.”

You don’t know how to respond. You’re unused to compliments and a simple thank you would do but something about his tone has you tongue-tied. You wipe away your chagrin and try to smile. Your lips just quiver and fall straight.

“Right, let’s stop dragging ass,” he spins and struts up the driveway, “Ray,” he calls to your dad, “here’s the spare key. In case you get ahead of us.”

You chew your lip and slowly walk along the side of the car. You unlock the doors and open the driver’s side. You reticently get in and take off your hat, twisting to throw it in the backseat. You turn straight and adjust the seat and steering wheel. It’s a really nice car.

The passenger door opens and Lloyd drops in, sliding the seat all the way back as he stretches his legs. You leave the keys in the cupholder and push the ignition. The engine rolls as you take in the breadth of controls. Nothing too unusual.

“What’s that shade of lipstick called?” Lloyd leans on the armrest of his seat, “how many shades of black can they sell?”

“Um, I don’t know,” you fix the mirror.

“Like those glasses. Where’d you get them?”

“Amazon,” you answer as you shift into reverse, the camera showing on the console screen. You grip the wheel and slowly back out.

“Now, don’t be afraid to put that foot down once we hit the highway,” he says, “she’s got a lot of power. She can handle it.”

“Mhmm,” you stop at the end of the driveway and look both ways down the street. “Got it.”

🖤

As promised, you trade places with Lloyd after the first hour. He’s a bit more heavy-footed and you find yourself with your hand on the door as you brace yourself with his careless and aggressive passing. You’re a cautious driver and his style has you almost dizzy. You’re not bold enough to tell him to slow down.

“Isn’t this nice?” He asks, “no squabbling middle-aged assholes to listen to.”

“Sure,” you grasp the seat belt as you keep a wary gaze through the windshield.

“Hopefully it’s only more of this, baby,” he continues, “my house, my rules. You don’t worry about mommy and daddy.”

You nod and hold back a squeak as he swoops in front of another car. You wish you had kept driving. You hate this.

“I’ll be working on my tan as daddy does all the hard work,” he scoffs, “been a long year.”

You listen, almost curious as he’s rarely anything close to transparent. You would never imagine him having a bad day. He seems to carry it with that no fucks given strut. He swerves again and you can’t help but elicit a rather pathetic noise.

“Mr. Hansen, can you… slow down a little?” You ask.

He doesn’t answer right away but he does as you request. “I get it, you wanna enjoy our time together,” he snickers.

“Uh, well, I get a bit carsick,” you utter.

“Ah,” he accepts with an air of disappointment, “can I ask you something?”

“Okay.”

“Can you call me Lloyd? This Mr. Hansen business makes me feel old as shit. I’m not, you know, I got all my faculties,” he lets out a small chuckle, “just so you know.”

“Right, Lloyd, sorry,” you say, “dad just… you’re his friend so he–”

“Yeah, real tight ass but damn good at what he does. The biggest fuckers always are,” he scoffs.

“I guess…”

“So, those girls, they bug you again?” He keeps the same pace in conversation as he does driving. You’re disoriented by the flip.

“Haven’t seen them, no…”

“You know, they’re just jealous,” he says, “I know girls like that. I’ve f– met a lot. They’re not worth it.” He shakes his head and laughs, “hate to say it, but your mom is one of those. Never a nice thing to say about anyone but herself.”

You lean into the seat and bend your arms in front of your stomach. You know that. Deep down, you know your family is imperfect, you just didn’t realise how obvious it is.

“You’re young. Shit’s tough when you’re figuring it out.”

“Yeah,” you murmur.

“You got Spotify or something?” He asks abruptly, once more jarring you. “Got bluetooth in here. May as well put something on, we got time.”

“Right, uh, I could…” you dig your phone out as he pushes buttons on the steering wheel with his thumb. The screen flashes with the pairing symbol.

You find the right connection and scroll through your playlists. You don’t know if he’ll like any of those. Maybe you could find something generic.

“What do you like?” You ask.

He answers with a chortle, “nah, you put something on. I wanna hear your music.”

“Well, it’s a bit… of an acquired taste.”

“My car, my rules, put your music on,” he demands.

You resign and tap shuffle on your weekly mix. Joy Division drones from the random selection and you black out the screen. You’re comforted by the familiar tones.

“Holy fuck,” Lloyd says, “this is old shit. Before my time, even.”

“Uh, yeah,” you reply, “it’s just a shuffle–”

“Not complaining,” he smirks, “glad I actually know this one.”

You exhale and try to relax. It’s going to be a long ride and you're thankful he opened that door. You don’t know how much longer you could handle his chaotic conversation. Only six hours or so, you can make it if you have music.

#lloyd hansen #dark lloyd hansen #dark!lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #the grey zone #the gray man

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inknopewetrust · 2 years

Text

Oh, Baby, it’s Halloween

Summary: you and Eddie raise a baby… only you’re not a couple and the baby isn’t real… and now Tina’s Halloween party changes the trajectory of your lives forever. Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader [WC: 10k] Warnings: language, discussion of drugs, idiots in love, you all have been too kind which makes me nervous to post this. Quick Links: Masterlist | Part One | Part Two

“What about this one?”

From the other end of the rack, Gareth held up a pair of pants high above his head. Eddie took in the look carefully before shaking his own.

“No holes, remember? I literally just said that like a second ago.”

Who knew picking out clothes for Halloween would be so hard?

“I don’t know why you even have to dress up. Most of the guys will just throw on a leather jacket and call it a day. Greasers from the fuckin’ Outsiders or some shit,” Gareth mumbled as he put the pants back in the lineup of the other hundred pairs on the rack.

Hawkins thrift had a hefty supply of men’s pants with and without holes because the rich and fortunate changed fashion quickly.

Small blessings for those living paycheck to paycheck.

“That’s practically what I wear every day,” Eddie sighed, sifting through the opposite end where a pair of Levi’s in vomit green disgusted him. “And I just have to look the part, alright? It’s one night.”

“Look the part,” his friend snorted, “you’re just trying to impress her. You could wear a potato sack and if she liked you in that, impressing her would be the least of your problems.”

“Is that so bad?” Eddie stopped browsing and stared down at Gareth.

“What? Trying to impress her?”

“Yes,” Eddie answered bluntly causing Gareth to breath in deeply.

To Gareth, no, it wasn’t a bad thing. High school was a zoo and for freaks like Eddie and himself everything was like walking in a glass cage. They were oddities; stickers on pristine windows that said ‘kick me’ and ‘dunce.’ He figured long ago that happiness was something not given or sought, but uncovered from personal discovery and self-preservation.

Eddie walked a tightrope.

One week ago he was assigned a partner that Gareth had passed in the hallway intermittently and thought, ‘oh, she’s cute,’ but Eddie never mentioned her. He didn’t talk about girls the way the jocks or preps talked about them; he didn’t ogle often at the cheerleaders in their little skirts because Eddie’s doctrine told him it was rude—even if he was as hormonal as the rest. He harbored those feelings like a scared little boy and now here he was, with Gareth in Hawkins’ only thrift store, trying to find the perfect pieces for a Halloween costume on a Thursday afternoon for one girl.

Gareth wanted Eddie to be happy. The curly-haired sophomore just didn’t trust people to not play a game with his best friend. He didn’t want to see the person he looked up to most be the laughing stock of high school because he fell head over heels for you.

“No,” he answered honestly, “it’s not a bad thing. I mean,” Gareth snorted, “if Katie Yang told me tomorrow she loved me, I would run off in the sunset with her and never return.”

Eddie barked a laugh. It would never happen. He was pretty sure his fellow senior member of Hellfire swung a very different way—but he couldn’t let Gareth’s dreams of marrying her falter. It would make Gareth too sad to even participate in Eddie’s campaigns.

“Yeah, well,” Eddie went back to searching, “she’s my Katie Yang.”

“How about these then?” Gareth held up another pair and for what Eddie needed them for, they were perfect. He left his spot at the end of the rack, snatching them from his friend's hands and grinned.

“Perfect.”

“Click got me with a pop quiz today,” Nancy whined as she leaned against your locker early Friday afternoon. She had her chin tucked against her chemistry textbook and trapper keeper.

“I don’t know anything about the War of 1812!”

“Does anyone know anything about the war of 1812?” You countered yet her disappointed face did not lift. Yes, some kids knew what had taken place but Nancy missed the lesson. She missed the lesson yesterday because all she was thinking about was how the relationship between herself and Steve was bullshit.

Bullshit. The exact word that you had used to describe it before Eddie swept you away.

“Linda Fischer did! And that Buckley girl that plays the trumpet? She knew all about it; answered nearly every question when it was over.”

“Maybe it’s because they have no life and just study all the time?”

Nancy scoffed, “I study all the time too and look where that got me.”

“It’s just one quiz, Nance,” you swapped your red calculus notebook for the blue history one. Bilbo was perched inside of your locker as you went about collecting your things for the next hour. “I don’t think your grade will suffer.”

Steve’s booming laughter echoed in the hallway.

“Doubt it,” Nancy muttered bitterly as the clang of lockers being hit sounded behind her. Steve smiled radiantly as he tossed a baseball in his hand—it was October, in the middle of bum-fuck-nowhere Indiana, and he still managed to find and toss a baseball for fun.

“Doubt what?” He smacked his gum loudly as Nancy turned to copy the way he leaned against the lockers beside yours.

“Click’s pop quiz on the War of 1812,” you cut in before Nancy could. Everyone was required to take Junior American History and everyone remembered that pop quiz well… simply because everyone failed it.

“Oo,” Steve scrunched his nose, “Click is one haggard old broad, isn’t she?”

“The most haggard,” Nancy sighed. Steve peered over her shoulder and tipped his head at Bilbo.

“How’s the baby?”

“Baby is doing just fine, Steve. Just fine.”

“Yeah, mine too,” he winked as if what you said was a joke when it was far from it. Bilbo had mellowed out quite well, actually. It felt like a glitch in the system in many ways but the doll barely made a noise anymore. Two or three tantrums a day made life with Bilbo Munson-L/n a breeze.

“And Eddie ‘the freak’ Munson? What’s he like as a partner?” Steve questioned, “you seem to get on well.”

“Why? Because I’m nice to him?”

“I’m nice to him!” He took your words defensively, “doesn’t mean he isn’t a freak.”

“He’s a good partner, great, even. And you are not nice to him. Last year, you and Tommy would shoot spitballs at Hellfire every day until Higgins told you to stop.”

“That was Tommy’s idea.” He still went along with it. The amusement Steve still felt from the prank made your stomach turn.

“Eddie’s actually trying. We’re doing rather well I’d like to think.”

“Tell that to Tammy and Greg when he didn’t do his project in O’Donnell’s last spring. He nearly cost them their own grades.”

“Well,” you gripped the door to your locker. As you did, your thumb grazed that picture of you and the boys as Star Wars characters a few Halloween’s back. “O’Donnell’s a bitch. She has it out for everyone.”

That’s exactly what Eddie had told you.

“Yeah, right,” Steve said in disbelief, “he put you up to this? Makin’ everyone believe he’s actually gonna graduate on time like the rest of us?”

“Steve,” you huffed. He was angry he wasn’t succeeding at project parenthood and you and Eddie were. The fact that he and Nancy had barely spoken two sentences to each other that entire week also increased his belligerence.

“We’re all managing the best we can. Eddie’s a good partner. It surprised me too but here we are, almost done, and he’s done nothing but stay true to his word.”

Well, mostly. You tried to forget about the school day on Wednesday.

“He giving you free weed or something to get him a good grade? I heard he’s gonna deal the party which means it’s only gonna be fun for an hour before everyone is high and annoying.”

“Hey,” Nancy narrowed her eyes at Steve, “why is everything a deal? If she says he’s a good partner, then he’s a good partner. End of story.”

“So, you’re defending Munson now too?” He rose his eyebrows high beneath his three strands of hair that fell onto his forehead. “Jesus… it’s the literal apocalypse. Apocalypse!”

“I’m not having this conversation with you.”

Done with Steve’s antics, Nancy turned her body away from Steve and back to how she was originally standing. Inside, her mind was fighting every physical urge to apologize and revert back to her timid self of one year ago.

But she could feel the way your demeanor changed when Steve began cutting on Eddie. You were her friend—best friend—and Nancy Wheeler would be dammed if her boyfriend was going to make you feel that way.

Steve was growing. However, he was far from perfect.

“Nance, come on…” Steve complained as he rested his head on her shoulder. She ignored him the best she could at the moment.

“Are you going to the game tonight? Last one for the year,” football game. Nancy’s wide eyes were hopeful that she wouldn’t be stuck standing by a wild Steve and the popular kids she didn’t like.

“No,” you shook your head, grabbing Bilbo out of the locker and shutting it. “I’ve got Bilbo and I have to study for that Spanish test from last week when I get home.”

“You had Bilbo yesterday! What happened to Eddie doing his fair share?”

“He has Hellfire tonight and when we went through our plans, I told him I would take the doll when he had his club. He swapped Sunday so if you aren’t hungover from the party, we can get breakfast or something.”

Steve wrapped his arms around Nancy’s waist, pulling her tightly against him as she breathed out heavily.

“Fine,” she grumbled, “but you’re picking up the tab.”

“You’re really going to study for a Spanish test on a Friday night?” Steve asked, brow quirked and judgmental.

“Tell me, Steve,” you shut your locker, “with Halloween and all of my other homework on Sunday, when would I have time to study for the test? Some of us do study and I know that might surprise you.”

“Ouch,” he winced, pouting as Nancy tried to wiggle from his grasp, “You’re being mean. I blame Munson. He’s corrupting you.”

“Blame away,” you began walking backwards from the two lovers as the clock ticked rapidly toward the end of passing period. “I rather like the person I’m turning into.”

“Have you thought about your costume yet?”

As you stepped out of Clay’s calculus class, Eddie snatched the homework (that the teacher had been passing out not a moment before) from your hands.

He had left Click’s history class five minutes early to catch you before Nancy drove you home. To make frivolous conversation, he asked about calculus and joked about you getting a tutor which left him burned when you told him he should get a tutor too—for all of his classes.

A few hours earlier, he had seen Nancy and Steve snug as a bug beside your locker as the hair’s arrogant attitude turned two faces sour. Eddie had observed it in passing; walking out of the lunchroom with the rest of the Hellfire members he shared it with only to pass your locker without you noticing because the two lovebirds held your attention.

The look on your face then was different than it was now. Relaxed, gratified. Another week was completed and Halloween was tomorrow.

“So…?” You waved a hand in front of his face. Eddie was staring into space; the kind where you don’t realize it because your thoughts are running either a million miles per second or not moving at all.

“Hm?” He asked, standing a bit straighter after realizing he hadn’t answered your question.

“Have you thought about your Halloween costume yet?” You questioned again as you slipped another notebook into your backpack.

“Got it yesterday, actually,” Eddie’s grin made your stomach flutter. He had that devilish smirk that made the football players angry as he stood on tables and jeered at their dull ignorance of being jocks.

“And it is what?”

“A surprise,” his eyes flicked to the pictures in your locker and this time, you caught him looking. Backing up a bit, the hand that wasn’t holding your backpack by its handle traced the edges of the pictures and plucked them off one by one from their spots.

“This one is from the Fourth of July last year,” you motioned for Eddie to take it and he did. “Nancy’s mom had us take all the kids to the fireworks at the fairgrounds.”

“Ah, the fireworks,” Eddie recalled, “pretty sure last year I graffitied Mayor Kline’s garage door the same time those were going on.”

“You didn’t,” you put the other picture in your hand up to your lips, hiding your mouth in bewilderment that he would openly admit to that. That shit made the news.

“Oh, but I did,” Eddie declared in a whispered excitement. The way he scrunched his nose at your disbelief made you beam from underneath the picture. “In big fat letters: if you repeat a lie enough, it becomes the truth.”

“In protest of Kline’s decision to build that mall? He was going to sell Forest Hill’s land, right?” You removed the picture from your mouth as the reality of his act of political artistic expression came to full realization. Eddie didn’t do things like that just to get a rise out of people. He did it because he hated the guy and without protest, who knew where he would be living at the moment.

“Yes, ma’am,” he held his chin out proudly, “saved the people of the trailer park. Local hero and all…” he boasted with a smile before handing back the first picture.

“So, you and Wheeler have been friends for a bit?”

“Since we were little,” you nodded your head and stuck that picture back onto the metal locker. Eddie took the second one you offered. “Our parents went to school together and I guess they’re not in the same tax bracket anymore but Karen Wheeler and my mom still get together every Sunday to talk shit about Nancy’s dad.”

“Not yours?” Eddie snickered.

“No,” you dropped your backpack on the ground and faced him fully, “my parents get along just fine. But these little dweebs,” you pointed your finger at the boys in the photo, “are the same ones from the car the other day.”

“This one,” he pointed to Mike, “is Wheeler’s brother.”

“Mike,” you gave him an ‘uh-huh,’ “and this here is Will Byers—who I don’t babysit,” you looked up at him, “and these two… these two are the worst offenders of them all.”

Eddie hardly doubted that. Two cheeky smiles hanging onto your shoulders as your arms wrapped around theirs. A curly haired Han Solo and a grinning Luke Skywalker.

“Dustin Henderson and Lucas Sinclair. I’ve babysat them since I was like… eight.”

“You’re good with kids then?” He quirked a brow, genuinely asking.

Every second he could spend getting to know you better he grasped tightly.

“I guess,” he looked back at the picture and saw the joy on those kids faces. They were happy to be there; they were happy to be in your presence and he couldn’t blame them in the slightest. “It’s as good as a job as any but I don’t know if I’ll ever want my own. Maybe if the right circumstances present themselves I’ll change my mind.”

“But they’ve got nothing on Bilbo, right?”

“Oh, no,” you laughed and grabbed the picture back, “Bilbo runs circles around them. Doesn’t talk back, does his homework on time…”

“Are you going to bring Bilbo to Tina’s? Not really sure Sandra Dee would be seen carrying a baby.”

“My dad offered to make sure any tantrums would be dealt with. We are free to live our lives as childless parents,” you joked and Eddie imagined this Halloween but also a hundred more. “You can pick him up when you drop me off.”

Childless or not. A part of him couldn’t imagine it without you.

“You have,” Eddie cleared his throat, eyes darting around the hallway before landing back to you, “you have really nice parents, by the way.”

“Thanks,” taken aback by his honesty, “I mean, I think they’re just like everyone else’s but yeah, I guess they’re nice.”

“Not everyone’s parents would have let me stay at their house all afternoon,” he shoved his hands into his jacket’s pockets and leaned against the lockers with a slouch. “Some of us drew the short straw in that department.”

Eddie never talked about his home life. You knew of Wayne because he worked at the plant with your dad, but no one ever really talked about it. In sixth grade, he was out for a week because his mom died. The teacher passed around a card for you all to sign yet no one said a word when he returned.

“Well,” you shrugged to pretend it wasn’t as heavy as it seemed, “the families we’re given don’t have to be the ones we choose. These kids,” you pointed to the picture you just put back, “are my family even if we don’t share any blood.”

“You know,” Eddie gazed at you with tender eyes that you wouldn’t have caught if you weren’t in tune with your own emotions. “You’re a little too smart for your own good.”

You laughed, grinning from ear to ear as you leaned down to grab your backpack again. “Not at math, though.”

“No,” Eddie shook his head. He ducked his head, feeling the heat creep onto his neck until it found its way on his cheeks. His hair hid what you couldn’t see. You grabbed your science textbook and Bilbo before closing your locker. When he willed the tint away, he watched the way you adjusted the bag on your shoulders with one hand as you held Bilbo in the other.

“I guess not math.”

“I’d rather have the emotional intelligence anyway,” tossing your head in the direction of the door, Eddie animatedly sprung himself from the lockers and back into the emptying hallway. Two cheerleaders nearly ran into him and he lifted his arms like he had been caught for murder.

Emotional intelligence. If you had stronger, clearer emotional intelligence you would have taken the initiative to ask Eddie out. You would have realized your crush on him was firm and unyielding enough to warrant an actual date.

But the “not date, date” of Tina’s Halloween party loitered between the two of you. Neither had mentioned the “not date” besides the costumes you were going to wear that wouldn’t match.

As you navigated the halls together to exit the building, Eddie walked beside you and every so often, his arm would brush yours. Not on accident.

“Dustin and those kids, they’re in middle school?”

“Eighth graders…” just the thought that next fall they’d be in high school made you feel really old. “They’ll be coming here next year.”

“I’ll have to tell Gareth about them,” he said, “maybe when I’m gone he can recruit them for Hellfire.”

“You gonna graduate on time, Munson?” You smiled, knocking your shoulder into the arm that kept grazing you. As dramatically as Eddie could, he stumbled and rubbed his arm like it hurt.

“That’s offensive, you know that?” He feigned insult. “If I don’t, I’ll just welcome them myself. The lost sheepies are the ones that are easiest to catch.”

“Lost sheepies,” you repeated softly. Eddie pattered his way back beside you.

“They’d probably like you a lot,” you told him when he returned. “Will would take a minute to warm up to you but I think Dustin would cling to you. He likes the… weird ones.”

“First I’m not gonna graduate on time and now I’m weird?” Eddie threw his head back. “You’re killin’ me today with this defamation.”

Defamation. ‘Where the hell did that come from,’ Eddie thought to himself.

“I don’t think you being weird is a bad thing, Eddie,” Eddie. Not Munson or anything else. It was something he’d never tire of hearing. “You just embrace it. Weird is cool—even if Billy or Tammy or Carol don’t think so.”

“You’re pretty weird yourself, mama.”

The end of the hallway was quickly approaching and Eddie jogged forward, opening the door for you and holding open.

“Thanks,” you told him, “for both the… compliment and the door.”

“It’s what fellow weirdos do for each other,” at the end of the walkway, Eddie realized he was going in one direction and you the other.

The end of Friday had been reached. Only the Halloween party was left.

“I guess I’ll see you tomorrow then, yeah?” He asked as if the answer wasn’t clear. You nodded, head giving an enthusiastic bob you’d be thinking over later.

“How will I know what to look for if you don’t tell me what your going as?” You shouted as he walked toward his van. There wasn’t a part of you that cared what other people thought anymore.

Carol and Billy get fucked. There was only one life you’d remember and you’d be dammed if Eddie wasn’t a part of it in some way.

“Don’t worry, mama,” he turned around and kept walking backwards. A smirk playing on lips like it always belonged there. “You’ll recognize me.”

“Okay,” Nancy came trotting back into her room from her mother’s closet, “here,” she tossed a small red scarf into your lap as you sat on her bed.

“What’s this?”

“The ascot I said I’d give you,” she said like it was obvious. Nancy fiddled with the black tie on her shirt in the mirror above her dresser.

“Nance,” you called over to her, catching her eyes, “have you ever seen Grease?”

“Of course I have.”

“Then you’d know that Sandy doesn’t wear an ascot… just red shoes.”

“No,” she objected, “she definitely wears an ascot.”

“Tell that to Olivia Newton-John,” you got up from the bed and went straight to her closet, pulling it open to reveal a small stack of VHS tapes at the bottom. Grease was the fifth one down and on the back, Danny and Sandy at the senior carnival fun house was plastered on the back.

You handed it to her on unsteady legs as the red heels you wore were beginning to become unforgiving. One night, just one night.

“See,” you told her, “no ascot.”

“I swear to God she had one,” Nancy looked in wonder before handing it back to you. “But you’ve got the shirt and leggings and belt. That’s good enough.”

“No jacket though,” you sat back down on her bed.

“Maybe there’s a reason you couldn’t find it,” she giggled to herself like a schoolgirl.

“Oh, yeah?” You questioned. All this dancing around… you didn’t want Monday to arrive and end with Eddie never speaking to you again. Wishing upon a shooting star, whatever confidence you could muster tonight would have to manifest itself into reality.

Project Parenthood was not going to end on your watch without you asking Eddie Munson out on a date.

That was what you came to terms with Friday night.

You just hoped he didn’t think you a fool for believing he might actually say yes. You also didn’t take Eddie to be the kind of guy who’d be embarrassed that a girl asked him out. What if he wanted someone to be forward? What if he liked confidence and strife over classic gender roles being challenged?

The guy was as non-conformist as a person could get.

“Well, maybe Billy Hargrove would lend me his,” you joked and she dropped the tube of mascara she had just picked up back on the dresser.

“Billy Hargrove?” She spoke in a harsh whisper as her hand searched for it again. “What the hell—“

Nancy took one look at you and saw the mischief all over your face. It was a joke. You were joking. You wouldn’t let Billy Hargrove touch you with a ten foot pole.

“I think if Eddie Munson heard you say that he would keel over.”

“I think if Eddie Munson heard I had a big fat crush on him he’d keel over.”

Nancy thought it was nice to hear you admit that.

“Die from excitement or die from embarrassment?” Nancy laughed as you fell back against the bed. Her pillows sounded a “poof” as you laid against them.

“Hopefully not that latter.”

“I don’t think he would die from embarrassment… if my opinion means anything,” she returned the wand to the tube before sitting down beside your reclined figure on the bed. Nancy took your hand in hers and squeezed it.

“Eddie is the strangest, weirdest person I think I’ve ever laid eyes on but if he can make you happy, then that’s all I want for you.”

“Even after what I said about you and Steve the other day? You still want me to be the one to ride off into a sunset?”

Nancy shrugged, looking down at your hands entwined. “Sometimes the truth is hard to swallow. Maybe Steve just isn’t the one.”

“But he’s the Joel to your Lana.”

“Tonight, yeah,” she sighed, patting your hands with her free one, “but the bullshit has to stop. I just don’t know how to tell him.”

“Nance,” you fidgeted your hand out of hers and sat up on your elbows. Nancy’s room full of cream colors and pinks was juvenile while her experiences and feelings were far from it.

“It’s true though, isn’t it? It’s been two years and sometimes I feel like I don’t know him at all. Where his mind is at, concerns… I try and get him to open up but he just won’t. How am I supposed to be a good girlfriend when all he wants to do is party and hang with friends on the weekend?”

“This has to be your decision,” you told her candidly, “and perhaps after tonight you’ll feel differently.”

“We still on for breakfast tomorrow?” Nancy got up from the bed and went back to her dresser. “That way I can tell you all about it because Eddie’s taking you home.”

“Yeah, we’re still on.”

“And then you can tell me all about how Eddie is actually, surprisingly, a good kisser,” she laughed as you stuffed your head into her pillows.

“You really sound like Barb; you know that?”

“No, no,” Nancy shook her head, putting up a finger in the mirror, “Barb would say, ‘you really think Eddie Munson would be a good boyfriend? Don’t you remember when he hotboxed weed in his van at lunch last year and Chief Hopper had to tape off the parking spot because little kids were accidentally given a second-hand high?’ That’s what she’d say.”

“And then she’d ask if he made it to second base,” you grinned, turning over to stare at her ceiling. “Only to be followed with a very loud ‘eww, I can’t believe you did that!”

“I miss her,” Nancy said fondly, “she wasn’t the biggest fan of Steve but she’d want me to be happy. She’d want you to be happy to so,” she gave you that knowing look, “you’re gonna put on some red lipstick and drink a couple beers and by the time Eddie Munson knows what’s hit him, he’ll be so in love no other girl could compare.”

Overwhelming.

That was the first word that popped into your mind when you thought of the scene around you. It was nine-thirty, there were cars parked sloppily on the grass and students scattered everywhere. The music was blasting from Tina’s stereo so loudly it might burst your eardrum by the time the night is over and it helped none that the one thing you wanted to find was missing—somewhere in the house or the yards but not beside you.

Third wheeling with Steve and Nancy wasn’t fun when they argued on the ride over.

You sat in the back of Steve’s BMW wishing to be sucked into the seat only to never be seen again. Nancy’s attitude shifted from excited to upset and Steve was just being an asshole about the whole “parties are fun and we’re going to stay the entire time” conversation that started the argument. Those feelings lingered when the car parked, when the three of you made it inside, and then when you found yourself stuffed into a corner beside a curio cabinet.

“Oh, God,” Nancy mumbled when Billy Hargrove—alongside Tommy Hagen and the rest of the goons who couldn’t separate themselves from the freshest meat—clocked the three of you standing away from the entry way’s makeshift dance floor. “Don’t start anything,” she told Steve who looked in the direction she stared.

Besides the crushing weight of the party on your shoulders, stepping out of your comfort zone in a Halloween costume that Nancy picked out for you made your hands shake with tension. The confident thoughts of earlier running out of your mind the second everyone started looking at you like a fish out of water. A couple guys whistled, the girls judged. There was no happy medium at a place like this.

“Looks like we’ve got ourselves a new keg king, Harrington,” Tommy gloated as Billy challenged Steve. He pulled off his sunglasses and Nancy turned around to you.

“Let’s go get a drink, yeah?” She asked with pleading eyes. You glanced at the group of hot-shot boys—their gazes watching you and Nancy like pieces of meat for taking and it made your skin crawl.

“Yeah,” you let Nancy hook her pinky through yours as the two of you trekked past groups of your peers quickly getting drunk and eating scattered snacks in the kitchen. A couple, whom you didn’t know, were swapping tongues beside the stove.

On the counter beside open bottles of booze, a bowl fitted with dry ice and a ruby liquid sat being consumed by a boy in a toga. He chugged a red cup down before filling another one and doing the same. That was ‘pure fuel’ or the one drink that could send anyone to that drunken bliss with so much as a sip. Nancy peered into it like a mysterious lake.

“Do you want any?” She picked up two red solo cups, offering up one for you but you looked around for the fridge instead. Behind you, next to the two making out, the fridge was left cracked open.

“No,” you walked the small space to the fridge and grabbed a cold can of Pabst Blue Ribbon out of it. It was a party; Tina was going to buy the cheapest beer she could. “And I wouldn’t suggest you drink a ton of that either.”

“Why?” Nancy contested, swiping the cup into the bowl. “Aren’t we supposed to have fun? Get drunk and make stupid mistakes while we’re young? Just be stupid teenagers for one night.”

She was still pissed off at Steve.

“If you’re going to drink that,” you cracked open the can in relief when one of your nails didn’t break, “try to know your limit, alright? I don’t want to babysit you over the toilet later.”

“Deal,” she chugged the cup over the bowl as Steve rejoined the two of you. He began protesting her actions immediately and she replied by using his words against him—the same ones he used to argue to stay at the party. Nancy filled her cup again, slammed it, and wiped the excess of her face before leaving the two of you in the dust.

“You say somethin’ to her?” Steve turned to you with an accusatory glare. “She’s been weird all week.”

“She’s been weird or you’ve been ignoring her?” You countered unexpectedly.

“I haven’t been ignoring her.”

“I’ve seen you with Tammy Thompson more times than I can count this week and every day when Nance takes me home, you don’t kiss her goodbye.”

“We’re partners, remember?” Steve scoffed. “You should know that more than anyone. Where is the freak anyway? I can smell the weed; I know he’s here yet he’s not with you…” He was mad too. Steve and Nancy both angry at each other made everyone else in their paths feel the scorching ire of their pain.

“He’s not my date, Steve… He’s my partner, remember?”

Rolling your eyes, you brushed past him and left him in the kitchen alone. A quick escape through the door that led to the backyard let the cool breeze meet your face and the sting of Steve’s words fell from you. It was a rather nice October night. It was just cold enough where jackets could be enjoyed but the Midwestern urge to remain strong in the breeze left many without one. There was a bonfire raging in the back and friend groups scattered on the lawn.

Katie Yang was sitting around the bonfire when her eyes caught the door to Tina’s house open and close.

Her eyes nearly popped out of her skull—not from the smell of weed surrounding her, but from the fact that Eddie hadn’t been lying.

An hour ago, Eddie rolled up to Tina’s with a backpack full of drugs yet that wasn’t what everyone talked about as the fast murmured rumors made their way through crowds of students like tidal wave. With the three other members of Hellfire that had been invited because they were seniors, the whispers surrounded them first before someone had the will to approach them.

“Shit,” She didn’t know their name, “did you hear about Munson?”

“What about him?” Katie asked them and they threw their head back, hair going a wild as they screeched.

“He’s dressed as fucking Danny Zuko! And not the cool one!”

“Danny Zuko…” Katie trailed off, furrowing her brows as she tried to place the name. “From Grease?”

Eddie was musical, yes, but he didn’t like a ton of musicals.

“You’re joking,” one of the members of Hellfire said before moving through the living room crowd and peeking out through the blinds of the closest window.

“Holy fucking shit!”

He stuck out like a sore thumb. He was wearing the classic all black, tight jeans with a white cardigan sweater embossed with a red ‘R’ sewed into the side. Eddie’s hair was pulled into a ponytail and while he didn’t wear the look often, some of the drunk girls in the yard were ogling him like they’d jump his bones in an instant. When he came inside, the students gawked before realizing their weed had arrived and while they jested with Eddie, their words didn’t hit him. Katie could see the way their words brushed off his shoulder and he kept looking at the door.

So, an hour after that she saw you walk out of Tina’s house dressed as Sandy, Katie had to bite back the first remark that came to mind. She picked a couple blades of grass off the ground as Eddie rolled papers next to her on a tree stump—the glow from the bonfire lighting his work.

“Why’d you decide to go as Danny?” Katie proposed, watching you lean against one of the columns and drink the rancid PBR like it was water.

“Why not?” Eddie replied but focused solely on the ratio of weed to paper in his lap. Every time he put a rolled one down next to him, someone would swipe it, light it, and disappear before he could complain.

“Didn’t take you for a man who’d grovel for a lady, that’s all.”

“I don’t grovel, Yang,” he quipped and she smiled, folding her arms over her bent legs and laying her head on it.

“Besides, you see me crawling now?” Eddie motioned to the papers in his lap. “Little miss Mary Jane is the priority right now.”

“You sure about that?”

Eddie heard the way she crooned, her eyes flicking from his own to the house. His heart skipped a beat. The knowledge that if he looked now, he’d see you there—perhaps not even looking in his direction—but available for him to admire for a time. Since the moment you told him you were going as Sandy, he dreamt, daydreamed, about what you’d look like. How the vision he conjured was nothing compared to the way you’d embrace every part of yourself in an outfit like that.

“I can roll, if you want,” Katie suggested as he contemplated throwing the weed on the ground and forgetting all about it. He did admit once that he’d consider going sober for you. Before he could even object, she took the baggie from beside him and put a hand out for the papers.

“Gareth told me all about it,” she admitted. Eddie couldn’t even be mad. “Go get that girl, Munson. It’s not every day your dreams come true.”

All he could muster was a tight smile for her.

There were a lot of people in the yard. Every face blurred the brighter the fire got; some littered in the grass, others standing, a few on stools or stumps. Your feet were aching as you gripped the banister to relieve the pressure. A half drank PBR clutched in one hand as you stared down at your feet. Eddie sauntered over to the house as you shifted your feet. His quiet steps against the grass not alerting you that he had been sitting in the backyard at all.

Eddie planted himself a foot away from the deck in front of you, swallowing his fears and trying to embody the voice of surprise that mimicked the exact moment in the movie. A little accent, a little bit of the ‘ol greaser swagger.

Just a guy, seeing a girl, and absolutely smitten in the way in which she looks.

“Mama!?”

And only Eddie could get that smile to creep onto your face.

The not date, date was simple.

It had taken you an entire hour to find Eddie on a property no bigger than the Wheeler’s and the moment you heard his ‘surprised’ voice, you knew the evening had changed for the better. For two hours, you sat beside one another and just talked. He talked about his hobbies and joked about his nerdy interests while you detailed your own and he listened as intently as you had for his. In his stupid letterman cardigan and his stupid ponytailed hair, Eddie sat beside you on the deck—backs against the railing as you sat on the wood floor—and admitted that he hadn’t ever planned to wear a costume in the first place.

“So,” you knocked your heeled foot against his converse, “where in the world did you manage to find that sweater?”

“This old thing?” He pulled at the lapels, “I have a bunch of them in my closest. What? You’ve never seen me wear these before?” He lived for the giggle that left your lips. Painted in a candy red, it was hard not to look right at them.

“Oh, yeah,” you faked support for his lie, “all the time, Eddie. It’s your best look obviously.”

“That’s what I said!” Eddie cackled, drawing a can of beer to his lips. “Gareth helped me. His sister used to watch Grease all the time so he had a pretty good idea of what I was looking for.”

“I’ll have to thank him then,” you moved your hands to sit in your lap, fingernails making a small clicking sound as they met before looking over at him.

“Why?”

You leaned your head in as he would have done. “Because he helped you pick out those jeans.”

For a second, Eddie was stunned silent. His lip quirked, eyes sparkling and wide with utter fascination that you had just explicitly flirted with him when he had been planning to make all the moves on Halloween. It was his moment; his situation that he grasped tightly and ran with because if it wasn’t him, he felt it would slip through his fingers.

But you had just given him hope that his feelings may have not been one sided. That your kindness and acceptance of him wasn’t misplaced in pity but instead in attraction.

“Well,” he said lowly, “then I guess I have to thank Wheeler then, too.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because she told you to dress like this and I think you just walked out of a fantasy I didn’t know I had.”

The surge of butterflies hit your confidence like the wolf blowing down the house made of sticks—wavering for a second before standing tall again. Eddie had a blush dusting his cheeks yet he didn’t hide from you; a tightrope growing thicker for every word shared, every sentiment revealed and accepted.

“I guess I should dress like this all the time?”

Eddie nudged you playfully, appreciating that you reciprocated it and swayed back toward him. “I think I like the way you dress everyday a little bit more.”

“Yeah, me too. Kinda miss those rings… you're not ‘Eddie’ without them. Or the vest, leather jacket… any of it.”

He looked down at his ringless hands only to agree. There was a nakedness to his appearance without them. He had his necklace, but no bracelet, no rings, no chain, no handcuff belt, and it felt different even if it was just a costume.

“I am surprised you chose this Danny to dress up as.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm,” you nodded, “I guess it’s ironic for me too.”

“Ironic?” He questioned. “How?”

“When Danny and Sandy realize they like each other,” you spoke carefully to find the right words. From the time you’ve spent with Eddie over the last week and two days, he listened to everything. He remembered much more than he let on and he read people, their emotions, and their words with caution; “they change themselves only to fall back to who they were because no one has to change to be loved.”

“Do you remember when I said you were too smart for your own good?”

You laughed, glancing at him for a second too long before biting your lip. “You don’t have to stop being ‘Eddie’ for people to like you. I’m more than content with Eddie Munson “rockstar” than I am Eddie Munson “letterman Danny Zuko.”

“Wow,” he said, drawing out the word slowly, “did the girl next door just say she liked me?”

Only Eddie would joke about it. And only Eddie could make you feel good about admitting it.

“Well,” he said when he let the thought process through him, “you should know that you don’t have to be “hot girl Sandy” for me to like you either. I am more than content with “head in a book” and “Bilbo’s mama” than I am “leather bound in red heels.” And as he did whenever he wanted to invade your personal space more than sitting close, he leaned in, down to your ear, “but before you run off and never wear this again, indulge me?”

You turned your head at his words. He was so close. The smell of his cologne mixed with two cans of beer, one joint, and three cigarettes right beside you—arms touching, head barely two inches from yours. If this was a fantasy and he had begun the conversation two hours before with one of the most iconic lines from the film, all you would have to do is embody her like Nancy had told you and reply in kind.

Eddie could see the cogs turning in your head. Thoughts on how to go about it racking every part.

“Come on,” he leaned back, scrambling to his feet so quickly he almost knocked over his can. Eddie extended a hand, helping you stand before leading you back to the closest end of the deck. He let go of your hand and held them out in front of him as if telling you to stay before backing away.

“Okay, wait, wait, wait!” Eddie dug into the pocket of his white sweater and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. Tapping one from the pack, he held it up as an offering with enthusiastic eyes.

“Trust me, alright?”

You nodded, hands laid out along the railing of the deck on either side. The temptation was biting at him; the way you were effortlessly drawing him in. Closer and closer until he couldn’t breathe because he was so consumed by you that all he needed was one… little… taste.

He lifted his hand toward his face, showing you what he wanted. Eddie had the unlit cigarette between his pointer and middle fingers, pulling it away from his lips untouched.

“Open your mouth a little bit,” he said and watched as you followed his direction with no complaint.

Eddie stepped closer, hand going over your right arm that was outstretched to lift the cigarette toward your lips and inching the filter forward. You watched his eyes drift down, taking in the way your lips looked so different yet all the same coated in that red lipstick.

“You ever smoke before?” He asked lowly; voice an airless buzz against your face.

“Once or twice,” you admitted and he nodded, hair pulled back in a ponytail by a black scrunchie you could barely see. The sounds of Bon Jovi’s Runaway playing loudly around you.

“Then indulge me in this,” he replied as he let the filter land between your lips and let his fingers go. The cigarette teetered there between the red as they held it; Eddie not pulling back as he dug into his pocket again and pulled out a lighter.

“Still alright?”

You hummed around the stick and his knees nearly buckled at the sound. But he had to keep his cool. Eddie had to be suave; Eddie had to be tempting.

His thumb sparked the fire and it burned bright between you. The reflection of the blaze shining in both of your eyes and captivating, if only for a moment, the seconds before the brink.

Eddie held the flame to the other end and when it lit, he backed away quickly. He bit down on his lower lip, nodding for you to do it and briefly, you felt a little ridiculous as the scattered students of Hawkins high disappeared around you. Their presence not important compared to the one dressed as letterman Danny Zuko.

The butt sizzled and flashed its angry red. You had yet to breathe it in. Eyes watching his every gesture as he stood there, waiting expectantly for you to make the move. He made his, you make yours, and then he would have to go again. A game of chess with two idiots in love.

Your demeanor changed when you breathed in the stick for the first time. Once or twice his ass, Eddie thought as you didn’t even lift your hands off the railings to grab it away from your lips—just held it there between them as the smoke escaped from the sides.

‘If he can make you happy, then that’s all I want for you,’ Nancy’s admission playing loudly in your head that balanced the rapid thumping of your heart.

If you hadn’t known Eddie held a candle for you before, the way he was looking at you now was enough. If his admission wasn’t enough, his eyes were. Utterly captivated by the way you stood—confident and seductive. Hip slightly jutted out, your heeled feet helped bend one leg and the image was perfect. Seared into his brain forever as the moment he realized that you were the one in his dreams.

A fantasy where he was the strapping Aragorn—a hero, courageous and strong, with his Arwen—timeless and headstrong, kind and forgiving.

Your eyes broke away from his stare and out to the yard. The cigarette’s smoke left your lips again. Eddie rose both of his hands into a prayer position; fingers meeting and resting against his lips right under his nose. The anticipation was killing him.

In an instant, your eyes returned and what he saw sent him to an early grave. He met his maker and was cast away like Icarus as you adjusted the way your posture presented you from the top of your head, out your fingers, and through your toes.

Sandy to Frenchie to Rizzo be dammed. You embodied something greater than them all and he was lucky enough to be at the receiving end of it.

And then you said it.

You indulged him in a fantasy he didn’t even know he had until you told him what you were going as.

“Tell me about it,” manicured fingers took the cigarette away from your lips and the smoke billowed into the night, “stud.”

And like Sandy does in the film, you dropped the cigarette and put it out with your shoe, arms going back to the decks railing and looking back at Eddie. Checkmate.

However, Eddie couldn’t have you get the checkmate. He couldn’t have you be the one to end up on top when he had been planning this for days. Since the moment he shrieked outside of Gareth’s window that he had a crush on you—fully formed and not a silly grade school one that made him want to tug pigtails and call you names. Eddie shook his head, dropping his hands from their position and drew close. He caged you into that spot and with the permission in your eyes, one of his hands grazed your side.

A brush of knuckles along the fabric of your shirt, belt, then pants, before his palm became certain. Running along the same track his knuckles had just traced before settling on your waist.

“Indulge me one more thing,” Eddie’s breath barely hitched when you rested one hand on the arm he had around you and the other gripped his sweater. He took his other hand and rested it on your jaw, thumb caressing a spot as his fingers gingerly held your head.

“Let me take you out. On a real date where I can bring you flowers,” he smiled the same time you did, “and your dad can tell me to have you home by nine but I’ll have you back at nine-o-five because I can’t stop kissing you in my shitty van.”

You pulled him closer, hand clutching his sweater tightly to keep him to you. “You beat me to it.”

“Yeah, mama?” He smiled, eyes consistently trained on your red lips. “You gonna ask me out?”

“I can’t,” you could barely function with the way your heart leapt, “I’ve already got a date.”

“So, that’s a yes?”

“Yes and are you gonna kiss me, Munson? I don’t think I can—“

Eddie didn’t let you finish. He pressed his lips to yours and you accepted them eagerly. His gentle touch a haven as the deal was sealed. Your hand that rested on his forearm moved to his hair, tugging out the scrunchie because if you were going to kiss Eddie, all of him had to be part of it. He reveled the feeling of your fingers weaving into his hair; lips threatening to grin as he got his girl and you got your boy. Nervousness subsiding, all that was left was the tenderness of being two people in love.

No longer two idiots in love; no longer two fake parenting partners.

But a pair fit like two puzzle pieces made for one another.

And when Mr. Allen collected the dolls on Monday, he revealed that each had a floppy disk inside their plush bodies that recorded the number of tantrums and minutes passed between them until soothed. As it turned out, you and Eddie had the best times in the class and in all of Mr. Allen’s years of teaching, Eddie Munson was the first one to prove him wrong. The ‘A’ on top of his assignment sheet at the end of that week became his most important achievement at the time.

Not because he managed to care for a fake baby, but because in the end, he walked out of the class hand and hand with you knowing that everything—no matter what would happen in his life—would be okay.

[Mario Bonus Round Sound: Oh, Baby, it’s Real]

The early morning sunlight trickled into the room from the breaks in the blinds. Everything was sterile; light woods and itchy fabrics, the bed wasn’t comfortable but it was better than the chair. A bag sat in the corner unzipped and its contents unflatteringly pulled out of it. There were fast food wrappers on a tray table with empty cups sitting on the windowsill ready to be basked in sunlight.

Eddie had never been more tired.

The chaise was a second option because he couldn’t have the bed and he would never ask to have it anyway. The chair had grown increasingly unworthy of his attention after sixteen hours of pacing and sitting, pacing and sitting. He could barely keep his eyes open. The kind of tired that Eddie was feeling made everything sluggish; his body laid out on the green piece of furniture, his hand skimmed the cold tile floor as the sounds of a tile cleaner passed by the closed door.

If someone asked eighteen-year-old Eddie Munson where he thought he’d be at thirty, sitting here, in a hospital in Los Angeles would not be his first assumption.

Mega rockstar? Hot-shot guitarist with the best hair? Those were more probable than this.

But he let the whirring of the machine act as white noise. However, in the life that he wouldn’t trade for anything, quiet never lasted long.

“Mr. Munson?” A hand shook his shoulder, nudging the sleep he wished for into the back of his mind to be dreamt of another time.

“Mr. Munson,” the voice called again. Eddie cracked an eye open and saw the nurse give him a small smile, pity for the obvious tiredness that drooped from his face. “I’m sorry to wake you but there are visitors outside and I didn’t want to bring them in because of…”

She didn’t need to say it. People posing to be friends or family just to get a picture or a story. It was something he had to deal with, yet never got used to. It wasn’t natural nor normal to have to hide pieces of a person’s life because people felt entitled to every piece of them. The price of fame was high; the balance of privacy and publicity was a difficult seesaw.

Eddie sat up, the nurse pulling back and waiting for him at the door. She had seen many people walk through these halls, sit and stay by their partner’s side during the most life changing moment they’d ever have and Eddie was no different than the best of them. As he past the bed, he rubbed a foot covered in a yellow blanket and hospital grade sheets gently before exiting the room.

“I put them in a room down here because they were adamant that they were family,” she told him, her glasses swinging on her scrubs and hair graying at the roots. “One young man was particularly vibrant in his language… Claims he’s her brother but I don’t think they look anything alike.”

Eddie chuckled, squeezing the woman’s shoulder as she pointed to the door that she had huddled them all in. “I think I know exactly who that is actually.”

“If you bring them in the room, have them try to be quiet. You don’t see much silence up here and I’d rather give the opportunity for peaceful rest.”

“Will do,” he said but deep down, he felt that silence wouldn’t last if the gaggle of people he believed to be beyond the door to the other room turned to be true.

“Congratulations again,” she said and left him in the hall.

Eddie could hear the chatter beyond the threshold; bickering and the distinct sound of plastic wrap around flowers and balloons crinkling through the air. His life had changed so much from 1984. Each year more difficult and challenging—unprecedented and terrifying but here he was, an established adult man with his life (sort of) put together. Everything was clicking into place and most of it stemmed from the moment Steve Harrington and a girl named Lisa drew two names out of Mr. Allen’s bowls from home.

He walked through the doorway and saw fifteen smiling, giddy faces beaming back at him with balloons, bags, and flowers in their hands. Dustin was holding a teddy bear, El, Max, and Lucas were carrying bags of food for everyone to eat for lunch.

“Surprise!” They shouted in scattered exclamations of excited cheers.

Eddie had never been so happy to have a family—one of his own and one of his choosing.

Dustin was the first to barrel into him, throwing his arms around Eddie and hugging him tightly. It set off a chain reaction in the room. Arms and bodies squished, Eddie couldn’t tell if it was Hopper, Wayne, or your dad who rubbed the top of his head like he was a dog. Either way, the love was felt; the love was absorbed and it spread further into the hospital than just that little room. Fifteen connected souls bonding over something new.

“Congrats man,” Steve extended a hand, grasping Eddie’s with a firm grip as Robin hung off his shoulder. “Never thought I’d see you like this. But it also confirms that you and Y/n do the deed and I don’t like thinking about that.”

“Yeah,” Eddie chuckled tiredly. They could see how drained he was. Only the older ones in the room could relate to how Eddie was feeling. “I didn’t think I’d ever be here either.”

“But you know what?” Nancy piped up from beside Steve. “I never had a doubt that you’d be a good dad.”

“Thanks, Wheeler,” hearing that from Nancy meant a lot. Dustin popped up again from beside Nancy, tucking himself in between her and Eddie. He still had that bear clutched in his hands.

“Can we meet him?”

El looked excitedly at him, “can I hold him!?” It was her first time doing something like this.

“Only if you keep your trap closed,” Eddie warned Dustin, face serious as it could be. “That nurse will kick my ass if you throw a rager in there, alright? So keep the volume low…” Eddie stopped, thinking on it for a second. Fifteen people all at once would be like running a race on a Hawkins street with a million other people. “And we’ll go in groups. Grandparents first, then godparents, then everyone else, ‘Kay?”

“Eye-eye captain,” Dustin saluted him but kept on Eddie’s heels as everyone exited the empty room to transition to one with two. The door was left cracked open, the quiet nature of the room wanting to be left undisturbed had to be broken.

They had traveled all this way for this moment.

“Let me go in first,” Eddie told them, the older adults giving him fond smiles because he was taking it as seriously as they hoped he did. Maybe that project parenthood assignment had left a lingering impact on him. Maybe Eddie Munson had just matured into the person he always wished his parents were and wasn’t going to screw it up because life could be unkind sometimes. “I’ll come get you.”

Fifteen people who hailed from Hawkins were left in the hallway as Eddie re-entered the room. He tried to keep his footsteps quiet but in the end, it was useless because the second he turned the small corner that blocked his view of the bed, you were sitting up with the television remote in your hand. Across the way, Grease played silently on the screen.

“What’s wrong?” You asked him as you tried to keep your voice low. “Did something happen?”

Eddie shook his head, walking straight over to the side of the bed where he took your hand, kissing the back of it before rubbing his thumb against the back of it.

“We’ve got a party bus of visitors from Indiana,” he said, looking over you to the plastic bassinet that was positioned beside the bed. Wrapped in a white blanket—in a perfect swaddle—was his little boy. “They’re all waiting outside the door and won’t take no for an answer,” he joked.

“My parents out there? Wayne?”

“Mhm,” he hummed, thumb still running across the back of your hand. “I think your mom has already cried. Her eyes are kind of puffy.”

“Don’t tell her that,” you muttered, taking your own look at the little bundle. On the sticker behind his little head, one last name, un-hyphenated, was written in black ink behind him. One family, one unit.

But his name wasn’t Bilbo.

“Can they come in?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, “just tell them to be quiet.”

Eddie smiled at you. Even in his tiredness, he could never hide the joy in his eyes. He was proud, eons beyond it in reality, but you had given him something he’d never dreamed of. A family. He would always have Wayne but now he had your parents, he had the kids, he had friends beyond Corroded Coffin and the people he worked with.

“I love you. You know that right?” He ran his free hand over your forehead, brushing the hair there and bending down to leave a kiss.

“You tell me every day,” you smiled, “and I love you too.”

“Then I guess he should meet his grandparents, huh?”

And when Eddie brought in your parents, Wayne, Hopper and Joyce, the sight brought you back to the first time Eddie ever stepped foot in your house.

How your dad watched reruns on the T.V. while you peeked out the blinds for him. He had known it then that Eddie was your forever. An arm wrapped around the man he considered to be the closest thing to a son he’d ever have, your father smiled at you the moment he saw the look in your eyes. Your mother skipped you completely and cooed at the little boy.

“Oh, baby,” she whispered at his chubby little face, “you have the best parents in the world.”

Tag List (Closed):

Thank you all for reading and supporting this fic series. I hope you enjoyed the last part and will stick around for any other Eddie writings I may do in the future. If you have been tagged in the tag list, I would humbly ask that you like and reblog to support but I also love reading and interacting with comments! I just love to hear from everyone so chat away—I want to know your thoughts.

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peterparkerluvr · 11 months

Text

2+2 | Peter Parker

(gif from @sacharinee)

mature content! 18+

pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Synopsis: Studying with Peter goes exactly right.

content warnings: steamy make out, swearing, sexual content, suggestive dialogue, Adam Sandler.

word count: 1620+

A/N: Hi! This is my first EVER smut, I hope you like it<3

It wasn’t my idea to study for Algebra, it never was. If I had a choice I would abolish Algebra from every school curriculum and burn every math textbook on the Earth, but of course that wasn’t possible.

“Ok, now that we have the x-intercept, we can just insert the y value from the center and finish the equation!”

“I have no clue what you just said,” Peter’s exasperated sighs fill my ears as I complain about his teaching, “I am just so sorry, I genuinely cannot do math.”

“Yes you can, you’re very smart and very capable and not everyone can add, so it is a-okay!” Sarcasm laces his tone, a humorous glint twinkling in his eye as he sends a cheeky grin my way.

“Ha. I know how to add, 2+2 is equal to 4!” He couldn’t hold in a laugh then, dissolving my prior confidence.

“On that note, let’s take a break!” Peter closed his open notes and pushed the notebooks to his side, stretching from his position.

As he lifts his arms above his head, the edge of his Midtown sweatshirt lifts upwards, exposing his skin and giving me a peek of the definition below. Lean muscle stretches across his abdomen, tensing with every move. His impressive v-line cutting into his torso, deep enough to lap water from-

“Uh, you okay?” his awkward chuckles interrupt my ogling,

“Yeah, yeah.” Spluttering out an excuse, I draw my eyes away from his very rock-hard abdominals and decide to intently stare at the thread hanging from his comforter.

“Let’s watch a movie or something?” He couldn’t hide his unmistakable blush as it crept from the round of his cheeks and flushed towards his chest, oh how I wish I could graze my fingertips across the pink tint on his upper body and-

“Good idea! What are you thinking?” I mention, focusing on his words and pretending to not be soaking wet for my best friend, I quickly dismiss the thoughts plaguing my mind.

“I feel like watching a comedy, take my mind off all the calculations,” He said while scrolling for the perfect piece of entertainment,

“Besides, anything will be better than those stupid graphing videos she forces down our throats.”

His soft brown eyes catch mine as they crinkle at the sides, his soft pink lips just begging to touch mine. Leaving me wondering just what other part of him wants to be touched, what other soft, pink things I can-

“Ahem, how about ‘Grownups’? I need a little Adam Sandler in my life right now.” I suggested, I need to rein in my thoughts and I need to do it ASAP.

“Perfect, just what I was thinking. Good job, you’ve found something you’re good at, movie suggestions!” Peter nudged me with his elbow as I moved to climb beside him in his bed.

His very small twin bed where just sitting side by side our thighs were molded together and I could hear his strong, steady heartbeat and his deep breathing.

This boy is going to be the death of me.

He pushes his pillows in an upright position behind us and moves an arm behind my shoulders to create a more comfortable position. His nimble fingers gently squeeze my shoulder as he looks down to catch my eye in an innocent smile.

He has to know what he’s doing to me.

He leans forward to press play on his laptop in front of us, slipping his hold from my shoulder to my waist, slightly pressing his palm into my torso. He shifts back into his former place, bucking his hips upward to settle into the bed.

Many expletives are running through my mind right now.

As the movie begins, all I can focus on are the curls of his hair resting against his forehead. The creamy red tint of his lips run through my mind as I imagine every place on my body I want his mouth to touch. I thought of his even breaths becoming aroused grunts and breathy moans, I imagined his soft voice becoming thick with pleasure and whimpering begs falling past his lips.

The taut string wound between my thighs pulled, threatening to snap as I let my mind run wild. I mindlessly rocked into the bed, yearning for friction to ease my discomfort.

Peter’s obnoxious laugh startled me out of my fantasy,

“I forgot how much I love this movie!” His pink lips pulled in a grin exposing his straight teeth, a sliver of his tongue resting between.

“Peter.” My resolve was weakening and I couldn’t resist the need to hear his name pass through my mouth.

“A-Are you okay, Y/N?” His gaze passes from my lips to my eyes, his voice becoming low and small.

“Can I just try something really fast?” My heartbeat quickened its pace as I struggled to gain the confidence to make a move.

His tiny nod my confirmation, I turned to face him and pulled my legs underneath me. Gulping down my fear and apprehension, I focus on the perfect boy sitting in front of me. His deep woodsy eyes boring into mine, his face twisted into one of confusion and a bit of excitement.

I move my fingertips to graze the crook of his neck, dipping into his collarbones and watching a soft blush erupt where my finger trails. I press my hands into his shoulders and lower my head to the crook of his neck. I hear his breathing increase as I move my tongue across the velvety expanse of his collarbone.

Peter releases another breath and latches a hand onto my lower back, slightly digging the tips of his fingers into the skin. I lean closer into him, scooting closer and moving my hand to his slender thigh. My tongue sucks on the smooth skin, warranting more quiet groans from Peter.

His hands push into my back, gripping my sides, faintly pulling my body into his. I push off of his shoulders and lift myself to straddle his legs, settling with our limbs tangled together, his thigh resting between mine. I move from his neck to pepper kisses along his jaw, my hips gently grinding on his thigh, easing the desperation in my clothed heat.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful,” Peter grips my waist and guides my movement, moving a hand to my chin, connecting our lips. His needy tongue invades my mouth, moving his hand to the side of my head, lacing his fingers in my hair. His teeth nip at my lower lip as he continues grinding my cunt along his thigh.

“Peter,” his name slips from my tongue in whimpers as he continues to let me use his thigh for pleasure. His wet kisses trail down my neck to my collarbone, he kisses into the swell of my breast, sucking gently.

He gently lifts me up and places me directly on his lap, through my position I can feel his erection pressing into my clit through my jeans, applying needed relief to the ache and leading me closer to my peak. His movements become more urgent as he bucks his hips into me, his hardness rubbing against the wetness between my legs.

“You feel so good Y/N, fuck,” His deep beathing becoming throaty grunts, he ruts into my sex as he furthers towards an orgasm. His kisses become urgent as he pushes his fingers into my sides, moving his mouth back to my chest forming hickies and biting into the skin leaving purple bruises on my body.

“Please, Peter,” My head falls to his shoulder, sucking gently on his exposed skin, my nails scratching into his upper back.

“Yeah baby?” His lips move to my jaw as he grips my chin to move my eyes to his, my pupils blown from the pleasure, husky pants leaving my open mouth.

“I’m gonna cum, Peter, please,” His hot mouth connects to mine, connecting in a feverish kiss. Hot and needy, his tongue strokes mine, his hands wrapping around my neck, his fingers pulling me even closer.

“fuck, cum for me baby,” His hand roughly pushes my cunt into his lap, attacking my neck with his tongue. His name drops from my tongue in a chant as I near my orgasm. My moans increase in volume and peak in a whine, my head rolls backwards as my vision blurs. My limbs tense as I ride out my high, moaning Peter’s name, my sex pulsing as I climax.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, Y/N you’re so good baby,” Harshly digging his fingertips into my sides, Peter pushes his head onto my chest as he cums. His hips rut upward into me, his lips sucking on my chest in his pleasure; biting harshly at the exposed skin, his movement slows as he rests on my collarbones.

Our deep breaths mix as we come down from our high. My fingers move to his head, lacing my fingers in his soft brown curls, slightly wet from sweat. Using my chin, I lift his head, meeting large pupils and tinted cheeks. I kiss from his forehead to each side of his face, landing in a sweet kiss on his lips, licking at his bottom lip and chewing at the skin.

“Y/N,” His eyes fill with admiration as he licks the taste of my tongue off of his lips and gives a few kisses to my chest moving up to my jaw,

“God, you’re so beautiful.” His thumbs trace circles into my waist as he looks up at me.

I push lightly against his chest, turning away from him,

“Wait, have we gotten to the part at the water park yet?” My attention diverting to the laptop screen, awaiting the appearance of Steve Buschemi.

205 notes · View notes

snorky · 5 months

Text

As My Broken Heart Falls To My Feet, You Picked Up The Pieces Having Never Hurt Me Anyway

Hey y’all! I hope you all are having a wonderful and blessed holiday season, and if not, I offer some comfort. Mason Lohrei comfort, sweet like hot cocoa, for the bitter winter air. I haven’t been all in the best spirits recently, but I offer you angels with something special. For those who have studied long and hard for school, or those who seek warmth, here is a story I hope you all enjoy. Take care of yourself!

Pairing: Mason Lohrei x F!Reader

Word Count: 4.3k

Warnings: Toxic Relationship (not with Mason), Angst, Stressed Reader, Infidelity/being cheated on (not by Mason), Drinking/Alcohol consumption (of legal age) (let me know if I need to add anything)

—

As the finals and midterms approached, the sense of being a false being, an impostor, filled her to the brim. She wanted to have knowledge, the desire to learn and know more, but there was only so much she could cram in before the next week.

A message buzzed on her phone, once or twice, bringing her back to the suffocating dorm room where she sat at her desk, notes and textbooks and pens sprawled everywhere.

When she looked, on the screen was a message from her significant other, who she felt was too overbearing, poisonous.

Nausea flooded her senses, the world seemingly swaying around her, spinning. Her stomach churned, heart sank, but then it all came to a halt. Taking a breath in, her fingers carefully sent out a response, praying to some higher power that it wouldn’t aggravate him further.

He saw her message no later than a few seconds, and sent a reply back just as quick.

After she responded, she set her phone down, forcing herself to refocus on the information of notes and diagrams in front of her, ignoring the outside world.

But again, her phone buzzed, almost angrily, forcing her attention back towards her phone. She didn’t have to look twice to know who it was, her heart kept its guard up well.

Her head swirled in loss, unable to come up with an answer that would satisfy the both of them. There was no solid answer, someone had to be disappointed.

Every time she went to his place, she left feeling just as empty as she came. All take, no give, and she felt like she no longer had anything to give. Her purpose seemed like a lost cause, drifting around on the Earth, seeking for something to fulfill her meaning.

His words cut through her like a shard of glass, broken from a cup. Common, all too familiar, and yet it hurts every time.

She set her phone down and gathered her notes into her bag, seeking a quick escape to the campus library, alone. No phone, no distraction. It was her safe space, and she'd be damned if it was occupied by someone that made her feel like she had to walk on eggshells.

The walk to the library was short, brisk, the cold evening air more apparent with each passing day. It was crowded, common for this time of year when each student suddenly discovered what a library was.

Luck was on her side as she found a seat near the back, empty and unoccupied. Quickly, she made her way through the mass of people crowding around the large tables, and took a seat at the smaller table.

As she reorganized her notes and books, she started to feel more at ease, at calm. All the information seemed to flow smoothly, easily in her mind, all the equations and diagrams making more sense than ever.

“Oh hey! It’s you!”

She looked up, searching for the voice, and her eyes were met with a familiar face from her analytics class. He was always cheery and energetic, a smile on his face paired with his rosy cheeks seemingly every day, a breath of fresh air from her hectic life.

“Oh, hi Mason.” A soft smile appeared on her face. “What’s up?”

His hands were stuck into the pockets of his jacket, emblem of the school’s hockey team embroidered proudly on the upper left of his jacket. “I’m bored, but I also need your help studying for the exams.”

Observing his face, she knew he was an honest man, no lie weaved in his words. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, I know you’re smart,” he stated with a smile.

She let out a gentle laugh at his words, warning herself not to take it to heart since she was, well, afraid of not meeting his expectations.

“I try, but that’s how it is sometimes,” she sighed. “Come sit, you’re welcome to if you want.” Her hand gestured towards the chair across from her, in which Mason set his bag down beside him as he sat in the chair.

He thanked her as he started to unpack his own notes, careful to not overtake the table. As he started to work on revising and studying his notes, he became stuck, evident in the confusion on his face and his furrowed brows.

She took note of this and tried to help him. “What’s wrong?”

Shaking his head slightly, he set the paper down between the both of them so that she could see the problem.

“How does this like, work?” He pointed towards a question written at the top of the page.

Looking at the paper, she saw a graph with several data points all clustered together in a pattern, as well as an equation written beside it, most likely representing how the data should be represented.

“So the equation represents how the data should show up over a given set of time, and you should first pick two points from the cluster to figure out the predicted trajectory of the data,”

He nodded his head, slowly starting to understand where he should go from there. She watched him as he scrawled down some numbers, using the equation to compare his results.

“Oh, just be careful, the data can switch up if you consider any external factors that might affect the data collected,” she added.

A smile formed on his face once he got the hang of it, the numbers and words making sense. “Thank you, a lot actually,” he chuckled. “I’ve been stuck on this for a day or two.”

Smiling at him, pride swelling in her heart, she spoke. “My pleasure, Mason. You’re always welcome to reach out to me ya’know? You have my email,”

“Mhm, sorry.” He let out a small laugh as he rubbed his hand on the back of his neck. “I just don’t use email often, I’d prefer to text you if that’s okay,”

She nodded in understanding and scrawled down her number on a post-it note, adding a small smiley face in the corner before she handed it to him.

He took the note and smiled at the little drawing, before putting the slip of paper in his pocket. “Thank you,”

Giving him a small smile, she returned her focus back to her own work, calculus problems to prepare herself for the upcoming exams.

They both worked in silence separately, and yet in each other’s presence. It was comforting, the sense of companionship.

Warm, inviting, it was all amazing, and all felt good.

Time flowed by like honey, slow and sweet, and it became late at the time it should’ve, and yet she didn’t want to go. The library was almost empty, few students still remaining.

He looked up at her, not wanting to leave either despite the late time. “Do you mind if we study together again?” His eyes were filled with a look of pure sweetness, a smile just as delicate. “I learned a lot from you, and I think that I’d learn more the next time,”

She smiled back, just as sweetly and twice more. “Of course, my pleasure, Mason.”

“Tomorrow?” A twinge of hope was interwoven in his voice.

“Tomorrow.” She nodded.

The look on his face could only be described as pure in her eyes, the look you’d see on a child holding their favorite stuffed animal, knowing that they’d carry it long into their adult years, never forgotten.

As they packed their bags and parted ways, they looked back at one another, still smiling.

She walked back towards her dorm, the night now dark, and only illuminated by the street lamps. The winter chill crept up on her, only making her move faster towards her destination.

When she opened the door to her dorm, her roommate, her best friend, stood in front of her, a rather concerned look etched on her face.

“Where have you been? Your boyfriend seems pretty angry and has been blowing up your phone,” she said nervously, an awkward grin on her face.

Her stomach sunk, a pit that her heart seemed to fall into. “Shucks, I guess I forgot my phone.” A lie, but it was necessary.

“Good luck, I’m here if you need anything.” Her friend saluted her, in which she saluted back as she grabbed her phone off of her desk.

Text after text was displayed on her phone, each message getting more furious after the previous one.

Carefully, she responded, with as much love and care and forgiveness as a saint would, despite her soul being marred and tainted with fear and doubt.

A few seconds after she sent the text, he called her. Her stomach sunk once more, her skin growing cold and clammy. The phone buzzed in her hand, sounding like a swarm of hornets hurling at her.

As she picked up the call, she anticipated his shouts, filled with wrath and anger, lashing out at her.

And so there was, his rough, gritted voice echoing through the phone, yelling some sort of rhetorical question about her whereabouts, hypocritical when she asked about his evening.

Shortly after, he hung up on her, allowing the silence to sound the other line. Her friend walked back into the dorm room, arms open in sympathy, which she took in the offer for.

“Listen, I’m not telling you what to do, but I think it’s best you drop him,”

She looked up at her friend, not in anger, but in saddened understanding. It was too evident that she was constantly being hurt, being deteriorated by his behavior.

“Just not right now, one day,”

Her friend nodded in understanding and walked back to her bunk while she stood there, thinking. It was a major step, maybe in the right direction, maybe in the wrong, but her foot wasn’t yet planted in the ground.

Nights passed, and it became the day, or rather night before her first exam. Empty disposable cups that were previously filled to the brim with tea were littered all over her desk, her notes scattered around, pens and pencils and highlighters sprawled out.

Her friends were in the library studying together since they had the same classes, as well as a final presentation and paper due, and so it was just her in the shared dorm, alone with the silence.

She had confidence in herself, that she’d do well, maybe even surpass her expectations, but there was some sort of lingering doubt.

Perhaps that doubt was reinforced by the fact that her significant other barely reached out to her at a time when she needed reassurance. Or maybe how he barely checked in on her, despite her checking in on him.

Tears sat on the edge of her eyes, her vision blurring slightly as she wiped them away, attempting to turn her focus to her work.

She wanted, desired, a future where she was at peace. Where she could come home smiling, where she would live without fear of disappointing or angering. What she wanted was to get herself back.

As she began to refocus herself on her work, fueled by some fury to be better, the stress seemed to watch her from afar, but not far enough. It was a false ideology to believe that she was okay at the moment, but nothing felt better than masking it for a little while.

Knocking came from her door, which was odd when she considered that her friends told her that they would be back by nine, not seven. She also considered the fact that her friends would most likely have their keys on them.

Getting up from her chair, she walked to the door, confused.

“Hello?”

“Hi.” A familiar voice responded. “It’s me, Mason, from your analytics class.”

She opened the door, revealing him standing there, a beautiful bouquet of flowers in one hand, and a bag of fancy chocolates in the other. His smile seemed extra sweet, sweeter than it normally was, and his face was flushed with a soft pink tint.

“These are for you,” he said, his voice tender and soft.

Her hand came up to her mouth slightly, attempting to cover up the fact that she was beyond awe at what he had brought to her.

“Mason, what—”

Mason quickly became more flustered, embarrassed by the fact that her reaction was a little different from what he’d expected. “I’m sorry if you don’t like them—”

“No no,” she interjected, walking closer towards him, her fingers lightly grazing the petals of the flower. “They’re gorgeous, Mason.”

His smile came back again, beaming with delight as she took the bouquet from his arms. “Thank you,” he said bashfully. “And I got you some chocolates as well, you deserve some after working really hard on studying.”

Her eyes lit up as she noticed it was her favorite, and she looked up at him. “How’d you know?”

“On the first few days of the lectures, you gave everyone around you chocolate,” he chuckled sweetly, his laugh smooth like honey. “You then turned to your friend stating that these were your favorites.”

She blushed, acknowledging how he was attentive to the little things, as well as the gesture of it.

Looking down at the flowers in her arms, she smiled, but not yet understanding why he gave them to her. “And the flowers?”

“A little birdie told me you were not doing so well, and so I thought you might want something that’d maybe cheer you up,”

He smiled more at the sound of her slight laugh at his response, but he could tell that the look in her eyes seemed heartbroken.

“Thank you, Mason,” her voice broke a little. “It means a lot during around this time, ya’know, finals and stuff,”

His face expressed slight worry and concern at the sound of her voice, not sounding as happy as she seemed. “My pleasure, but may I ask you what’s wrong?”

She looked up at him, suddenly vulnerable and scared, but she trusted him. “Just a crappy personal life, that’s all,” she laughed bitterly.

Nodding his head, he hummed in understanding. “I’m here if you need anything, I can assure you that you saved my butt for that analytics class.” He let out a laugh, in which she laughed as well. “Pretty sure I would fail my exam tomorrow if you hadn’t helped me,”

At this point, she finally snapped, the storm of tears flowing down her face rapidly as she sobbed.

No one had ever thanked her so purely just for helping them. No one had been so kind and sweet to her besides her friends and roommates. Not even her significant other had cared for her this much in a time where she needed it.

“What’s wrong, are you alright?” He quickly took a step closer to her, wrapping his arms around her shoulders as she cried into his chest.

“M’sorry Mason but—” She hiccuped, “I just really appreciate you caring for me like this.”

His hand gently stroked her upper back in a soothing motion as he hushed her, hoping that she’d be comfortable around him.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” he whispered. “I’m really proud of you, alright?”

The kind words fell from his lips so sweetly that she cried even harder, knowing that even her significant other hadn’t said anything reassuring in nature to her.

“Mason, I’m sorry but, not even my boyfriend did anything like this for me.” She continued to cry in his embrace, grateful that no one was watching as he walked them both further into the room, closing the door behind him.

His stomach dropped, not for the fact that she had a boyfriend, but for the fact that her boyfriend, someone who was supposed to be kind and caring towards her, couldn’t even do the bare minimum.

“It’s not your fault. You deserve everything, alright?”

She nodded her head, still wrapped in his arms, and her breaths slowly began to become more steady as time passed.

Her friends came back not too much later, smiling and giggling to each other as they saw her wrapped in Mason’s arms when they walked into the room, the both of them asleep in an awkward position, sitting on the floor.

When she woke up the next morning to her alarm going off, she was in her bed, tucked in warmly with little to no memory of how she ended up there. Looking over on the bedside table, she saw the familiar bouquet of flowers with the chocolate from Mason last night, but also a sticky note.

Reading the note, she smiled to herself from the thoughtful message that Mason wrote before he left, with a little smiley face in the corner.

He was always so sweet and attentive to small details, making him all the more perfect. But she knew it would be wrong to think of him as anything more than a friend. Just because her significant other couldn’t take care of her doesn’t mean that she could seek out some sort of comfort. Or at least, that’s what went through in her mind.

But the final and midterm exams came and went, and her stress seemed to slowly let go of the grasp it had on her.

She laughed more, smiled more, and got herself back, with one less thing stressing her out. Her friends invited her out for some drinks and food to celebrate, specifically at a bar-and-grill nearby campus.

“Jeez, it’s cold tonight,” her friend shivered, her hands wrapped around herself.

“Dunno why you didn’t want to bring a jacket then,” another friend said, looking over at her. “The right jacket won’t ruin a cute outfit.”

They approached the bar, the sound of nostalgic Christmas music seemed to flow from the open doors, laughter and the clinking of glass from toasts and celebrations interweaved within.

When they all settled down at a table, neatly tucked into one of the dimmer corners of the place, they placed their orders, in which they all settled on some appetizers. The drinks they ordered came by shortly, multiple glasses of varying shapes and sizes, colors and flavors since they decided to treat themselves.

“Cheers!” Her friend said, holding up her raspberry daiquiri in the air. “Cheers to a new semester of learning!”

They all clinked their drinks together, smiles plastered on their faces in pure happiness. Jokes and banter were shared, their laughter filling the air like fluff, and conversations that seemed so natural.

As they were all enjoying the night, her phone buzzed, and the unsettling feeling crept up on her again.

Looking at the text that appeared on the screen of her phone, she couldn’t tell whether or not she should cry, or laugh. Her significant other was no longer significant it seemed, having admitted to being unfaithful, having admitted to being what she thought he wasn’t.

She laughed, drawing the focus and attention to her at the table as she held her face with one hand, holding her phone with the other. The mix of alcohol in her system didn’t seem to make it all clearer.

“What happened? What’s so funny?”

“He did it,” she paused. “He actually did it.”

All of her friends looked at her in confusion, unaware of the turmoil that boiled within her. She slid her phone to her friends, showing them the messages that he sent to her, the confession of his infidelity. Their faces all turned to shock, jaw-dropped and mouths agape.

One of her friends set their hand on her shoulder gently, “Oh my gosh, are you alright?”

She smiled back at them, almost wrongly for the situation at hand. “I am now, he’s no longer mine.”

As she sent her final text to him, a formal message of separation, she put her phone in her bag, and picked up her drink.

“Cheers to everlasting happiness!”

They all arose in celebrations, toasts, cheers, smiles and all the sorts, fireworks almost sparkling in the air. It was a new start, but especially for her. The world seemed more vibrant now, the fuzzy soft glow of the bar lights making everything all the more ethereal, and it reminded her of Mason.

She smiled as she thought of him, his soft lips that smiled so sweetly and only spoke kindly, his bright eyes when he was passionate, and his laugh that was so contagious.

“Jeez, is it the alcohol that is making you all flustered or is there something else?” Her friend laughed.

“I think she’s thinking about her prince charming,”

“Speak of the devil—”

When she looked up from her drink, her eyes met Mason looking right at her, a smile appearing on his face as he saw her. It seemed as if her prayers were answered by some higher power.

Her blushed face became more blushed, hot on her skin, and her world seemed to become a fuzzy blurry madness. His own face seemed to light up at the sight of her, cheeks beautifully rosy, even in the dim lighting.

She looked back at her friends, their smiles softly encouraging her, beaming with bright pride for her success, and then she wandered off towards the direction of him, his warmth lulling her in.

As she approached him, he seemed all the more soft, no sharp edges or harsh words. He was an angel, more beautiful than ever now.

“Oh, hey you,” he said softly.

She couldn’t necessarily hear him, especially over the loud music, but she read his lips as if it were the first language she ever learned.

“Hi, Mason.” Her lips were upturned in a dopey smile,

He observed her with soft eyes, admiring her seemingly endlessly, her beauty holding him in a trance.

“Are you okay?” he asked with genuineness. “You don’t normally like to drink and go out like this,”

A soft, saddened look seemed to take over her face, her heart searching for why he was so concerned.

“Sorry, I don’t mean it in a rude way, it’s just that you—” His pause made him feel confused at his own words as well, not knowing why he was so worried about her. “I want you to be safe, and I know you’re with your friends, but I just want to be sure,”

She smiled at his sweetness, a familiar pattern now that he seemed to always be the one making her smile. “It’s okay, I’m safe,” she assured him. “I’m single now, he doesn’t have me anymore.”

He stood there, frozen in shock at her suddenness, unexpecting the reason behind her energy being more outward and extroverted.

“Oh—” He paused, not knowing what to say. “Are you alright?”

“Better than ever.” She gave him another soft smile as she tried to move back to her friends, waiting at the table for her, but Mason’s hand gently grasped hers.

“Please stay with me, we can go get some food, another place more quiet, just me and you.” His eyes twinkled with a newfound magic, like little sparklers on New Year’s Eve.

She nodded as a response, her face more flushed than ever with the alcohol in her system, tipsy and woozy. “I’ll go tell my friends, I don’t wanna scare ‘em,”

As she went to tell her friends, he let his own friends know about his whereabouts before he followed behind her, making sure that she’s okay. She quickly pulled out a twenty dollar bill to cover her own drinks and foods’ expenses, setting it down on the table where her friends were.

“M’kay, let’s go,” she said, holding Mason’s hand as she led them both out of the stuffy, noisy bar. He nodded, following her without complaint, happy to see her energetic and lively.

The fresh air was cold and sharp against their skin, making her shiver slightly as it was colder than before when she arrived at the bar. Mason took quick note of this and shrugged off his jacket, placing it over her shoulders.

She looked up at him, a soft, gentle look in her eyes that made him melt into a blush. “Thank you,” she whispered, her breath visible in the air.

“My pleasure,”

They both continued walking down the street, fingers intertwined with each other’s hand, the snow falling down like petals from a flower, flurrying around the both of them like magic in the air. It crunched beneath their feet, the sound familiar to the winter for the both of them.

The light from the lamp post shone delicately, fuzzily on their figures as they walked down the street, the sound of Christmas music flowing out of a nearby restaurant.

She gave a gentle tug on Mason’s hand, looking up at him with wonder in her eyes. It was a newfound magic, to see her so happy, so free from her stress it seemed.

“Dance with me,”

“You don’t have to ask me twice.”

He gently held her hand in his, the warmth between their palms being shared, and placed a hand on her back, pulling her closer to him, which in turn erupted a soft giggle from her.

They twirled around together, laughing, smiling more than ever. She’d never felt so free before, so unbound to any restriction in her life. His heart seemed to grow at the sight of her, free from the weight on her shoulders, and how she seemed to be more heavenly.

“You’re so beautiful,” he sighed.

Her cheeks became more red, a lovely concoction of being enamored, slightly tipsy, as well as the cold air. “You are too, Mason.” She paused for a brief moment, admiring his features, his gorgeous eyes, lips, all that he had. “You’re so lovely,”

Their night was spent full of laughter, sweetness, the sort of things she could only ever dream of, and here it was, a reality. It was a new start for her, a fresh, clean start for her life, a new chapter, new beginnings.

#nhl #hockey #nhl hockey #nhl writing #nhl fic #boston bruins #hockey fic #hockey imagine #boston bruins imagine #nhl bruins #mason lohrei #mason lohrei imagine #mason lohrei x reader

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beautifulbuckys · 1 year

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The Fire and the Flame [1/8]- George Weasley x Reader

“Impossible is in, I don’t know if you know that.”

“You’re impossible, did you know that?” George laughed, standing up and pushing himself out of the ancient wooden chair. As he stood, the chair creaked, even louder when he relieved the back of the wood from his heavy book bag.

Summary: As Quidditch season starts, your schedule gets flooded with Quidditch players who are too busy with their schoolwork. What happens when your newest pupil isn’t what you thought he was?

A/N: Hi! This is my small dabble back into writing, I really missed it <3

Quidditch season was fun, sure.

The thrill of typically innocent house-to-house competition was thrilling. Everyone rooted for their team, sports lover or not. Some muggleborns compared it to muggle ‘futball’. The constant woosh that Quidditch players made from feet above you, balancing beautifully on their thin broomsticks.

What wasn’t fun? The influx of students needing to be tutored. Sure, you loved tutoring those in need. Though typically, the students you tutored were having genuine struggles. It was a different kind of magic to watch a subject click for someone struggling. During Quidditch season, it was a different story. Nobody was struggling because they didn’t understand why you needed a frog eye for the midnight projection potion. They weren’t struggling because they couldn’t grasp the certain hand flicks needed for more advanced charms. People were now struggling simply because they were falling behind. This especially happened to the Quidditch players themselves. You honestly can’t blame them. They’re amazing at a celebrated sport and they’re committed to something grand! However, it’s frustrating when you’re mandated to tutor them and they act like you’re a burden for being required to. Every single time you’ve tried to tutor the star chaser, they’ve given you a sour attitude and made you feel small.

Amd now? You’re stuck in the library waiting for your newest Quidditch star pupil to arrive.

It was almost curfew, but tutors get an excuse as we’re hand selected by the heads of our houses. Pupils gain that advantage too, if they select the late time slot. Although it’s judging a book by its cover, many Quidditch players suspiciously chose this time slot.

Quietly, you assemble your Wizardry Poetry textbooks that you’ve been studying for the year. Wizardry Poetry is a small, less popular elective. Many people that take the class take it to get out of Snape’s detentions, as he seems to have a small space in his miniscule heart for her. Nobody calls him out for it, they just quietly take advantage of the crush. Although it’s not the most popular, it’s exciting. In your opinion, poetry is a light shone into a dark corner nobody wants to explore. Poetry is raw emotion, something people typically cower away from at the opportunity. That’s what makes wizard poetry so exciting. Many pieces written by the famous wizard poets highlight the balance between dark magic and light. It’s a weapon used by those already wielding a powerful tool.

“Erm,” A deep voice suddenly broke the calming silence of the Hogwarts library. “Are you my poetry tutor?”

You picked your head up from your bookbag, noticing the tall Gryffindor beater standing sadly behind the seat across from you. “Oh yes! Hi. Feel free to take a seat,” You cringed at the formalities. The pupils you’re used to aren’t shy about loudly announcing their presence and obnoxiously filling the small table space. This was new. “George, right?”

He nodded, “How’d you know?”

You chuckled quietly. “You’re the quieter of the two.” The boy said nothing in response to this, seemingly validating your point. Although you’re not particularly friends with the 2 boys, you knew them. You were in the same year and had a few classes with the twins. This is how you knew the difference. Both George and Fred were in your potions class. They sat next to each other, to nobody’s surprise. Fred, who always sat on the left, had a knack for clanging glasses together and making unnecessary comments. Although they were together in that class, you could just tell George was more reserved than his brother. They both laughed together and made jokes, but it was obvious. George was in your Wizardry Poetry class. When it’s just him, his reserved nature becomes a lot more apparent. “So, if you don’t mind me asking, what exactly are you struggling with?”

You knew him in class. He definitely wasn’t struggling. He grasped the subject pretty strongly whenever he was called upon to read or make a comment. To an outsider, he might’ve been a poet already.

“Well, honestly, I’m just more busy than anything else. Quidditch is just getting to the exciting part of the season and I have sunrise practices every morning. The team’s practice schedule is no joke,” he laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. “And honestly? I think poetry is kind of stupid,”

Stupid?

“Poetry isn’t stupid.”

“Sure it is,” George said. “It’s boring and tries to be all deep and stuff. Maybe if it took itself a little less seriously I’d feel the opposite,”

You shouldn’t be as offended as you are. You strongly disagreed with him. Poetry was a gorgeous example of literary art. Sure, it can be difficult to scan for meaning and purpose. However, you feel that the payoff of understanding the raw emotion written by an artist. “Whatever you say George, I’m not here to change your mind, just change your grade. Have you started the assignment she gave us on Tuesday?”

Our poetry teacher assigned us an arguably simple project due at the end of the semester. We were expected to craft a page long piece of poetry about our experiences with magic. She said we had full creative capabilities with our projects, and she wasn’t going to judge or grade our topic chosen. She was mostly looking for our understanding of poetry and is expecting us to pull ideas from previous wizard poets.

George gently shook his head, the shoulder-length red hair he grew out dancing on his shoulders. “Nope,” He popped the ‘P’ in nope, flashing a cheeky smile.

This was going to be a long few weeks.

As George and I reviewed his work and created an academic plan to ensure he doesn’t fall behind, it became painfully obvious why George was failing. He grasped the subject with the grip of a giant. It’s not that he didn’t understand stanzas and line numbers. George just didn’t have a reason to care. He had no aspiration of ever becoming a poet, and it became noticeable that George only joined the class to get out of Snape’s detentions. It didn’t make sense though. How could he understand so much and just not care? Did he not have a personal connection to the class?

Maybe all he needed was a lifeline.

“I think this session was really helpful to you George. Please remember, we’re meeting Thursday at the same time,”

George raised his eyebrows at you, awkwardly grinning. “I might have a surprise Quidditch practice,”

“Why would you know about it if it was a secret, George?” Was he seriously trying to skip out on our session? You found that the session was something that could strengthen George’s academic record. It also helps that he was someone actually enjoyable to talk to. Who knows, maybe you could even teach him the real magic of poetry while you were at it.

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scentedpepper · 4 days

Text

Oranges | Eddie Munson

Fandom: Stranger Things

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Male Reader

Summary: This HAS to be Eddie's year.

Content Warnings: (Spolier) Character Death

Other Pairings: Billy Hargrove x Male Reader

Author Note(s):

Fuck ya'll for making it cringe to like eddie

On other, more important notes, some background info and sincere warnings for ya:

This scene takes place s4 era. Reader graduated last year (s3) currently 18 going on 19. Felt like this was important to note given that our dear little failure here is a grown ass man and it'd be a tad bit strange to pair the little fucker with a highschool student.

Reader works as an intern at the school, hence, Eddie Munson.

Could possibly turn into a series (I have big dreams and not enough energy)

For those of you who have NOT seen s3, you will get spoiled by the end of this little thang so yk proceed with caution or wtv

Ummmmm

Oh right so, I know it says x Reader but this scene was in fact written with the intentions of putting an OC into the series. So for now, you're Joey.

That's it 🫶

"No- No! See? This is- 'and it is'. Use an adverb to explain the connection and create... emotion. "

Eddie sinks in his own posture and slides a hand over his face, knocking his fringe sideways and out of the way. They have been at this for a while, and he's had enough. "You're not connecting the dots like I'm connecting the dots. "

"Those are literally dots. " Joey gestured towards the piece of paper that sat between them, littered with penmarks, of Eddie's choosing. He couldn't quite decphier why the man was lazily scratching the paper with color in certain areas. He peered closer at the margin on the left, words written across the blank surface that seemed made up. "How are you gonna connect something that wasn't written... this is an argumentative essay, Eddie. You're not allowed to just make up facts. " He wants to jab those pens underneath his eyelids. "What're all these marks for?"

"Alright, say, say this little orange, " Joey watches Eddie move his pen towards the tiny round doodle with squinted eyes, "what if it was in an orange?"

He's going to fail this.

Joey stares at the man unimpressed. "I've been sitting here trying to teach you how to write an arugmentative analysis on an article for the last hour, and you're drawing oranges on your paper?"

"With faces!" Eddie counters, pointing his orange pen– Joey's orange pen in the opposites face.

Joey snatches the pen from his hand abruptly and drops it, clattering down and across the wooden floor.

The pair of them have only gotten so far in this session of teaching. 'This session' being 1.5 hours, and Eddie had yet to pick up on the technique Joey had used to teach himself the tricks and secrets to these things years ago. Though, maybe he was giving him too much credit. The way the doe eyed mans head tilts to the side when he goes to the page and scans the lines for his answer seemed too much to bear.

They're in his trailer, surrounded by textbooks on the table that once belonged to Joey. This place, now that their studying system wasn't some figment of Joey's imagination brought to life, was a lot messier than he'd have liked it. But Munson came first.

Eddie wasn't dumb. Far from it, really. But in this moment he was. Maybe not, if you don't count the fact he wasn't listening. For the last hour. Or two. Joey definitely couldn't count because that sounded too depressing and he really did need to rethink his strategy.

"Sometimes doing homework is like sticking a fork in an electric socket. "

Nancy's words, not his, but either way he believes that now as well.

Joey stared at the older man's frame as he lay with his back against the rug on the carpet, eyes closed, another pen, teal, or at least the closests thing to it, hanging out of his mouth and some paper resting next to the upper half of his body.

"Eddie. "

"Yes, kind sir?" He quickly gets up, the second he hears his voice. He rests his arms on top of the surface of the round coffee table. "I'm totally paying attention, go on. "

Joey manages a breath before he rips the pen from Eddie's mouth and places it aside. Eddie gaped like a fish for a few moments too long and then took his pen back.

"You can't draw oranges in an analysis essay, please pay attention. "

Joey can feel his hair stand on end when he turns back to the English work.

"Yeah but hear me out, everyone is an orange. "

Joey's eyes flee back up to the man. "Eddie–" He protests.

"Just..." The man's mouth opens and a hint of an apology graces his soft facial structure but is soon replaced by his stubborn stance, his leg jolts slightly with his arms as he pushes his palms forward to the table. "C'mon. I'm smart, right?"

"...Yes?"

Eddie smiles triumphantly. His hair, resting in beautiful knots beside his ears. "Think about it. " He puts a finger up to his temple, tapping it twice. "People are oranges, and each orange is unique. Alike, but totally different. Maybe the ones with the nugget are rotten, or they taste more bitter or whatever. But someone likes 'em–"

"For their orange flavour?"

"Orange flavour. " Eddie grins at him. Joey has his suspicions about that grin.

"Sure, Ed. " He picks up his pencil and twists it around. "Now sit down. " He deadpans, eyes scanning the book passage in front of him.

Nonetheless, Eddie prevales. "You're my favorite orange. "

Joey gives him a look, his features remaining blank but there's a strange– almost longing tension to his jaw.

"You know why?" He drags out the last word while simultaneously circling the others nose with the orange pen he'd reterived without notice before giving the tip of the mans nose a prompt 'boop!'. "Because. "

A pause. Longer than Joey would have liked.

"..What?"

His eyes trace down his face.

"You're bigger. "

"Bigger?" He stares down the man incredulously. "What the fuck does that mean?"

"It means–!" Eddie's eyes turn back into his and he smiles coyly, "that you give me bigger... biggaaa— heart boners. Every time we are alone. Y'know? Just us. " He pauses to watch the anger burning in the others eyes, "You... bein' all tall and broad and... strong. "

The end of his sentence is like a purr but it lacked the proper 'o' sound to make the word seductive. –The ridiculous flexing didn't do much to help him either.

"Heart boners?" Joey cracks a smile, unable to keep his face muscles strewn tight. "Jesus. Shut up. "

"We could play house. I wouldn't mind being a house wife. " Eddie tucks his hair behind his ear, sitting pretty. His eyes reflect a perverse joy.

In turn, Joey rolls his eyes, teeth peaking out from beneath his lips. "Analysis first –then you can cook and clean for me all you want. "

Not a minute later does Eddie get on his knees before lunging forward, throwing his arm around his shoulder and ruffling the brunettes hair. Joey struggles, laughter spilling out in unsteady puffs of air. "Hey, what the hell is your problem?!"

Eddie let's him loose after a few more moments of struggle and the sight Joey offers makes him beam. "It's nice to see you smile. " He admits. "You've been all, edgy, lately. "

Once again, it's always so very easy to lose this man's train of thought with simple distractions such as putting his hair up in a high bun and pushing stray strands behind his ears.

"Used to be all kind smiles and doe eyes. "

Somethings got to give.

"Ever since the mall fi–"

"Didn't realize you paid so much attention to me, Eddie. " Jay interrupts.

"Well, you just make it so hard not to. " Eddie grins widely at him, his eyes practically twinkling.

Eddie tries not to get too sore over things. Least of all with Joey. Especially since he's got a knack for tip toeing his way out of things himself. Today isn't the day for that, apparently. Because Eddie isn't having it. Which is annoying.

"Look, " he tries again, "I'm not saying you have to –ya know? Say anything. You've just been different...than before. "

That much he knows, Eddie's always noticed things. Because that's who he is and all the time he spent to by himself over the course of his many highschool years has taught him to be an observer, and it just so happened that he had the knowledge to tell when and how things were off.

But there was always something about the way the brunette carried himself, stiff on his feet and jittery like a trapped mouse, no one gave it much thought.

Not even Eddie really.

"You didn't even know me before, Eddie. " Joey's looking at the man with tired eyes, he wonders where his reasoning is coming from. Had they talked more? And how did he manage to create this image of him into a person he had no inkling of a memory towards?

"Hey, I beg to differ. " Eddie counters, "I've known you for like..." He counts on his fingers, recalling he was supposed to garduate two years before Joey. "Six years!"

Joey scoffs. "And out of all those years, we've only had a real conversation in these past few months. "

Eddie goes a little quiet after that.

"So you can wipe that memory of... whatever you have in your head. " His chest swells with an unwelcome pain and he holds his breath.

The man doesn't waver. "Thats not how this works. " His brows furrow, etching serious lines into his forehead. "I've seen you. You've changed since then. "

"No I haven't. " Joey's gaze flickers towards the man, eyes stern but deep within them stir the turbulent anger Eddie had become quite familiar with his whole life.

"You have. " Eddie continues. "Your laughs not as loud, " He gestures vaguely towards the brunettes chest. "You seem more sad than, -than you usually are? Is what I mean..."

Eddie draws his bottom lip between his teeth and bites down nervously.

"Eddie, just drop it. " He's turning in his place, pulling one foot beneath him on the floor as his butt brushes the fabric beneath his thighs.

Eddie goes silent but for only a few minutes because without much reluctance he's lifting the forgotten orange pen from the wooden floorboard again and twirling it between his fingers.

"...Joey. " He says softly after a few long moments. "This town's shitty. "

And if he'd said this to the man about a year ago, he wouldn't have agreed. But now, he feels like he's being stabbed in the chest at the mere sight of it.

Eddie, himself, makes him forget sometimes. The bad and all it's misery.

He's not all that happy about that.

Not as much as he should be. Would've been.

"You know, I'm here. " Eddie leans in a bit, in hopes his friends words along with his guts may spill right out from him, "As much as you are for me with these–" He lifts one from the table before promptly letting it fall from his fingertips. "shitty textbooks. "

Joey swallows roughly, the lump in his throat straining but after a few seconds, he can't help it.

He lets out a long sigh, containing himself all in one breath. "I knew someone..." He starts slow and doesn't seem keen on finishing.

"In the mall fire?"

A huff this time. "Yes– the mall fire. " It felt funny to adress it as such. A false statement.

He feels tense all over, skin rubbing against the denim pants he wore like sandpaper against dry wood.

"My friend–" He pauses to scoff. "If you could even call the asshole that. " And of course, he's still trying to conceal it, the fact that those months apart had been the worst months of his life.

Billy. Fucking, Hargrove. Who would've thought he'd end up on his mind so often?

"He– passed. " The words come out heavy, sitting cold on his tongue and tasting bitter when the admission leaves him. "In the fire. "

Bullshit. Fucking fire. Really?

...

#stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x male reader #billy hargrove #billy hargrove x male reader #billy hargrove x reader #oc #oc x stranger things

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transitranger327 · 5 days

Text

Alright WolfWren Nation, y’all asked for it, here’s Ehn’yuste Chapter 2:

Chapter 2: “The Wolf of Clan Wren”, in which Sabine remembers her Mandalorian family, then gets married in front of the rest of her family.

Notes: the number of ancillary ships I can have in this fanfic increases exponentially with each chapter I post. Also how is this chapter almost 3k words? I think I need an in-universe Star Wars queer theory textbook. Thanks to @shinhatisgirlfriend for the Mando’a marriage vows.

One year after the Ignition

“Bo-Katan, please, this is too generous.” Sabine was examining the “spare apartment” Bo-Katan “had laying around” that was more like a small complex than the studio Sabine expected. There were four bedrooms, multiple refreshers, a large gathering space, a kitchen big enough to host a clan dinner, a currently-empty armory, and a small office with a separate entrance. “Well I knew the Countess of Clan Wren would be back one day, so I kept this open for you.” Shin was still unclear about the noble titles, so asked “Why do you keep calling Sabine ‘countess’?” “Oh she didn’t tell you? She’s the head of a minor clan, so by tradition she’s a countess.” “I didn’t want the title! Tristan was supposed to be count.” Sabine sounded very annoyed despite being in an armory. “Yeah, well too bad, he isn’t here. You aren’t the only sibling the responsibility meant for another.” Shin sensed an implied “we” from Bo-Katan.

“It was your sister, wasn’t it?” “Yes, my sister was Duchess before she died.” “During the purge?” “No, she died much earlier than that, during the Shadow War. Sabine was a toddler and Ahsoka was fresh out of the Order, helping us.” “Really, Ahsoka was involved?” “Where do you think she got her beskar armor pieces? Oh, that reminds me”

Bo-Katan pressed a single button on her vambrace, “Arms, you have the beskar’uliik prepped?” “Affirmative, Lady Kryze,” the Armorer’s voice spoke from Bo-Katan’s comlink, “but I thought we agreed to keep nicknames to after-hours activities.” “Sorry, I think it might be a habit now. Please meet Shin Hati at the Great Door.” Sabine emerged from the armory, “Arms, huh? I take it that this Armorer is more that just a colleague.” Bo-Katan’s cheeks blushed, and she quickly changed the subject. “Shin, you’re going with the Armorer to retrieve the beskar you have on your shuttle. Sabine, come with me, I have some things I want to show you.”

“Really, Arms? That was the best pet name you could come up with?” Sabine was laughing at Bo-Katan as they walked thru the lower levels of Sundari. “It’s not just short for Armorer, her arms are so strong and dreamy from the forging she does all day.” Sabine could feel the butterflies inside Bo-Katan thru the Force. “Does she have a name?” “If I knew, I wouldn’t tell you. That’s her secret to share.” The approached a door labelled simply “Remember”. “This is where we store any intact pre-purge armor,” Bo-Katan said as she opened the door. The room was stark, with few armor pieces in sight. “Many of what was stored here was found by the surface survivors. Once we ignited the great forge, we sorted them by clan. Any piece that could be identified was kept in their families, and the unclaimed was returned to the forge.” Sabine felt an immense grief. So many families gone. “Don’t be sad, Sabine. The room is empty, not because there was so little beskar’gam, because most everything has been reforged. Empty, that is, except for these.” They were now standing in front of the only armor in the room. “This is the remainder of Clan Wren. The pauldron, I believe, is your mother’s.” Sabine picked up the shoulder pad. It was Wren yellow, with a purple Phoenix that Ursa let her paint on after they liberated Mandalore all those years ago. “This shin guard I suspect to be Tristan’s,” Bo-Katan continued as she flipped the piece over to reveal a “TW” pressed into the back. Sabine smiled as she remembered the day she and her brother forged their beskar’gam. She had a matching “SW” pressed into her shin guard. “And this armor belonged to your cousin, Kala.” Sabine asked, “How do you know?” “She died in my arms. We were trying to escape from Moff Gideon, and while Axe and Koska survived our escape, Kala didn’t make it.” Sorrow threatened to fill the air. Sabine reached for comfort and found a tradition among rebel pilots, “We’ll drink to their memories tonight.” “Yes, we will. In the mean time, we need to forge at least some beskar’gam for your wife. I know most Jedi don’t like armor, but maybe she’ll go for the braces and guards like Ahsoka did.”

The Great Forge was about as loud as Shin expected, all things considered. The pounding of hammers was only intermittent, but the fires roared louder than most. Probably had to be hotter in order to work the beskar. The Armorer had used what amounted to an ornately decorated hover-stretcher to move the sizable amount of metal from the Wolf to the Great Forge. Shin felt a familiar presence enter the room, a welcome relief from all the suspicious looks she was receiving. “Hey there riduur, ready to become a Mandalorian?” Sabine had woven her fingers into Shin’s, “What armor would you like to wear?” Shin had been thinking about this since the Armorer had informed her that she would need to be wearing at least some armor for the wedding to be valid under Mandalorian law. “I was thinking, what if we just replaced the armor I do wear with Mandalorian versions?” Sabine smiled, “So vambraces, pauldrons, and boots?” “And maybe also the very centerpiece? It would feel like a pendant.” Shin wasn’t quite sure if it was okay to want one; She felt like an outsider intruding on traditions. Sabine was quick to reassure her, “A lovely idea, baby. Armorer, can we make that happen?” “Of course, Lady Wren. Do you have any previous armor to reforge with the new beskar?” Sabine set down Kala’s shin guard, pauldron, and vambrace at the Armorer’s anvil. “Oh, and take this,” she said, removing her own centerpiece, “I’d like our centerpieces to be forged together.” “Excellent. I will have these forged by the end of day. Would you like any signets inlaid?” Shin answered, “no, I’d prefer if my riduur painted them on.” “Very well, Shin Hati, soon to be of Clan Wren. This is the way.” Another “this is the way” resounded in the Forge.

Having moved most of their belongings into their suite, Shin and Sabine collapsed onto their newly acquired couch in each other’s arms. Absentmindedly caressing her betrothed, Shin asked, “who are you inviting to the wedding?” “I dunno, probably just my family from the Ghost? It might be the first time we’re all in the same place since Lothal.” Shin was a tad confused, “didn’t I meet everyone on Home One?” “You didn’t get to meet my older brother Zeb, he was out on patrol. You were questioned by his husband tho.” “Oh, Kallus? He seemed ex-imperial.” “Yeah, he was ISB. But after an…incident on Geonosis, he fell in love with Zeb. Wouldn’t admit to it until years later, after he joined the rebellion.” Shin laughed a bit, “you really are like your family.” “Yeah, I guess I am.” After a pause, Sabine asked, “Hey, I know we’re doing a traditional Mandalorian wedding, but are there any of your culture’s wedding traditions you want to do?” Shin shrugged, “I was a child when Baylan started training me. I did eventually research a few traditions, but I couldn’t find much about marriage. Didn’t think I’d ever need it.” “You didn’t think you would get married?” “You know how temple Jedi are, no attachments, no romance, no sex. Didn’t think there were Jedi who wore love like that on their sleeve,” Shin paused, “until I met you.”

Three months after the Ignition

Ahsoka was laughing at what her padawan had just told her. “You know, the masters at the temple would never have approved…” “yeah but when have you ever thought the old masters were right?” Sabine and her master were sitting around the campfire they had lit outside Ahsoka’s Jedi Shuttle. Shin had gone inside to grab a drink. “I do wish I had the freedom you have. No need to sneak around with the other padawans.” Ahsoka reminisced about her misadventures in the Clone Wars, “one time I had to pose as someone’s betrothed. I was so bad at it, the only romances I knew were Holo-novels.” She sighed, “but you had actual role models in your life. Your parents loved each other, despite your strained relationship with them. Kanan and Hera were able to balance being a Jedi, running the rebellion, and being in love.” “Hang on, you said padawans?” Sabine asked in jest, “Plural?” “I did secretly kiss a few, but there was only one I ever caught feelings for.” Ahsoka remembered the time she shared with Barriss before the bombing. Shin approached the fire, 3 cups of caf in hand. “Just remember, you two. Sometimes our feelings guide us, and sometimes they control us.” Ahsoka reached for the guidance that Obi-Wan gave her years ago, “know the difference, keep your heads clear, and you’ll go far.”

One year after the Ignition

Sabine smiled at her beloved as she was putting on her new beskar’gam. The Armorer had kindly agreed to keep the finish matte for easy painting. Shin had wanted a mix of Wren Yellow with orange detailing to match her lightsaber. Sabine had repainted her pauldrons to match, a Jedi crest on one shoulder and a Starbird on the other. Shin’s body glove was intricately lined out with Mandalorian designs and the map to Peridea. As she put on Kala’s old helmet she remarked, “you know, I thought you were joking when you said the armor felt like a second skin and you sometimes slept in it, but I get it now. It’s so much more comfortable than durasteel.” Sabine’s pride was visible thru her helmet, “You’ll make an excellent Mandalorian, love. But we are definitely not sleeping in these tonight.”

As they approached the living waters, Din Djarin approach the two soon-to-weds. “The Armorer asked me to give these to you,” he was holding out two coins, “She didn’t have time to let them cool before she started prepping the wedding.” Shin took the two coins, one the bare silver of beskar inlaid with a mythosaur skull, the other a bronzed beskar alloy featuring a Jedi sigil. Sabine asked, “care to elaborate to us what these mean?” Shin answered, “apparently on my home planet, there’s a tradition of parents giving their daughter two coins on her wedding day.” Sabine smiled at her beloved, “Awww that’s so cute that you consider the Armorer a parental figure.” Then she turned to Djarin, who was walking away, “you’re now officially invited to the wedding. Your kid can come too!” The former bounty hunter turned around. “Uh…thanks. But isn’t the wedding in like 10 minutes?” “Yeah, so?” “Grogu is currently in class right now. So it’ll just be me.” “Well then we won’t have to hide the uj.” Legends of Grogu’s sweet tooth had already reached Sabine. Djarin began to follow them into the Mines of Mandalore.

Sabine couldn’t stop smiling as she walked thru the assembly. Hera, Zeb, and Kallus were in their New Republic dress uniforms. Ezra and and his new padawan Jacen were wearing traditional Jedi robes, while Ahsoka had managed to find her old Mandalorian flight suit (or maybe she just had a new one tailored). Shin had even managed to invite Beilert Valance, an old underworld contact from her mercenary days, and one of the few she would consider a friend. It was the only person in there wearing a Core-style tuxedo, no doubt from infiltrating high-society parties on the job. Djarin and every other Mandalorian present were wearing their helmets. Some of Sabine's old acquaintances from her academy days were there, as well as the last surviving Protector that she and Fenn Rau had trained years ago, Shysa Mereel. Mandalorian sigils hung all around and above them in the Mines like championship banners in a Chin-Bret arena. Above the living waters hung, not just a Mythosaur like most days, but also a Clan Wren Starbird. Sabine had managed to repaint it the previous night during a fit of sleeplessness, accenting the traditional yellow with her signature orange and purple. Perhaps Clan Wren will rise from ashes.

Sabine and Shin stepped into the Living Waters, where the two most powerful Mandalorians were waiting for them. The Armorer began pouring water onto Kala’s—no, Shin’s helmet.

“Shin Hati, will you swear on your name and the names of the ancestors?” “I swear on my name, and the names of the ancestors” “That you shall walk the way of the Mand’alor? “That I shall walk the way of the Mand’alor” “And the words of the Creed shall be forever forged on your heart?” “And the words of the Creed shall be forever forged on my heart.” “This is the way.” “This is the way.”

The assembly resounded, “This is the way.” Bo-Katan then continued the marriage rite.

“Do you two name each other as wife?” “Ni kyr'tayl gai sa riduur, Shin Hati” “Ni kyr'tayl gai sa riduur, Sabine Wren”

Bo-Katan turned to the assembly, “Today I, Duchess Bo-Katan Kryze, and all you assembled here are witness to Shin Hati joining Clan Wren, by rite of marriage to Countess Sabine Wren. This is the way.”

“This is the way”

No sooner had Sabine and Shin emerged from the Living Waters than Ezra nearly tackle Sabine back into the Waters with an enthusiastic embrace. “Congratulations sis, I always knew you would find the right person one day.” Then he turned and hugged Shin, “Welcome to the family.” Jacen came up and embraced Sabine. “So Aunt Sabine, did you tell her fun stories of you and mom doing cool rebel stuff together.” “Of course I did.” Ezra decided to put on the little brother act. “Shin, did Sabine tell you about the time I rescued her from a pack of wild frynocks?” “Um no?” “Or the time I rescued her from a pair of inquisitors?” A gruff voice behind Ezra spoke, “the way I remember it, I rescued both of you from them.” Zeb had approached the wedding couple, arm-in-arm with his husband. Kallus’ Coruscanti accent queried, “or the time I helped her infiltrate and escape an imperial pilot academy?” “Well that story she definitely told me.”

Sabine found her way over to Hera. “Your Mandalorian parents would be proud that you married in the traditional style.” “Hera, I’m not sure you knew my parents well enough to say that.” “You didn’t let me finish. Your Rebellion parents are proud of you for a very different reason: pulling a fast one on the authorities using a quick marriage is right out of Kanan’s playbook. He and I were illegally married 4 times in 3 different systems. And in my personal opinion, I’m glad you’re marrying someone you love.” After a laugh, she added, “Professionally, I cannot stress how disappointed I am in you abusing legal loopholes for personal gain.”

Valance approached the woman who invited him. “You know, in all my time in the Empire and the underworld, I’ve never been invited to a wedding that wasn’t a ploy of some kind.” Shin smiled, tho Valance couldn’t see. “Well my list of living friends and family is very short.” “What’s the deal with the helmets?” “Apparently the original Manda’lor never removed his helmet in front of others. Quite a few Mandalorians today follow in his footsteps.” Valance raised its only eyebrow, “so you’re not removing your helmet then? How does the wedding night work?” “No, Sabine and I will remove our helmets, just not in here, the sacred Mines of Mandalore.” She gestured to a moderately-sized banquet table in the back, “that’s why the wedding food is takeout only. But we’re having an afterparty at our apartment tonight, and you’re more than welcome to join us.” “Unfortunately I have to take off soon. Got a tip during the service about an old pirate captain.” The two shook hands. “Well, thanks for coming Beilert. Be sure to take a few slices of uj cake on your way out.”

The afterparty was just as wonderful as the wedding. The Ghost crew and the Mandalorians swapped stories. Food was plentiful, and the beverages flowed even more. A few people tried changing the music from Sabine’s preferred rock, but the only one that was successful was her wife. Mandalorians from every clan managed stop by. Both Dins came thru early in the party, as Grogu had an earlier bedtime than the Wrens. Bo-Katan and the Armorer managed to actually get drunk and scratched some lewd Mando’a into the back of the refresher door.

Sabine fired her blaster at the ceiling target to get the afterparty’s attention. “All right everyone, it’s getting late. Now if you want to stay the night, Shin and I have some spare bedrooms. BUT we’d like to be sleeping soon, so choose!” Hera was the first to reply, “I’ve got work to do, there’s some in-person generals’ meeting tomorrow.” “We’ve gotta go too, Alexs and I have our own vacation planned,” said Zeb before kissing his partner’s temple. “Ezra can we stay?” pleaded Jacen, “We have that new U-wing!” “Okay, but we’re gonna do some more Jedi training and exploring tomorrow.” Ezra was clearly just as excited to stay on Mandalore. “Yes!”

“So great, you invited you family to stay the night.” Shin was a touch annoyed with her wife. “Weren’t we gonna have some newlywed activities?” The overexaggerated wink made Sabine laugh. “Oh sorry riduur, did I not tell you?” Sabine feigned innocence, “Mandalorian bedrooms become soundproof and lightproof on command.” She flipped a switch, and all Sundari’s background noise went silent. Shin pushed her lover against the wall and started kissing. “Apology accepted.”

Mando’a Glossary:

beskar’uliik: literally “beskar transporter”, they have a dedicated vehicle to move lots of beskar at once

beskar’gam: Mandalorian armor

riduur: spouse, partner (Mando’a lacks gender)

uj: short for uj’alayi/uj cake, the best Mandalorian dessert

Ni kyr'tayl gai sa riduur: Mandalorian wedding vows, literally “I know your name as my spouse”, adapted from the Mandalorian adoption rite by “Runi”

#wolfwren #star wars #sw fanfic #nitearmor #sapphic star wars #kalluzeb #ao3 #sabine and ezra are siblings #sabine wren #shin hati #sabine x shin #bo katan kryze #the armorer #din djarin #beilert valance

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