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lovebugism · 1 year

Note

i am so sorry but reader talking about robin right before making out with eddie is like absolutely the best thing i’ve ever read i’m obsessed i genuinely can’t wait for anything else in that universe that you do

THE CUSTOMER'S ALWAYS RIGHT | god help the girl

summary: in which you come to terms with the fact that you're hopelessly in love with eddie munson. pairing: virgin!eddie munson x reader word count: 13k warning: phone sex, more discussions of shitty boyfriends, j*son c*rver name drop, talks of unhealthy eating practices, smut 18+ mdni! a/n: this ask has been sitting in my inbox for ages now, but i wanted to save it until robin made an appearance in the series! thank you, anon, for being so sweet! and for the few of you who've been waiting on me to finally post <3 hope you enjoy! xoxo

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They only met once, but it changed their lives forever.

That’s what the movie cover reads at least, but the words have long blurred into a jumbled mess at your tunnel vision. John Bender stares you in the face, but all you see is Eddie — boyish and brazen and scowling because he thinks it makes him look intimidating, but nowhere near as cruel as he seems.

He’s certainly got the hair for it, much longer and curls far wilder than Judd Nelson’s measly set of brushed-back locks. He’s got the terribly animated personality down pat, too; the one that either makes you laugh uncontrollably or squirm in discomfort when it’s pointed your way. And the style’s a pretty fine match also, though you’d argue that no one sports a leather jacket quite like Eddie Munson does.

Wallowing in your boredom at the empty Family Video store on Main Street — where your best friends slave over mundane work with aching backs and a lingering sense of gratefulness that no customer has been in in well over an hour — you find yourself analyzing each character pictured on the front cover of The Breakfast Club.

Robin would surely be Allison, you conclude rather quickly, because their deadpanned glowers are eerily identical. They’ve also got this sort of atypical aura to them, too, like a dark storm cloud or the promise of a long night. But strangely it sparkles — strikes of lightning or a sky full of stars. It draws everyone’s attention to them; even when they’re desperately trying to hide in the very back of a room.

And Steve would be Andrew, not particularly because of his affections for this Allison-Reynolds-Robin-Buckley hybrid you’ve concocted, but because "popular guy with daddy issues" is a trope that fits him far too well. He’s way more likely to get detention for trying to look cool in front of his assholes friends than for anything actually malicious of heart. But that would’ve been years ago now. He’s not that kind of guy anymore.

He’s soft and sweet — a Brian Johnson sort of soft and sweet, if you will. If Brian wasn’t the brains, but the sweetest dumbass anyone’s ever met.

You realize then, that Jim Hopper would make a mean Richard Vernon. He’s impatient to a fault, almost too stern at times, but never enough to make you genuinely fearful of him. You’ve found that it’s virtually impossible for you to take him seriously when he’s so cartoonishly angry. It’s a match made in heaven, you find, though Jim might take offense to the comparison.

And if Eddie is Bender, then that’d make you the Claire Standish of the bunch.

She’s dreadfully stylish, a bit stuck-up at times, and perhaps a little bit more spoiled than the average person; but it’s not like she ever claimed to be perfect. And you wouldn’t either.

You’ll take more pride in your wardrobe filled with pretty pleated skirts and flouncy dresses than your somewhat glacial disposition. And you might not be drowning in daddy’s money, but you’re certainly spoiled in other ways — if only in the employee discount at Enzo’s that got you wine for cheap and your connections at Family Video that meant free movie nights whenever you wanted.

The bad boy and the princess was a tale as old as time itself. It’s a fairytale you wouldn’t mind living in if it ended how it did in the movies — with a kiss on the cheek and an exchanged diamond earring in the calloused palm of another. A soft pink smile and a celebratory fist in the air.

But you’ve met your fair share of John Bender’s and none of them had been particularly kind to you, let alone had fallen in love with you.

Maybe that’s because you were no Claire Standish. Never pretty enough, never mousy enough, never pure enough. You try and dissect why you’ve never been successfully loved, and all the signs point to you, you, you.

You hope Eddie’s different. You need Eddie to be different.

“Something’s wrong with me,” you blurt out of nowhere.

Well, it’s not totally out of the blue for you. You’d been stewing over that thought since you got there — since you left the woods with damp underwear and the scent of you on Eddie’s fingers.

But to Steve and Robin, who’d stayed relatively silent and locked eyes only once after they noticed how abnormally hushed you’d gone, it catches them quite off guard.

Steve lifts his heavy head from where he mans the counter. His tired eyes leave the computerized catalog for the first time in forty minutes, and he has to rub at them with the bottom of his palms to see you properly. Meanwhile, Robin crouches at your side, taking returned tapes from the bin sitting next to her and placing them back upon the shelf you lean against.

She blinks up at you, deep ocean eyes swimming with apprehension, like she can sense the spiral you’ve just about twisted yourself into.

“What do you mean?” she wonders, ever the supportive best friend, as she plucks Heather’s, Pretty in Pink, and Weird Science from the bin and sets them onto their assigned rows in the Teen Drama section.

“Eddie won’t fuck me.”

Neither of them is particularly stunned by the unabashed nature of your admission.

Not only have they both fucked you at one point or another, but they’re your best friends — no one’s ever going to know you quite the way they do. It leaves little left unsaid between the three of you, with secrets you’ve all sworn to take to your graves. Steve once stuck a finger in his ass to see if he liked it (he did) and Robin sometimes gets off on her childhood teddy bear (rather ironically named Mr. Snuggles).

So this? This was nothing. Especially in comparison to all the other shit you’ve confessed to them because god knows the whore of Hawkins has a plethora of stories to tell.

Steve is more shocked by the name that leaves your mouth than anything else. “Eddie Munson?” he repeats with furrowed brows, like he had to have heard you wrong.

You bring your chin to your right shoulder to look at him, then nod.

“Eddie… The Freak… Munson?”

You nod again, slower for him this time.

“You wanna fuck… Eddie Munson?” Steve reiterates once more, as though the idea was too appalling to be true. “Eddie Munson — The Freak?”

“Yes, Steve,” you huff in irritation.

His face contorts into a puppy-like confusion. A frown settles between his bushy brows and he cocks his head to the side, nose scrunching and his lip quirking slightly. He couldn’t look more disgusted if he tried.

“…Why?”

You groan and tilt your head back dramatically. “That’s not what’s important here, Steve. The better question is why won’t he fuck me?”

The boy’s lack of any actual assistance doesn’t surprise Robin in the slightest — his dumbfounded gaze and innate confusion are actually pretty on brand. It just puts all the burden on her, to help you wriggle out of the mess you’d tangled yourself into.

It’s not like she isn’t used to it, though, nor does she mind doing it for you. She walks you through your emotions like a professional, squashing out all the burning orange embers for you before they have the chance to burst into flames.

“Well, what do you mean he won’t fuck you? Like… did he actually say that or does he just wanna, you know, take things slow?”

The latter would’ve been way too easy. Eddie’s always been nice enough to you. It’d make sense for him to want to stay unhurried and gentle with you, but those words weren’t exactly in your vocabulary.

The first time you were alone with him, you were getting yourself off on his thigh after making him come in his jeans. The next time you saw him, after four days of him clinging to your consciousness, there wasn’t as much small talk so much as there were two of his fingers stuffed knuckle-deep inside of you.

You don’t know Eddie’s birthday, but you know how he likes to be touched — squeezed and not rubbed. You don’t know his middle name or how he likes his eggs in the morning or what his relationship with his mother is like, but he’s already made you come. Twice.

You are completely, utterly, and totally incapable of taking things slow. So it wasn’t that. It couldn’t be. So it had to be the other thing. The very scary, terrifying, boogeyman of a thing.

“I mean, I offered to give him a blowjob and he completely turned me down,” you lament in reply.

Robin and Steve wince. Like, physically wince. Their faces scrunch and their heads flinch from something invisible. Audible ooh’s fall from their mouths without them even realizing it, because you don’t get rejected. Ever. Especially not after offering to pleasure someone without much of anything in return.

They don’t mean to react the way they do. The visible shock that coats their features is involuntary more than it is anything, and it only adds to your fears.

“Exactly!” you exclaim.

“I hate to say it, but I think hell might be freezing over as we speak,” Steve half-jokes.

“Well, he was working, right?” Robin asks with raised brows. “Maybe he was just busy.”

“Sorry, Rob, but no guy’s too busy for a blowjob.”

“Real charming, Stevie.”

“Maybe he just has a small dick,” the boy concludes with a shrug.

“I felt his dick,” you shake your head almost immediately. The feeling of Eddie’s hard cock through his denim jeans, all rough and warm against your palm, hasn’t yet left you. “It’s not small.”

“Well, maybe he can’t get it up—”

“Yeah, that’s not a problem either.”

Eddie was rock hard when you left him, throbbing and aching and obviously needing some kind of relief. That’s partly why you’d been so ardent to return the favor, though the other half of it was purely selfish — you haven’t seen a more beautiful sight than Eddie Munson getting off. To deprive yourself of that masterpiece made you feel like you were starving.

You have a hard time imagining the raging hard-on just… dissipating after you’d left him. That means he probably jerked off in the back of his van and you missed it. And if he came, right after he promised everything was okay, that means he just didn’t want you to do it… right?

Steve seems to be caught in the same inner turmoil you’re currently stuck in; and for good reason. In all the years he’s known you, he can count on one hand how many times he’s had to turn you down. And every time, it was because he’d gotten back together with Nancy. It was never because of you. Not once. And sometimes he felt like it hurt him as much as it did you.

As far as Steve’s concerned, you’re so out of Eddie Munson’s league that you’re not even in his fucking orbit — so the freak show, turning you down, doesn’t make whole lot of sense to him.

“Huh…”

“It’s me. It’s definitely me,” you conclude with the shake of your head. A bitter, almost hysterical laugh spills from your lips. “He thinks I’m fucking ugly or disgusting or something. It’s totally fucking me—”

Robin completely abandons her basket of tapes then. She rises to stand in front of you, looking timid as she does so. Her raised brows form wrinkles on her freckled forehead and her blue eyes widen to reveal more of the whites of them. She looks like she’s approaching a wild animal. A bomb that’s about to explode.

“Okay… You’re starting to spiral, alright? So let’s just try and take a few deep breaths—”

You don’t listen to her.

Actually, you do quite the opposite, as you begin to blurt every fleeting thought that crosses your mind.

“I’ve made out with nearly everyone in this stupid town— I’m pretty sure I’ve fucked almost half— and you’d think Eddie would wanna take advantage of that, the way everyone makes him out to be some sort of freak, right? But he hasn’t and at this rate, he won’t, and I just don’t understand why,” you ramble without taking in a single breath. “Usually being a slut is a huge turn-on for guys, you know? But what if Eddie thinks it’s gross? I mean, it is gross— I’m gross—”

You only stop for air when Robin takes your shoulders in both hands. She looks less apprehensive and more stern, as she forces you to look at her.

“Look. I love you, but you need to get a hold of yourself, alright? I know you’re not used to being told no, and I know how much it sucks, but shit happens. I’m willing to bet all the money I’ve ever seen that whatever is going on with Eddie has nothing to do with you, okay? And if it’s making you this upset, maybe you should just talk to him.”

“But I don’t wanna seem like I’m too eager, that’s gross—”

“Then find someone else to fuck,” she offers with her signature Robin Buckley half-smile. “I’m sure it would take you less than five minutes to find a willing participant.”

“Yeah, right here,” Steve jokes from the counter with the pathetic wave of his hand and a dumb grin on his lips.

You don’t hear him over the voices in your head — half calling you crazy for letting a boy drive you this mad over nothing, and the other half bitterly affirming each of your deep-rooted insecurities.

Your face screws up, like the thought of being with anyone other than Eddie upsets you — it does upset you.

“I don’t want anyone else.”

“Then what do you want?” Robin yells in your face, shaking you by your shoulders.

“I want Eddie!” you shout back without thinking. The words seem to spill out of nowhere. It takes you of all people by surprise. No one in this rat trap town would ever expect the whore of Hawkins to want to settle down, least of all the harlot herself. It’s strange; it’s riveting; it’s really fucking scary. “…Fuck.”

The brunette smirks, proud of herself. “Well. There’s your answer.”

“I hate when you’re right,” you mumble to yourself, pouting as she crouches back down again.

“I know.”

It was a terrifying thought, to know that you were head over heels for someone else. You try to come to terms with what that means.

Sometimes you think you fall in love with a new person every day. A cute guy holds the door open for you, a pretty girl compliments your outfit — they never think about you again, but they’re on your mind for days. It was so easy to develop such meaningless infatuations, especially when you were bored.

But Eddie was different.

He was a nice guy. A nice guy that was sweet to you just for the sake of being sweet to you; not because he secretly wanted something in return. That made you fall for him at first, but then you just… kept on falling. Eddie Munson was an infinite void you couldn’t crawl your way out of even if you wanted to, even if you tried.

And that’s what frightened you the most.

Because if you really thought about it, you’ve only truly been in love a handful of times. And, sure, it didn’t work out — that was normal — but some of them fucking ruined you.

You’re still trying to figure out who you are without all of the people that have broken your heart. You’re still fighting like hell every day to recognize the person you see in the mirror, while Billy Hargrove fucks off with a new girl every other week like he didn’t totally destroy you.

But, even still, Eddie was completely different. No one’s ever made you feel the way he makes you feel. And it’s more than the stupid heavy petting — it’s more than anything. It’s never been like this before; not even with the blonde mulleted asshole who ripped your heart to shreds.

And you’re scared that if you get hurt again, you’ll never be able to come back from it.

“Steve, do you have another copy of Fast Times in the back?” you suddenly ask the boy, tossing him a look over your shoulder.

It’s your last ditch effort to rid yourself of the ponderous, gray doom and gloom surrounding you like some storm cloud. Your comfort movie solves all of your problems — or, at the very least, Phoebe Cates does — but it seems everyone else in town has developed a similar fondness for minute fifty-three of the film and got all the tapes off the shelf before you could get your hands on one.

“You know I keep on in stock for you,” he answers quietly.

He reaches below the counter to pull out a spare copy for you, and your heart swells with the rays of a thousand rising suns and the songs of every morning bird.

Steve told you some time ago that he could change. And back then, all it did was piss you off, because he didn’t want to change for the town slut — for the girl he put through the goddamn ringer. He wanted to change for Nancy. The princess bruised his brittle ego a little, and then he realized what an asshole he’d been to everyone, to you.

But as angry as it made you, you never believed him. “Once the King of Hawkins High, always the King of Hawkins High,” you remarked bitterly.

You wouldn’t say it to his face, for the sake of keeping his ego from inflating all over again, but you could tell he was really changing.

He was kinder, he was softer. He stopped caring about what everyone thought about him, about what not caring would do to his reputation, and started giving a fuck about the people worth giving a fuck about.

Apparently, you were one of them.

“…Really?”

He nods with a subtle shrug. Like it was no big deal. Like it wasn’t one of the sweetest things he’d ever done for you — keeping your favorite movie on hand so you’ll always have a spare, knowing that it’s the only thing that gets you out of a deep, dark funk sometimes.

“Stevie… You’re gonna make me blush,” you lilt with a grin as you saunter over to him, hands innocently laced behind your back. “You need to be careful, Harrington. I’m gonna start to think you actually like me.”

He scoffs. “I do like you.”

“Yeah, when it’s convenient.”

It’s obvious your joke hits him where it hurts. It serves as a bitter reminder of the asshole he used to be, the douchebag he’s trying like hell to grow out of. He looks up at you with a sheepish, honey-tinted gaze before ducking away again.

A year or more ago it would’ve made you feel good, to know that you hurt him just a fraction of the way he hurt you. But you know that that isn’t the same man standing in front of you now, that he’d rather die than make hurt your feelings, and it makes you feel like shit for saying it in the first place.

“Sorry,” you apologize with a scrunched nose. The palms of your hands dig into the edges of the counter as you lean against it. Your shrug. “It just kinda came out…”

The barcode scanner in his hand beeps as he passes the thing over the back of the tape — never charging you, just getting the movie out of the database.

“So, uh…” he starts before clearing his throat. He focuses his gaze on the computer and types on the bulky keyboard with the tip of his pointer finger. “You really like this Eddie guy, huh?”

“Maybe. I think so.”

“And he’s not, like… a total freak or anything?”

You can’t tell if he’s trying to look out for you or if he just wants intel on what it’s like trying (and failing) to bang the local weirdo. Either way, it makes a smile tug slow at your lips as you joke: “Not in the way everyone thinks.”

“Jesus,” he winces at the obscenity of your words.

“Sorry,” you apologize again, though the laugh that bubbles from your lips after cancels out any hint of actual sincerity. “You don’t need to give me the talk or anything, Steve. I can take care of myself.”

“…Can you?” he half-jokes.

It makes you falter. “Well… With you and Robin and Hopper constantly on my ass, then yeah.”

“Just don’t want you to get hurt,” Steve finally admits, soft and suddenly shy as he hands the VHS over to you.

“That’s rich coming from you—”

He jerks back the tape before you can take it from him, leaving your hand reaching for thin air. His cinnamon eyes glimmer with a foreign seriousness, not completely unkind, but lacking their usual blithe. “That’s why I’m saying it. I just… I want you to be okay.”

Steve is one of the rare ones, you conclude right then in there — in the liminal emptiness of Family Video, beneath fluorescent lights that cast sharp shadows upon his already chiseled features. He was a mythical creature of a man, one who breaks your heart and does everything in his power to mend it again.

He hasn’t forgotten about what he did to you, not like Billy did, and he won’t. Not ever. He saw what he did to you and he never moved on from it, just matured enough to make sure it never happened again. And he won’t let another unworthy douchebag hurt you like he did. Not if he can help it, at least.

And he did try to warn you about Hargrove, to be fair. You were just the dumbass that didn’t listen.

“Well, me and my Phoebe Cates wet dream are golden, Pony Boy,” you promise. He hands you the tape again and lets you snatch it from his grip this time. “Don’t worry your pretty little head, Stevie.”

Steve Harrington was right.

The fleeting thought flashes across your mind for half a second, and you quickly realize that those words have never been uttered in the same sentence before now. But he wasn’t wrong in what he’d said about you, just before you left — you were completely, totally, absolutely, and implicitly unable to take care of yourself.

You nearly passed out in the bathroom after taking the hottest shower of your life, feeling too woozy to slap on anything other than moisturizer because you failed to remember to actually eat something that day. It wasn’t totally your fault, though; if anything, it was because of Eddie and all the butterflies he’d given you that made food the very last thing on your mind.

You half-heartedly dry yourself off, keeping your hair in a towel, while you slip on a cotton set of underwear you’ve had for way longer than what's likely acceptable. Damp and half-naked, you prance into the kitchen to fix Bowie her bowl of dinner before you feed yourself.

You fork a can of wet food onto a flower-shaped plate and let her eat on the counter — because you’re an adult now, and you can do that sort of thing.

The calico purrs while she feasts, but your stomach thunders with negligence. You peek into your mostly bare refrigerator and make a mental note to go grocery shopping when you get paid next week.

With a lack of food and an even lesser will to cook something, you settle for the half-eaten chocolate bar you keep stashed in the very back of the fridge; kept only for the most special of occasions — when you’re reveling in your loneliness and trying to convince yourself that you can make it on your own.

It was practically the size of your forearm when you first bought the thing at some too expensive candy store in the city. Now it’s no bigger than your hand.

You eat the thing in bed, even though you know you’ll get crumbs everywhere and that it’ll make sleep agonizing for you — if you get any, that is. You’re bound to feel like a total zombie by the time the sun rises and the late-night sweet will likely make its appearance on your skin by then, in a red and raging blemish of a consequence.

You’ll feel empty and starved and surly, a snapping grouch instead of an actual person, until you get some actual food in your system.

And you’re more than aware of all of these things, but you don’t do a single damn thing about them.

You’re nothing but a sulking lump upon an unmade bed, lying in a pitch-black darkness that’s evaded only by the static-y television across your room, trying your best to pretend like you aren’t waiting for Eddie’s phone call. It’s hard to remember to forget him, though, when the movie you’re watching is practically a feature film of him and all the ways he makes you feel.

Spicoli and his terribly inebriated friends slur as they chorus “No shoes, no shirt, no diiiice” and you swear you can feel Eddie’s shoulder bump softly against yours as he laughs, hear every sound of his melodic chuckle in your ear that made you giggle right along with him. The low bass of Moving in Stereo plays in the otherwise empty silence of your bedroom, and every beat feels like the rhythm of your thrusts against his thigh.

Eddie Munson is all-consuming.

Even the thought of him feels physical.

Phoebe Cates all but undresses herself in front of you, but you’re stuck thinking about some guy who lives in a trailer park across town, deals drugs for a living, and can’t graduate high school. You’re a total fucking goner.

Your eyes flutter shut, and instead of the backs of your eyelids, you see Eddie’s trailer. Your lips start to tingle as they kiss his for the first time — hungry, yearning, needing. His thigh is pressed snugly into your cunt, denim jeans rough against your soft cotton panties, and you have to bite back a moan when he tenses every time you squeeze his hard, covered cock.

You can feel it, all of him, like he were here with you now.

You wish that he were.

His fingers would feel far better, leave far more sparks of electricity in your belly, than the ones as you sneak through the hem of your underwear.

You try and take things slow with yourself, to be as gentle as he had been with you earlier in the woods, but it feels strange to treat yourself with so much tenderness. To touch your pussy like it’s the first time it’s ever been touched. Like it’s a beautiful thing you need to be sweet to.

Maybe you find it so foreign to be careful with yourself because no one has ever been careful with you.

No one, except for Eddie.

Your touch doesn’t rival his. It doesn’t even come close.

No matter how tightly you squeeze your eyes shut or how hard you try to pretend that they’re his fingers inside of you, you can’t make yourself feel as good as he did.

Your fingers aren’t as rough as his guitar-string-scarred ones and they don’t caress your clit with the same methodical care. They don’t fill you quite the same either, nowhere near as satisfying as his much thicker ones.

And you’re no stranger to masturbation, not by any means. Sometimes it’s the only way you can guarantee an orgasm for yourself when you’ve got a partner who cares so little about your own pleasure. But Eddie was different. Eddie cared — so much so, that he’s gotten more orgasms out of you than you’ve gotten from him, which is something you’ve never said about anyone else you’ve been with.

It’s rare and unfamiliar, a bouquet of all things refreshing and terrifying and strange, tied together with a pretty little ribbon.

You know that you can make yourself come. It’ll just take way too long to actually be worthwhile and won’t be nearly as mind-blowing as you need it to be. You won’t be left with trembling thighs and nearly numb legs — just a pitiful excuse for an orgasm that you could get from any one of your exes with half as much work.

What you need is Eddie.

And you hate that. You hate how much you need him and you’re terrified of what that means.

As far as precedent goes, right when you start needing someone is usually when they start to leave. It’s like fucking clockwork most of the time — like everyone knows that you’re a ticking time bomb and eventually it gets too risky to stand too close to you.

You’ll just have to keep Eddie at arm's distance. So he won’t see the grenade that you are.

You pull your fingers out of your wanting cunt, still slick and throbbing with a need that you can’t give it, when the phone rings.

The high-pitched shrill in the quiet makes you tense like it’s the first time you’ve ever heard the damn thing. Your breath catches in your throat, first out of fright and then at the inclination of who waits for you on the other line.

Suddenly, you’re scrambling to collect yourself. As though there was any possibility that Eddie might be able to see you through the phone line.

You wipe your wet fingers haphazardly on the cotton of your underwear and sit up straighter from your ungracefully lazed position. Then you count to five — one mississippi… two mississippi… three — so Eddie won’t think you’re some kind of crazy person who doesn’t have anything better to do than wait for his call.

So he won’t know that’s exactly what you are.

You lift the ruby red rotary from its hook at your bedside table and stretch the corkscrew cord to press it to your ear. “…Hello?”

“Yeah, hi. I’d like to order a pizza. Half pepperoni, half hawaiian.”

You roll your eyes at his dumb joke, even though the familiarity of his voice makes you smile. It warms you like a home-cooked meal, like you were high-pitched and starving before and now you’re on the soothing comedown of finally being satiated.

“Yeah, sorry, we’re closed.”

“Then why’d you pick up the phone, huh?” he teases back. You swear you can hear the grin in his voice. You didn’t know a smile could be so audible. It makes you wonder if he can hear yours — if you’re doing a real shit job at pretending. You anxiously twirl the cord with the pointer finger of your free hand.

“Because I’ve been waiting for you to call me all night, dummy.”

Your answer is more honest than either of you were expecting.

Eddie’s sigh crackles through the shoddy reception. “Yeah. Sorry ‘bout that, sweetheart. I’ve been working all night. I only got home, like, five minutes ago.”

You can hear the heavy exhaustion in his voice. “Rough day?”

“Kinda,” he answers with a shrug. You can hear the grating squeak of his mattress as he plops down onto his bed. “I dealt to one of Jason’s goons today… They always give me a hard time.”

“I’m sorry,” is all you can think to answer.

Eddie’s been the brunt of every joke since seventh grade — people made fun of too big clothes, his too wild hair, his too loud music. But he took it all in stride, laughing with everyone else before volleying a harsher joke back in response. You almost started to think that he liked it. That, somewhere deep down, he was fond of all the attention he got from people who supposedly couldn’t stand him.

But it hurts to know that it hurts him.

“Don’t apologize. It’s not like you did anything,” he assures with a soft laugh. He makes the bold decision to be honest then, too. “You, uh… You made my day a whole lot better, actually.”

You don’t know if he’s talking about the brief fling in the woods or the phone call you’re sharing now or if you particularly care either way. Your heart flutters like it’s been kissed by the wings of a butterfly.

“Really?”

“Yeah. I mean… I don’t know— I couldn’t stop thinking about you, you know. And, knowing that I was gonna get to talk to you again kinda got me through the day, I guess… And, yes, I am fully aware of how lame that sounds, but—”

You don’t get to hear the rest of his excuse, of why what he just told you totally isn’t lame, because you’re covering the receiver with your palm and turning to squeal into your pillow. A far more pathetic sight, in your humble opinion.

There hasn’t been a more fulfilling feeling than this one, to know that he’s been feeling the same way you’ve been feeling about him this whole time. It’s better than all the orgasms he could give you combined, to be loved so wholly.

“…You okay?” you hear his muffled voice ask after you’ve gone suddenly AWOL.

You press the phone back to your ear and nod like he can see you. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m good. The phone… fell— you said you just got home?”

“Uh, yeah. I met with Hellfire for a bit at school. We’re almost at the end of the Cult of Vecna, so they’re kinda on my ass about it. The little shits are obsessed.”

“Well, they should be. It’s a really good campaign, Eds.”

“Thanks to you,” he mutters. You can almost picture the glimmer in his button eyes and the shaky half-smirk he always looks at you with when he gets all shy.

“That was all you, Eddie Spaghetti,” you retort. “I still have no idea how you did it.”

“Did what?” he wonders, chuckling a bit at the nickname.

“Make something so beautiful out of thin air.”

Lying in the depths of his bedroom, blanketed by the darkness and bathing in streams of moonlight, Eddie feels his breath catch in his throat.

For the first time in his life, he doesn’t have a joke to spew out on the spot. He’s speechless, just for a moment, a quick blink of a second, with nothing to say. Because, if he really thinks about it, that’s sort of what happened with you.

You were just his customer and he was just your dealer.

You were a loyal client and then a girl way out of his league that he developed a too big a crush on. Then you made him come in his underwear and washed the sticky stains out of the denim for him. Now you’re on the phone with him. You let him tell you all about his shitty day and apologize like you weren’t the only good thing about it — like you aren’t the only good thing, period.

It’s not the most cliche love story, nor is it the most beautiful, but it has his cynical little heart beating like the wings of a hummingbird.

Then, when all the mushy mess fades like fog, he finally thinks of something to say.

“It’s the witchcraft, sweetheart,” he shrugs to himself. “Didn’t you hear? I’m a devil-worshipping freak.”

“You know that’s not it, Eds,” you retort with the roll of your eyes.

You know that it’s hard, to be a metalhead from the wrong side of the tracks in the eighties — at the height of the Satanic Panic and all the delusional craze. That shit’s followed him since freshman year. Even still, it nips at his ankles like rabid dogs.

Maybe you were never naive or bored enough to believe all the rumors, but Eddie Munson was always more than that to you.

“No?”

“You can blame it on being a freak show all you want, but I know it’s because you’re one of the funniest, smartest, most creative guys I’ve ever met—”

“You must not know a ton of guys then, sweetheart,” he interjects playfully, like he couldn’t stand to hear you compliment him any longer. You’d give anything to see his blushing cheeks just now.

“…You’re kidding right?” you giggle in response.

“Sorry— that’s— I didn’t mean it like— It was— I was joking,” he stammers, frightened that he might’ve offended you in some way.

It only makes you laugh harder. Both of you know you lost count of all the guys you ‘know’ a long, long time ago. You do imagine it’s somewhere near ‘a ton’, though.

“I know, Eds,” you assure with a contented sigh. “I was just teasing.”

“Oh.”

“The slut and the freak… Who would’ve thought?” you wonder all dreamily, like it’s a fairytale as old as time itself. That’s what it feels like, sometimes.

Eddie isn’t sure what you mean — who would’ve thought you’d be friends? Two people caught in that in-between stage of platonic and romance that’s complete agony and total, total bliss? A couple of kids falling in love—

“It’s sort of kismet, huh?” he answers.

“I think so.”

“So, uh… What are you up to?” Eddie wonders then, equal parts curious and eager to keep the discussion going. He’s frightened any lapse in conversation is going to lead to saying goodbye.

He wants to stay on for hours, until both of you are fighting to stay awake, and then listen to the sound of your heavy breathing when you inevitably lose — like that isn’t the creepiest thing anyone’s ever wanted. He’ll fight Wayne about the bill if it comes to that, he doesn’t care, he just never wants to stop being this close to you.

“Do you want the real answer or the fake one?”

“Uh… Both?”

“Well, I’d say I was doing something super productive with my night, you know, catching up on all the boring adult shit, but then I’d be lying. And I don’t wanna lie to you, Eds,” you tell him with a teasing lilt playing at the edge of your voice.

Eddie swallows thickly, fearing he’d somehow been caught in his own lie — or rather, his half-truth. He moves on quickly, though not exactly full of grace. “Right. Yeah. Totally.”

“Honest answer is, that the only productive thing I’ve done tonight is shower, and now I’m in bed watching Fast Times and eating all the chocolate in my house, because I can’t cook for shit and I have nothing else better to do with my night,” you admit to him, picking at the thread of your comforter.

“Oh, don’t tell me I missed the ‘Moving in Stereo’ bit,” he agonizes.

“Just.”

“Well, correct me if I’m wrong, sweetheart, but it sounds like you’re having loads of fun tonight.”

“I’m having a lot more fun now,” you assure him.

“Glad I can be around to make you laugh,” he retorts like he’s not all too happy to do it.

“You’re a total comedian, Eddie Spaghetti.”

“If I’m the jester, you’re the queen, sweetheart,” he promises, a grin evident in his voice.

Your breath catches in your throat something fierce; you’re almost worried that he’s heard it. His words pierce your heart, a stroke of lightning or a blade of steel. He’s joking, but it’s so strangely profound, the kindest thing anyone’s ever said to you and it’s dripping in sarcasm.

It’s sort of Eddie’s love language, you’ve come to understand, to say something so sweet but coated in venom to make it sour again. It makes you feel special, loved, almost.

A fire builds behind your rib cage, sharp and distant and all-consuming.

“Are you alone, Eds?” you ask him suddenly.

The sudden curve ball in the conversation takes him by surprise. “Uh, yeah, Wayne’s at work right now… Why?”

“Because I want you to talk to me…”

“Oh?” is all he can say because isn’t that what he’s been doing this whole time?

“And I want you to say things that… maybe other people shouldn’t hear,” you explain slowly to him.

“…Oh.”

He’s heard about this only once before, the whole phone sex thing.

It was from Andy in the back of Ms. O’Donnell’s class a year or more ago, though Eddie never called him by that name. Andy, in all actuality, was Jason Carver’s right-hand man, and he meant that in every sense of the phrase. Eddie was more than convinced that the guy was so obsessed with the blonde haired, blue eyed douchebag that he was giving him handjobs on the regular.

But it seemed the dick brigade couldn’t function properly without their leader and Eddie had the misfortune of hearing all the mindless bullshit they were spewing behind him — basketball, parties, girls; in true white bread fashion.

His friends gathered around him like he was telling some sort of secret, though it was loud enough for anyone in a three foot radius to hear. Eddie, caught directly in the line of fire, heard all about Chrissy’s older sister, Wendy, who was two years older and off at college.

He’d gotten her number from some party he’d crashed. At least that’s how he told it, right before telling everyone that she swore like a sailor when she came and that she told him all the dirty things she wanted to do to him while she did.

“It was like her hand was on my dick, dude, I’m serious. That shit was crazy, bro,” he’d laughed after retelling the whole conversation in excruciating detail.

Eddie rolled his eyes to himself then, inwardly jealous that he’d never get to meet Wendy — or any other girl that would be willing to have phone sex with him, for that matter. His phone only ever rang for telemarketers or a rogue Dustin Henderson calling to annoy him.

But, here you are now, the most wanted girl in Hawkins, offering it to him on a silver platter. He wonders if you’ve done this before, surely you have — oh god, he thinks to himself, what if you’ve done this with Andy?

“We don’t have to if you don’t want to,” you assure him after his unusually long silence. “I know you’re probably busy and tired and everything—”

“No! No, yeah, I— I want to. I totally want to.”

“Okay,” you nod. Petals of a flower begin to bloom in your chest as you lie back in bed, settling further into the mattress. The movie, already long forgotten, serves only as light and background noise. “So… What are you wearing, Eds?”

“I feel like I should be asking you that,” he laughs.

On the other side of Hawkins, in a trailer in the middle of nowhere, Eddie rises from where he’d originally flopped back onto his bed with the notion that it was going to be a semi-normal night. He props himself against his headboard. His fingers twitch at his thigh.

“Beat ya to it, Munson.”

“Well, I’ll have you know that it is very sexy, sweetheart. I’m wearing the same Hellfire shirt you saw me in, I don’t know, five hours ago — except now it’s got a rip in it because I totally ate ass on the way back to the van.”

He tells you this to make you laugh — it works — but he prays you don’t ask any questions. Because he got it while hurrying back to his van mere minutes after you’d left him, so hard he thought he was going to burst, with no more than seven minutes until his next client arrived.

Thankfully, he only needed three.

“I love that shirt,” you respond in place of saying what you really want to — ‘I love how that shirt looks on you’ — how it clings to his lean torso and reveals his midriff whenever he stretches his arms over his head.

“She’s a lit-tle worse for wear now, sweetheart,” he lilts.

“I’ll stitch it up for you.”

“And I’ve got on a pair of boxers that are so old they’re practically see through because I’m pretty sure they used to be Wayne’s back in… I don’t know… the eighteen-hundreds.”

Eddie was right. It was sexy, though, for the exact reason they weren’t supposed to be.

There was something so domestic about it all. You can picture him lying in his bed, in the most comfortable clothes he owns, in the one place he can feel at peace. Like a renaissance painting, something familiar and comforting and beautiful — fuck, you’d give anything to be next to him.

“…I think that means it’s your turn now, sweetheart,” he teases.

“Is it?” you mock in return.

“C’mon. Don’t leave me hangin’ over here.”

“It’s nothing, special,” you assure. Your eye flits down to peer at your own body — nothing special, indeed, you think to yourself. The lilac cotton set came from the grocery store downtown on the clearance rack you so often frequent. “I just have my underwear on. It’s very boring, I’m afraid.”

It’s not boring. Not to Eddie — the boy who prides himself on his insanely active imagination. He might not be able to pass english with his brain, but he can certainly create worlds with it, and it’s too easy for him to picture you. He imagines you, freshly showered, and smelling of the warm lavender-vanilla scent you always smell like, mostly bare and lazing upon a fluffy comforter.

He swallows thickly. “Oh, that’s— that’s really, uh— that’s really sexy.”

His thankful that you don’t seem to mind his poor excuse for dirty talk.

“It’s only because I was too lazy to get into actual pajamas.”

“I’m glad you didn’t.”

“Yeah?” you press, smiling to yourself and caging your bottom lip between your teeth.

“Yeah.”

“Can I tell you a secret, Eds?” you wonder, made brave enough by his own admission.

“‘Course you can.”

“Before you called…”

“…Uh-huh?” he eggs on, intrigued at the way you trailed off, sounding suddenly shy.

“I was…” The thought of telling him what you were doing mere seconds before he called makes you nervous. It wasn’t like you were ashamed of touching yourself or anything, nor is the art of dirty talking lost on you, but something about Eddie makes you timid.

“You were… what, sweetheart?” he wonders gently, with a too audible grin.

“I was touching myself.”

That’s all you tell him. The words linger and hang in the air of your separate bedrooms and you cling to the silence — almost mortified and anticipating his reply. Eddie, meanwhile, feels like his tongue has swelled in his mouth and all the air has been punched out of his lungs.

“Oh...” he tries to respond without the breath to accurately do so. “…Yeah?”

“You know what Phoebe Cates does to me,” you try to joke.

His laughter crackles through the receiver. “Yeah. I kinda have her to thank for the other night, don’t I?”

“Give yourself some credit, Eds. The hottest guy in Hawkins was sitting right next to me, what was I supposed to do?”

“No way you think I’m the hottest guy in town,” he scoffs. “Everyone knows you’ve got a thing for pretty boys.”

“Pretty boys?” you echo with a giggle.

“Uh-huh. The Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington type, you know?”

“Well, I think you’re a hundred times prettier than he is.”

“Really?” he scoffs cynically, obviously not believing you.

“He wasn’t the one I was thinking about with my hand shoved down my panties,” you admit, immediately quelling his self-doubt. “That’s gotta count for something, right?”

Eddie clears his throat and then stammers, “I— I guess so— yeah.”

“Are you hard, Eds?” you ask in a breathy whisper.

And he just nods to himself at first, too stupid to answer audibly. He can feel himself stiffening in his boxers, only halfway hard now, but getting firmer by the second. Soon, he’ll be aching.

“Yeah…”

“Can you touch yourself for me?”

Eddie would rather take a bullet to the chest than say no to you — at least, he figures that’d probably hurt less — so he slips his fidgeting fingers through the band of his boxers and takes his warm, stiffening cock in his hand. He squeezes himself just enough to make his stomach tighten.

“Want you to touch yourself, too,” he admits, neither asking or demanding it, just telling you.

“Yeah?” you tease.

“Well, I think it’s only fair, sweetheart.”

You can’t help but notice how breathy he’s gotten — how it shakes on the inhale and hitches on the out. He’s got his hand shoved down his underwear and you’re jealous of the fingers that get to wrap themselves around his cock. You wish they were yours. Both of you will have to settle, it seems.

“Whatever you want, Eds,” you answer playfully.

You obediently slide your hand back into the warmth of your panties. Your fingers slot between your lips and collect the slick that had gathered there since before you’d even answered the phone. You bring it up to your clit, circling the pads of your fingers there until you twitch, then dragging them down to press into your opening. They slip in with ease.

Both of you have turned into lovesick idiots, separated by so many miles, and missing the other most ardently. Lying in the depths of your bedrooms, basking in a velvet loneliness, building with a mutual pleasure with nothing but yearning hands and longing sighs.

Eddie’s eyes flutter shut at the sounds of your low moans and fragile whimpers that crackle through the static — beautiful still, but certainly no match to the ones you were breathing in his ear just hours ago.

His lashes dance across his cheeks as he tries to remember how you’d felt against his fingers, soft like velvet and delicate like silk, weeping and pulsating with need.

He drags his hand from his boxers and lets the band snap against his pelvis. He spits into his palm and wets his cock with it, sighing as he tugs at himself without much friction.

“Are you wet, sweetheart?” he asks, though the words threaten to get stuck in his throat.

“Yeah,” you whisper back like it’s some kind of secret.

You work yourself open with your middle finger and slip your pointer in next to it without much trouble. Your walls flutter around them while you fight to find the spot the makes you keen. You’re only able to tease it, fingers not quite long enough to caress it completely. Your thumb keeps working at your clit, though, to make up for the lost pleasure.

“I’ve been wet since I left you,” you admit through labored breaths. “Haven’t been able to… to stop thinking about you, Eds.”

“Glad I’m not the only one whipped over here, sweetheart,” he manages a laugh.

“No one’s ever made me come that hard before. Not just with their fingers,” you tell him mindlessly, dumb on pleasure, as you feel yourself climbing that peak.

“Really?”

“Never,” you promise, then whine. “Doesn’t even feel as good now… Can’t get as deep as you can—”

Eddie hangs on your every word as he works his palm up and down his stiff cock, squeezing at the base and swiping his thumb over the head with an expert hand. His face scrunches as his stomach starts to tighten, he’s close to coming — too close for his liking. He doesn’t want this to be over so quickly.

“You’ve ruined every other guy for me, Eddie Munson,” you confess, more than pleased to hear how it makes him whine. It sounds like it comes from the depths of his chest, the way it crackles low and needy through the receiver.

“Good,” he grumbles through his pants after he’s gathered himself all over again. “Don’t want anyone else to have you, sweetheart.”

This time you’re the one letting out the most pathetic of whines. It makes a smile flicker at the corners of his lips.

“You like that?”

It sounds so dirty, but you can tell by the sincerity of his tone that it’s genuine. So you answer with a longing truthfulness, a delicate “yes”entwined with a yearning moan.

“You just wanna belong to me, don’t ya?”

Now, this is dirty talk. The teasing lilt of his tone — it’s almost degrading — and makes you clench around your fingers. “Yes, please,” you whine, all but pleading for him now.

Eddie’s close, so dreadfully close, with a pleasure so tangible he could taste it. Your words make his cock twitch in his hold as the fire builds in his belly.

Through your whole-hearted promises and wanting moans, he can hear the sound of your slick through the receiver. The static reception doesn’t do it justice, but the wet click of your fingers working you open was unmistakable.

A moan grumbles in his throat as he digs the crown of his head back into his pillow. “Holy fuck— I can hear you, baby.”

“I’m so wet for you, Eds,” you tell him through fragile slurs, like it wasn’t inherently obvious.

You were wrong before, about wanting to hide from him. You couldn’t conceal your need for Eddie if you tried. The honey you drip, all sweet and just for him, wouldn’t let you keep it a secret.

“I know, baby, I know,” he nearly coos. “Are you— fuck, please tell me you’re close?”

“Yes,” you promise in a whine. Your thumb presses harder into your clit. It makes your thighs tense until they’re shaking.

“You rubbing your clit for me, sweetheart?” he asks like he knows. “I know that’s what you like.”

You whimper, working at the spongy spot within you as your hips buck off the bed. “Yeah.”

“Keep rubbing yourself like that for me, okay? Want you to keep going until you come for me.”

If he keeps talking to you like that, it’ll come a lot quicker than he’s prepared for.

It’s too soft to be much of a demand, but you listen obediently anyway, rubbing at yourself though your sensitivity keeps building. It grows like a morning tide, rising and flowing like white waves on an ocean, stirring something fierce in the depths of your stomach.

“Eddie,” you sigh out his name, broken through staggered pants.

You hear his stuttering breaths, too. “Y—Yeah?”

“I’m about to come,” you promise through a whine when the familiar crescendo sends a shock through your body.

“O… Okay,” he responds, pathetically, then whines, even more so.

“Want you to come with me… Please…”

“Fuck— okay. Shit, sweetheart, I’m almost there.”

“What are you thinking about?” you ask him.

“Your pussy,” he answers without thinking — he’s not doing a whole lot of that anymore. “Wish I’d gotten to taste you earlier. Wanna feel you… fuck… Wanna feel you come on my tongue.”

“Holy shit, Eds,” you moan at his words, at the vivid picture they paint in your head.

“And you get so… God, you get so fucking wet. Just want you to drench me, baby.”

It feels good, to be complimented for something boys used to make fun of you for, to realize for the first time that’s it’s sexy — that you’re sexy — and that Eddie is more than happy to drown in you. The feeling almost rivals the impending orgasm that’s bound to hit you like a tidal wave.

“I’m thinking about how I coulda took you on that bench… Just, fucking, get on my knees for you. Shove my head between your legs. Hold your— shit, baby— hold your thighs open, keep you exactly where I want you,” he rambles but then cuts himself off to moan at his own words. “Goddamn, sweetheart. Wanna taste you so fucking bad.”

The moan you let out is pitiful. It leaves your mouth in the most delicate cry.

No picture has ever been clearer than the one of Eddie between your thighs, your hands knotted in his hair to move him to exactly where you need him most and forcing him there. You can feel his fingers digging into your hips, his rings pressed against your burning skin, and the way your legs tremble on either side of his head.

“Yeah. Keep— Keep doing that. Keep moaning for me,” Eddie tells you. “I’m about to… holy fuck, I’m about to come.”

“Wanna feel your tongue in me so bad, Eds,” you whimper, egged on by the moan he lets out. “Want your cock even more.”

That’s what does him in, the assurance — the promise — that you want him just as bad as he wants you.

He tightens his fist around his cock, achingly hard and raging a crimson at the tip, trying to imitate the way you’d feel around him. It’s not all that close, not nearly as wet as the honey you’d be dripping for him, but his imagination does the rest of the work for him.

All at once, you’re on top of him, riding him for all he’s worth, your pussy threatening to swallow him whole. You’ve drenched him, just like he’d begged for, and that wet schlick noise still echoing from the receiver is the evidence of each of your assured thrusts over top of him.

You’re still pleading for him anyway — for more, for his tongue, for his cock — and he wants so desperately to give everything to you.

“Oh god, baby—” he sputters. He grips the phone in a white-knuckled, fist trembling. “Oh, fuck, I’m coming, baby.”

“Please, Eddie. Please come for me,” you plead over the low sounds of the forgotten film playing across the room and all the dirty wet sounds your pussy makes against your fingers. You sound like you need it, like you want his orgasm more than your own.

“Want you to come with me… Can you— Can you do that for me, sweetheart? Please?” It’s not dirty talk anymore. He’s actually fucking begging you and doesn’t feel the least bit ashamed to do so.

He wants to hear all the pretty noises you make when you come — that initial cry that stems from the depths of your soul, the high-pitched whimpers that come when the sensitivity builds, and the whines that leave you when it ebbs.

He wants to hear it over and over and over again, like a worn cassette, and play it until the tape spins out.

“Yes…” you promise through a set of stuttering breaths.

There’s no talking when either of you come. Eddie’s long forgotten to talk you through it, but you would barely hear him if he had. The phone slips out of your hand when your grip slackens and it falls to the pillow beside your head.

You chase your orgasm full throttle, working through the crescendo and the strikes of lightning, focusing only on his muffled moaning and the pretty sounds he makes as he comes.

The breath of your name whimpered through a tight throat is what does it for you. Your body has hardly any time to warn you before you’re gushing all over your fingers, twitching every time the pad of your thumb rubs over clit.

That cry, the one you always let out as you come — all wet and full of need — makes Eddie orgasm right alongside you.

He swipes his thumb over his head again, collecting the pearls of precum gathering there and sliding them down the base to squeeze himself there like he’d been doing this whole time. He clutches harder this time, imagines it's your cunt locking him in a vice-like grip, and whines in his throat when he comes.

Several loads of it spill onto his cotton boxers, most of it gathering along the side of his hand and dripping down his knuckles. His breath staggers as he works himself through his high, praising you through the phone like you’re the one who brought him to it.

“Fuck, baby… You’re so good… So fucking good.”

You’ve long settled from your own orgasm, still tingly and numb in some places, but not as gone as you had been just moments before. You still float on a cloud, getting lost as you stare through your window at the half-hidden stars sprinkling the night sky and feeling as though you could reach out and touch them.

You can feel the satin moonlight bathing you, and the jittery static of the neon of the television screen. You can feel everything and somehow nothing at all.

“I don’t know how you do it, Eds,” you confess, hardly thinking about the words spilling from your mouth when you lazily bring the phone to your ear again.

“Do what, sweetheart?”

“I don’t know… You always make me feel good. Even when you’re not here… Even when we’re not getting each other off.”

“I feel the same way,” he promises you, all mushy, even though he feels like a slob for wiping his hand off on his discarded jeans on his bed. “Just… wish you were here.”

“I wish I was there, too… Wish I could clean you up.”

Eddie’s eyes shut tight as his head tilts back to his pillow at the thought. “Fuck… You’re gonna make me hard again, sweetheart.”

You perk up suddenly as an idea sprouts like a flower in your head. A smile blooms on your lips, and you rise up onto your elbows, glowing with an unanticipated excitement. “How long would it take you to get ready?”

“…Get ready?” he echoes.

“Yeah,” is all you say.

“I mean, I— I don’t know. I figure if I put on some new underwear and a fresh pair of pants, I’ll be good as new... Why?”

“You wanna do something?”

“Yeah. Sure. Anything,” he answers clumsily in place of saying, ‘Anything to not have to be without you.’

“I wanna go to Skull Rock.”

“Skull Rock?” he repeats.

Legend has it, you and Steve made that place a local landmark. People have always said that Hopper caught the both of you one too many times up at Lover’s Lake and the Quarry, that you needed a more hidden place to fuck. So you’d stumbled around in the middle of the woods until you found a place the chief wouldn’t think to look for you.

You’d certainly found it. Then every other horny high schooler did too.

It’s the place you go to fuck, the most private place in all of Hawkins — hell, maybe even Indiana entirely for teenagers who can’t get the house to themselves. And as appealing as it sounds, to take you beneath a sky of twinkling stars, Eddie doesn’t want his first time with you to be on dirt or in the middle of the woods. That’s how all the horror movies start, don’t they?

So, needless to say, your answer takes him by surprise.

“Yeah! You can see all the stars really good from there. It’s too hard to see them so close to town.”

Eddie’s heart swells all at once at how sweet you are, like sugar poured directly onto his tongue. You’re not eager to be without him either, it seems, and that thought is as gratifying as it is thrilling.

You’re an adventure he’s about to go on, without a map or a way out, a journey he’s happy to go into blind as long as you’re holding his hand the entire way through it.

It breaks his heart to hang up the phone. He practically begs you to do it for him, and it makes you laugh — a kind giggle entwined with a tease ‘you’re such a baby.’ It rings in his ears long after the receiver clicks.

Most of all, he hates all the stoplights that separate your place from his. He hadn’t known where you lived before now, not until you uttered it over the phone. He makes a mental note to figure out a quicker way, somewhere through the winding back roads that his old van can speed through to make the distance less daunting.

He pulls into your apartment complex, a quaint two-story thing on the quieter side of town, where the woods are plentiful and the street lamps far fewer. He turns his radio down out of respect for all your neighbors that he’s sure he’ll never meet and spies you through the neon orange porch lights. You shut and lock your door in quick succession, then scurry across the way to meet him.

Eddie leans over to unlock the passenger side door for you, already beaming, and finds you’re smiling too when you climb in next to him. The grin you shoot his way outshines the night sky and makes a bright yellow sun of the girl sitting in his passenger seat.

“Hi,” you’d greeted him, all shy like you didn’t just make him come all over his hand thirty minutes ago.

“Hi, sweetheart,” he volleys back like he always does, with that big ol’ smirk and teasing lilt as he cock his head to the side — using his playfulness to cover up the bashful mess you so easily reduce him too.

Neither of you had gotten particularly dressed up to see each other. All he did was put on fresh under and pajama pants. You succumbed to a smilier laziness it seems, haphazardly brushing through your half-damp hair, throwing on a too big t-shirt, and calling it a day.

The cotton hangs low at your chest, stretched out and obviously well-loved. It falls well past your thigh, though you spend much of the drive anxiously tugging it down.

It makes him wonder what you’re wearing beneath it. If you’ve tugged on a pair of shorts or if you’re in the bra and (undoubtedly wet) underwear you’d told him you were wearing over the phone.

Eddie winds himself up all over again while you sift through the flimsy case of endless cassettes he keeps tucked in the glove compartment that never quite shuts all the way.

“How do you now have any ABBA tapes?” you wonder like it’s baffling, with an Iron Maiden tape in one hand and Cinderella in the other. Metallica plays lowly, nearly inaudibly, from the stereo.

Eddie laughs and darts his eyes from the darkened back roads to look at you, all smiley and bathed in moonlight, before turning back to the road again. “Uh, because I’m not a thirty-year-old woman. That’s the shit moms listen to.”

“Moms and hot girls,” you retort jokingly.

“Right, moms and hot girls listen to ABBA — of which, I am neither, sweetheart. Sorry to be the one to break it to you… Besides, it’s not like you walk around listening to, fucking, I don’t know— Van Halen or whatever.”

“Hey. I listen to Van Halen,” you shoot back.

He scoffs. “Yeah, right.”

“It’s got what it takes!” you sing suddenly, not quite catching the rhythm of the song, but smiling anyway as you reach for his forearm resting on the center console. “So tell me why can’t this be love!”

“Oh, my god— that’s literally their worst song,” Eddie chuckles through the widest grin you’ve ever seen from him.

It makes you smile big too, looking like an idiot who’s totally head over heels for the boy next to her. And of that, you’re happily guilty of.

“Not true,” you shake your head defiantly. “I love that song.”

“So that means it has to be good, right?” he retorts playfully, shooting you a teasing look, though his beam is more than sincere.

“Obviously,” you answer with a scoff that makes Eddie roll his eyes.

He knows he’s going to start to love it, though, if only because it’s the only Van Halen song you halfway know.

He’s going to hear that song on the radio and he’s going to want to turn it, but he’s going to remember this moment now — the one with you reaching for him while you sing the lyrics to a song he can’t stand, sitting pretty in his passenger seat, while the moonlight blanches your smile and the bare skin of your thighs.

Eddie Munson is going to love that goddamn song for the rest of his life.

He parks as close as he can to Skull Rock, knowing his van can’t work its way that far into the woods. The two of you are forced to walk the rest of the way, not exactly minding it, though Eddie’s incessantly worried you’re going to get cold.

He’s already forced his jacket upon you, which you took with little fight. It warmed you almost immediately — with his cozy heat and musky cologne.

You make mindless conversation the entire way there, about music and then about his band and then what animal you’d want to be in your band if that were the least bit possible. Eddie chooses a sheep without any hesitation, though you’re confident that a penguin would be far cooler.

You keep a careful distance between you, at first, like both of you are too scared to initiate the first move. That is, until you trip over a raised branch and nearly eat ass on the forest floor. Then Eddie’s holding your hand the entire way, keeping you close.

“If you wanted me to hold your hand, you coulda just said so, you know?” he jokes. “Didn’t have to go through all the dramatics, sweetheart.”

You try and yank your hand out of his grip in protest then, but he doesn’t let you. In fact, he pulls you closer and twirls you into a bear hug that you happily relax into.

He feels your sigh fan against his collarbone as you rest your head at the nape of his neck, his arms wrap around your shoulders as yours settle at his waist. He rocks you back in forth, in a moment that’s too almost sweet to make fun of.

Eddie finds a way, of course, “See?” he singsongs. “I’ll hug you like this all the time, if you want. You don’t have to almost kill yourself to get my attention, babe.”

“All I did was trip,” you laugh at his theatrics.

“Death by tree root… What a gnarly way to go.”

He holds your hand the entire way to Skull Rock.

He doesn’t let you go once, not until you’re ascending the large boulders to plant yourselves at the very peak of them. He’s grabbing you again once you settle, though, and the two of you just sit there, for several long moments, just gaping at the stars that dance with life above you. They sprinkle an infinite void with enough light that manages to touch you, trillions of miles away.

There’s a subtle beauty in that Eddie never would’ve appreciated before now.

“Shit, babe,” he breathes through a whimsical existential dread. “You were right. The stars are really fucking pretty out here.”

You love how much he loves this, to come to Skull Rock with you and count the stars. Any other guy would’ve had their tongue down your throat by now, stuffing your hand down their unbuttoned jeans.

But not Eddie.

He just holds your hand because he likes the feeling of his fingers entwined with yours, grasping tightly onto you while he gazes at an infinite universe — like you might float off right along with it.

His neck is stretched to gape at the night sky. You catch his adam’s apple bobbing every time he swallows. You want so desperately to kiss his milky white skin and sprinkle blotchy red bruises there.

His curly locks fall over his shoulders. He shakes his head to get his bangs out of his eyes while the chocolate buttons of them dart around the endless void.

He’s more beautiful than every star in the sky combined. You can’t be sure of how many that is, of course, but it’s a whole bunch if you had to guess. It makes sense, though, for the prettiest boy in the whole damn galaxy.

“Told ya,” you answer with a smile, leaning over to nudge his shoulder with yours. “You come out here often?”

You’re asking if he takes girls here and he knows it, but it’s not like you’re being inconspicuous about the whole thing. Eddie gauges it almost immediately, the subtle jealousy hinting at your tone — something no one else would’ve caught — and he squeezes your hand in reassurance.

He shakes his head. “No… Never.”

“Never?” you press with raised brows, like his answer shocks you.

“Ever. It’s not really my scene, I guess… But what about you, sweetheart? Never seen you around these parts before.”

You knock his shoulder again, harder this time. “Shut up. You already know the answer to that.”

“Yeah…” he nods to himself, eyes darting back and forth as he reminisces on something. “You and Harrington, you and Hargrove. Hell, I think I heard about you and Jason one time—”

“That was a long time ago,” you argue. “Before I even knew you, okay?”

“I’m just saying,” he shrugs in defense. “You totally have a thing for pretty boys, sweetheart.”

“I never said I didn’t, Eds. Just that you were pretty, too.”

“Whatever,” he scoffs and rolls his eyes like he isn’t glowing red beneath the moonlight.

“You’re better than all three of them, Eds,” you confess with a sudden softness that catches his attention almost immediately. He turns his attention from the sky to look at you properly again. His breath catches at you sad you look — all beautiful and coated in shades of blue.

“…Yeah?”

You nod and drag his hand into your lap to fidget with his fingers. You trace the skeleton heart on his middle finger, subverting all your attention there because it’s easier than having to look at him now. “Better than all of them combined— not even just them, you know? Out of everyone. No one’s ever been this nice to be before.”

“Me neither, sweetheart,” he confesses with a morose grin. “The freak of Hawkins High attracts a lot of assholes, believe it or not.”

“Is it bad?” you wonder cautiously, like you’re scared to hear the answer. In some ways, you are.

You hadn’t known him in high school, not really. For obvious reasons, you ran in very different circles. You never even had classes together. There was never any excuse to be close to each other before now, never a reason to become friends. So you didn’t.

You grew to know him as a freak, and he knew you as the town slut. Then somewhere down the line, he became your dealer and now… here you were.

But you’ve graduated now and he’s still army crawling towards a diploma. You couldn’t save him from the hell of Hawkins High even if you wanted to.

“Nothing I can’t handle,” he shrugs. “Jason and the dick brigade just wanna make my life hell, that’s all.”

“I hope they aren’t,” you respond shyly.

Eddie scoffs then shoots you a smile. “Oh, of course not. Look at me. I’m at Skull Rock with the most wanted girl in Hawkins. I’m living the dream, sweetheart.”

“So you don’t care?” you wonder, peering at him through your lashes, as you twist the silver cross around his finger.

“Care about what?”

“That I’m a slut,” you laugh like it’s obvious.

Eddie doesn’t think it’s all that funny. “Don’t say that.”

“It’s not like it isn’t true, Eds,” you retort with a trembling smile. “I mean, that’s literally what people call me — most people don’t even care to call me by my real name anymore.”

“I don’t care,” Eddie shakes his head. “I don’t care about that. I don’t give a shit about what people say about you. If everyone cared about what everyone said about everyone, neither of us would be here right now… Because you’d think I was some devil-worshipping freak and I’d think you were too busy getting it on with Chief Hopper.”

You screw your face up immediately at the thought. The mere idea was repulsive. The asshole was practically your father these days. Jim Hopper was in that small bunch of available people you would never fuck, and happily so.

“I’d never stoop that low,” you joke.

“I like you, how you are, right now,” Eddie promises. “Don’t want you to change a damn thing.”

His brown eyes twinkle with a sincerity that rivals the stars above you. All of a sudden, you don’t care about a bunch of heavenly bodies light years away from you — you care about this man, the one sitting beside you now, holding your hand even though your palms have gone all sweaty.

It’s too good to be true — the way you looks at you, the way he talks to you, the way he treats you. You’re scared that it’s a dream, that you’ll wake up and find that none of this was ever real. Or worse, that he was, and that he just didn’t care about you the way you cared about him.

It’s almost irrational. Almost.

But it’s happened before.

And it’s left you a scarred and mangled mess.

You shake your head to yourself and scrunch your face as you turn to look him. “Have you ever done this before, Eddie?”

“Don’t what?” he wonders with furrowed brows.

“I don’t know…” you shrug. “Any of this? With anyone else?”

He’s grateful he doesn’t have to lie. Or tell some clumsy half-truth for the sake of saving his own skin. He realizes tonight is perhaps the most honest he’s ever been with you, baring his pale soul beneath a silver moonlight.

“Never,” he answers, unwavering, with a firm shake of his head.

“Really?”

“Really,” he nods, then swallows thickly at a gut-wrenching realization. “I’ve never felt his way about anyone else before.’

“Me neither,” you promise.

It’s a tad more meaningful coming from you than from a boy who’s never had someone to love and to love him back.

You’re experienced, you’ve found what you like and what you don’t like. You’ve been with guys who have given you the world and guys that have ended yours altogether. And out of all of them — all of the assholes in Hawkins you could’ve picked — you’ve chosen the freak.

You want him.

You want Eddie.

The revelation makes him grin. “Promise?”

“Cross my heart, Eddie Spaghetti.”

#published by bug #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #stranger things x reader #stranger things imagine #eddie munson imagine #virgin!eddie munson x reader #virgin!eddie munson

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fettuccin-e · 1 year

Text

The Wonderful Way Things Change

A/N: hi there everyone... shamefully, very shamefully, I have not posted anything original since i think like february. it was an unplanned hiatus! promise it was completely unplanned, this semester just really kicked my ass lol. BUT HERE WE ARE! with matt smut of course how could I not because he is the loml so please enjoy! love you!

Description: Based off this ask, and can be read as a loose sequel to this (my first ever fanfic oh boy oh boy). In which Foggy calls you to check in on Matt, and the sight of your boyfriend all disheveled in a suit is making you a tad desperate. Thankfully, neither of you have the self-control to keep your hands to yourselves.

Tags: Matt Murdock x Reader, afab!fem!reader, no use of y/n, smut like so much smut who do you think I am, fucking Matty in a suit, oral (f!recieving), unprotected piv (pls wrap it up irl fuck them kids) (w/c: 2.5K)

Yours and Matt’s relationship is new, somewhat, but you both know that it’s been a long time coming. It’s only been a few weeks since he finally kissed you for the first time, since he healed your poor, pining heart. It’s not like other relationships you’ve had, with the talking stage at the beginning, where you’re still asking each other about your childhoods, favorite movies, and songs. You and Matt already know everything about each other.

He knows about your shitty job that you hate but manages to pay the bills. He knows all about your childhood, all of your hopes and dreams. Up until a few weeks ago, the only secret you’d kept from him was your frankly ridiculous crush on him.

But you know that it’s the same way for him. You already know about Daredevil, and to Matt’s unending surprise, you accept him, love him for who he is. You don’t want him to give up either side of himself; you’re happy to just have him. Matt is still trying to get used to the feeling of actually having you, instead of just being by your side, letting you slip through his fingers.

Up until a few weeks ago, Matt had resigned himself to only being your friend. The friendship he’d found in you at Columbia would remain just that. Unbeknownst to him, you’d resigned yourself the exact same way. But a misunderstanding and a frustrated and ridiculously dramatic love confession later, you’d finally kissed him like he’d only dreamed of. You’d allowed him to touch you like he’d always wanted, and Matt could swear that he’s never felt anything softer, never tasted anything sweeter than you.

So the relationship is new, but it also feels like you and Matt have just been waiting, settling into routines like you’ve been together for years. You know how Matt is, how he’ll bury himself into cases and recordings and court documents, searching for that one bit of evidence that proves his client is innocent. He sends Foggy and Karen home on nights like these, insisting that they need to sleep, that they work too hard as is.

“He’s gonna be there for hours,” Foggy tells you over the phone. “You’ve gotta get him out of there or he’s going to collapse.” You laugh, pulling on your coat and stepping out of Matt’s apartment.

Ever since you had both confessed your feelings for each other, and Matt had finally, finally taken you to bed, you had more or less moved in. It hadn’t been intentional, nor had Matt officially asked you, but the one time you had broached the subject of maybe sleeping at your own apartment, Matt’s arms had wrapped around you, holding you to him while he pressed desperate kisses all over your face and neck, telling you that his apartment was so cold without you there.

“C’mon, sweetheart, haven’t we spent more than enough time apart?” he had murmured, and you had agreed.

“Yeah, alright Fog, I’m heading over there now. I’ll make sure you have a well-rested partner by tomorrow,” you giggle into the phone, and you laughed even harder at Foggy’s genuine sigh of relief.

“Christ, how did Nelson, Murdock and Page survive without you and Matt together?”

“It’s truly a mystery, Foggy,” you tease, and Foggy laughs with you. He keeps you on the phone the entire walk to their office building, filling you in on the cases he, Karen, and Matt are working on. You could talk to Foggy for hours, really, but he lets you go as you walk up the steps to their offices. With a promise to talk soon, maybe take a trip to Josie’s, you hang up, shoving your phone into your coat pocket.

You can hear the recording Matt is listening to through the door to his office, some judge droning on and on. You enter the room quietly, heart beating wildly at Matt in his sharp suit, without his glasses, hair mussed from his fingers running through it the way they usually do when he’s working through a case. You watch as a smile blooms across his pretty lips, his eyes lifting to your direction as he pauses the recording.

“Hi, baby,” he says, and his sheer beauty in that moment nearly brings you to your knees. This man, with his hair sticking up in every direction, his tie slightly loosened at his chest, big brown eyes and wide smile is yours. All yours. You can’t help how your heart beats even harder at the thought.

You watch his grin meld into a knowing smirk as he listens to the quick pattering of your heartbeat. “Something got you worked up, sweetheart?”

You hum, crossing the room to where he sits in his office chair. “Oh, you know,” you drawl, trying to keep your voice coy and light, even though you know that your heart is giving away your sudden desperation for the man in front of you. “I’m just thinking about all of the things I get to do now.”

“To me?” He’s playing coy too, trying to goad you.

“Always to you, Matty,” you giggle, and he chuckles in return. You swing a leg over his lap, straddling him and relishing in how his chuckle morphs into a choked gasp.

“What- What kinds of things, gorgeous?” his voice is breathier now, beautifully affected by your actions.

“Just how I can do things like this,” you wrap your hand into his tie, tugging him towards your mouth. “And things like this-” you breathe over his mouth, before capturing his pretty, enticing lips with your own.

Matt groans into the kiss, smoothing his hands over your hips before reaching behind you to grab your ass in his big, thick hands, tugging you further up his lap. Your clothed pussy rests just over the bulge of his cock through his slacks, and you can feel it thickening beneath you.

“And you call me worked up, Matty?” you murmur against his mouth, wiggling in his lap and pulling a soft moan from his lips.

“When my gorgeous girlfriend walks into my office, smelling like my apartment and so fucking soft on top of me,” he says, squeezing your ass again, “how can you expect me to be calm, baby?”

Your stomach bursts into butterflies at the title. You’re his girlfriend. He’s your boyfriend. It feels so very juvenile, like you’re twenty years old again and still trying to get through calculus class. Maybe it’s because you’ve been waiting that long. Waiting for him, since you first met him and Foggy at Columbia. It feels so far away now, so different, and yet, you still burn bright and warm with Matt’s attention on you. Calling you his girlfriend.

He shifts his hips under yours, the bulge of his thick cock against your pussy impossible to ignore, and you whine, just barely, but Matt hears. Of course he does.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he murmurs. “So fucking needy.” He lurches forward again to press his lips to yours, licking into your mouth.

“Please, Matty,” you whisper, and he groans into your mouth all over again. He doesn’t separate his mouth from yours as he lifts you against him, using a hand to brush the cumbersome documents and files off the desk behind you, before laying you softly against it, running his hands over your waist and kissing you like you’re something precious.

But you are, Matt knows that you are the most precious thing in the fucking world. And you want him. Matt can hardly believe it sometimes; he still sometimes thinks he’s dreaming when he feels you in the morning, pressed tight against him, your heart calm and steady with sleep.

He licks into your mouth like it’s the last thing he’ll ever do, and what a way to go. He could stay in this moment forever, kissing you while your hands tangle into his hair. But your sexy little whines are echoing around him, your hips moving in desperate little circles against the aching bulge in his slacks.

“I’ve got you, sweetheart,” he whispers, and you just whine louder. It’s a nearly painful thing, taking his lips from yours, but he can fucking smell your arousal, and the need to dive between your thighs is suddenly too much for him to handle.

You kind of want to cry when Matt breaks your kiss, but your mourning at the loss of his lips is quickly cut short by his thick, calloused hands pushing your skirt up your thighs, leaving the material to bunch around your waist. He nudges his nose against your clit through your panties, taking a deep breath in through his nose, savoring it, and you nearly black out.

“Oh- oh my God,” you stutter, and Matt smirks in that ridiculously cocky way you hate that you love.

“I mean, I go by Matt, but if you want to call me God-” Matt starts, tugging your panties down your legs.

“Matthew Michael Murdock, I swear-” You want to continue, you really do, but it’s really hard to keep your train of thought when Matt is leaning down and licking a long stripe up your soaked pussy, swirling around your clit and making your hips buck up uncontrollably. He quickly braces a forearm over your twitching body, holding you still with his strength while he eats your pretty cunt.

“So fucking wet for me, gorgeous,” he mutters between your thighs, the vibrations feeling like shockwaves up your spine. “So pretty, baby, could’ve been eating this pretty cunt since college.”

You can barely form a sentence, only able to utter out whines of Matt, Matt Matt, between desperate moans as he licks into you. You can feel him grinning into your cunt, knowing he’s driving you fucking crazy, before he’s drawing up to capture your throbbing clit into his mouth and sucks. He brings his free hand up to sink a thick finger into your needy entrance, crooking it up and pressing into a spot inside that makes white creep into the edges of your vision. He just sucks and sucks, swirling his tongue around our achy clit and playing with you like a toy.

Your orgasm hits you like a freight train, unexpected and brutal, and you would have thrashed off the desk if it weren’t for Matt’s strong arms holding you steady. He carries you through it, licking at you softly while he keeps his finger inside, giving your pussy something to clutch onto. As your hips finally stop twitching, Matt rises, leaning over you again, and you can’t help but tug at his tie again, dragging his mouth to yours, uncaring of the taste of your pussy covering his lips.

“Please fuck me, Matty, oh god, please. Need you in me, baby,” you whine, and you can’t find it in yourself to be embarrassed at how needy you sound. Matt groans, sounding just as desperate as he licks into your mouth. He takes his hands from your body to reach down, undoing his belt and slacks just enough to tug his aching cock out. He’s so hard it’s nearly painful, the head sticky and red and throbbing with the need to fuck you. To claim you.

You wrap your arms over his back, tucking your head into the crook of his neck as he sinks into your sensitive pussy. As he finally bottoms out, you lean back to look at him, at his big eyes staring just off your face, his mouth slightly agape.

“I thought about this, y’know,” you whisper, your nails digging into his back as he presses just a bit deeper inside. “Every time I brought you guys lunch, I-” you moan softly as Matt thrusts, hard and so fucking deep you swear you swear you can feel him in your guts. “I thought about you, fucking me on this desk, in-in this fucking suit, god, Matt.”

“Shit, baby,” he grunts, rocking into you so hard the desk rattles beneath you. You can barely pay attention to it, not when the tip of Matt’s thick cock is grinding into the spot inside you that makes you scream, your nails digging into the soft fabric covering his back. “I thought about you too, god, you have no idea, sweetheart.” You can only whine in response as he continues, “You’d bring us all lunch, wearing your little uniform, fuck, with that pretty skirt and those heels.”

Matt’s hands tighten over your hips, forcing you to meet him thrust for thrust, and it’s so fucking good. You can’t manage to answer him through your desperate whines of his name and choked moans as his thick cock stretches you out for him, but Matt’s still talking. You don’t know if he can stop.

“I could hear your thighs brushing together under that tight fucking skirt, your heels clicking up the hall, and all I could think about was ruining you. Ripping that skirt off you and making you beg for my cock,” he grunts, driving desperately into your soaked pussy. Your head is swimming, drowning in Matt’s words, his scent, his cock.

“Now I can, baby,” he grunts, voice breaking on a choked moan. “I can fuck you just how I’ve wanted, make this pretty pussy soak my cock. Can wake up to you in my bed, fuck you whenever I want, whenever you want, baby, fuck I’m yours. You hear me, angel? I’m yours.” Matt can feel your pussy fluttering desperately around his cock, and snakes a hand between your bodies to press a thumb over your clit.

He leans over you, his tie loose and dangling over your face as he growls, “and you’re mine. Mine.”

And you’re gone, pussy tightening like a vice around Matt’s thick cock, screaming his name. Little tears escape your eyes, dripping down your cheeks as Matt groans your name in return, hips stuttering into yours and flooding your overwhelmed pussy with his cum. You can hear him, just barely, through the roar of blood in your ears as he whispers, “So good, baby, so perfect. Love you so much, so much, you have no idea. I love you, loved you for so fucking long, angel.”

You bring your hands up to tangle your fingers into his soft hair, bringing him to your lips, whispering a soft “I love you so much, Matty,” in return before meeting him in a soft kiss. His smile against your mouth is blinding, endlessly joyful, and slightly delirious.

He’s still buried inside you a few minutes later, when you finally whisper, “I’m not sure this is what Foggy had in mind when he sent me over here.”

“If this is what Foggy had in mind, I might have to send him a fruit basket, or buy him a round,” Matt chuckles, and you smack him lightly on the shoulder before you’re laughing too. Matt smiles, unable to believe that you’re his, before he cuts your giggling off with a loving kiss.

#hey I'm back #with daredevil smut #what else did you expect #matt murdock x you #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock fanfiction #matt murdock smut #daredevil x you #daredevil x reader #daredevil smut #daredevil fanfiction

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bradshawssugarbaby · 6 months

Text

Full of Surprises - Bob Floyd x Reader

A/N: Inspired by @galaxy-of-stories's post

pairing: Lt. Robert Floyd x reader

warnings/content: virgin!bob x fem reader, oral (f receiving), p in v, swearing, hangman actually being a decent friend towards bob.

word count: 3k

minors dni below the cut

Bob chewed on his bottom lip nervously as he watched you from across the beach, his dark blue eyes watching you intensely from behind his wire framed glasses. He rarely took part in off-base activities with the rest of the Dagger squad, but today, he’d been coaxed out by Rooster and Phoenix to join the team for a relaxing beach day. What he didn’t know though, was that you would be there. You were Maverick’s niece, and Bob had pretty much instantly fallen for you. Smart, funny, beautiful and friendly - Bob thought you were the whole package. He loved the way your eyes lit up whenever you spoke about something you were interested in, the way your cheeks blushed whenever Maverick and Rooster started reminiscing about your childhood, having grown up playing with Rooster on occasion when you were little, and he loved the way you were so outgoing, and so unlike him. He always hated his incurable shyness, the fact that he struggled so hard to come out of his shell, he resented it, especially now that it made it next to impossible for him to hold a conversation with you.

“Hey, Baby-on-Board, you coming?”

Bob turned his head around to face one of the pilots on his squad, Hangman, calling over to him. Bob rolled his eyes at the nickname Hangman had given him and shook his head quickly, his cheeks turning red again. He prayed that the UV rays were strong enough that day that he could lie and say the reddening of his face was due to too much sun exposure, but he knew that wasn’t likely going to work as an excuse on anyone, much less Hangman. The tall blonde pilot raised an eyebrow at Bob as he folded his arms over his broad chest.

“Jeez, Bagman, don’t you ever wear a shirt?” Bob laughed dryly as he poked fun at Hangman, who had long ditched his t-shirt to show off his sunkissed skin, trying desperately to attract any female attention he could get on the beach.

“Hey, at least I don’t keep mine on the whole time at the beach.” Hangman shrugged as he sat down on the sand beside Bob. “Why do you anyway? I mean, you do all the same workouts as the rest of us do. It’s because you’re covered in chest hair isn’t it?” Hangman smirked as he playfully shoved Bob, flipping his sunglasses down over his eyes.

“No, I just don’t like to,” Bob shrugged his shoulders, “You know me, I’m not one to draw attention to myself.”

“I hate to break it to you, Bobby, but you’ve definitely drawn someone’s attention,” Hangman grinned at him as he pointed towards you with his thumb as he spoke, “Mav’s niece hasn’t been able to stop herself from giving you the bedroom eyes, it’s hilarious that you haven’t noticed it yet though.”

“Bedroom eyes?” Bob laughed and shook his head, “What the hell are bedroom eyes?”

“You know,” Hangman put his sunglasses atop his short blonde hair and grinned, imitating the lustful look he was referring to, the one he was so convinced you had for Bob.

“I have never seen anyone make that face in my life, Bagman. Are you bullshitting me?” Bob raised an eyebrow as he leaned back on his palms in the sand and sighed softly as he watched you again. The breeze blew your long hair back and the sunlight hit your tanned skin just right, making you appear to have a sunkissed glow. The sight alone was almost enough to drive Bob crazy.

“Hah!” Hangman grinned as he pointed at Bob’s facial expression as he watched you, “You’re doing it to her right now!”

“I am not!” Bob protested, shaking his head. “Look, don’t you have something better to do?”

“No, I know I’m a shitty wingman half the time, but this time, I’m making it my personal mission to be yours.”

Bob sighed again as he rolled his eyes. He knew he wasn’t winning on this one, and Hangman wasn’t going to leave him alone anytime soon. He just wasn’t ready to make a move on you yet. He’d had a handful of girlfriends over the years, but he’d never gone any further than making out for one reason or another, usually due to nerves. As badly as Bob wanted to, he couldn’t bring himself to be humiliated in front of you.

“I’m fine,” Bob said through clenched teeth.

“Dude, you can tell me what your hang up is. I’m not gonna go blab it, I promise,” Hangman said, placing his hand over his heart playfully to show that Bob’s secret would be safe with him.

“Fine…” Bob exhaled and shook his head, “I don’t know what the bedroom eyes are or anything because I’ve never, you know…gone to the bedroom…with anyone,” He said as he gave Hangman a pleading look, his facial expression begging him for some sympathy and compassion instead of the relentless teasing he expected from him.

“You mean, never?”

“Never. Not even close. I think I’ve made out with a girl once. I was like 18 though.”

“Wow,” was all that Hangman could muster out.

“So now you get it?” Bob asked softly, “It’s not that I don’t want to ask her out. It’s that I’m scared I’ll screw it up because of that.”

Bob sighed and shook his head again as he stood up. He brushed the sand off his shorts and forced a laugh.

“I’m gonna head home, Hangman. See you later.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Hangman laughed as he put a hand on Bob’s shoulder, his firm grip stopping Bob from walking away, “You’re at least gonna talk to this poor girl. She’s been interested in you the whole time she’s been here visiting Mav. Christ, even Mav’s noticed it,, and we all know how observant he is.”

“What if you’re wrong though and she’s not interested in me? Maybe she’s just being nice. I bet you’re more her type anyway.” Bob frowned.

“Me? No, she’s uh…she’s made it very clear I am not her type,” He laughed softly, shaking his head, “I tried. She outright told me “the cute guy with glasses” is her type. And how many guys with glasses are on our squad?”

“Just me…unless she meant sunglasses. Then it could be anyone.”

“Robert, I swear, you’re the dumbest guy I’ve ever met sometimes,” Hangman laughed as he rolled his eyes, “She meant you, jackass. She likes you. She told me. Now, what are you going to do with this information?”

“Talk to her…?” Bob tried, a nervous laugh escaping his lips as he thought about it.

“Attaboy, Baby-on-Board, you got this,” Hangman grinned as he stood up, “Now, do me a favour? Try to look a little less like you’re about to shit your pants over this ok?”

Bob rolled his eyes and took a deep breath as he approached you, a friendly smile on his lips as he nodded his head towards you.

“Hi, I don’t think I ever properly introduced myself,” Bob offered his hand out to shake and smiled, “Lt. Robert Floyd, everyone calls me Bob, sometimes Bobby though.”

“Hi Bob,” you grinned and shook his hand, “Y/N. Nice to meet you. My uncle’s told me a lot about you. You’re a WSO, right?”

“Yeah, I’m the backseater, it’s kinda fun, I’m a big nerd, so I get to use a lot of math in it to calculate where to aim the lasers and all that.”

You let out a giggle as he explained his role to you and he couldn’t help but smile and laugh along with you. Hours passed between the two of you conversing together, Hangman proudly watching Bob impress you from the background. After a while, the rest of the squad cleared out from the beach, leaving just you and Bob there by yourselves. It was beginning to get dark outside when you stood up beside Bob and smiled warmly.

“Want to come back to my aunt Penny’s? She’s not gonna care if I bring you over, she and Uncle Mav speak very highly of you. Aunt Penny always says you’re incredibly polite, and Uncle Mav called you a “good kid” so I doubt they’d mind if you came back to hangout for a little while.”

Bob nodded his head and smiled politely at you, the sunset making his eyes shine as he turned to face you. He leaned forward gently and pressed his lips to yours in a soft, gentle kiss. He pulled away after a moment and shook his head.

“God, I’m so sorry, I don’t know why I did that. I’m not usually that forward. I mean, I wanted to, obviously, I just normally ask first. And now I’m rambling, fuck sake,” He laughed and shook his head again.

You smiled and leaned in to kiss him again, quieting his anxieties and insecurities as your lips met once again. He moved his lips in time with yours as he kissed you, his tongue tracing along your bottom lip, as if he was asking permission for it to enter your mouth. Your tongues swirled together with passion and lust as you made your way across the sand and over to the front steps of your aunt and uncle’s home where you were staying, your lips barely breaking contact as you walked. You felt Bob put a hand gently on your waist as you pulled him inside through the patio door, into the sunroom where you were staying. You breathlessly pulled away from Bob to come up for air, shrugging your cardigan off your shoulders as you did so. Bob, finding a sudden burst of confidence, grabbed you by the waist with one hand and pulled you into his body tightly, pressing his lips to your neck. As his lips found your sensitive spot on your neck, his hands palmed their way over your breasts, gently cupping them and squeezing them as he felt you up.

“Mhmm, Bob,” you groaned softly as he made contact with your sensitive skin.

Bob pulled away for a moment and frowned slightly, remembering his earlier confession to Hangman. He let out a deep exhale before turning to face you, his facial expression full of concern as he spoke.

“Listen, I have to tell you something before we go any further, ok?” His voice was quiet and low, almost in a whisper as he spoke.

You nodded in response and waited, listening intently as Bob spoke.

“I’ve never…you know,” He finally said.

“Never?”

“No, never.”

“Do you want to though…?” You asked after a few moments of contemplation.

Bob bit his lip and laughed softly as he nodded his head quickly.

“Believe me, I really do.”

“Then I’m honoured to be your first,” You nodded your head and kissed his cheek gently.

His cheeks flushed a bright scarlet red as you spoke. Without further hesitation, Bob leaned in and kissed you passionately again, tangling his fingers gently in your hair as he pulled you in closer to him. He pulled away ever so slightly as he spoke and laughed nervously.

“You’re going to have to tell me if I’m doing any of this right, ok? Kissing is about the only thing I know how to do.”

You giggled softly as you nodded your head reassuringly to Bob as he drifted his lips down your neck to your collarbone. He gently ran his hand up your leg, his fingers brushing against the hemline of your sundress as his hand drifted slowly up your thigh. You felt him take a deep breath as he pressed his lips to your collarbone again, his fingertips grazing your underwear gently. He looked up at you without saying a word, his lips still hovering above your collarbone, as if to ask for permission to keep going. You bit your lip, holding back a grin as you nodded your head, giving him the signal to continue.

Bob’s fingertips grazed against the dampening fabric of your underwear again, moaning softly into your collarbone, he looked up at you as he slowly dragged them down off your legs and laughed softly.

“Wow.” he said, trying to hide his mix of arousal and curiosity, “You’re uh…you’re pretty into this, aren’t you?” He laughed as he tossed your underwear to the floor.

“Mhmm,” You smirked at him as you guided his hand, his fingers gently brushing against your folds, feeling your arousal as it began to gather on you.

“Shit,” Bob laughed softly as he shook his head, “This is where I start to not know what I’m doing.” He gave you an apologetic look.

“Everyone has a first time, Bob, I’ll show you what to do,” You smiled reassuringly at him as you continued to guide his hand along your core. He smirked as his wandering hand found your clit, two of his fingers pressing against the sensitive nub as he discovered it. The sound that fell from your lips was almost enough to make Bob lose all self-control on the spot. He arched his eyebrow at you as he continued to gently draw circles on it with his finger.

“Y-you can use your mouth there too,” you nodded, trying your best to think clearly as he pleasured you.

Bob bit his lip gently as he positioned himself between your legs. He took his glasses off and sat them beside your leg as he ducked his head down in between your legs. He gently pressed soft kisses to your folds, his tongue carefully lapping up your wet arousal as he kissed at you. You let out a loud moan as Bob’s lips made contact, but before he could lift his head up to see if you were ok, your hand was grabbing a handful of his sandy blonde hair, pulling his head into you gently to tell him to keep going.

Taking the hint, Bob continued to leave soft kisses on you, grinning as he heard you moan out.

“Feels s’good, honey, keep doing that,” You encouraged as he began using his lips to suck at your sensitive clit, your hips bucking upwards against his mouth, your body craving being as close to him as humanly possible.

Your compliment to Bob’s skill turned something on in him, and suddenly, he began moving his lips in the same rhythm but with more passion, like he’d just discovered his God-given talent on this earth was using his mouth to pleasure you into oblivion. As you reached your boiling point, Bob continued to lap his tongue at you, his lips sucking on your clit as you rode it out. He pulled his mouth away from you before pulling his t-shirt over his head. He wiped his mouth on his shirt before discarding it to the floor and working to unbuckle his belt before dropping his shorts to the ground. His boxers were tenting with arousal as he looked down at you, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip.

“Do you…do we need anything?” He asked as he tried build up the confidence to do what he was about to.

“I’m clean and on the pill,” You nodded your head and laughed softly, “So you’re good.”

“Right,” Bob chuckled softly as he nodded his head before peeling his boxer briefs down off his body.

Bob stroked his length before lining his hips up with yours. He took a deep breath and looked to you for an indication that you were ready, that you were sure you wanted to go through with this. As you flitted your gaze to him, biting your lip as you sized him up, you couldn’t help but let out a nervous chuckle. Bob looked at you, somewhat mortified as his eyes widened.

“What? What is it?”

“Nothing, you’re just…bigger than I’d pictured, if you get me. You might need to take a pause once you get started so I can adjust to you, mkay?”

“Gotcha, don’t worry darlin’,” Bob nodded knowingly and laughed as he ran a hand through his hair.

You let out a sharp exhale as Bob lined his hips up with yours and gently pushed himself into you. As promised, he paused for you to adjust to his size, waiting for you to tell him you were ready for him to start. Once he heard you give the ok, he began thrusting his hips in and out of you, a deep grunt escaping his lips as he felt your body tighten around him, your arousal dripping from you and onto his cock.

“Fuck,” Bob groaned as he thrusted deeper into you, finding his rhythm, “You feel so good, darlin’.”

“Keep going, baby,” you purred at him, encouraging him to continue before throwing your head back in ecstasy, moaning his name loudly.

Bob felt your walls clenching against him, gripping his erection tightly as he pumped himself in and out of your body. He felt as you arched your back against the bed, bucking your hips upwards into his thrusts as you came close to your climax again. He groaned loudly in pleasure as his thrusts became sloppier and more frantic.

“Fuck, darlin’, I’m so close,” He hissed as he let out another flurry of sinful sounding moans and grunts as he came.

The two of you sighed in unison as you rode your pleasure out together. Bob panted as he pulled himself out of you, his cheeks red from breathlessness as he tried to compose himself. He hovered over you, a smirk forming on his lips as he leaned down to kiss you. You pressed your lips to his passionately, moaning softly against them as your overstimulated body struggled between wanting more from him, and wanting to take a break.

“How was I for my first time then?” He grinned at you.

“I never would have believed you if you told me that was your first time after we’d done it. I also don’t think I’ve ever heard you swear before this either.”

Bob smirked as he laid himself down beside you in bed, putting his glasses back on.

“Well, apparently I’m just full of surprises, aren’t I?

357 notes · View notes

austinshotbutlers · 1 year

Text

The Wedding Date - Part Six

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Fem!BAU!Reader

Summary: Your sister's wedding is approaching fast and the thought of showing your boyfriend off to you family and your ex-boyfriend seems like a very appealing idea. The only problem is... you don't have a boyfriend. Luckily your stony faced, serious, sexy boss has agreed to be your fake boyfriend for the weekend. What could possibly go wrong?

Word count: 4.6K

TW: Swearing, smut (unprotected sex, oral F! receiving) and bad writing?

A/N: A lot happens on this chpater but I hope its nice and smooth to read 😬 but we’re finally at the last chapter!!! I hope you’ve enjoyed it all. Like I said before, i plan to write a prologue and epiloge and still have two social media AUs to post! Thank you for all the love and support!

You were stood with your ear pressed against the door in the hopes of hearing the conversation between Tom and Sarah. You were able to make out little snippets here and there when suddenly your mom came bounding over. “What’s going on?” She asked. “Sarah is meant to be walking down the aisle in five minutes.”

“Mom… shhhh.” You said turning to her. “Sarah is just… having a minute to calm her nerves.” You lied.

“Ok, well please tell her to hurry up, the guests are getting antsy! I’ll just go and get your father.” And she walked off down the hall. As soon as she was out of sight, you pressed your ear back against the door.

“Tom, I just can’t tell you how sorry I am I never told you.” Sarah choked out.

“Look baby, I don’t care! It happened before we were together. I just needed a minute to process that you slept with Luke. I mean, I know he’s my friend and everything but Luke? Really?” Tom said with a slight jokiness.

“Do you still want to go ahead with this?” Sarah asked meekly.

“Hell yes, I do! But from this day forth, we tell each other everything ok?” Tom said. “If this marriage thing is gonna work honey, we need to be truthful.”

“Of course!” Sarah said, her tone a little cheerier.

“I actually think you should thank your sister.” Tom began and you could hear the eye roll in Sarah’s scoff. “I’m glad she got you to tell me actually. I’d much prefer to have heard it from you than Luke, we know his reputation for blurting things out.”

“I guess you’re right. I mean, I just told her she was a shitty sister when I’m the shitty one.” Sarah sighed and you triumphantly smiled to yourself. Sarah never admitted she was wrong so to hear it straight from the horse’s mouth, it was music to your ears. “I mean, what the hell was I thinking about sleeping with Luke in the first place? I think I was just desperate for your attention.”

“And it worked,” Tom replied. “Come on, let’s do this thing.”

You heard Tom’s footsteps towards the door and frantically scrambled away from your position where your ear has been pressed up against the wood. Tom opened the door and looked at you with a bright smile on his face, followed by a big thumbs up. He then made his way down the hallway, presumably to wait for your sister at the altar.

You cautiously walked towards your sister and knocked lightly at the door. Sarah hastily turned around and looked at you. She didn’t say a word, but you knew by the way she tilted her head, she was inviting you into the room. You slowly walked in and stopped a few steps in front of Sarah.

“So…” you started. “Is everything…” You didn’t know how to finish the sentence.

“Y/N.” Sarah cut you off. “I’m sorry. Utterly and completely sorry. Sorry for what I did, sorry for not telling you, just sorry for being a shitty sister.” “Thank you.” You replied. “I guess maybe I should apologise as well but I was hurt. I just couldn’t believe you kept it a secret from me for so long.”

“And I completely understand that Y/N! You don’t have to apologise.” Sarah said and you were shocked to hear the words leave her lips. Never did you think you’d be hearing Sarah take accountability for her actions while also justifying your own.

“How did Tom take the news?” you asked despite knowing.

“He was hurt I didn’t tell him sooner, of course he has every right to be upset about it.” Sarah started. “But he still wants to get married!” and you could hear the relief in her voice and a bright smile filled her face.

“You will still be my maid of honour, won’t you?” Sarah asked, worry wavering in her voice.

“Of course, I will Sarah.” You smiled. “You’re still my sister… despite the shitty things you may have done.”

“Thank you!” she exclaimed, pulling you in for a tight hug. “Thank you so much sissy.”

***

You found Aaron hovering outside the entrance to the hall the ceremony was about to take place. He was watching people fidgeting in their seats as they awaited the bride’s entrance.

“Hey!” you smiled as you reached him. Aaron turned around to face you and a smile grew on his face. Aaron was relieved to see you in a happier mood than a mere 30 minutes ago.

“Everything ok?” He asked.

“Everything is good. I actually received several apologies from Sarah. Something I never thought I’d hear to be honest.” You began. “Oh! And I guess it’s good news that the wedding is still going ahead.”

“That’s great then.” Aaron smiled and leaned down to place a soft kiss on his lips. “I’m glad you sorted everything but remember, you have every right to be upset with the situation.”

Your heart melted at his words, and you leaned up to peck another quick kiss on his lips.

“Thank you,” you whispered to him.

“I just want you to know, your feelings are valid and justified,” Aaron added.

“I know Aaron and I love you for being just so perfect.” You smiled brightly and a pink tint tinged the tips of Aaron’s ears. He wrapped his arms around your waist while yours slid up his arms to perch around his neck.

“I love you, Agent Hotchner.” You smiled.

“I love you too Agent Y/L/N.” Aaron replied placing his lips on yours once again in a searing kiss.

“What do you think you’re doing!” Your mom hissed through her teeth causing you and Aaron to hastily pull apart from each other.

“Aaron, go find your seat! Y/N, where is your bouquet?” Your mom frantically barked her orders. “Sarah is about to walk down the aisle. Quick get into positions!”

“I’ll see you soon.” You whispered to Aaron before he escorted your mom down the aisle to their seats.

Then, the excited bridesmaids began to clamber into the hallway, arranging themselves in the correct order and checking all their dresses were straight and their bouquets looked perfect. Next came Sarah, looking so flawless despite the chaotic last hour, with her arm firmly folded into your dad’s.

“Are we all ready?” Sarah asked excitedly and a wave of murmurs and excited whispers followed from the crowd of bridesmaids.

“Are you ready?” you asked Sarah and she nodded eagerly.

“I’m so ready!” Sarah replied.

You smiled at her and took your position, ready to walk down the aisle. The music started to play and off you went.

***

“More champagne?” Aaron asked, offering the bottle.

“Yes please.” You smiled, passing your glass to Aaron. He took it and filled it up perfectly with the bubbly beverage before handing the glass back to you.

“You looked so beautiful during the ceremony,” Aaron said to you as you took a sip from your champagne flute.

“Flattery will get you everywhere Mr Hotchner.” You laughed, placing a hand on his thigh.

Aaron placed his hand on top of yours and smiled at you before the two of you looked around the room at everyone as they finished their meals. Sarah and Tom were giggling away at their table at the front while Livvy was flirting with one of the groomsmen she had been put with for the ceremony.

“Everyone has finished their meals.” You groaned, burying your head into Aaron’s neck.

“Yes?...” He responded slightly confused.

“So it means it’ll be speeches soon and I cannot stand public speaking.” You sighed.

Aaron laughed which caused you to sit up and shoot him a glare.

“Why are you laughing?” You asked slightly annoyed. “This is my worst nightmare.”

“I’m not laughing at you.” Aaron replied. “It’s just funny that you can deliver a profile to police officers you’ve never met before but can’t make a speech in front of people you know.”

“Well, there’s a slight difference.” You said. “There are a lot more people here than at any police station.”

Aaron just chuckled as he placed a soft kiss on your temple. “You’ll be fine,” he murmured against your skin.

Suddenly, the sound of a knife being tapped against a glass caught everyone’s attention and every guest turned to face the bride and groom. Tom was stood up and pulled a paper from his suit pocket, unfolding it carefully before holding it out, ready to read his speech. One by one, everyone made their speeches, Tom, Sarah, your dad, Tom’s mom and Luke (whose speech was fortunately short, snappy and a little bit awkward) before it was your turn. Aaron squeezed your hand reassuringly as you stood up, everyone’s eyes shifting to you.

You cleared your throat before speaking. “Hi everyone. I hope you’ve all been enjoying yourselves so far. Don’t worry! I am the last speechmaker for the night so as soon as I’m done, you’re free to head to the bar.” You joked and a few laughs echoed around the room. You ran your hands down the front of your dress, your palms sweaty from nerves. “Sarah. I remember when we were younger, you would cut pictures out of mom’s magazines to design your own wedding in your scrapbook. They were always so big and extravagant with bright pink dresses and crazy venues like Disneyland. But I also remember the hours I spent tidying up all your paper scraps and rubbish,” You laughed and others joined in including Sarah. “You always knew exactly what you wanted and I guess I was jealous of you in that way. You had your life perfectly planned out while I was stuck deciding if I wanted to profile criminals or not, much to Mom’s dismay.” And this time your dad’s laugh caught your ears. “And I’ll be honest, I had been dreading your wedding, I really had! But now that I’m here, while we may have had our rocky patches over the last few days, you’ll always be my sister and I want you to be happy, I know you and Tom will have a very happy life together. To Tom and Sarah!” you said, raising your glass and everyone followed.

You immediately sat back down and released a breath.

“That was perfect,” Aaron muttered as you sat. “I think I saw Sarah wipe away some tears.”

“Phew, at least I didn’t fuck that up.” You replied and watched as the guests began to file through the doors to the dancefloor and bar. “Come on, let's go get a drink.”

***

The dance floor was heaving with everyone dancing as the DJ played a mixture of upbeat songs. You and Aaron stood and watched the chaos as you both sipped on a glass of scotch. He had his arm wrapped around your waist while your head rested against his shoulder. The several glasses of alcohol had now begun to go to your head.

“Thank you,” You said. “For agreeing to come with me. Never did I think that the things that happened over the last few days would have happened when you said you’d be my fake boyfriend.”

“I think, agreeing to be your fake boyfriend was one of the best decisions I’ve ever made.” Aaron smiled. “Finally having the confidence to tell you how I really feel about you was something I never thought would happen.”

“We also had sex.” You said excitedly and Aaron chuckled to himself, amused by your tipsy revelations.

You were just about to speak again when one of your favourite songs began to play, echoing loudly around the room.

“Oh my god! I love this song.” You smiled brightly and Aaron melted at the sight of how happy you were. “Come on! Let's dance.”

You both put your glasses down on the bar before you dragged Aaron onto the busy dancefloor. You wrapped your arms around his neck while Aaron’s hands found your hips by instinct as you began to sway in time with the music together. You buried your head into Aaron's neck and your knees nearly buckled at the comforting smell of his cologne. Everything felt so perfect.

“How long do you think we have to stay here?” Aaron asked.

“Why? Have somewhere you want to be?” You questioned with a laugh.

“Yes I do,” he smirked. “And it involves you, a bed and no clothes.”

“I like the sound of that,” you smiled, leaning up and placing a kiss on his lips. “How about we stay for another hour and then I’m all yours?”

“Sounds perfect,” Aaron smiled. “I’ll just get us another drink.”

You nodded with a smile and watched as Aaron made his way through the sea of people on the dance floor and towards the bar.

A sweaty hand on your arm drew you from your thoughts and you turned to see Liv with a huge grin plastering her face.

“How has your night been?” She asked.

“Good!” You shouted so Liv could hear you over the music.

“I’m surprised Aaron hasn’t taken you home yet and ripped that dress off you.” She laughed and you rolled your eyes jokingly. “I’m currently trying to persuade Josh to invite me back to his hotel.” And she pointed over to the good-looking, blonde-haired man.

“I think his name is Greg.” You corrected her with a laugh.

“Whatever!” Liv laughed. “He’s hot and it's ritual for a bridesmaid to hook up with a groomsman.”

You laughed and shook your head.

“Here honey,” Aaron’s voice said from behind you and you turned to see him holding out a glass of white wine to you. You took it from him gratefully and Aaron looked over to Liv who was beside you. “Sorry Liv, I would have got you a drink as well,” Aaron said, and a warmth flared in your chest from just how sweet he is.

“Don’t worry about it Aaron,” Liv smiled and then she turned back to you. “Operation ‘hook up with Josh’ is in full swing.”

“Greg!” You corrected her again with a laugh.

“Greg… whatever!” Liv shrugged you off with a laugh as she headed back towards the blonde groomsman.

“What was that about?” Aaron laughed as he took a sip from his bottle of beer before wrapping his arm around your waist.

“Just Liv’s chosen target for the night.” You laughed in response and leaned your head on Aaron’s shoulder.

The night went on as you and Aaron found yourself comfortably seated at a table, drinking wine and sharing kisses every now and then. The dancefloor was still alive with people including your mom and dad as well as Livvy (who was far too busy kissing the groomsman, Greg). Sarah and Tom had cut the cake, which had been shared amongst all the guests before she tossed the bouquet which Tom’s little sister caught (much to her boyfriend’s hatred!).

You looked over to Aaron as he watched the room and leaned into his ear so he could hear you.

“Let’s get out of here,” you said and Aaron could practically hear the smirk in your voice. “We’ve stayed a lot longer than we said we would and now I’m desperate to get you alone.”

Aaron looked into your eyes with a desire that sent butterflies through your stomach.

“Come on,” he said, standing up and taking your hand. “Let’s get a cab.”

You quickly made your way around the room, bidding your farewells to Sarah and Tom, your mom and dad and of course Liv, who gave you a knowing wink as you pulled away from your hug with her.

Once comfortably situated inside a cab on your way home, Aaron had you pulled close to him, littering your neck with soft kisses and occasionally nipping your skin.

“If you keep this up, we’re going to get kicked out of the cab,” you giggled. “And I don’t particularly want to be walking home in these heels.”

“I’ll carry you,” Aaron mumbled between placing kisses down your neck towards your collarbone.

“I… like this side of you,” you breathed out as Aaron’s hand came to rest on your thigh, squeezing it gently. “But we’re nearly home and then I’ll be completely and utterly yours.”

Aaron simply nodded and buried his head in your neck where he stayed the rest of the journey home.

Aaron’s hands were on you the second you walked through the door. He squeezed your hips as his lips met yours in a bruising kiss before trailing down your neck, nipping lightly at your skin. Within seconds, Aaron had you pushed up against the wall, his head ducked down low as he placed sloppily kisses across your cleavage.

“So…. Desperate…” you muttered breathlessly.

“You are irresistible,” Aaron mumbled, lifting his head to look at your face. His gaze was intense and filled with lust and heat settled in the bottom of your abdomen.

“Upstairs?” Aaron suggested but it came out more as a demand.

“Yes Sir,” You replied and flashed him a teasing smile when you saw his eyes darken at the use of the professional name.

The two of you frantically made your way upstairs and headed straight for your bedroom. You slammed the door behind you and kicked off your heels while Aaron began to take off his suit jacket and loosened his tie. You made your way over to him and started to unbutton the crisp white shirt, your fingers delicately brushing over his skin. As soon as he was freed of the white fabric, you leaned up to kiss Aaron and as your lips met in a searing kiss, Aaron’s hands fiddled with the zip at the back of your dress before effortlessly pulling it all the way down. He pulled away from the kiss first, tugging lightly at the silky fabric of the dress to encourage it to slip off your body. Once you had your arms free of the straps, the fabric slipped smoothly down your body and pooled at your feet. Aaron’s breath hitched as he took in your appearance before his lips were back on yours and you could feel his growing erection pushing into you.

“I… I need you,” you managed to mutter between breathless kisses. Your underwear was practically soaking now, you needed Aaron inside of you immediately.

“Get on the bed,” he whispered against your lips in a commanding tone. You did as he instructed and laid on the bed. You looked back up at Aaron’s tall, dominating stance from where he stood looking down at you from the end of the bed. You bit your lip as you looked at the bulge straining against Aaron’s trousers, spreading your legs apart ever so slightly to show Aaron that you were ready for him.

Aaron got down onto his knees and pulled you closer towards him by your ankles. He started kissing gently up your legs, scattering small pecks here and there before he reached your thighs where he then started to nip lightly at the skin. You gasped out in shock at the sudden feeling of his teeth on your skin and were now very aware of how close Aaron was to your soaked pussy.

“A…Aaron,” you breathed out. “I need you…”

“Do you trust me?” Aaron asked from his position between your legs and you nodded quickly.

His fingers hooked under the fabric of your underwear and he began pulling them down your legs until you were completely free of the wet fabric. Aaron then returned to your centre and slowly slid two fingers inside of you.

“So wet already…” Aaron mused as he began to pump his fingers in and out of you gently.

You gasped at the pleasure and grasped at the bed sheets when Aaron’s thumb made contact with your clit. Then suddenly, Aaron ducked his head down and before you could ask what he was doing, his tongue swiped through your wet folds.

“Oh!” you gasped out as Aaron stayed buried between your thighs, his tongue circling around your clit. Your hand found its way into Aaron’s hair, grasping it between your fingers and pulling on it ever so gently.

The taste of your arousal on Aaron’s tongue was enough to push him over the edge as he traced his tongue back and forth through your folds, his tongue swirling and circling again and again around your clit, your hips bucking up slightly at the pleasure.

“You’re…. you’re really good at this,” you managed to whisper through your pleasure. No previous partner had ever gone down on you before, Aaron was opening your eyes to a whole new world of pleasure.

He hummed something from between your thighs and the vibrations that followed through your body were enough to tip you over the edge. Aaron kept teasing his tongue through your folds, his hands had a strong grip on your hips to keep you in place as he pushed his tongue hard around your clit.

“Aaron… I’m going to,” you couldn’t finish your sentence as the orgasm took over your body. The moans that left your throat motivated Aaron to keep teasing and circling your pussy as he began to taste all of you.

Once you came back to your senses, you pulled Aaron up so that he was hovering over you and wrapped your arms around his neck to pull him into a desperate, bruising kiss.

“That was… incredible.” You mumbled against his slightly swollen lips. “But now I need you inside of me.”

Aaron chuckled before looking into your eyes and muttering something along the lines of ‘so desperate’ as he pulled back from you and looked down at your naked body.

“Please Aaron…” you groaned as you sat up and impatiently reached for his belt, beginning to unbuckle it.

As soon as Aaron was rid of his trousers and boxers, he was hovering above you and placing kisses along your jaw and neck.

“Ready?” Aaron asked between kisses.

“Yes!” you replied desperately.

Aaron reached down and aligned his cock with your centre, rubbing the head through your wet folds a few times before he slowly pushed himself inside of you. You gasped at the sudden fullness and gripped Aaron’s shoulders, your nails digging into his skin.

“Ok?” Aaron asked and you nodded quickly.

Aaron then began rocking his hips against yours at a teasingly slow pace, nearly pulling out of you before he thrust his length back inside of your pussy.

“Harder.” You said in between your breathless moans and Aaron quickly obliged, his pace quickening as he began to fuck you hard.

“Been thinking about this…” Aaron grunted as he thrust into you. “All day.”

“Me too!” You replied and moaned loudly as Aaron fucked deeper into you, hitting the right stop.

Your moans, Aaron could listen to them all day – they were enough to push him tumbling over the edge, but he tried to restrain himself for as long as he could.

“Touch yourself,” Aaron instructed.

You did as he said and started circling your clit as Aaron’s thrusts began to become sloppy as he reached closer and closer to his own pleasure.

“Fuck!” Aaron hissed as he come inside of you. The sudden heat that filled you up was enough to then push you over the edge into blinding pleasure as Aaron rode out his orgasm.

“Oh! Aaron…” you moaned into his neck, your hands flying up to grip his shoulders as Aaron’s pace began to slow down.

Aaron was mindlessly twiddling his fingers through the ends of your hair as the two of you laid in each other's arms. Your body still tingled with Aaron’s touch and satisfaction flowed through your veins.

“Now all this wedding shit is over, I can finally thank you properly for agreeing to come with me.” You said as you snuggled closer into Aaron’s chest.

“You’ve been thanking me all weekend honey,” Aaron replied and placed a kiss on the top of your head. “Again, if I hadn’t agreed to come with you, I’d still be silently pinning for you from my office.”

“If you hadn’t come, I don’t think I’d have been able to make it through the week without committing murder.” You laughed and sat up to look at him. “And of course, I would never have had the opportunity to tell you how I’ve been madly in love with you since the day I joined the BAU.”

“I love you so much,” Aaron smiled, sitting up slightly so he was now elevated on his arm.

“I love you too.” You smiled brightly and leaned down to capture Aaron’s lips in a quick, chaste kiss. “You have been the best fake boyfriend ever.”

Aaron let out a hearty laugh before looking back at you with nothing but complete adoration in his eyes that made you feel butterflies in your stomach.

“I hope I’m not being too bold to assume that my title has been upgraded?” He asked with an anxious smile.

“Aaron Hotchner is this your attempt to ask me to be your girlfriend?” you laughed and a red tint tinged the tips of Aaron’s ears.

“Well…” Aaron couldn’t find the words.

You laughed loudly before throwing your arms around his neck and peppering his cheek and jawline with kisses.

“I’d love nothing more than to be officially known as your girlfriend.” You smiled and Aaron leaned up to place a bruising kiss on your lips. “You’re now my go-to wedding date.” You smiled brightly and Aaron chuckled.

***

One year later

A knock on his office door drew Aaron from his thoughts. He put down the file he had been looking at and turned to face the door where you were standing.

“Agent Y/L/N,” Aaron said in his ‘professional’ voice. “Come in.”

You walked into the office and shut the door behind you as you produced a pink envelope which Aaron rose an eyebrow at.

“What’s that?” He asked curiously.

“So, big news.” You began, a wide smile spreading across your face. “Livvy’s and Greg’s wedding invitation has just been delivered!”

“Brilliant,” Aaron replied in a monotonous tone, his eyes had drifted back to the file he had previously been reading.

“Aaron! This is important!” You scold him as you sit yourself down on the chair across from his desk.

“Sorry sweetheart, I’m listening. Liv’s wedding invitation, yes?”

“Yes! It’s in 3 months' time. 25th September in LA of course.” You smiled, sliding the invitation across the desk for Aaron to read.

“Is this your way of asking for the time off?” He asked, a teasing look in his eyes.

“you’re so funny…” you rolled your eyes. “I thought you’d know by now baby, you’re always my go-to wedding date remember.”

“Of course! How could I forget.” Aaron replied sarcastically but with a small smile on his lips. “Luckily this time, we won’t have to pretend we’re dating.”

You laughed as you took the invitation back from Aaron. “That’s very true!” Aaron stood up as he walked you to the door of his office.

“So save the date Hotchner, 25th September you’re coming back to LA with me. Back to see my psychotic family.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way Y/L/N.” Aaron chuckled and leaned in to place a soft kiss on your lips.

“Not very appropriate workplace behaviour Sir,” You teased him.

“It’s a good thing my blinds are closed then,” Aaron smirked and ducked his head down to place another searing kiss on your lips.

#The Wedding Date #aaron hotch #aaron hotchner #aaron hotch x reader #Aaron Hotchner x Female Reader #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotch x you #aaron hotchner x bau!reader #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotch fanfiction #criminal minds #aaron hotch fluff #aaron hotch smut

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nolanfa-fanart · 3 months

Text

Funny batfam gen (non-romantic) recs

last rec list was not exactly happy fics, so to offset it, have funny ones:

Gen fic recs for @genuaryficrecs! Fandom: DC, batfam. Focus: Humour (most some also tear your heart out or engage in subtle character building, but you'll laugh while you cry) Humour is very widespread in fic (…in some fandoms at least), ranging from humour woven in the writing style itself, to situational absurd (crack), to making the reader laugh about absolutely horrifying shit (while still acknowledging how awful it is; which is something I feel I've only ever read in fic), to absolutely unhinged character reactions (to more I don't have in mind right now), so here, a small homage to that.

The Lone Ranger Never Had to Deal with Bruce Wayne, by @theskeptileptic (https://archiveofourown.org/works/51476074) Chapters 6/6, 25.522 words G, No Archive Warnings Apply

Main Characters: Tim Drake, Bruce Wayne

Type of gen relationship: uh. Concerned Adult to Kid? Parental-ish? Or just neighbours, depending on who you ask.

Official summary: Tim is an independent, clever, and super mature eleven-year-old. Unfortunately, his dopey neighbor, Bruce, can’t seem to understand that. When he decides to disappear on a “solo camping trip” and run away to Canada, he figures it’s the perfect plan that will make everybody happy. He didn’t expect the Waynes would tag along with him and ruin everything. A six-chaptered tale filled with identity shenanigans, s’mores, soon-to-be-brothers, and a kid who is in desperate need of a new family.

Why I love it: This is. Hilarious. The perfect mix of very competent Tim and him still very much being an 11-years-old. Himbo Bruce Wayne who just so happens to totally accidentally run into Tim several times to innocently inquire about his parents' whereabouts. The horrifying fact of what Tim is actually doing and how he thinks, in his very logical way (and the horrifying fact that his parents agree with him).

Excerpts: from: [email protected] to: [email protected] Mr. Wayne, Timothy told me you stopped by earlier today. I am sorry I didn’t get to talk with you. My thyroid was acting up and I was sleeping. Timothy is a good kid. I can make sure he’s safe skateboarding so there is no need to worry. Have a good day! Sincerely, The Nanny

from: [email protected] to: [email protected] The Nanny, Thank you for your email last week. Timothy is most definitely a good kid. One of the best. I saw him at the Army Supply Store this afternoon and he mentioned you would be taking him to Cheesequake State Park to meet a friend this weekend? My boys and I are heading that way, so why don’t we save you a trip. We’ll make sure Timothy is taken care of. If you need anything at all, for any reason, please call me at this number: 9088780078. This is my cell phone and I answer it at all hours, no matter what. Nothing is too small or too much of a bother to pick up for. Anything that you need, Timothy’s Nanny, please call. Sincerely, Bruce Wayne - “Anyway, I was on my way to the course, and I realized your father and I haven’t gotten a chance to really ‘hang’, as you kids say, and I had a late tee time, so I thought I’d invite him along.” Mr. Wayne’s teeth were bright and Tim wondered if he used some sort of diamond paste on them. He looked around Tim’s shoulder, as if he wanted to see inside the mansion better. Tim hadn’t turned on any of the lights on account of his shitty night, so the early fall haze that Bristol was so well known for didn’t do much for his visibility. “I’m sorry, sir, you just missed him.” A pause. “Well, that’s ok, son. Why don’t you get your mom and I’ll give her a message? I’m sure you’ve got things to do.” He looked at Tim vapidly, smile still firmly in place. “I’m afraid she’s not here right now either. Shopping.” Tim gritted his teeth and went to close the door. Mr. Wayne’s huge ham hands (why were they so large?) stopped it before it slammed. He chuckled and Tim winced. “Your nanny, then.” Tim wasn’t sure, but thought the question sounded more strained than Mr. Wayne’s usual flavor of airheadedness. “She’s sleeping.” “At eleven in the morning?” “She has a thyroid problem. I’ll let them all know you stopped by.” Tim pushed the door closed but Mr. Wayne had somehow entered his foyer while he was speaking. “I’ll write them a note. They can call me when they get back.” He inched closer towards Tim, who sidestepped him before he could ruffle his hair.

Ain't No Compass, Ain't No Map, by @ebjameston (https://archiveofourown.org/works/38048365) Chapters: 9/9, 51.863 words T, No Archive Warnings Apply

Main Characters: Jason Todd, Dick Grayson, Tim Drake

Type of gen relationship: siblings and friends

Official summary: CPS Agent, pointing at Tim Drake: We need to take him with us Red Hood: He's fine where he is CPS: He's a minor Hood: Timbo, you a minor? Tim: Can't prove it CPS: I mean, I can. There are records – Tim, who has just finishing hacking CPS to remove his own file: Oh really, tell me more about these records +++ A CPS agent gets sent to investigate a tip that Tim Drake has been abandoned by his parents and is living with the Red Hood. The CPS agent leaves with no Tim Drake, a date with Red Hood's lieutenant, and an intern who's promising to fix the IT systems at his office. It's a weird day for Theo.

Why I love it: This is probably the first (non-crossover) DC fic I read, and to date still one of my favorites. It's. Listen. It's from the point of view of a Child Protective Services agent. Who, given his whole deal is to Protect Children, has Opinions about the Robins. And interacts - unknowingly - with them when they're grown (identity porn! Banter!). And he likes them! And they like him! But they have… differing opinions. And I absolutely love it. So. Many. Feels. And humour. It's 80% jokes and 70% feels and 50% social commentary about the canon and 20% plot and 40% fluff and 30% angst and some parts are all of that at once.

Excerpt: “Nightwing, wait, serious question,” Theo says. “About when you were baby Robin.” Max’s fingers tense up a bit on Theo’s elbow, and some of the earlier tension creeps back into Nightwing’s frame. “Yes?” “Did the Batmobile have a car seat?” “Did the what have a what ,” Nightwing says. “I’ve seen your stats from when you were just getting started,” Theo says. “You weren’t anywhere close to 4-foot-9. You would’ve needed a booster seat for at least the first two years you were Robin, so.” “So, did the Batmobile have a carseat,” Nightwing repeats faintly. Theo gets out his phone to take notes. “Yes. That is what I am asking.” “Buddy,” Hood says. “Most of the Batmobiles don’t even have seatbelts.” “How would you even know that?” Bernard asks.

IRIS Log #1548, by @deadchannelradio (https://archiveofourown.org/works/51647209) Chapters: 1/1, 8531 Words T, No Archive Warnings Apply

Main Characters: whole batfam

Type of gen relationship: familial

Official summary: A Disclaimer From Your Friendly Neighborhood Oracle: The following is a transcript of Patrol Communications Audio written by state of the art transcription technology, IRIS (Interpretation of Recorded Intelligence Software). IRIS was created to provide easily searchable records, automatically, and eliminate the need to transcribe each patrol audio log manually. That being said, IRIS is still experimental, and may not always be entirely accurate. - (01:25) Red Hood: (Mild static) (Out of breath, slurred) You motherfuckers. Put some fuckin- (01:25) Batman: (Shaking) Red Hood- (01:25) Red Hood: Shut up. Put some fucking respect. On my name. Start fucking copying me. I just got thrown fucking. Um. 40 feet. Into a fucking uh. What's it. Ditch. I'm still fucking conscious. (01:25) Batman: Red Hood, do not move, we're en route- (01:25) Red Hood: What'll I win if I stand up. (01:25) Batman: (Loud) Do not stand up.

Why I love it: The format (transcription of comms) is fun. Also it's. Just. Really funny? The… energy of it? I mean just read the excerpts honestly.

Excerpt: (01:34) Nightwing: Don’t get mad, Red. He’s got a concussion. (01:34) Red Hood: (Agreeably) I am all bonked up. (Laughter: Nightwing) Hey. Cass. Cassie. Is my leg fucked. The right one. (01:34) Blackbat: It. (Pause, 3 seconds) (Reading) I am not your medical provider and can’t diagnose injuries or illness. Please ask your doctor when you are under their care. (01:34) Red Hood: Oh. Um, okay. Can you tell me as buddies? Not as my doctor. (Laughter: Spoiler, Red Robin) Just as buddies. (01:35) Blackbat: …Super busted. Bad. As buddies. (01:35) Batman: Blackbat. We are not medical- (01:35) Red Hood: She said as buddies. It’s fine. (01:35) Spoiler: (Laughing) The as buddies legal loophole.

Bang, bang, by Ididloveyou_once (@ididloveyou) (https://archiveofourown.org/works/30246978) Chapters: 1/1, 5.563 words T, Chose Not to Use Archive Warnings (an accidental gunshot wound played for laughs)

Main Characters: Tim Drake, Jason Todd

Type of gen relationship: very much Siblings

Official summary: ‘You shot me!’ Jason gasped, stunned, ‘Holy shit, you actually shot me.’ Tim’s eyes widened and he froze. They stared at each other for a second, dumbstruck and then- ‘Don’t tell Bruce.’Or: The family enjoy a normal movie night. Except Jason has a gunshot wound and Tim’s the only one who knows and oh- that’s because Tim’s the one who shot him and they really, really need to find a way to leave before anyone finds out.

Why I love it: Hmmm okay so maybe I really like a good Jason & Tim relationship. But objectively. This is great. Peak siblings relationships. The threat of Getting In Trouble forcing an emergency alliance between two mutually annoyed siblings who scramble to hide something? Peak comedy.

Excerpt: ‘Okay, sorry. I didn’t mean it like that either,’ he pinched the bridge of his nose, ‘I just mean. Don’t worry about me being in pain. I’m fine. And don’t worry about looking like an asshole. You shot me, you already look like an asshole. But that’s fine because now we’re even.’ Jason sighed at the kid’s sour expression. So his words of reassurance needed some work, sue him.

Into the Brighter Night, by @shoalsea (https://archiveofourown.org/works/20935463) Chapters: 12/12, 162,894 words G, No Archive Warnings Apply

Main Characters: Tim Drake, whole batfam, Young Justice team

Type of gen relationship: familial and friends

Official summary: When an unknown enemy threatens Robin, Gotham's vigilantes come together to keep him safe. Unfortunately, they're protecting the wrong Robin. Or: Tim Drake plans his own rescue. Things get complicated.

Why I love it: Oooooh not just batfam this time. Tim is way too competent, and the Young Justice have his back (and a lot of resentment towards the batfam). Hyperactive Young Justice energy, Very Good Characterization, miscommunication (as in Bruce -the whole batfam really- is trying but they're super bad at clearly expressing feelings). And the tone of it? The writing? Hilarious and rips your heart out. This is super interesting interconnected character dynamics (with the batfam and Tim's team that's so many more different relationships than usual) and a deep look at canon events, all of it wrapped in hilarious dialogue. One of my fave Tim-centric fics, and I've read some very good ones.

Excerpt: [Impulse on a long distance call with the batfam - minus Tim] Jay makes a disbelieving sound. “You’re telling me that Red Robin—Mr. Responsibility himself—helped you hide and maintain a secret spaceship for years? Seriously?” “Uh, yeah? Duh?” “No offense,” Duke says, “but that doesn’t really sound like the guy we know.” Bruce sighs. Stephanie huffs out a laugh. Impulse just looks unimpressed. “Are we talking about the same person? Robin numero tres, currently Red? The same guy who once hid an extra Batmobile in the batarang budget and shipped it to California in secret? The same guy who founded Young Justice, an unauthorized vigilante group of teens that started out with no adult supervision? And lied to the Justice League and the government to keep Secret safe?” “Secret?” Duke says at the same time Jay sputters out, “He stole a whole Batmobile?” “More like embezzled,” Impulse says. “But yeah, dude, it’s Rob. I know he gives off the straight-and-narrow vibe, like, 90% of the time he’s interacting with the public or authority figures, but that’s mostly because it’s way, waaaay easier to get away with stuff if you don't ‘openly project an air of defiance.’” “Oh my god,” Stephanie says. “He’s given you that speech too?” “He’s given us multiple versions of that speech,” Impulse says. Stephanie’s turned away from the screen now and is explaining to Duke, “Red Robin is kind of the definition of ‘I do what I want,’ but most of the time what he wants to do is at least nominally reasonable or responsible, so no one cares.” “And when somebody does care,” Impulse says, “you just gotta be sneaky and smart. Comply until their backs are turned, you know? I mean, even with the Titans we—what?” he pauses, spinning his chair, clearly distracted by something off-screen. “No, I’m just talking to the Bats. I think there’s a whole flock of them.” Conner Kent wanders into view, towelling off his hair and wearing what looks like some kind of maintenance jumper. “‘Sup,” he says to the camera, leaning in. “Superman’s not there, is he?” “Nope,” Impulse says. “Thank god. Where’s Rob?” “Batnap.” Conner puts his hands on his hips. “Dude. Weren’t you supposed to wake him up?” Impulse spins in his chair again. “Wonder Girl said not to.” “What, and he agreed?” “No. He might have been unconscious at the time. Which, technically, means Wonder Girl is in charge.” Conner groans. “He’s gonna kill you.” Turning to the camera, he adds, “Look, sorry about this, I’ll go get him.” “Heynowaitaminute,” Impulse says. “Listen. I’m the captain, you gotta at least hear me out!” Conner rolls his eyes, but he doesn’t move. “Everything is still going according to plan, okay? Rob did in fact say that we should one hundred percent wake him up as soon as we could get a call through. True. But Wonder Girl said to let him sleep. And he definitely needs it.” “Yeah, but, again, he’s gonna be pissed if—” “Listen. I have thought this through.” When Conner just looks skeptical, he adds, “I have! I worked it out logically. See, if we wake up Rob, Wondy’s gonna be pissed off. At us. Right now. If we don’t wake him up, he’s gonna be pissed off later and he’s gonna be mad at her, not us. Therefore, we should do what Wonder Girl says.”

Beef Consommé, by @vamillepudding (https://archiveofourown.org/works/42348438) Chapters: 2/2; 14.230 words T, Chose Not To Use Warnings

Main Characters: Tim Drake, Jason Todd, Dick Grayson

Type of gen relationship: siblings

Official summary: Parenting is Bruce's thing, and Jason isn't planning on messing with that. But when Bruce fails to spot the countless red flags about Tim's home life, it falls to Jason to step up. Of course it does. Because he's literally the only one in his family who knows how to be responsible, and if Dick disagrees, he can suck it.

Why I love it: I have a weakness for the "Dick and Jason team up and adopt Tim" trope. Also, I love Jason's voice in it. (and this fic is very funny but I feel like I'm repeating myself)

Excerpts: “Pizza?” Tim repeats, sounding hopeful. Jason is on the verge of telling him to go screw himself, but then he starts wondering how long Tim has been in his apartment and whether he ate dinner before he came here. Probably not. Did he eat lunch? Should Jason ask? What would Dick do? “Fine,” he says eventually. “But I’m picking the toppings, and you can’t have dessert.” There’s a beat. “I didn’t want dessert,” Tim says, voice taking on a bewildered edge. “What are you talking about?” - It’s Wednesday evening and Jason is getting pizza. Dick’s waiting back in Jason’s apartment, because growing up with Bruce has him used to getting waited on hand and foot, and apparently he thinks Jason is his own personal servant or something. It’s oppression, is what it is. “It’s not oppression,” Dick yells after him just before Jason closes the door, “it’s called losing a coin toss, asshole!”

Birds on Jaybird Street, by @cynassa (https://archiveofourown.org/works/39115587) Chapters: 4/4, 14.717 words T, No Archive Warnings Apply

Main Characters: Jason Todd, Dick Grayson, Tim Drake

Type of gen relationship: Siblings

Official summary: Jason is both annoyed and weirdly flattered when the replacement turns up to ask him for help. He mentally rearranges his calendar so he can be free Wednesday evening and says, “No, fuck off, I have very important business going on.” Tim eyes his 72” TV playing Japanese wrestling more judgmentally than it really deserves. “Important crime things,” Jason emphasizes. “Make Wingdick do it.” Jason doesn't think much of it when Tim needs his help, or Damian moves in, or even when Dick turns up looking beat all to hell. But at some point he realizes that he might be the best option his brothers have to recover from the cycle of violence that Batman has set up, and all he can think is that things were much easier when he was the villain.

Why I love it: In which Dick and Jason decide to adopt Tim and Damian (Jason's kind of an asshole, but a caring one). Kind of the same reason as the previous one: love that trope, love the tone, very funny.

Excerpt: Jason lies, "Sure, I'll take it up with Bruce " "Sure you will, " Tim scoffs. Jason changes his mind, and decides he will take it up with Bruce. "I don't have the time to keep being your nanny," he announces and then says, disapprovingly, "you skateboard, why don't you have knee and elbow pads?" "I'm Robin," Tim snaps, like he didn't put pants on the costume like a little wuss.

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jjkeverlast · 2 years

Text

vex | kth

-> pairing best friend!tae x f.reader

-> genre smut (basically pwp tbh)

-> summary vex: make (someone) feel annoyed, frustrated, or worried, especially with trivial matters.

-> word count 1.5k

-> warnings reader gets turned on by tae getting pissed lmfao, choking, no protection (y'all know the drill), intoxication (i mean they're both mildly drunk but it's very consensual!), a lot of bickering in the beginning and i think that's it??? OH WAIT- tae in a suit... ;)

-> author's note LISTEN. i am very much on hiatus from writing and i should make this clear that i wrote this back in april for @pjiminbloomx so it's been accumulating dust and i stumbled upon it earlier and with jyads consent, she told me i could upload it. and i should say, i wrote this for her, so if this fic isn't of your taste that's completely fine! or else, i hope you enjoy this taehyung porn while i continue being a good student and do my studies :0

You shouldn’t be as wet as you are while watching Taehyung infuriorisily grip his hair and let out a puff of air, his face screaming he’s pissed.

You’re pissed as well, after Taehyung left you in the middle of the street as you both walked back to the hotel after the party. Hobi’s party to be exact. You had lost your dangly earring and instead of Taehyung waiting, like the good friend he is, he decided to continue and leave you completely stranded alone in the night. Returning back to your shared hotel room you threw a tantrum, seeing red over his behavior from earlier.

‘’Fuck you, there was no reason for you to leave me alone!’’ You jab your finger in his chest, all while your core is basically dripping under your dress. Taehyung’s tongue is poking on the inside of his cheek, holding himself back from throwing yet another excuse. It was downright wrong of him to leave you, when you both planned to walk back home together.

The earring was found not long later by Jungkook, still being at the party making you return to the lobby only for Taehyung to have disappeared when you walked out.

‘’Y/N, you can’t possibly still be pissed.’’ He’s not looking at you, instead turning his back for you to see and taking his suit off slowly.

‘’Can’t you simply apologize? That’s all I need from you rather than a shitty ass excuse.’’ You cross your arms, wanting to desperately take off your heels after they’ve destroyed your feet from dancing all night.

He scoffs, turning as he undoes his tie — something you found very hot in a guy, and especially Tae — it’s hard to stay focused as he’s biting his bottom lip while angrily taking his tie off in front of you. You’re imagining yourself doing it for him as you kiss down his neck and —

‘’Fuck you.’’ He smiles sheepishly, fading quickly as he returns to undoing the top buttons of his white pressed shirt.

‘’With you? I’d rather not.’’ You look away, not noticing the smirk that forms on Taehyung’s face as he sits on one of the hotel beds.

‘’Yeah? So you’re telling me you’re not wet under that dress right now?’’ Fuck. He’s onto you.

‘’No.’’

‘’Prove it.’’ His smirk is standing tall, his eyes roaming your body and you start questioning if it’s the alcohol or actually Taehyung speaking — or rather him tempting you.

Your boldness surely is above the roof, your anger getting the worst out of you, so you lift your dress casually. Revealing the emerald thong, stained badly with your arousal.

Taehyung licks his lips before getting up, standing so close you could smell the faint tequila from his breath. It’s definitely the alcohol.

‘’You’re such a dirty girl. Getting all turned on while seeing me pissed off. Is this fun to you?’’ You try your best to hide the grin settling itself behind your lips, threatening to spill.

‘’What if it is?’’ He’s officially tired of your bullshit, pressing his hand on your neck softly to catch your attention — almost breath — and pushing you against the wall. He doesn’t hesitate to bite your lip, his teeth nibbling on the soft flesh from your lips as he adds a satisfied grunt to finally getting a taste of them.

‘’Then I’ll fuck you till you think otherwise.’’ You don’t get to respond, Taehyung’s lips already molding against yours, his tongue playing with it. Fuck he kisses you good, your cunt tightening as his tongue runs above yours and his hands now cupping your face. He’s officially lost all his patience with you, he’s been nothing but patient with wanting to take things slow with you only for you to ruin it by being a brat.

You give him a taste of his own medicine, tightening a grip in his hair, making him moan in delight in your mouth. Your heart beats rapidly hearing the angelic moan and you continue, running your fingers through his dark locks.

‘’Fuck this, come here.’’ Taehyung guides you towards the bed, hovering above you, his hands now fondling with your breasts — fingers pinching your nipples through the fabric of your dress making you whine as you become more desperate for the cock that’s growing harder against your thigh.

He’s such a mess, a mess because of you. Losing all control, letting himself do whatever he’s been wanting to do since you’ve grown closer. He can’t stop thinking about all the times he’s wondered to himself when he’ll finally be able to get a taste of you, your mouth, your pussy. And now? He’s getting all of it.

His mouth runs all over your neck to your shoulders and longer down before you stop him and pull him up, your fingers having a hold in his nape.

‘’It can wait, I just need you, please.’’ Tae would normally grow angry at such a demand, but hearing you beg for his cock sent a rush through him and immediately got him to work on getting his belt off.

Your hands come to help, buckling the belt undone for him while planting kisses on his neck as he sighs softly by the touch of your tongue.

With his belt, pants and soon briefs off, he’s back to kissing you. His hand running along your form and tracing his fingers above the fabric of your thong. ‘’Fuck you’re so wet.’’ He grins, moving the thong to the side now circling his thumb on your clit earning a gasp from you.

‘’Yeah? Is that what you want?’’ You hum in approval, grabbing a hold of his erection hiding beneath his briefs, now pumping him as he groans against your mouth.

‘’Look at you — mmm — being so needy for me.’’ He doesn’t waste another minute, fully removing his briefs and guiding himself towards your entrance.

It’s a good stretch, filling you up nicely as he pushes longer in being content with how warm you feel around him. When you’ve adjusted to him, confirming with a nod he starts rolling against your core causing friction in every part of your body.

His pace is rough and slow, letting you feel just how deep he’s filling you and you’re sent into overdrive. Taehyung continues as you both pant — foreheads pressed against each other. He loves seeing you like this, hair sprawled messily on the sheets, body growing hot against him as you slip out a moan or two when he grazes your g-spot.

He continues to do so, your orgasm reaching slowly as you encourage him to continue. Taehyung dives his head in between your breasts, kissing every inch of you — he has a weakness for them.

His touch is ecstatic. Running wild and free all over your body. His hands hold tight onto your waist as his tongue continues to make contact with every part of you it can reach.

His pace continues, both of your bodies now moving in sync as you grind your cunt as close as possible. As if it’s possible to be closer than you already are. You’ve wanted this for as long as you remember. Although it never occurred that the unholy thoughts that roamed your brain, roamed his as well.

He makes you so weak, yet he fills you up to the point you become powerful. Strong. Heartily. And you never want this moment to end.

His chest is already turning warmer against your skin. The soft sensation sending your mind somewhere you never thought you’d reach. It’s something uncommon but it feels good. So fucking good.

‘’Tae—’’ You warn, your body tensing as your orgasm is at the brim of release.

‘’Let go, come on baby.’’ The nickname hits the last straw for you, covering his cock completely in your arousal.

Taehyung watches how you fall apart under him. Your whole body tensing under his touch as he grows dizzy. He’s close as well but your moans only keep him on edge to continue until it’s impossible to do so.

There’s never been a moment where he hasn’t wanted you like this. Naked and warm. Mouth apart as soft moans escape your parted lips and his name inserting itself between them.

You have such an effect on him. Maybe it’s because the possibility of even being inside you seemed out of the question.

You. So real, so perfect.

When you start to encourage him to fill you up, his cock starts to twitch as he picks up the slow pace into a much faster one. He wants to accomplish everything for you.

Breath quickening as beads of sweat form onto his forehead, covering his dark locks slowly, you run your lips over his again. Swallowing the groan with your mouth that’s about to leave his lips right before a common feeling washes over every part of him.

Not long after, Taehyung’s pace slows as he pushes his final thrust and paints your walls with his cum. His body stills above you. Enjoying the warmth that still covers his cock.

You give a slight peck, a smile forming on your lips right after as you look at each other in silence.

Trying your best to catch your breaths, you speak. ‘’Guess I should piss you off more often.’’

‘’Shut up.’’

perma taglist;

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bibbityboppitybillyharvgrove · 5 months

Text

Always There - Chapter Seventeen: S.Snape

Summary: Y/N Potter was left with a baby to care for after her brother and sister-in-law were murdered by Voldemort. One person was there for her, a person she didn’t expect but soon became her comfort person, Severus Snape. During Harry’s third year at Hogwarts and her third year as Herbology professor, a few old friends come around again. Y/N has to handle the feelings of these old friends being around again as well as handle her feelings for a certain potions master all while she tries to hide these things from her godson.

Series Masterlist

My full Masterlist

Pairings: Severus Snape x Female Professor Reader, Potter!Reader x friend!Remus, Sister!Reader x James Potter, Potter!Reader x Friend!Sirius

Chapter Warnings: Female Reader, Potter Reader(No physical description of reader) probably shitty writing, Harry growing up in a loving home, Arthur's attack, mentions of Voldemort, not proofread,

Series Warnings: Female Reader, Potter Reader (No physical description of reader) probably shitty writing, OOC Snape, Harry grows up in a loving environment, mentions of death and murder, poorly written angst, Remus is a shitty friend, poorly written pining,

Please let me know how I can improve my writing and being more inclusive to POC as I am whiter than white. Please also let me know if I have to add more to the warnings! My messages are open as well as my asks!

I am starting a taglist so leave either a comment or something in my asks if you would like to be tagged in any of my works or just this series!

Author's Note: My updates for this will be slowing down a bit during the month of December. Because I am writing 25 days of fics, the updates for this will be slower than usual. I am trying my hardest to write for both but please be patient with me.

Please let me know how I can improve or if you find any errors! Correct me, don't be afraid to! I want to improve my writing and become a better writer so any feedback or advise is welcomed!

Word Count: 1300

My asks are open for questions, suggestions and feedback!

Feedback is welcomed and encouraged!

Enjoy!

not my gif

It was approaching winter so that meant colder weather and holiday decorations going up around Hogwarts. However, one night, Y/N and Severus were woken up by frantic knocking on their door. She was discombobulated as she opened the door to reveal Minerva, who had a concerned look on her face.

“Dumbledore wishes to see you both in his office, right away. This is urgent,” She told her, Y/N was wide awake with her tone of voice, rushing to wake Severus as the three of them rushed to the headmaster’s office. Harry was there, completely spaced out.

“What’s going on? Harry, love, can you tell me what happened?” She asked her nephew. He snapped out of it looking at his aunt with a wild look in his eyes. She didn’t recognize him for a moment, his eyes seeming snake-like.

“I saw Mr. Weasley getting attacked by a snake at the ministry. It was Voldemort’s snake, what’s wrong with me?” Harry asked his aunt desperately.

“Nothing my love, nothing at all,” She reassured him before turning to Dumbledore, “do you have anyone checking on Arthur? Do we think this is a dream or if Harry actually saw this happen in real time?”

“I sent someone to check on Arthur and I’ve gotten word that he was taken to St. Mungos. Severus, the boy needs to start occlumency,” Albus explained.

“Now? Can’t it wait until morning? He’s clearly not ready to start learning something new right now, he needs to rest as do I,” Severus questioned.

“Yes, now. We don’t know if Voldemort knows about the connection he has with the boy, we need to get a headstart now before he realizes the connection.”

“The boy has a name! His name is Harry and I agree with Severus. Both of them need to rest before they start this! It’s too much for both of them just waking up!” Y/N argued with the bearded man, frustrated with how he was talking about her nephew as if he wasn’t in the room.

“They must start tonight, that is final!”

“Listen to me!” Harry screamed, everyone falling silent in shock. “I don’t know if Voldemort knows about the connection because I barely knew, I can do it tonight as long as you can Uncle Sev.”

Severus nodded and ushered the boy to the dungeons where they would begin their lessons. Y/N shook her head at the headmaster before making her way to the potions classroom where she knew Severus and Harry would be. She walked in and silently sat at the back of the room as she watched the two most important people try a new method to keep Harry safe. She knew it was starting to take a toll on both of them, both very obviously tired even though they had enough energy to argue with one another.

Y/N knew what it was like to pry into the minds of others and have her mind pried into as well. It wasn’t fun. She knew it was rough on Severus because he didn’t want to see the boy suffering with these memories he was seeing. Most of Harry’s memories were on the happier side, especially the ones with his aunt in them, but he also possessed some dark memories as well, such as watching the dark lord rise and Cedric dying in front of him.

As the two were getting tired, they called it a night, Y/N dropping a kiss on his forehead before sending him back to the Gryffindor tower. Severus walked up to her and pulled her into his arms. “A lot of his memories are of you,” He said quietly as he buried his head in her neck.

“Good ones?” She asked, resting her head on his.

“Most were. Come, let’s go back to bed.” The two of them let go of their embrace, taking each other’s hand and walked back to their quarters. He was able to fall asleep rather quickly but she had a hard time trying to. She was restless, her mind racing. If Harry was aware of the connection with Voldemort, was the dark lord aware of the connection too? If the dark lord knew about the connection, would he use it to his advantage? Would he manipulate Harry into thinking that someone important to him has been attacked, has been killed?

The next morning as Severus awoke from his sleep, he reached out to her side of the bed only to find it cold and empty. He picked his head up to find her staring out of one of the few windows in their quarters, watching as the creatures swam by. He sat up and let out a yawn before getting out of bed to join her. “What’s on your mind my love?” Severus asked as he sat beside her.

“Does Voldemort have any idea that there’s a connection between him and Harry? That Harry has been seeing these things through Nagini before he even knew about a connection?” She questioned.

“I don’t know, there’s a chance he doesn’t know yet but I think he will catch on soon,” He told her with honesty, “But, there is no reason to worry about it just yet. Harry has already left for Black’s place, so let’s get ready to meet him there. I know you’re missing your friends.”

With that, the two of them got ready together, packed a bag for the break and took a portkey to 12 Grimmauld Place. She was greeted with a tight hug from Sirius who had missed her greatly over the last few months and then an equally tight hug from Remus. Severus took their bags to the guest room as Y/N caught up with her friends.

“Snivellus proposed?” Sirius asked her as he inspected her ring, his voice showing nothing but shock and surprise.

“What did I tell you about that name, Siri! Stop calling him that!” She scolded her friend. “But yes, Severus proposed. We were thinking about eloping because of the state of the wizarding world.”

“And he didn’t think to ask your two best friends for permission?”

“He asked me, maybe if you weren’t such an ass to him maybe he would’ve asked you,” Remus chimed in.

“He asked you?” Sirius and Y/N asked in unison.

“Of course I did. Remus is like a brother to her, I had to ask him,” Severus said as he descended the stairs, “And I asked Harry of course.”

“Speaking of, where is my boy? I want to make sure he’s okay,” Y/N asked after realizing she had yet to see her nephew.

“He went with the Weasley’s to visit Arthur. He’s doing better, should be home in a few days,” Remus replied, “Now I think we should leave our men alone to have a chat. We need to catch up without those two in the way.” The two walked off to the kitchen leaving Sirius and Severus alone.

“Remus was right, you know, I would’ve asked your permission if you weren’t such an asshole. Other than Harry, you were the first person I thought of to ask permission for her hand.”

“I never realized how shitty I was to you. I’m sorry, Severus. If you did ask, I would’ve said yes with no hesitation. You make her happy, you keep her sane and you’ve been there for her longer than I was able to be. Thank you for taking such good care of my sister,” Sirius apologized, his voice sincere. He meant every word he had said, knowing he wasn’t always the nicest to Severus. He wanted to make things right before the potions master became a permanent part of his life because Y/N would be a permanent part of both of theirs.

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ereardon · 1 year

Text

Friends Don't || Chapter 2

Summary: Bob Floyd has been your best friend for almost a decade, ever since he quietly agreed to tutor you in college. The two of you have spent years chasing each other around the globe – Bob as a WSO, you as a travel blogger. You’ve always been the anywhere-but-here girl, and he’s been your rock. But when a surprise diagnosis threatens to crumble your picture-perfect life, you’re on the first flight back to San Diego, desperate to put down roots for the first time. Will Bob finally have it in him to admit that you could be the love of his life? What will he say when he finds out the secret you’ve been skillfully hiding from him? Or worse, what if he doesn’t find out until it’s too late?

Pairing: Robert “Bob” Floyd x OC [Reid]

Tropes: Friends to lovers

Warnings: Cursing, mention of doctors/illness/crashes, illusion to death, blood

WC: 2.1K

Series masterlist here; previous chapter here; next chapter here

“Got everything you need, Sunny?”

You turned around. Bob was standing in the doorway to your room, wearing a pair of blue striped pajama pants and a white t-shirt that hung off his lean frame. You smiled and nodded. “Think I’m good for the night at least.”

Sitting down on the edge of the bed, you crossed your bare legs and looked around the room. It was a mess. You were waiting on the rest of your stuff to get shipped from your Brooklyn apartment where you had been living for the last eight months, so all you had were the two suitcases that you’d taken on the plane, now spread out on the ground, their contents spilled across the hardwood floors.

“Thanks for letting me stay,” you said quietly.

Bob tipped his head. “Don’t have to thank me, darlin’. It’s your house now, too.”

It was a sweet little two bedroom house, only a fifteen minute drive from the beach. But it was sparsely decorated. Your room had just a bed and a dresser, no art, no rugs, no lamps. “What are your thoughts on letting me redecorate, in that case?”

He laughed. “What, you don’t like my style?”

“Bachelor chic? You’re about one step above a 20-something guy in Bushwick who has his mattress on the floor so that he’s closer to the Earth but the reality is that he has fifty dollars in his bank account so when he asks you on a date he takes you to his sweaty roof in July and plays shitty guitar music and tries to mansplain to you the difference between IPA and other beers.”

Bob raised an eyebrow. “Tell me you haven’t actually met guys like that.”

“Unfortunately, I’ve met every single kind of guy you could ever imagine.”

“Well, if my options are Brooklyn douche or you redecorate, by all means Sunny, do whatever you’d like with the place. I’ll leave my credit card on the kitchen table.”

You stood up and crossed the room. “No way. It’s on me. I want to do this for you. Make a nice house so one day you can have some lucky girl over and she won’t get the immediate ick when she sees that you still have gray sheets and brown towels.”

“What’s wrong with gray sheets?”

You shook your head. “Trust me, Bobby.”

“Sure, honey,” he whispered. You took one step closer, wrapping your arms around him. Bob immediately folded you into an embrace, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“I missed you so much,” you whispered. “Thank God you’re home safe.”

“Were you worried about me, Sunny?” he asked quietly, his low voice rumbling.

“I worry about you every fucking day,” you murmured into his chest. “When you’re flying and I don’t know where you are. When you’re on the ground somewhere far from wherever I am. All I can think about is the next time we’re going to talk. The next time I'll know for a fact that you’re safe. And then that call comes and I’m elated. But it has to end sometime, right? So when it ends, the second you hang up, I’m back to being worried about you.”

Bob pulled away, his hands folded into yours. “You worry too much, Reid. I’m always gonna be here for you. Always have been.”

How could he forget? There was a reason you were scared all the time. You had almost lost him to the skies once.

You were living in San Francisco and Bob was stationed out of Lemoore. It was the closest the two of you had ever lived since you graduated, four years prior.

That’s when you got the call.

“Reid Coleman?”

You sat up straight at your desk chair, looking out the window over Market Street. If you really craned your neck, you could see the Ferry Building. “This is.”

“I regret to inform you that Lieutenant Robert Floyd has been in an accident. You were listed as his emergency contact.”

“Oh my God,” you whispered, heart plummeting in your abdomen. “Is he OK?”

“He’s sustained injuries, ma’am,” the person on the other end of the line said.

You didn’t even register that the phone had fallen from your grasp until you heard it drop to the floor at your feet. You were out the door in a second, practically barreling down to the lobby of the building, fingers shaking as you tried to search for rental cars nearby.

The three-and-a-half hour drive went by in an instant, and it was the longest car ride you had ever been on. Every single second all you could think of was the fact that Bob could have died out there.

And that the last thing you might have said to him was that you hated him.

By the time you arrived on base it was dark. You barreled through the hospital doors, panting as you made your way to the nurses station. “Robert Floyd?” you asked, panicked.

“And you are?”

“His emergency contact.”

The nurse nodded. “Follow me.”

You trailed after her down the hallway, the clacking of your high heels on the linoleum floor the only noise in the sterile hallway.

She stopped in front of the door. “He’s intubated,” she warned you. “So he can’t speak.”

You nodded and she opened the door. But you weren’t ready for what you saw. Bobby, lying there on the bed, with a thick clear tube sticking out of his throat and mouth, taped to his lips, the whirring sound of the machines as they kept him alive. The way he practically blended into the white linens of the bed he looked so pale and fragile.

You collapsed onto a chair next to his bed, taking his hand, the one that didn’t have an IV in it, into yours, letting your salty tears fall onto his cold skin.

“Bobby,” you whispered, voice thick with tears and pain. “Honey, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it. Please, Bobby, come back to me.”

He stayed in a coma for three days. You spent nearly every waking moment at his bedside, watching him with bated breath, waiting for some semblance of life to overtake him because the boy lying there in that hospital bed was not your best friend. He was a stranger. He didn't look or feel at all like the boy you had come to love over the last seven years.

And then, on the third day, you heard a familiar voice.

“Sunny?”

It was dry and scratchy. That morning the doctors had taken out the intubation and said he was awake, and you had rushed over from the hotel. There were tears in your eyes as you bolted through the doorway to where Bob was sitting up in bed, his glasses settled on his nose, a slow pinkness coming back to his rounded cheeks.

You bent in half over the edge of the bed, sobs wracking your body, silent tears streaming down your face. Bob reached out one hand, softly patting your hair. “Honey, don’t cry.”

You pulled away, looking up into his familiar blue eyes. He had looked so small before, and that had terrified you. He looked like himself again. Like the Bobby who had picked you up and carried you halfway across campus when you accidentally stepped on a rusted nail and had to go to the ER. He looked like the Bobby who had dared you to go into the caves in Vietnam even though you were terrified of small spaces. He looked like the Bobby that you loved with every cell in your body.

He looked like your Bobby again.

“I thought I lost you,” you whispered.

“Never going to lose me, darlin’,” he murmured back.

You sniffled, gripping his hand.

Bob’s eyes widened after a moment. Then, “Wait. Where’s Denver?”

You raised your eyes to him, unable to say it but knowing that they could convey what had happened without words, and watched as your best friend fell apart right in front of you.

***

“OK Floyd, spill.”

“Spill what?” Bob asked, tossing down a hand of cards. Payback laid his cards down. Two pair. He grabbed the pile of chips in the middle of the table and slid them closer, stacking them up with his own poker chips.

“About Reid, Floyd,” Phoenix said, exasperated. “These two boneheads,” she pointed at Hangman and Rooster, “want to know if she’s fair game.”

“Hey!” Coyote pouted. “So do I.”

Bob shook his head as Fanboy dealt a new round of cards. “She’s not my girlfriend, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“So we can ask her out,” Hangman was practically salivating. “Cause she’s hot as fuck.”

Bob raised his head and glared at the blond. Hangman put his hands up in a defensive maneuver.

“Woah, chill Floyd.”

“She already turned you down, Bagman,” Phoenix chimed in.

“She didn’t turn down Rooster,” Payback pointed out. “Or should I call him Chicken Man.”

All eyes turned to Bradley, who took a sip of his beer. Then, “Never said I was gonna ask her out.”

Bob sighed, trading in three cards from the five card draw. “Sunny is an adult,” he said. “She can do whatever she wants. So Rooster, if you want to ask her out, you’re free to. It’s up to her if she says yes or not.”

Bradley nodded, tossing out one card, waiting for Fanboy to deal him a replacement. “Maybe I will.”

Bob pursed his lips, grabbing for his beer glass, taking a chug and then slamming it down. He didn’t realize how forceful he was until the glass shattered on impact in his hand, sending beer rushing over the table and down the sides. Everyone jumped up in a panic.

“Shit, baby on board, what the fuck?” Hangman called as he rushed to grab a roll of paper towels.

“I’m sorry,” Bob shook his head. “I didn’t mean to.”

“Come here,” Phoenix said, grabbing his arm and tugging him into the kitchen. She held his hand over the sink, pulling out a small splinter of glass from his palm, running the bloody hand under water. She doused it in soap and he winced at the sting.

“Thanks,” Bob said as Phoenix wrapped his hand in a clean dish towel in Hangman’s kitchen.

She looked up at him, knowingly. “You can say no to them, you know.”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Phoenix sighed. “Yes you do. Reid. You don’t want those idiots to touch her.”

Bob grimaced. “She’s a big girl. If she wants to go out with them, she can.”

“Just admit it,” Phoenix said. “She is more than just your best friend.”

Bob’s blue eyes bore into hers. “Sunny is, and always will be, the love of my life. I’m just not hers.”

***

You looked through the sliding glass door to where Bob was carefully peeling an orange at the kitchen table, his eyes glued on the TV hanging over the mantle.

“Ms. Coleman, have you found a new physician in the San Diego area? If not, I can recommend one to you. But it’s imperative that you go in for new scans immediately.”

You sighed. “I’m working on it.”

“Ms. Coleman.” The voice on the other end of the line was hard. “This is no joking matter.”

“Don’t you think I’m aware of that?” you hissed.

“I’m going to email you a list of five physicians in the area.”

“They’re going to say exactly what you said,” you whispered.

“You need to get a second opinion. And either way, you need a local physician now that you’ve relocated.”

“Fine,” you said. “Send me the names.”

“Ms. Coleman?”

“Yeah?”

“Please make an appointment.”

You clicked off the phone and slid open the door. Bob had moved to the couch, one arm slung over the low back.

“Everything OK?” he asked.

You nodded, walking around the edge of the couch and settling into the spot next to him. Without even thinking, you leaned into Bob’s side, letting his arm fall around your shoulders, tucking you into his side.

“Sunny?” he asked softly. He read you like an open book. He could practically see the anxiety and tension radiating off of your skin.

“I’m fine,” you whispered, looking up at him with a small smile before resting your head against his thigh, lifting your feet onto the other end of the couch, lying down so that Bob’s hand was now firmly pressed against the dip in your side where your ribcage ended.

You closed your eyes, breathing in his familiar smell, letting yourself relax, feeling your heart rate slow.

“Everything is going to be fine,” you murmured.

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cock-holliday · 8 months

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Listen, I get being excited when people come out, I get speculating people’s genders and sexualities. I get that there are often seemingly so few of us that we are desperate for more community. I get that some people wish someone had nudged them sooner into realizing they were queer/trans. I get it.

AND people also have reasons for not coming out, or sometimes your clocking skills are shit!

The Wachowski sisters, icons of trans egg cracking metaphor, were OUTED against their wills! The kid from Heartstopper was outed against his will. Rebel Wilson came out before someone had the chance to out her. Nathan Lane was nearly outed in an interview he did alongside Robin Williams, and Williams diverted so he could stay closeted. Dozens of celebs and athletes and authors and politicians were outed and sometimes it destroyed their careers, put them in danger, or made a private matter a spectacle.

Of course, outing doesn’t just happen to celebs. My shitty ex-roommate was so sure my GNC friend was an egg and kept badgering him trying to get him to use they/them, constantly invalidating his identity. I know people who were outed among friends, whose parents found out, and got them kicked from home. I know well-meaning Uni advisors who didn’t think of the consequences and sent mail home to a name not recognized by that kid’s family. I’ve had people out me to strangers and immediately put me in difficult positions even though I am relatively open about my identity. The thing is, it is MY fucking choice.

It is their choice.

Sure, nudge someone in private. But if they tell you to fuck off, do. If they get super uncomfortable, lay off. Yeah, they might be in denial, maybe for good fucking reason. Or maybe you are wrong as shit about what their identity is.

Yeah, being forced into the closet sucks, that doesn’t make being forced out of the closet good either, even when you’re right that they’re queer/trans.

Create space for them to come out, let people come to you. Answer questions, drop hints, live your life so fully that people see they have options. I owe so much to queers I saw out and about in public but if each one of them said “hey you look like one of us” publicly I’d have crawled so far back into the closet.

Queers used to use code to ask if we shared kinship for a reason, and while visibility has dramatically increased that doesn’t mean safety always has. And it certainly doesn’t mean the messy grey between straight and gay disappeared, it doesn’t mean the messy grey between cis and trans disappeared. Sometimes you think you are opening someone up to a whole world but they already fucking know it.

Anyway,

#LJsm #people will look at bi people as a ‘gay in denial’#or nb folks as ‘trans in denial’#or gnc people as ‘trans in denial’

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queenimmadolla · 2 years

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𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐄

masterlist • PART TWO

𝙎𝙐𝙈𝙈𝘼𝙍𝙔: You are content watching Eddie Munson from afar, ignoring the giant “what-if” that looms over you. It’s safer that way. But after a shitty party, some weed, and a lot of heart ache, it becomes clear you two share more than a class. If only the rest of the world didn’t just think you were two stupid kids not meant for each other.

𝙒𝘼𝙍𝙉𝙄𝙉𝙂𝙎:: some fluff, some angst, as well as mentions and usage of weed. let me know if i missed anything!

𝙉𝙊𝙏𝙀𝙎: HEAVILY based on the song Call You Mine. And my sister’s first love, lol. I’d suggest giving it a listen to feel sentimental about our boy. Really am enjoying writing this story. Hope you enjoy it! If there’s, any mistakes, I’ll tweak it later. This is like my fourth time trying to post it because the website version of tumblr is a cnut (intentionally misspelled) and blanks a post out at a certain length so I’m just trying to post this and not break my macbook out of anger. 𝐓𝐚𝐠 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭.

* . *• + . * . * . *• + . * . * . *• + . * . * . *• + . * .

“Jesus,” You mumbled, gritting your teeth as you pushed the sweaty back of Gary Newman off of you and weaved your way through the crowd, finally breaching the back yard sliding door.

Steve Harrington was throwing one of his “legendary” (they were just alright in your opinion) ragers, and after your friends had mentioned they’d be going, you’d decided to do so, as well. Mostly for the jungle juice and the excuse to get high with your friends, which is what you were currently trying to do.

When the party inside started to get a little rowdy, you’d all agreed to go hang out by the pool and smoke. You’d gone back to your car, parked ridiculously far away, to retrieve the joint but making it back through the house had been a fucking struggle.

A fucking struggle that proved to be pointless because none of those bitches were out here yet. “We’ll meet you outside, Y/n.” You mimic Judy in a pitch much too high to be accurate as you weaved around the stragglers who’d also moved outside, and rested against the side of the house. Now you were just gonna have to stand there and wait because there was no way in hell you were going in to that mess to search for them. Less than five minutes later, you decided you weren’t going to wait, so you pulled the joint out from behind your ear and pulled the neckline of your long sleeve back to reach into your bra for your lighter. That was not there.

Fuck. “Fuck.” You mumbled, slapping your thigh in annoyance. How could you forget your lighter? This party sucked. “Need a light?”

You jumped in surprise, eyes darting over to the figure leaning against the wooden fence across from you. You didn’t think anyone else was sober enough to pay you any mind.

“Yeah, actually I do.” You were about to move over, desperate for any form of salvation when he pushed himself off the fence and walked closer to you. Long hair, very Steven Tyler, leather jacket and jean vest. You recognized him from school, Eddie Munson. Your asshole was clenching ridiculously hard to prevent your stomach from dropping right out of it.   Your interactions were limited and only consisted of small pleasantries exchanged in passing. But, you’d harbored a fascination, then admiration turned longing for him. It had started with you simply being bored at lunch one day at the end of sophomore year, you had zoned out until you realized you were staring at Eddie. Then the curiosity set in. You went from glancing at him every once in a while, to full on observing whenever he was within your sight, admiring his every—okay well not every—move he made. He was boisterous, yes, but usually only when people he seemed to care enough about were around. Otherwise, he seemed bored and uninterested with his surroundings.

You started to really notice him. Somehow, he ended up becoming the reason you were excited to go to school, you had danced around your room after the first day of senior year when you realized you had a class with him. Not in a creepy way, you just happened to get up and immediately come to the conclusion that you may see Eddie Munson that day (and it always left you disappointed on the days where you didn’t because he hadn’t showed up), just like you made sure you looked good every day in case that was the day he happened to notice your existence beyond just considering you a background character. Meanwhile, he was an enigma to you. But unfortunately, Eddie only seemed to notice the classmates he disliked (probably because he always had to watch his back for them), he didn’t really interact with you, other than those passing hellos. You never understood why they were so cruel to him. There were plenty of other people around the school who were also unique in their own way and fashion, but they didn’t get nearly the amount of shit Eddie did. And so what if he got held back twice? You didn’t see anything wrong with that in the first place. Sure, you were in a similar position, but literally no one had noticed until you told a select few (and you mean few), so why did they notice it so much with him? How they treated him was why you were so afraid for the rest of them to realize you had missed an entire year of high school. You weren’t popular enough for anyone to hold you to any high standards, but you were nice to everyone, meaning everyone knew you in a good light. You had a small group of personal friends, but that’s all you would tolerate. You couldn’t really risk your secret getting out.

Eddie reached into his vest pocket and produced a lighter, flicking it on for you while he held it up to your joint. You were fighting for your life to act cool and not freeze up. You put the filter between your lips and inhaled as the tip burned and leaned back to blow the smoke away from you after a few moments of taking it to the head. “Thanks, Eddie.” “No problem.” Something across the yard caught his eye, and with a small smile in your direction, he slipped away. Like always, you couldn’t help but stare after him until you couldn’t see him anymore, intrigued with his mystery, though he was probably just using this party as way to sell out his inventory or something. You had planned on sharing your joint with your friends, but they never came out to find you and when it became clear they wouldn’t be joining you, you finished it off yourself, taking your sweet damn time.

Half an hour later, pleasantly high, and feeling light as kite, you made your way over to the pool side, squeezing between bodies so you could snub out the blackened remains of it in one of the cigarette trays on the small tables, and ran into Judith in a conversation with Steve Harrington, Jonathan Byers, Nancy Wheeler and a couple of others. You noticed how comfortable Steve seemed to be with Jonathan and Nancy being cuddled up together, but you figured that had something to do with the way he was looking at Judy who gave you a grin, causing your face to break out into a smile.

“Hey, you, we’ve been searching for you!” You blew a raspberry, but couldn’t find it in yourself to be annoyed because it’s Judy! That’s your bestie, right there. It’s the weed thinking for you. “I have been waiting out here for minutes.” She smirked, leaning against Steve as she really took you in. She seemed to be debating on something with herself before she replied, “Four minutes?”

You frowned. “No, for minutes. Wait, are you saying four minutes as in like the number four or are you saying it like for—“

“I’m fucking with you because you’re stupid high right now.” She laughed, reaching a hand out to squeeze your shoulder affectionately. “Oh.” And then you laughed, because it’s surprisingly hilarious. “Funny, you got me. What were we talking about, though?” The group seemed to let out a chuckle at that, and Judy continued to humor you. “Nothing, hun. How much jungle juice did you have?”

You knew very well you were too high to handle voicing numbers out loud, so you just held up hand. “This many.” “Five?” She seemed a little incredulous at that, and you felt a little proud of yourself when you added, “Like two hours ago and I haven’t even had the urge to pee yet.” “Oh, god. Okay, why don’t we get you home?” Truthfully, you’d had the same idea when you finished your joint since this party wasn’t providing you much amusement but you didn’t want to drag Judy of all people away. Especially since you knew about Steve’s not so subtle crush on her, and truth be told you were kind of rooting for them since you thought the college guy she’d been seeing since sophomore year—red flag, everybody, red flag—was too old for her.

“Yeah but also no.” She raised an eyebrow but you were determined to make sense. “You stay, I’ll go. My car is stupid far anyways, and I’ll just chill in there until I’m good to drive.” You don’t bother waiting for a reply, just lean into her personal space to give the tip of her nose a boop. “This isn’t my first rodeo, and I’m not that stupid.”

Luckily for you, she knows you’re actually somewhat responsible, even under the influence, and she trusts that you won’t be driving, but you’re sure she’s gonna go out periodically to check on you, which is why she lets you go.

You don’t bother saying goodbye to everyone else because, truthfully, you can’t remember most of their names right now, and instead head out the side gate.

You make it to the end of the driveway before you hear your name being called and turn around to see Eddie Munson making his way towards you. He lingers a little ways from you before he shakes his head and then he’s right in front of you, so close you can see the beauty mark near his mouth. “You, uh, you want some company?” You’re struck stupid for some reason—the reason being that you’re high and Eddie Munson is really beautiful. “For what?” You were confused though, did he think you were sticking around the party?

“While you sober up in your car,” His eyebrows pinched together, but the answer made you even more confused. How the hell did he know you were going to your car?

Eddie seemed to realize that was the question plaguing you before his lips slowly curled into the most handsome smirk you had ever seen in your entire life and added, “I was standing next to you, sweetheart.” Standing next—Oh! He was standing right next to Judy when you had moved in to the area they were occupying to put out the joint. And you had shoved your way in-between them to do so. You were too…preoccupied to notice anyone other than the people who had been facing you were. “Oh, right. Sorry, I’m a little…” You trailed off, doing some weird gesture with your hand that meant nothing. “Fuzzy headed.”

Eddie’s smirk had softened, observing you for a moment. You couldn’t help but notice how beautiful his eyes were. So big, and so warm. He was the reason you knew brown eyes were your favorite.

“You mentioned your car is down the street. My van is right across the street.” He pointed to the van in question, just a couple of yards away. “We can hang out in it if you want, and I can drive you to your car when you’re good to go.” Realistically (meaning other than what you noticed during your countless hours of staring at him) you knew very little about Eddie. You knew he’s big on fantasy stuff since he’s the leader and founder of the Hellfire Club, you knew he doesn’t shy away from trouble, meaning the jocks at school. You knew he must not care what anyone else thinks, that must be why he’s never afraid to speak his mind.

But you also know about how whenever you do spot him at school, you can’t seem to really look away. Whenever he leaves the lunchroom early, you feel the urge to get up and go after him. You want to know what he’s doing. What goes through his head, what it is his friends at the table he sits at say to make him laugh so hard.

You know your interactions with Eddie have been minimal, but more than anything you want to know why you remember them so well, why you get that open-hole-in-your-stomach sense of longing when he goes just beyond your sight, just out of reach. Because, yeah, what the hell is up with that? “Sure, company wouldn’t kill me. I mean, I suppose you could, actually. I’m just gonna assume you don’t plan on it tonight.” You both started walking over and your statement made him laugh. That open hole feeling in your stomach appeared again.

“No, this is only the first time we’re hanging out. I’ve got to save that for later.” He continued to chuckle as he pulled the back door open, holding it for you. “After you, milady.” You did a little curtsy before climbing in. “Why, thank you, good sir.” He climbed in right after you, and left the door open, much to your relief. You were eager at the idea of getting a peak into Eddie Munson’s world, but doing so in a closed off, confined space would activate your asthma or something.

To your absolute delight, his van wasn’t clean. It wasn’t super messy either, but knowing you had got a couple of things to soak in about him made you feel giddy. There was a couple of fast food wrappers scattered around the rug he had back there. Some magazines that you were dying to pick up and read to see why he bought them in the first place, and pillows. You stared at them and tried not to think about whose head other than his once rested on them. Did he bring a lot of girls back here to hang out? God, you hoped that’s all they did with him. “Sorry, I wasn’t expecting company.” He gave you a sheepish grin as he scratched the top of his head.

You couldn’t keep it in. “Do you?” He raised his eyebrows in confusion, so you added, “Usually expect company?”

He held your stare (thank god you were high because you would never be this brave, eye contact is usually something you can’t maintain) and that big smirk makes another appearance as he settled back into the pillows. “Not a whole lot people want to spend some quality time with the town freak.”

Okay, but did he mean quality time as quality time or did he mean it as quality time? If it was the latter, you were glad no one wanted it with him. Maybe there was hope for you, though you’d take either version. No, both. “And here I was thinking you were a rolling stone by choice.” You joked, and when he laughed, it sent electricity down your spine. There was a momentary lull in the conversation as you played with the rug, fingertips tracing over one of the patterns. “I don’t usually see you at these things, in fact, I’ve only seen you at one other.” You glanced up at his statement, surprised to find him already looking at you. “I uh-no, I don’t—parties are nice, um the idea of them, actually. I guess. The reality, not so much. I have to either be stupid drunk, high out of my mind, or both as I currently am.” You gestured down to yourself, wondering if you just imagined the way his eyes seemed to follow your hands’ path. “And even then, I can barely enjoy myself because I’m trying to make sure some guy doesn’t try to touch my boob while I’m not completely lucid.”

He made a face at that. “That’s fucking gross. I’ve got an idea.” “Produce.” You encouraged, tucking your legs to the side. “You tell me the name of every single guy who has tried to take advantage you like that, and I kick them in the teeth.” That got a laugh out of you, too easy for you to picture.

“As charming as that is, most of them are on sports teams, can’t fight one-on-one, and I’d prefer it if you didn’t get jumped. Kinda like you better not beat up.” You mused, shyly glancing up at him from beneath your lashes.

“Yeah?” He tucked an arm behind his head, the other resting on his stomach. “You just might be the first.” “Well, that’s a pity. I’m sorry everyone is so mean to you.” You don’t know why you’re apologizing for them, you just want to make sure he knows they’re the problem. Not him. “For what it’s worth, I think you’re pretty cool.”

You already seem to have his attention, but he tensed up at that. “You think I’m cool? Alright, Trix, who put you up to this? Jason and co. waiting to jump me outside the van?”

You can tell he’s teasing but there’s something in his voice that makes you want to reassure him. Your gaze moved back down to the rug. “I just think you’re really…interesting, I guess. I like how you dress. I like how you don’t let all the shit they say,” you gestured vaguely to the party outside the van, “get to you enough to change yourself. And I like how you’re always you, you don’t pretend for even a second to not be.”

You wanted to continue, to go into depth about all the times you watched him during lunch, English, and every little scene in between. Tell him how he was a beacon for your attention, that you time your last water break at cheer practice to match up with the time his Hellfire sessions end so you can watch him walk to his van in the parking lot, a cigarette always firm between his lips. How you noticed he plays with his rings when he’s thinking hard about something, how animated his eyes get during a conversation he’s enjoying, how he he can’t avoid not talking with his hands or about how even if he thinks you don’t know him, or maybe you really don’t, you want to know him. You want to so badly.

But you didn’t continue, your mouth opened but you thought better of it, and swallowed it down instead, chest heaving a silent sigh. He wouldn’t be interested in you anyways. You risked a glance up at him, he hadn’t looked away from you, but his face was unreadable. Was he even listening?

“Well, shit.” He said, eventually. “You left me flabbergasted. Fuck, that’s gotta be one of the nicest things anyone has ever said to me.” You hadn’t even said much so that made you sad. If you didn’t have feelings for him, you’d just tell him everything because it wouldn’t have that meaning but it does. It does have that meaning. Or at least, you want it to.

You could feel warmth flooding your cheeks, but you were determined to not let yourself get your hopes high. You’d been harboring all of this for two years now. One night wasn’t about to change anything. Come Monday morning, you’d be back to being passing strangers. Admiring him from afar, worked best. Why bother setting yourself up for disappointment?

“What can I say? Weed brings out the honesty in me.” You shrugged it off, sitting up straighter. Risking another glance back at him was too much of a gamble. You focused your attention on the street outside of the open door, a breeze slipping in. Wait a minute. Trix?

“Hey—why’d you call me that?” Now that you have a fair excuse to look at him, it thrilled you to discover he still hadn’t been looking away. His eyebrows pinched together as he relayed your conversation to figure out what you were referring to. “What? Trix?” You nodded and the corners of his lips curled right back into that big grin, teeth gleaming. “Because of the cereal mascot. I said I’ve only seen you at one other party.” He doesn’t offer up anything else, but as you squint at him, the realization slowly dawns on you.

Hannah McKellar was known for her parties’ strict themes. If you didn’t follow, you weren’t allowed in. Which usually sucked, because her parents’ liquor selections were vast and plenty. This past Halloween; however, she changed the theme of her Halloween party from “Your Worst Fear” to whatever the hell anyone wanted to be. She didn’t care all that much since she had started dating Brad Bishop. Word didn’t reach you until about five minutes into your arrival at the party, when you were sure you’d heard a record screech after stepping in and had to force your way through the crowd, ignoring all the looks and snickering from people as you passed them.

She had apologized profusely, and you had pretended not to mind all that much, but standing in a full blown rabbit costume while everyone else looked stupid sexy was too humbling. You’d spent the rest of the night explaining to anyone who asked (everyone) why you looked like the easter bunny. A stupid fucking rabbit was the mascot for that damn cereal brand. Eddie had been there. And he had seen you.

“Nooooo!” You covered your face with your hands in embarrassment, eyes squeezing shut to try and wake up from the nightmare. You could hear Eddie laughing and then some slight shuffling as he moved over to take your hands in his and pry them off of you. “Don’t be embarrassed. I thought it was really cute. Didn’t realize you were so terrified of bunnies though, Trix." Your face was on fire, but you couldn’t help but smile shyly once you opened your eyes and saw him so close to you, with that look in his eyes. God, he was so pretty! It wasn’t fair. “I don’t like the way they thump their feet! It’s scary, and they look like they bite hard. Have you seen them from the front? They’re terrifying.”

“They’re harmless! Come on, they just focus on burrowing, eating, and for lack of a better term, fucking like rabbits.” He was teasing you again, and you were finding that to be a very appealing trait of his. “Trust me, I’ve read Watership Down.”

“Well, so have I and that’s precisely why I don’t trust them and their surprisingly sophisticated existence.” You must have said something good, because he absolutely lit up. “You read Watership Down? Holy shit, you’re right out of my dreams. Was that terminology insane, or what?”

“Every time I re-read it, I pronounce that Lore words differently, but I liked it. Can’t stand real rabbits, but the imagery in it is just too good.” Eddie looked like the cat who had gotten the cream, seemingly pleased. Maybe because you had a shared interest? Who cares, the way he looked at you right then had you feeling like you weren’t a background character to him. Not looking through you, he was looking at you.

You felt like that damn cat, too.

“You taking recommendations?” He looked a little shy as he asked, and you can’t possibly figure out why in the world he thought there was a chance that you’d say no to him. “Think you might like Lord of the Rings.”

You winced, and could see him deflate a little so you rushed to explain.

“I’ve already read Lord of the Rings. And The Hobbit. Junior year.” When you had seen him reading it one day at Lunch, you convinced your mom to drive you to the local bookstore so you could use your allowance to buy a copy. You had gone back to the shop for it’s prequel two days later. “Though, I’ve re-read them a couple of times since.” Both books looked beat up enough to have been owned by you for much longer than they actually had.

Eddie tilted head back and sighed before letting himself slump to the floor of the van with a thud.

You panicked, leaning forward to grasp his shoulder. Did he just faint on you? Oh, god. “Eddie? Are you okay?”

An eye cracked open to look at you, and your chest heaved with relief before you were glaring down at him with nothing short of amusement at his theatrics. It was funny now that you knew you weren’t going to have to break traffic laws to get him to the ER.

“Sorry, your mystique keeps knocking me out.” You can’t even think about how your hand is still holding his shoulder, not when he reaches his own hand out to cradle your side. You can feel the heat from his hands melting into your skin even through the fabric. God, this was gonna give you so much fuel for your bedtime fantasies tonight.

You smiled at the compliment, but your nose wrinkled a little. “Mystique?” You thought about how your routine consisted of school, cheer practice, and a lot of time spent in your room or trying to amuse myself. When you ditch school, it’s to just stay at home, you don’t even do anything good with that free time. You don’t go out much, and you’re normally in bed by 10. Pretty mundane, to you. “I’m hardly mysterious, Eddie. I’ve got as much unpredictability as a traffic light.”

“You don’t give yourself nearly enough credit, Trix.” He pushed himself up on his elbows.

“Please,” you scoffed, with a roll of your eyes. “There’s nothing all that special about me. Don’t get me wrong, I like how I look, I know I have a decent-ish life, but there’s nothing really all that surprising, I guess.” Not like there is with him, anyways.

He looked thoughtful for a minute, tilting his head. “I wouldn’t consider going missing for a year as relatively expected.” Your eyes widened in surprise, mouth opening and closing a few times. Your silence seemed to make him a little uncomfortable, or maybe embarrassed.

“You, uh stopped showing up a couple of weeks into my junior year, so I think you would’ve been a sophomore, right? We had Spanish together, actually. And then you just stopped showing up. I thought, maybe you’d moved away, but then you came back the next year. Only you were still a sophomore.”

You pulled away from him, moving to sit criss cross again, as you could feel the mortification oozing over you like a nasty, thick slime. Out of all the things Eddie could have noticed, why’d it have to be that?

He didn’t say anything when you moved away, just watched you carefully. It was obvious he didn’t expect you to tell him why you’d disappeared, he was just stating his observation, but the story behind your missing year of high school was still a sore spot, one that you didn’t ever think would mend completely. It was the number one cause of tension in your life, especially between you and your parents.

“You okay? Didn’t mean to bring up something unpleasant.” You could see him rubbing the back of his neck from your peripheral vision before scooting closer towards you. “It’s okay. I just, I wasn’t expecting that,” But you should have, because if you’d learned anything about Eddie during your observations, it was how unpredictable he could be. “You’re the first person to actually have noticed. Or at least, say something about it.”

“Trix, I promise you, I’m the last person who would judge you for getting held back,” If only it had been that simple. “There’s nothing wrong with that. I’ve never thought any less of you.”

He nudged his shoulder up against yours, and the tender look he gave you made you want to cry, tell him the truth and kiss him all at once. Not that you were thinking about his pretty pink lips, or how you’d barely even have to angle your head up to just—

“There you are!” The other door to the van flung open, and you and Eddie both flinched away from each other in surprise. Judy appeared, holding a hand out to you. “I think I’m all done here. Tired. Let's go home.” Your eyes scanned over her, and you could see the wet sheen over her eyes. She was holding back tears. She looked stiff and impatient, a startling contrast to the last time you’d seen her cuddled up to Steve.

You turned your attention to Eddie, only to find that he’d already gathered himself, staring straight through you and at Judy with no readable emotion. If you hadn’t known better, you would have thought he hadn’t just been trying to establish a connection with you.

When it became clear he wasn’t going to acknowledge any of that, your heart plummeted from its place in your chest, to somewhere deep inside of you where the disappointment you had convinced yourself you’d feel if you ever worked up the courage to approach him, lay in waiting. “Okay,” You mumbled, proud of the way your voice didn’t waver despite the fact that you were pretty sure the guy you’d been mooning over wanted to pretend like he didn’t know you. You were in his damn van with him! You crawled forward and hopped out of said vehicle. Judy immediately looped her arm through yours, guiding you down to where she knew you parked your car. You noticed Steve, standing in the middle of his walkway, looking very obviously upset as he watched you two. You turned your head just a little more to see Eddie walking towards him, past him, and then into the house again. He didn't look back at you. Not for a single second.

“I got a ride with Dina, but do you mind if I sleepover tonight?” Truthfully, all you wanted to do was go home, scrub the night off you, and sink into your bed to hide from that giant fucking weight that’s pressing down on your chest, but you know nothing good will come from you being alone. You’ll just end depressed over it, you already can tell.

Besides, Judy needed you and this would provide you with a distraction, so you agreed.

As you drove past the loud house in your beetle, you couldn’t help but rake your gaze across it, hoping you’d see him somewhere looking back. You didn’t. You ignored your chest aches as you drove down the rest of the quiet street.

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