#and depression because it fucked me over this semester

[pepprs]

ok. giving myself 4 minutes to make this post and then i finish my homework. i just am so deeply miserable. i really think i made a mistake. i should not be in grad school. i only took a year between this and undergrad and i am still so burned out and mentally ill. im working full time. im only taking one class and this program is supposed to be so good and aligned with what i want and all of that. but i just cant stand having homework. i just cant stand it. i think i am not cut out for academia even though i work in academia. i think i will never get better as long as im still living at home but i have to get better before i can no longer be living at home but i cant get better until im not living at home and every day i still live at home saps away at my will to live quite literally. i should not have started doing grad school without regaining my will to live. without restoring my love for reading and writing that i used to have voraciously when i was younger and less deeply miserable. without recovering from the burnout. i think i made a mistake. i need a masters degree so bad so that i can be safe but i need to not have fucking homework when i already struggle to get through my days without school. i feel so stuck in my life and hopeless and helpless. i dont know what to do

#purrs #i cant drop out or anything because. lol and this class isnt even that big of a deal like i TRULY am freaking out over nothing. but my life #situation is so bad rn bro like i cant get my parents to take me out to drive and i cant get myself to get my parents to take me out to #drive and every day i am guilt tripped berated etc etc and i feel like i am never ever ever going to be able to have my own life where i a #stable and safe and happy. it can happen for other people except for me and my siblings. i dont know. im not explaining anything well. #i just cant do this. i need to not have this one more thing on my plate but i have to because if i dont have a masters degree in my field i #am nothing even though everyone is telling me that isnt true and all of them are credible but im just so mentally ill i cant believe anyone #and icant accept any advice or hope or whatever good about me i just. am stuck. this is as good as it gets and its not even good. #delete later #that was 7 minutes not 4 and i didnt even write anything substantial. nutshell. i just have been so fucking depressed lately oh my goddddd #this is maybe too strong of a thing to say but like. i know it isnt technically neglect if i am an adult but... i think i may kind of be #neglected by my family in some ways a little bit and always have been but like. emotionally. like in the ways in which im never a priority #and the things i need are seen as burdens etc etc. and theres nothing anyone can do about it even myself because im an adult but like lol. #24 year old dependent moment <3 #well there is one thing i can do about it as an adult actually. its called move out. but that requires strength i will #never possess unfortunately due to the inherent flaws in my character and constitution so. guess this is it lawl 🥰 #side note (and i swear im done after this lol): i think i was doing a lot better mentally over the summer. funny how when the semester #starts i get depressed and the depression just gets worse and worse until the end of the semester 😻 funny how this is my seventh year like #this. willingly subjecting myself to this. that should be a clue no? but i love my job and if i could just have my job and be stable in it #would be happier but also im lying to mysaelf and i will always be unhappy but its because of my mental illness not my job being bad or #anything its like. i am just sick in the head with impostor syndrome and thats how i got myself into this whole mess. lol #well that and the not moving out thing which is partially my fault but also because i live in hell as described earlier! <3

[sorryiwasasleep]

I can’t fucking win but I’m not allowed to stop playing and that’s such fucking bullshit mercy rules exist for a goddamn reason someone put me out of my fucking misery

#depression #anxiety #mental illness #mental health issues #probably should trigger warning this? #I’m having a breakdown over money! #in that I have none! #and never will! #like I have 70$ in my bank account and all of that is from my parents which isnt worse than having no money but makes me feel like comps hi #because they make me feel like shit #even though i literally cannot work because THEY forced me into a degree program #when all I wanted was to fucking substitute teach and figure out my life #but now I’m fucking in my last semester of a three year program and broke as all fuck #and they don’t even really care and since they pay my rent they think that’s ‘enough’ #except I literally can’t afford groceries or gas or my other bills #so????? what then? #what about my 200$ a month I HAVE to spend on therapy so that I don’t kill myself? #who’s gonna pay that? #or the 45$ for my adderall so that I can function and hopefully graduate on time #who’s gonna fucking pay that? #cause it’s not MY PARENTS! and I can’t fucking work!!!!!

[brothersonahotelbed]

my life is a joke a cruel sick twisted joke

#just found out my english class got cancelled tonight bc my teacher is stepping down #AND FUCKING GUESS WHO'S TAKING OVER THE CLASS. #THAT PETTY ASS HORRIBLE STUPID FUCKING ASSHOLE OF AN ENGLISH TEACHER I HAD LAST SEMESTER WHO MADEM Y LIFE HELL #AND I CANT TRANSFER TO A DIFFERENT CLASS BECAUSE HE TEACHES ALL THE ENGLISH 102 CLASSES ON MY CAMPUS #LIKE ARE YOU FUCKIGNGGGGKIDDING ME #ihat ethis i hate this i hate this i HATE THIS OH MY GOD #he gave me unbearably petty grades on my essays for no reason. 14.75/15 on my final last semester. 12.75/13 on another essay I WORKED SO #HARD ON LIKE ARE YOU KIDDING #he's the one who refused to grade my 8 page essay that i cried and had depression over because it wasn't in a 'complete portfolio' LIKE WHA #BLOOD AND DEATH AND GUTS AND VISCERA AND HORROR #plus i went by my deadname in his class and i feel like when i introduce myself as nico he's going to have a stupid freakout over ti #holy fuck i fucking hate it here oh my god #loquitur

[sprout-fics]

Seriously- I know you love my writing and I appreciate it deeply, but please please be patient with me.

I am a masters student in her final semester. I'm behind on schoolwork because of a depressive episode. I have finals coming up. The final part of my thesis is due this week and I haven't started because I've been trying to catch up- only to be sidelined by my endometriosis which I need surgery for as soon as I graduate. I've been putting it off all semester so I can graduate on time and I am very often in pain, which has a negative effect on my schoolwork. I'm job hunting so I can have health insurance when my student health insurance runs out and I am praying I can find a surgeon quickly enough so that I can get my surgery done before then and have at least a portion of it covered. I'm moving back in with my parents because I'm flat broke, and I am constantly worried about student loan payments. I've yet to hear anything positive from the over 50 jobs I've applied to. I need to start packing and figure out a way to sell my furniture before move out day. I am doing this entirely on my own because I live alone and am paying my way through school. I have nobody in my city to help me with any of this.

I am trying my fucking hardest. I'm sorry updates are slow. Writing is not my priority right now. I am not a content machine. I am a person. Please for the love of all things holy be patient, and be gentle with me. Please.

#mini rant #I love you all to pieces but please please give me some grace

[ms-demeanor]

Would you be willing to talk more about the teacher who wouldn’t let you take their class until you saw a therapist? Was that hyperbolic, or did this teacher actually have that kind of sway?

It was my senior year IB World History class. I was so depressed that I hadn't turned in any of the homework for the entire first semester and she made a deal with me: I could take winter break and catch up on all the homework I missed and stay in the class but I had to get therapy and she would give me a B for the semester based on my in-class essay scores, or she would give me the C- that I deserved and I would be moved to a different class because I hadn't maintained the grade required to stay in the IB class. My parents were onboard with me getting therapy because of the teacher's recommendation and because they wanted me to get that IB diploma (joke's on them, I forgot to turn in the form for my completed volunteer hours so I didn't get the shiny IB paper - ADHD wins again)

I had done mock trial with her as the adviser my freshman year and I think she noticed a really, really significant personality change as I was struggling more with stuff.

She also looked out for my little cousin, who had transferred into the district that year because her mom died over the summer; I was technically my cousin's guardian for district location reasons and there was some talk of me possibly legally adopting her when I turned eighteen and this teacher knew both that my cousin was having a fucked up time (her mom died very young and she had to move to a new district away from all her friends at 14) and that I was kind of responsible for her, so the teacher checked in with me when people were being shitty to my cousin, or when she wasn't turning in her work.

She's a really good teacher, and I'm lucky she was looking out for me.

[bingwriterxo]

amnesia

pairing: jenna ortega x reader

summary: in which you run into jenna after years apart

warnings: mentions of a car crash

word count: 1900+

author's note: here it is! the super depressing fic! definitely could've been even more depressing, but the concept itself is so sad to me.

college au!

“Sorry! I’m sorry!” you said as you pushed past people.

You were rushing through campus, desperate not to be late to class for the fifth time that semester, and it seemed that no one was safe from your path as you weaved in and out of others, cut through groups of friends, and nearly tumbled into a professor.

You glanced down at your watch--just for a second to make sure that you still had time--but your feet didn’t stop moving, which resulted in you ramming directly into someone. You let out a groan as you crashed to the ground, landing hard on the cement.

“Dude, watch where you’re going!” you heard someone chastise from your right.

“Sorry, sorry. That was my bad,” you apologized as you pulled yourself to your feet. You hovered above the woman that you had knocked over and held your hand out to help her up. “Are you alri--”

Your question was cut short as the woman looked up at you, a frown on her face and her eyes narrowed in annoyance. A chill ran down your spine as you took a step back, your hand falling to your side and your jaw slacking. No, you thought. It can’t be.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she huffed, and you couldn’t help the tears that sprang to your eyes at the sound of her voice. She still sounded the same. She stood up, dusted herself off, and then looked at you. “But you seriously need to, like, slow the fuck down or somethi--” She furrowed her eyebrows in confusion, and you swallowed hard. “Are you okay?”

It took you a moment to find your words. “Y--yeah.” You could feel your breathing quicken the longer you stared at her, and your heart was thumping against your chest, threatening to break right out of your ribs. “Why?”

She tilted her head. “Well, you’re…crying.”

“Am I?” you mumbled, bringing a hand to your eyes and wiping them. Sure enough, they came away wet with your tears. “Sorry. It’s just…”

“Did you get hurt when you fell?” she asked quickly, and you clenched your jaw, trying to keep your sobs at bay. Even when you were at fault, she was still worried. She hasn’t changed a bit, you thought.

She took a step forward, her hands out like she was ready to inspect you, and you breathed out a soft, “I’m okay, Jenna.”

She stopped in her tracks at the sound of her name and raised an eyebrow, obviously confused. “I’m sorry. Have we met?”

You worried your bottom lip between your teeth, thinking over your answer, and settled on a simple, “Yeah.”

Realization washed over Jenna’s face, and for a moment, you thought she remembered you--it was a foolish thought, you understood later--until she said, “Oh, we must’ve gone to high school together.” She shook her head and chuckled. “I’m sorry, I don’t remember most people from high school because of--”

“The accident,” you finished.

Her eyes widened in surprise, and she blinked once, twice, before saying, “Right, of course you’d know. It was in our town’s newspaper for, what, three months after it happened?” She scoffed and glanced down. “Nothing interesting ever happens in that damn town, so obviously they had to highlight the poor girl with amnesia, right?”

Jenna looked back up at you when you didn’t respond. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Uh…” You swiped your tongue over your bottom lip nervously, and, faintly, you could feel yourself beginning to shake. “I have to go.”

“Wait, but--”

“I’m really sorry for…for crashing into you.” You spun on your heel and headed in the opposite direction, leaving Jenna standing alone, watching your back as you went.

* * *

You were pacing around your dorm room, your phone pressed against your ear. “Come on, come on. Pick up!” you whined, and you sighed with relief when you heard that familiar click of the person on the other end of the phone answering the call.

“Y/N?”

“Aliyah!” you exclaimed. “Hey.”

“Are you good?” the girl asked.

You nodded. “Yeah, yeah. Listen, I know we haven’t talked in a while, but, uh, I think the last time we spoke you failed to mention that Jenna goes to the same college as me.”

There was some rustling on the other end of the line, and then Aliyah’s hurried voice. “Did you see her? Run into her? Talk to her?”

“All of the above.”

“Oh, shit,” she muttered. “Y/N, I’m sorry. I completely forgot to mention it.”

“No, yeah. It’s, um, totally fine.” You sighed. “I’m totally fine.”

A silence followed. Then, “She didn’t remember you, did she?” Aliyah’s voice was soft, sad, pitiful, and you sucked in a shaky breath.

“No,” you admitted, the tears coming back. “No, she didn’t.” You stilled your pacing and sat on the edge of your bed. “I mean, I should’ve known she wouldn’t, but actually experiencing it, again…God, Aliyah. It was--” You clenched your eyes shut and swallowed down your cry. “It was horrible.”

“I’m sorry, Y/N, that I forgot to warn you. It just totally slipped my mind last time we talked.”

You shook your head. “It’s not your fault.” You laid back, pressing yourself against your mattress like it would swallow you whole. “Is she…is she doing okay?”

Aliyah sighed. “Yeah. Well, you know, as okay as she can be. She still talks about how there’s gaps in her memories, obviously, and most of it’s, well, you, not that she knows that.” She inhaled sharply and asked, “So, what’re you gonna do?”

“Ignore her for as long as I can?”

“Y/N…”

“Aliyah, your mother would probably crucify me if she knew Jenna and I were in contact again. It’s best if I just…stay away.” The words broke your heart, but you didn’t see any other solution.

“Look, you guys are adults now,” Aliyah pointed out. “It’s completely different than when her accident happened, you know? Plus, you could be a physical presence in her life again. That’s what my mom was worried about.”

“I know.” You pressed your free hand to your eyes. “I don’t know. It hurts, being around her and knowing she doesn’t remember anything about us--knowing she doesn't remember me.”

“Yeah. I get it. But, when you two were together, Jenna was the happiest I ever saw her.” Aliyah sighed. “I think you should try. Maybe…you two could get there again.”

You swallowed, the very idea of being with Jenna causing butterflies to stir in your stomach like you were in high school again. “Yeah,” you chuckled. “Like that'll ever happen.”

“I mean, hey. You never know.”

You thought for a moment. “I don’t think I’m gonna try, Aliyah. I mean, you say she’s doing well, and I don’t wanna…confuse her, or anything.”

“Y/N, I really think--”

Knocks on your door pulled your attention away. You stood, Aliyah still talking in your ear, and crossed the room before cautiously opening the door. You nearly dropped the phone at the sight of who was standing there.

“I’m gonna have to call you back,” you said, interrupting whatever the girl was saying. You didn’t even register if you got a response as you hung up, your eyes still trained on the woman in front of you. “Jenna.”

She smiled carefully. “Y/N. Hi.” She glanced behind you. “Could I come in?”

“Uh, yeah.” You opened the door wider. “Sure, of course.”

Jenna slipped inside and sat on the edge of your bed. You shut the door and joined her, leaving a few feet of space between your bodies.

You opened your mouth, shut it, and then said, “How did you find where I live?”

“Oh.” She chuckled. “I just asked around if anyone knew who the woman that practically ran me over was.” She smiled. “It took a while, but I finally found one of your friends. I told them I needed to talk to you, and they led me here.”

“Right.” Your eyes flitted around the room. “So, what’s up?”

Jenna swallowed. “I need to know who you were to me.”

Your eyes widened as you looked at her, anxiety filling your veins. “W--What?”

“I have gaps in my memory, because of what happened, and you said we went to high school together, and I just need to know how I knew you.” She tilted her head. “Please?” she whispered.

“Are you sure?”

She nodded. “Yeah. I just…I want to know if you were someone important to me.”

You shut your eyes, ran a hand down your face, and said, “Okay.”

“Okay.”

You inhaled deeply and tried to quell the shake of your legs. “Well, we met when I moved to town in freshman year. You, uh, showed me around the school, and we became friends almost immediately.

“Before winter break started that year, you…asked me out.” Her eyes widened, mouth falling open. You looked away. “You…you handed me a gum wrapper and it said ‘will you go out with me?’ and there were two boxes underneath. Next to one of the boxes was the word ‘yes’, and next to the other box was…also the word ‘yes.” You chuckled at the thought and ignored the fact that that gum wrapper was still tucked away in your wallet.

“Anyway, we dated for”--you sighed--“for two and a half years.”

“What?” she mumbled. You looked at her. Her eyes were wide and glossy, pooling with tears as her bottom lip trembled. You desperately wanted to reach out and cup her cheek, the way you used to, but you didn’t. “Two and a half years?”

You nodded solemnly. “Yeah.”

“What happened? Why did we…”

“We didn’t want to break up,” you admitted. “But, uh, during spring break of our junior year, my parents told me we were moving again when summer started.” You clenched your jaw. “We wanted to make things work, you know? We were determined.

“And then, the night before I was supposed to leave, you were driving to my house. It was dark, and some kids had messed with the stop sign on the corner of Maple and Elm, and you…” Tears were falling from your eyes. You pressed the heels of your palms against them, willing them to stop. “You got into your accident.”

“Oh,” Jenna whispered.

“I made my parents delay our move, and I waited by your hospital bed for four days until you woke up.” Your voice was shaking, and you glanced up at the ceiling, unable to look at the woman as you said the next sentence. “The first thing you said to me when you were awake was ‘Who are you?’”

The tears were falling faster, and you bit your bottom lip. “Your mom…after learning about, you know, your memory loss, thought it would best if we just…cut contact.” You nodded. “I wasn't gonna be a physical presence in your life anymore, and she didn't want things to be more confusing for you than they had to be. So, I went home, and I blocked your number, and your socials, and she did the same thing on your phone. Deleted all the pictures of us, too.”

You glanced at her, catching sight of her own tear-streaked face. “She erased me from your life, made sure no one talked to you about me, because she thought it’d be easier for you, Jenna.” You gulped. “Which is why you have those gaps in your memory. It’s because that’s where I slot in.”

Jenna reached out, placed a hand on your shoulder. You shivered beneath her touch. She was trembling. “So we--we were…Were we in love?”

You bit the inside of your cheek. “Yeah.”

She frowned. “I’m sorry I can’t remember it.”

“It’s okay,” you mumbled, not daring to raise your voice too loud in fear that you’d break down. “It’s not your fault.”

“I wish I could. I wish I knew you.”

“Yeah,” you agreed. “I wish you knew me, too.”

#jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega #jenna x reader

[youuuimeanmee]

SxF Chapter 95 Thoughts

The drought is over.

And HOLY MOLY

AAAAAA I know we're nearing the end-semester gala but I never thought we'd get it on THIS chapter AAAADHJDJSKDN

When I saw the chapter is 21-pages long, I made sure to savor it well sskskjs

"Guardians will not be attending the gala." DAMMIT. Oh wait, Twillight can just disguise himself as a volunteer. I forgot.

Lol this is really not good for Damian's poor little heart.

WOHOO Becky cute!!

Huh, looks like Henry and Martha had a history together. Maybe they used to be classmates in Eden? Or something else, maybe.

The party is different than I expected. I thought ALL students will mingle in one place. I thought we'd meet Demetrius here. Oh well.

Damn this is depressing. Reassignation class based on academic performances. It's really happening. Anya will be separated from Becky. Hopefully their classroom will not be that far off 🥲

Damn Damian. Looking fine there, like a true young chaebol.

ANYA IS CUTE!! She's a princess!! 😭💕 I was surprised with her hair, I thought she'd keep the haircones. It's almost like as long as the little bundle of her hair is protected, any hairstyle is fine. Her dress though... It's darker than I expected; I thought she'd go with light color. But this is fine too. She's cute either way. (lowkey reminds me of a little witch, lol). It's also cute how she and Damian looks matching with black-and-white outfits, hehe. (Then again, this is b&w manga. Will their outfits have different color in the colored illlustration?)

Nicee Ewen, you do know when to give credits when it's due.

Nah Damian you're just making up shit now. You have excellent eyes, you know her dress is not cheap.

Of course Damian would fo anything for any imperial-scholar related. Cute.

Now this is interesting.

Some people say it's a reference to Harry Potter, so I wonder if some of it will turn out to be true. Especially the last two: "the cursed underground maze in section 4" and "the sealed chamber in the tower of wisdom." Sounds like hella suspicious places for a school filled with top political figures in the country. What if those are the places Donovan entered often? Hmmm. *sus glance* Wonder if DamiAnya gang will tackle the 7 mysteries like in Jibaku Shounen Hanako-kun and see something they shouldn't see like in Promised Neverland, lol.

Anya, you got this! It's the name you learned in the school's interview! She already forgot, lol. But at least she got the "Ben" right!

Wonder if any of these kids will become Anya's new classmate, lol. Endo really used his break time brainstorming new characters here.

OMG IM DED. Narcis Hubrisse. Brayzen. These fucking fitting names I swear 🤣🤣🤣

Yesss you go Becky. Set your standard high. Don't mingle yourself with these lowly boys.

YAAASS. A GENTLEMAN ASKING ANYA OUT. YOU GO BOY. Even if it's a facade at least it's better than these Hubrisse and Brayzen boys.

OH.MY.GOD. FFFUUUUCKKK AJDNSKDBKDJDJSKHDUDJXNJDKDHDJJSJKSJSJSYEEEESSSSSS

HE'S HEREE HE'S FUCKING HERE. His hairstyle is ugly but HE'S HERE. I was wondering if we're gonna meet him soon. I was righttt, he iss gonna be a recurring character. I mean look at the name reveal from chapter 93. Look at that damn edgy hair. Hopefully he will be Anya's new classmate. But I never thought he'd put an interest in her as a runner-up in the classical language test. What is his background? How is he so good with the classical languange to even reach 90-ish points even though it's rarely taught? Does he have a connection with Anya with his gift in classical language and weird hairstyle? Why does he have such unsettling bow tie? I need to knooww

And he even pull off such a strong reaction from Damian too, skskjsksk. 2nd ML candidate? Lmao

Good to know Arnold's family is B tier. Not bad.

Twillightt you got soft. Letting Anya and Damian do whatever they want? What happen to the mission?

Lowkey sad to see Anya trying hard because Twillight didn't trust she would do a good job in plan B.

Oh mah gahh these preciouss kiddss 😭True homiess 😭😭💕💕

At least this will ensure Anya to get her place fair and square.

I wonder if Twillight realize Anya is approaching Damian for the sake of world peace she mentioned. Or he's simply motivated with Anya's motivation.

But at this rate, the dance will be over the moment Damian got his partner, lmaoo

Great comeback chapter! 🔥🔥🔥

*Edit: Screw what I said that Arnold might be the 2nd ML. I don't trust his hairstyle, his droopy eyes, his bow tie, and his polite manners. So far we've seen only adorable children but he could be evil for all we know. Better be cautious than sorry.*

#spy x family #spy x family manga #spy x family manga spoilers #spy x family 95 #sxf #sxf manga #sxf manga spoilers #sxf spoilers #sxf 95

[isalisewrites]

A ramble on writing for my mental health

At the end of 2023, I calculated how long it would take me to finally get through the slow burn to the first kiss between Tom and Harry in Terrible, But Great.

At the rate I'd been posting at, I discovered that it would take an approximate of 3 to 4 years to get to the first kiss.

When I tell you that I lost it, I mean that I lost my motherfucking mind. 3 to 4 GODDAMN FUCKING YEARS to get to the FIRST KISS???

ARE YOU KIDDING ME?

I ranted. I screamed. I raged. Unacceptable. Absolutely not. Fuck no. I refuse. Friends would say, "No, it's okay. We can wait. Take care of yourself. Mental health. Important. Blah blah blah."

NO. I love you.

NO!

I don't want to wait that long. I, ME, the author, do not want to wait three to four years to share one of my favorite chapters of all time. I don't want to wait. My soul wept at such an idea. Because there's so much more to come after the first kiss. How long would it take me to finish what I'd started? Life is fleeting. Life is fragile. I know this all too well when my mother died far too young in my arms. I'm not saying something will happen to me, but this story is so important to me.

And so

A determination like no other came over me.

I made an immovable, unshakable goal. I needed to write every single day, before everything else in my life. It had to be first. I wake up; I write. I've gained so much good by going to college, but I've also lost so much when it came to writing. I needed this. I needed to write - before the duties, the homework, the chores, before EVERYTHING because I needed it.

I decided that 700 words a day was a reasonable goal for me. I could do it. I could reach that. If I wrote 700 words a day, it'd be an average of 21,000 words per month with a total of 255,500 words for all of 2024.

Not only would I reach the first kiss, not only would I finish Arc Two, I would also finish Arc Three, which contains the climatic purpose of the whole story.

On that day, when I never really made New Year's Resolutions in the past, I set this daily goal of 700 words per day.

It's now the end of January. Did I accomplish this goal?

Yes.

-

This is a screenshot of my daily word count in January.

50,461 words.

Not only did I reach the goal, I surpassed it. There's 35,000 words more in Arc Two than there was at the beginning of January. There's 15,000 words more in Arc Three, Arc Four, and Arc Five collectively.

I discovered so much about the story in Terrible, But Great. I learned so much more about the characters. One day, if you're a reader of the story, you'll learn about it, too. I promise.

I learned there was an Arc Five, when I'd barely thought about a fully realized Arc Four. I learned about the final chapter, about the final lines.

I cried that day.

Life is still hard; it's still stressful. But you know? The depression that would settle over me by this point in the semester hasn't come. I'm so much happier than I've been for a long time. Putting what gives me the most joy in life has been the best thing I've ever done.

Yes, there are still some hard days. Yes, some days, it's harder to write. But as I look back on every day, I am so happy that I still choose my writing and story first.

Until next month.

#mywriting #fanfic writer #fanfiction writer #nanowrimo #unofficial nanowrimo #writing #tomarry #hp #hp fanfic #harry potter #tom riddle #fanfiction #fanfic #2024 writing goal update #terrible but great #writer #2024 writing goals #isa's ramblings #isa's writing

[jooniperbonsai]

Thanks For The Sub (ksj) | Chapter One

Pairing: Camboy!Seokjin x Gamer!Reader (afab)

Rating: 18+

Chapter One length: 11-14k 18,371 (OOPS LOL)

Release date: Fri. January 19, 2024.

Genre: Smut, fluff, angst, camboy au, gamer au, comedy, crack, slow burn (?), coworkers/boss/friends to lovers, an exploration of adults in their late 20s/early 30s

Summary: After a clip of you sucking at video games goes viral, you've become somewhat famous, with thousands of subscribers now tuning in each week to see you play. Overnight, you've gone from a sexually frustrated grad student who reads smut in her room to a gamer girl (or rather, a not-gamer girl). This would have been the perfect job, except it was never the job you wanted. Desperate for money to pay for grad school, you bounce between your new gig and working at a local restaurant to pay the bills, where your hot coworker-now-boss Seokjin plays many of the lead roles in your sexual fantasies.

Seokjin, two years post losing his fiancé and job within the same day, is tired of the rut he's dug himself into and wants to start over. Now 30 years old, he's stuck managing his family's restaurant where he harbors an insanely inappropriate crush on you on top of carrying one hell of a secret: Seokjin is also known as Jin, a successful gay-for-pay camboy on the streaming site Worldwide Handsome.

When the stress of the upcoming semester and the pressure to stream becomes more than you can handle, you seek out some much-needed stress relief online, only to discover a man who looks a little too much like your boss is staring right back at you.

Warnings for Chapter One: Swearing, cheating (not between main characters), big age gap between lesser characters that can be uncomfy, sex work, gay sex work when the worker is actually not gay (but everyone is chill about it), <- allusions to queer fetishization bc of this, feelings of shame and guilt, feelings of failure/depression, improper restaurant safety procedures, the existential crisis of your late-20s/30s that we all seem to go through, off-handed references to kpop culture including fanfics because I'm a clown and need to call us out sometimes, silly literary tropes, references to pregnancy (NOT reeader), boss-employee power dynamics, allusions to queer BTS members or relationships, cameos of au Seventeen Members (Wonwoo and y/n are besties). NSFW sex stuff: big dick Seokjin (of course), Seokjin with rolled shirt sleeves and cutting things in a kitchen, Daddy Dom Seokjin makes himself known, blindfolds, camming (obviously), f/m masturbation, lots of dirty talk, sex toys, degradation kink, praise kink, sexual fantasies at the worst moment, kink exploration, a lot cum (sorry), I mention the omegaverse as a joke, a sparkly pink dildo, seokjin has a massive collection of toys and he intends to use them, seokjin and reader are constantly horny, reader is kind of inexperienced, implied exhibitionism kink, implied voyeurism, implied public sex.

a/n: it's here (and longer than I intended but oh well!) this fic is inspired by a combination of fics from the lovely writing community on here, the copious amounts of smut I read, a dabble of my friends or my own experience, & the high drama of kdramas. I felt really compelled to write this fic after rereading "tip 143 (for ∞ seconds of love)" by minilouvre on ao3. I feel like the camboy/person trope is so fun to explore and I wanted to try my own take on it with our Seokjin, who doesn't seem to get as many fics written about him but absolutely deserves it. I also wanted to create space for a fic that explores the weird transition of late 20s-30s that both BTS and I (and maybe many of you) have experienced in the last few years. I hope you enjoy! I keep my inbox open, so lmk your thoughts!

xo - h

That’s it baby cum for me. 

Such a good little slut for Daddy.

Wish that dildo was my cock. 

Fuck this is so hot.

The tip jar was going wild. The mute button tapped long ago, tonight was by far the most successful night camming Seokjin had ever had. He would definitely be able to afford that new gaming PC after this. 

Thank god. After three hours streaming, he was getting tired of riding the glittery pink dildo. It was cute–a Christmas gift from one of his loyal subscribers– but admittedly, he hadn’t prepped well enough before putting it in an hour ago, and when he let out a pained groan as he sank down on it, he immediately knew he would be feeling it tomorrow, and maybe the next day. 

His only consolation was the five new top-tier subscriptions he’d received while experiencing searing hot pain. He’d clearly appealed to someone’s kink. Well, there was always something for everyone. 

Seokjin knew this well. Today was his two-year anniversary since his first livestream on Worldwide Handsome, an international gay live cam site. During those two years he had seen just about every kink requested, from wax play to autoerotic asphyxiation to something called the omegaverse; he’d sifted through the internet and researched enough on each request to decide which ones he’d be willing to perform, and which kinks were too much outside of his comfort zone. 

Now, with an apartment full of gifted costumes and drawers full of just about every type of sex toy known to the human population (and perhaps even some aliens if those toys held any accuracy), it was obvious that Seokjin was a knowledgeable and successful camboy who could fulfill so many men’s fantasies.

Except for the fact that Seokjin wasn’t actually gay. 

Which is, as it turns out, also something people are into. 

Two Years Ago

It wasn’t that Seokjin ever intended to be a gay sex cam worker, much less a camboy at all, but two years, four months, three weeks, and twelve hours ago, Seokjin hopped on a plane after finishing a week-long conference in Los Angeles. He’d booked the first flight out, eager to come home to his fiancé. 

During the week, he hadn’t heard much from her. He understood, of course. She’d mentioned before he left that during that week she would be busy catching up on work and finalizing a really important project with a looming deadline. She’d been stressed about it the morning he left, practically shoving him out the door with his suitcase. 

But he missed her desperately, especially with the distance between them, and he was hoping he could regain some of that intimacy by trying phone sex. They’d been having less sex recently, probably from the stress of work, but he still craved her every single day, just like he did when they were in college. 

For most of his and Soon Yi’s relationship, they were insatiable. In college, they were known for being embarrassingly public in their displays of affection, with Yoongi once catching them in the kitchen at a party with Soon Yi’s hand down Seokjin’s pants and Seokjin’s hands up Soon Yi’s shirt. At first, Seokjin wondered if he always felt so horny because of his raging hormones and the fact that Soon Yi was the first person he’d had sex with. But even three years later, on the night he’d proposed, they had to leave the restaurant he rented out so they could have sex in the car. 

Soon Yi was charming. She matched Seokjin’s wit, always ready to keep up with a joke and take it to the next level. She fit in effortlessly with his group of friends, remembering their birthdays and always showing up with a tiny treat for them, even if they hated celebrating. His parents adored her the moment they met her. She was frequently fawned over when she visited his work to bring him lunch or to just stop by and say hello. 

When his boss, Mr. Choi met her during the company’s annual gala, he told Seokjin she was enchanting, she was the moon that lit up the evening sky. Mr. Choi was also incredibly drunk when he said this, but he wasn’t wrong. 

Soon Yi glowed through Seokjin’s darkest nights like the moon. 

That’s why when she denied every video call request he made during his trip, Seokjin knew something was wrong. He felt desperate and needy, something he’d never experienced during their relationship. 

As he laid in his hotel bed, touching himself to their memories, a strange need overtook him: he wanted to remind her that despite all the work stress, they always got through everything together and ultimately, being intimate might help with reconnection. 

So at the end of his boring conference, he flew back, planning on surprising her when she got home with a delicious meal and sexy massage. Maybe he’d even use those silly novelty heart-shaped handcuffs Jungkook got him as a gag gift. 

He was ready to rekindle his love for the moon. 

What Seokjin wasn’t ready for was the fact that when he walked through the door of his house, the only moon he saw was that of Mr. Choi’s naked ass as he thrust into Soon Yi on the dining room table. 

As it became immediately apparent, Soon Yi’s “work project” was clearly what was playing out before him as he watched the only woman he’d ever been in love with writhe in ecstasy underneath his much older work superior. 

It would have been one thing to lose his fiancé, but in witnessing this entanglement, Seokjin also knew he’d lost his job. Due to the blur of his memory, his brain trying to erase what he’d seen, he wasn’t entirely sure when they realized he was home. However, by the time he had grabbed another duffel with some fresh, non work-related clothes from his dresser–after he breezed past his unmade bed that probably didn’t smell like him anymore–Soon Yi and Mr. Choi were half dressed and sheepishly waiting for him near the entry.

Seokjin couldn’t bring himself to look either of them in the eyes as he stated his resignation letter would be on Mr. Choi’s desk the following morning. 

When he arrived at Jimin and Jungkook’s apartment to crash, that’s when reality set in. What would he do now? He had no house to live in, no job to make money from, and he just lost the love of his life. 

His head was splitting from the idea of car payments, a mortgage under his name for a place he wouldn’t be living in, having to tell his parents, calling the wedding venue and paying that awful cancellation fee on top of not getting his deposit back. The extra zeros in his bank account were depleting fast and it wasn’t like he would be able to sleep on Jimin and Jungkook’s couch forever. 

After two weeks of dodging family phone calls, desperately applying to every job that didn’t sound like a scam, waking up in the middle of the night from the lumpiness of the couch or Jungkook’s horrible snoring, Seokjin felt like he was out of options. 

“I’m going to call my parents and tell them. Maybe I can work at the restaurant for the time being while I wait for callbacks. I have some money in my savings for my own apartment. I just can’t keep doing this,” he said. 

“Hyung, are you sure? You know that we don’t mind you being here as long as you need. Really, it’s not an issue.” Jimin was gentle as always, the concern on his face knitting his eyebrows together. 

But Seokjin knew he was avoiding the inevitable, so when he nodded and then called his parents, their warm voices on the other end felt like a sign he’d made the right decision after all.  

The next week, Seokjin began working at his family’s restaurant, filling in for shifts that were short, typically in the kitchen. Chopping and prepping the food for the chefs, dish washing, and anything that kept his hands busy were welcome distractions from the painful reminder of what awaited him outside of the restaurant. 

Soon Yi was pregnant. Seokjin found out one day when he stopped by to grab a load of his things to bring to his new apartment. While both he and Soon Yi agreed to sell the house, it appeared she was taking longer than him to pack. He figured this was because she would be moving in with Mr. Choi, who lived in the penthouse of a luxury apartment complex downtown. 

During their meeting with the real estate agent, Soon Yi had scribbled her new contact information and mailing address onto some forms with Mr. Choi’s details. Wealthy people always operated on their own timeline, one where they could hire a moving company to have everything neatly packed and stored within hours. 

Seokjin, however, was limited to an ongoing loop of back and forth where he crammed his car full of silverware, lamps, and his MapleStory figure collection Soon Yi once mocked him for collecting. As Seokjin continued to pack away his belongings, he saw it. In the guest bathroom outside of the kitchen, there were two positive pregnancy tests in the garbage can. 

Soon Yi was pregnant and the father wasn’t him. The last time they’d had sex was three months ago. She would have known by now if that were the case. 

A wave of nausea rushed over him, and somewhere between bouts of gagging and wiping tears from his eyes, Seokjin realized that things were truly over. 

Two months passed, and still he couldn’t find a job. While the restaurant gig was taking care of some of his bills, it was only a matter of time before Seokjin would be unable to take care of himself. At 28 years old, he’d have to move back in with his parents, which was next to impossible in terms of space, not to mention the fact that his brother and wife were living with them while their apartment was being renovated to better accommodate a life transition of their own: they were expecting their first child.  

Given his semi-recent discovery, being around a pregnant woman was something Seokjin didn’t particularly want a reminder of. 

“I don’t know what to do. Something has to give,” he said one day as he sat in Yoongi’s living room. A thick coat of snow was covering the earth outside, though from the sweat running down the back of Seokjin’s neck, you would never be able to tell. Yoongi always kept his home at the exact opposite of the climate outside, trying to quell the possibility he would have to experience any physical discomfort if he dared to ever leave his house, which he rarely did.

His friends all sat around him, quietly sipping their whisky or beer while the flashing light from the TV casted a kaleidoscope of colors across the coffee table. Hoseok nudged Taehyung, who’d fallen asleep at some point between the long pauses in conversation. Seokjin couldn’t blame him. 

It was late, much later than the invitation Yoongi extended typically lasted, but this meetup was different. Everyone had always known Seokjin to be optimistic. From a goofy dad-joke-making 18 year old until now, he’d consistently been a source of light. When Taehyung’s grandmother died a few years back, it was Seokjin who made him first smile again with a spot-on impression of his own halmoni as they slurped bowls of naengmyeon.

His hair was shaggy and unkempt, his smile fading quickly from his face after cracking a joke. His jokes were also darker, less silly and eye-rolling and more self-deprecating and sarcastic. It was like his life was draining from him before their eyes, and it was becoming nearly impossible to stomach. 

But concern doesn’t always lead to action, which is why they were sitting around in Yoongi’s living room hoping the whisky would give them some inspiration to find a solution to Seokjin’s problem that he wouldn’t immediately turn down. They’d scoured job sites together earlier, and anything in Seokjin’s former profession only led to him suggesting his next boss better be a woman or else he might have to keep his future girlfriend away from corporate events or dining tables. Other careers in his field were met with similar disdain. 

Seokjin wasn’t always this way. In college, he didn’t know what kind of job he wanted or where he wanted to end up, so he majored in acting, hoping that it would lead him where he would eventually develop some sense of passion. 

In a sense it did. During an internship with an entertainment company shortly after he graduated, his attention to detail, natural charisma, and flexibility showcased a skillset he didn’t even know he had, which resulted in him being offered a position in their corporate headquarters the following fall. He’d been there ever since. 

But Seokjin didn’t want to return to the same life he’d had. So much of his life up to this point had been the same, and it clearly didn’t work out for him, so why continue on? The only issue was that he once again felt like he was 18, trying to decide on a path to follow when he didn’t even know who he was anymore. Nothing was appealing to him. 

“What about video game streaming?” Namjoon suggested. “You love games, and you have all the equipment. You used to talk about doing that all the time.” 

“Yeah, hyung. You’re also really good at talking and stuff, so it would be fun to watch you do it!” Taehyung perked up at this suggestion, shaking off his sleepiness to contribute to the conversation. “I’ve seen how much streamers make with all their sponsorships and stuff, they don’t even have to work another job!”

The energy in the room picked up slightly as they waited expectantly for an answer. 

Seokjin grunted. “Okay, look. I would love to do that. That’s my dream job. But you’re forgetting something important. Those streamers didn’t just jump on the internet one day and then got thousands of subscribers and sponsorships to pay their bills overnight. Some of them took years to build up their following before they even started making money off of it. A lot of people actually lose money from game streaming. And I need money now. I don’t have that kind of time!”

Taehyung deflated, settling himself back into the couch next to Hoseok, who gave him a tender pat on his thigh. 

“But what if…what if you did a kind of streaming that made you money pretty much right away?” Jungkook offered quietly. 

Seokjin glanced over at his youngest friend, who was holding his empty whisky glass in his hands instead of looking at him. 

“What do you mean? Is there some kind of gaming livestream service that does that?” Now Seojkin was curious. 

“Um, well, not for gaming, exactly. I was just thinking. Um, you could always do like an OnlyFans or something? I have a friend who does it and she sometimes makes $1000 a night. And that would take care of–”

“You mean being a camboy? Jungkook, seriously? Listen I know we’ve all had a bit to drink, but that’s a ridiculous idea.” Seokjin snorted. “Besides, the market is flooded with people doing their own sex work. Maybe your friend is just really pretty or something to make that much from it, but I highly doubt I would make any money off OnlyFans because no one would even see me!” 

Jungkook nursed his bottom lip between his teeth as he was dismissed, his body mirroring Taehyung as he fell back into the couch cushions. 

“Hyung is right,” Jimin added finally, having spent most of the night settled quietly next to an even quieter Yoongi. “He wouldn’t make much money on OnlyFans. All the men on there are either ugly or buff, and Seokjin-hyung looks way too gay to appeal to that market.” 

Yoongi, who was sipping his whisky as Jimin spoke, spluttered into the glass as he lost his composure, falling into a fit of laughter. From the other side of the room, Hoseok joined in, clapping and gasping for air between laughs.

“Excuse me? What the hell does that even mean? Yah, stop laughing! It’s not funny!” Seokjin fought the smile that was trying to form on his lips. Okay, it was a little funny.

“Well, hyung, isn’t it obvious? Remember that one time we went to a gay bar and all those guys I tried to pick up tried to pick you up instead?” Jimin sighed as he glanced at Seokjin before reaching across the coffee table to grab a handful of cheese balls. 

“We’ve been over this. They weren’t trying to pick me up. They just told me I was really handsome and had fuckable lips. And they’re not wrong!” 

“Wait when did you guys go to a gay bar? Where was I?” Yoongi cleared his throat, finally recovering from his laughing fit. 

“You didn’t want to come, remember? I don’t know why you’re asking this, you never want to go anywhere. Anyway that’s besides the point. Seokjin-hyung and I went to the gay bar and he stole all of the guys I was hitting on because they wanted to make him their baby girl!”

Hoseok wiped a tear from his eye and chuckled. “Yeah, no, hyung I’m sorry but if Jimin is being passed up at a gay bar for you, you clearly give off that vibe. I can see it. You look all soft and plushy and like you would be the perfect bottom.” 

Seokjin tried to fight off the heat that was creeping up his neck into his ears, but after a few glasses of whisky, and the ungodly temperature of the room,  it was a failed mission to avoid being flushed.

Jimin shot a glare at Hoseok, who shrugged. “What? I meant it as a compliment!” 

“Well, thanks I guess. Now I know I look like I’m gay. That doesn’t seem to solve my problem here!” Seokjin looked over at Namjoon for backup, but all Namjoon seemed to be able to do was give him an apologetic smile.

 “No, I know, I know. We got off topic.” Jimin said, “Sort of. Listen, like I said before you wouldn’t be successful on OnlyFans, just because of what they market. But you could always market yourself differently. And I’m thinking, if you really need to make money fast, you could always work with what you’ve got going for you.”

The entire room went silent. 

“Wait,” Namjoon said, “you don’t mean…” His eyes flitted to Seokjin and widened in alarm. 

Slowly, everyone shifted as they realized what Jimin was suggesting, Seokjin evidently being the last one. 

How was he supposed to work with what he had when what he had was apparently drawing a different crowd of people from the one he was interested in? What did Jimin mean by marketing himself differently? Was he supposed to just stream on websites that were exclusively for gay men? 

Oh. That’s exactly what Jimin was saying. 

“Wh-Jimin what the fuck? You mean I should be a gay camboy? I know we just talked about me being attractive to men, but I’m not interested in them that way!”

Jimin huffed. “Well obviously I know you’re not gay. Otherwise we might not be in this situation.” 

Seokjin winced. 

“Sorry, that was unfair. It’s just…hyung, you’ve been so not like yourself lately. And you’re right, something needs to change. I know you’re not gay, but this still could help. Haven’t you heard of gay for pay? Like in porn and stuff a bunch of straight actors will fuck each other or some gay guy because it pays more than straight porn. It’s the same thing.”

“Only you don’t have to actually fuck anyone. Maybe you should remind him of that,” Yoongi added. 

“Right, exactly! Look, you don’t have to do it. But it could help you get by and pay bills in the meantime until you find something else that you want to do. And there’s a lot of sites where you can stream even once and get a direct payout the next day. It might be worth a shot.”

Seokjin thought about it for a moment. It didn’t sound completely awful. From what he’d seen from the times he saw cam sites out of curiosity, most of what happened was masturbating and talking to people. And he didn’t hate people. But something about it made him nervous. 

“I don’t know if I’d be okay with being watched. That seems embarrassing.” 

“Oh please, the number of times you and Soon Yi fucked basically in public is astronomical. You’re practically an exhibitionist,” Hoseok teased. 

“That was different! I was with her! Now it would be everyone watching just me up close and personal. Namjoon-ah, talk some sense into them. This is crazy, isn’t it?”

“I don’t know if it actually is, hyung,” Namjoon said lightly. “Jimin-ah and Hobi have made some good points. And I think…I think if you weren’t even just a little bit curious you would have immediately said no instead of going back and forth with them over it like how you flat out said no to the other stuff. Maybe you’re feeling a bit shy because it’s been a little while and you are trying to heal through the breakup and stuff, but you also don’t have to do it or you can do it once and change your mind after if you want. 

“It just doesn’t seem to me like this is the worst option for you. You get to talk to people, you can maybe have fun. You don’t see the people on the other side anyway, so if you wanted to pretend they were girls instead of guys you could, or turn off the comments probably? It’s not real sex though. And even if it was, is that so wrong? It’s not like you would be cheating on Soon Yi for doing this. I mean-”

“Thanks Hyung! I think we get it!” Jimin interjected, raising his eyebrows at Namjoon as if to say shut the fuck up. 

Seokjin felt his stomach sink. Is this why he was panicked at the thought? It wasn’t real sex, but it almost felt like he would be doing something wrong by doing this. Not morally against himself, but someone else. Maybe he was still hanging on to Soon Yi in ways he didn’t fully realize. 

He felt almost like a heavy weight was pressing on his chest and forbidding him from moving on. What would happen then if he tried doing this for himself? Would the weight still feel the same? He wanted to know. 

“Ah, fine, I’ll think about it.” He looked over at Yoongi, who looked relieved that the conversation was nearing its end. “You have anything to add to this? A final voice of reason?” 

Yoongi snorted as he jumped up to stretch. “Nah. Except, as your former roommate, ‘Seok’s got a point about the exhibitionism thing. You were way too into showing me your dick all the time and walking around naked when we roomed together.” 

The room erupted into laughter, Seokjin himself joining. This time his smile didn’t immediately fall from his face. 

Slowly, everyone else stood, bodies unwinding from furniture and each other. While Jimin ordered Jungkook and himself a taxi, Seokjin waited with him. 

“My only issue is, how do I pretend to be gay? Won’t they know I’m not?” 

Jimin scoffed as he nudged a sleepy and tipsy Jungkook into his shoes. “I don’t know hyung. You have an acting degree. Use it.”

A few weeks later, Seokjin held his first stream, nervously engaging with the handful of viewers trickling in and tried to deflect the discomfort he felt in his new spotlight.

“Um, hi everyone. My name’s Jin. Thanks for coming. You can probably tell, but this is my first time and I’m really nervous. I hope you enjoy the show.” 

Seokjin decided to shorten his name for his streams to help him feel like he was embodying a different persona, someone named Jin who may actually be gay. It wasn’t a big change, but it was nice to give himself some separation from Seokjin, the guy who was doing gay for pay to afford a new life.

Unfortunately, Jimin’s suggestion for Seokjin to act wasn’t as easy to implement as he’d hoped. Within the first half hour, viewers of his stream had noticed he was still nervous, and started asking him questions to get him to unwind, and hopefully undress. 

“Ah, yeah, uh, anal. I’ve done it once or twice, it’s nice.” It wasn’t a lie, he’d tried anal a few times with Soon Yi and did find it nice, but he also knew that this wasn’t what the question was asking. 

“Do I have a boyfriend? No, I’m single.” 

Slowly he began undressing, the heat of his half-truths causing him to feel like he was burning up. 

“Are you really gay? Well, what kind of question is that? I’m here aren’t I?” 

That question seemed to satisfy his audience for another half hour, until a new thread of people trickled in, asking him the same questions. He was running out of ways to answer.

I don’t care if you’re straight. You’re still hot. 

When he read this comment, he exhaled deeply. And from that one reaction, a flurry of others joined in. 

Yeah, idc either. You’re still so pretty. 

So hot if u were straight. Maybe I’d convert u. ;)

I’d let you put it into my ass and let you pretend it was a pussy.

For some reason, these comments began to fuel him. The attention was kind of nice. It reminded him of how he used to feel. 

Maybe he didn’t need to act gay to get what he wanted. Maybe he could just enjoy the pleasure of the compliments and company and see what happened from there? The weight he had been carrying around in his chest was feeling a bit lighter, and the comments were helping distract him from the pinches of guilt that he was doing something wrong. Because he wasn’t. 

Here, he was Jin, a sexy, flirty guy who could shine in the sky of his own making. 

Jin, the moon. 

That’s it. He was the moon.

Present

“That’s it, give it to me. Please, I’m gonna cum.” Seokjin hoped the words he moaned at his camera were true. He was so tired, and he wanted to be free from the stupid dildo.  

Lately, Seojkin has been having a hard time cumming on stream. He wasn’t sure why. For so long it had never been an issue, but streaming had begun feeling less like a fun way to relieve stress and more like an actual job. 

Never before was he so popular with his stream, and while it’s nice to see a larger deposit being made into his bank account each week, every time he came home from the restaurant and knew he was scheduled to do a cam show, his stomach knotted up with dread. 

The last time he felt this feeling was a little over two years ago, when hopping on planes to fly to mundane conferences or sitting in board rooms for morning meetings consumed all his time. Even during the period he was jobless, there was a tiny part of him relishing the fact that the work-related dread was over. 

And it returned with a vengeance. Seokjin tried everything, ventured into new kinks and even the game features of the website with the hope that he would feel the rush he used to love from streaming. But nothing really worked. It was now just his job.

He didn’t even want to stream for so long tonight, but because it was his anniversary, he wanted to make sure he ended on a good note to thank his viewers. 

One thing Seokjin’s viewers loved was seeing him cum. It was the part of his stream when he always earned the most tips. Jimin had been right. 

If Seokjin knew anything now, it’s that he had many assets worth using to finance his life, and his pretty face coupled with his big dick seemed to work for him.

But even as he stroked himself, precum dripping down the head of his cock, and even though he was riding the dildo in a way that would hit his prostate and finally give him an easy out, he could feel the edge pulling away.

“Fuck,” he grunted. He was losing it. He doubled down, rocking his hips to see if hitting a different sweet spot would do the trick. But it was to no avail; his cock was softening.

On his nightstand, his phone pinged, which only could mean one thing. Seokjin always turned his do not disturb mode on during his work hours, only allowing phone calls from his family or one alert from an app to pierce through the silence. This one was the alert.

It meant Y/N was online and you had just started a live stream of your own. 

You were one of this month’s top gaming streamers, bringing in more viewers than Seokjin had ever received during his top months of streaming. You were popular not because you were good, but because you were the exact opposite.

You were awful at most games you played, jolting at jumpscares over and over, losing in first rounds of Fall Guys or Dead by Daylight. One time you jumped into a game of Fortnite and were eliminated by a potty-mouthed child the second you landed. Your jaw hung open as the tiny, high pitched voice called you a bitchass before falling into a fit of laughter that had Seokjin himself in tears. 

You were inspiring. Sexy. You received dozens of comments every stream about how pretty you were or how great your laugh was, which you often didn’t read out loud but always offered a humble nod and show of thanks when you did. There was something about you that hit up the world around you, and though he wouldn’t so much as utter it out loud, Seokjin had a massive crush on you.

But Seokjin was also sort-of-not-really your manager. Unlike all the people pining over you in your comment section wishing they knew you in real life, Seokjin actually did. He saw you three times a week at his family’s restaurant that he was strong-armed into managing while his parents took the opportunity to finally travel and see other parts of the world. 

Seokjin stayed, not because he needed the money. Not that his pay was all that much anyway. 

Camming was incredibly lucrative for him, cementing his income in a way that allowed him to pay rent in a very nice apartment downtown. Seokjin was also someone who had always been smart with his finances and knew how to invest in the best trends. 

When his house with Yoon Si finally sold (after four months of her taking her sweet time to gather her last belongings and sign off on him putting it on the market), Seokjin took his cut and applied it toward a better streaming setup and some lower level stocks…and a special edition MapleStory figurine to celebrate the new chapter in his life. 

Seokjin’s family never seemed to question how he was able to afford his fancy apartment given how much money he made at their business. Well, they did ask once, but Seokjin orchestrated some simple lie saying he worked in cryptocurrency, and that seemed to be enough of an explanation for his family. No one wants to know how crypto works, which in the end worked in his favor. 

He’d planned to leave the restaurant about 8 months ago, but then you showed up one day asking about a job. The restaurant was within walking distance to your university, where you were getting your master’s degree in early childhood education. While the program you were enrolled in had some funding, you’d told Seokjin’s mother you were a student and in need of work. The following Monday, Seokjin walked in and found you with an apron tied around your waist, your bright eyes and smile shining back at him. He couldn’t bring himself to leave after that. 

A few months after you’d started working there, Seokjin and you had become somewhat friends, sharing stories about past jobs (minus some key details on Seokjin’s part), student observations you had to do for school, and your interests. You mentioned casually you were a livestreamer for gaming, never alluding to how popular you actually were.

Eventually, Seokjin convinced you to give him your username, batting his eyelashes dramatically and promising he would be your cheerleader. For some reason, that seemed to work, and later that night, Seokjin tuned in to your stream, one man among the thousands. From that moment on he let his crush become a safe thing where, like his own viewers, he could fantasize from behind a screen. Maybe soon he would actually ask you out on a date, taking your coworker relationship and transforming it into something more.

And then a month ago his parents left, leaving him with the roles and responsibility of manager. Which meant he was an authority figure who could arguably do whatever he wanted. Similar to how his boss in a way was an authority figure who could get whatever he wanted. That idea turned Seokjin’s stomach sour. He could never do anything about this crush now, not while you worked underneath him. It was too familiar and distorted, and he never wanted you to be in the position he was once in. It was completely inappropriate.

But try telling his dick that.  

Two days ago, Seokjin witnessed you in the kitchen bending over to pick up onion peels that had fallen to the ground. You definitely weren’t aware, but your skirt had ridden up a bit while you were working, and that meant he could see a tiniest delicate trim of lace on your blush colored panties. 

And despite the fact that Seokjin was 30 years old and had believed he’d gotten past his boner-in-public-just-from-seeing-underwear era during his teen years, he was evidently wrong. Because those panties and soft looking curve of ass didn’t just belong to anyone; they belonged to you.

This wasn’t the only time he got hard for you at work. Sometimes on days when there were no customers, he would watch you study at one of the tables, where you were prone to stretching your body after long periods of staring down, trying to unknot the tense muscles caused by sitting almost completely still as you tried to comprehend what you were reading. 

During those stretches, you would often let out the most sexual moans and sighs as you felt relief and it was enough to have Seokjin tucking himself under his belt like a horny school boy. God, what he would do to hear you moan underneath him, because of him. 

He thought about recording you stretching. He was addicted to your voice, your soft sighs. It would be so easy to just “leave” his phone in the booth behind you. Then he could hear it forever while he imagined what else made you moan. Did you like your nipples sucked? Did you sigh when you were being stretched open and felt full? How did you taste? 

And then Seokjin pulled himself together and realized how sickeningly perverted he was to be thinking about you like this as he stood hard and aching in the middle of his parents’ fucking restaurant.

He wanted you. So much so that now as he worked his cock in his fist, he let himself fall more into fantasy, one where you were watching, curious about the many toys and gifts around his apartment, wondering how you could reach the limits of what you wanted and needed to make you scream. He imagined that across town, you weren’t firing up your computer for a night of cozy games, but rubbing your pussy at the same speed he was stroking himself, wet and begging for him to cum all over those gorgeous tits, that wet tongue–

Seokjin groaned as he came, his entire body trembling as a thick load erupted all over his hands, chin, and chest. Normally he could control the direction to minimize the mess but this orgasm caught him a bit off guard, almost completely lost until it crept up with a burning need and coated him. He hadn’t felt that good in a while. 

As he panted and focused his eyes back onto the screen, his comments were flooded with praise and tips, viewers exclaiming how this might have been his best orgasm they’ve ever seen, which was saying a lot considering some of his subscribers had been with him from the very beginning, and there had been some pretty fantastic orgasms. 

He wouldn’t deny it, though. He felt looser in his joints, calm washing over him and breaking apart the bitterness that was in his gut from how lackluster streaming had been recently. He wiped his chin with a grin and reached for the towel next to him, ready to wrap up his show. As he delivered his thank yous, one comment drifting through the chat stopped him dead in his tracks. His post-orgasmic high was crashing as panic flittered into his stomach. 

Did you guys hear him moaning a name as he came? Who the fuck is Y/N?

She had to leave. If the king couldn’t overcome his malice, she knew she couldn’t stay. No amount of love she had for his son was going to make him see that. She’d told him she loved him despite the scar that ran over his left eye and down his soft cheek. She vowed to be good enough to marry him, do whatever it took. Yet the king and queen had laughed at her, had their guard hold his foot on her back so she couldn't stand up from her deep bow. 

Laughed as they stood from their thrones to welcome the guest’s arrival: the consort for their son. The prince stood with them, silent as he followed them through the open doors. Quiet like how he used to be back in the first days of when she met him last summer. In memory, she couldn’t even fathom how he was anything like the man she’d grown to love. Yet, looking up from the pulp of the floor, she’d seen him return to that man. 

Hadn’t the days she’d spent walking those palace gardens with him been enough? They’d stood together under the plum blossom tree in the middle of winter and he’d promised that he would love her even while the buds were hibernating. 

“We can watch them become flowers together in the spring,” he’d said. 

He had taken her to his bed that night. Used his sensuous tongue to lap at her sweet nectar. He devoured her heart and soul. Climaxed with her and held her through the heavy snow.

Where was that man now? She didn’t know.

She waited until well after nightfall, when even the latest bird twitterings were silenced by the call of sleep. She knew she couldn’t bring much, but she managed to slip into the kitchen after dinner to pull together a few scraps for the road. Where would she even go? The nearest village was at least a two-day walk and if he sent his men for her, she knew word would spread before she’d even arrived. 

Unless he didn’t send anyone for her, she realized, her stomach dropping with nausea. He wouldn’t send anyone for her. She knew this. It’s why Prince August stood in the throne room, lethal as ever, even with no sword in his belt. August. Sugar. Whichever person he decided he was in the moment. Her nickname for him didn’t matter anymore. He wasn’t sweet. His desire for power showed the bitterness in his heart. He had given in to his parents’ wishes, despite the times he swore he would never give them the satisfaction.

He was cruel. But even worse, she believed he wouldn’t be. She was a fool.

It was the darkest part of the night when she left the servant’s quarters. She’d miss the ladies and all their kindness, but she knew she couldn’t serve August his breakfast in his bedchamber after this. After knowing that the sheets she once laid in with him were now being laid in by someone else. 

She took the back route, near the interior of the garden, ducking behind the ornamental shrubs and skirting past the watchpost the guards usually abandoned at this hour with ease. All that was left was to make it through the courtyard and she would be free. 

She padded her way along the path. A light breeze of the pre-dawn was catching, fluttering the branches of the newly blossoming trees around her and blowing petals in their wake. She caught one in her fingertips and fought a sob. Plum blossoms.

Should she take one with her? For the memory? So that she could always have a part of him with her? 

No, she decided. It would be too much to remember this. Once she passed through those gates, she would not be the same woman she was. Holding her breath, she let the petal go, hoping wherever the wind carried it, it would find the peace she too was looking for. It swept to the end of the courtyard, over the gate that was now her future. 

This was a sign, she mourned. Not all promises were meant to be kept.

With a final look at the place she’d learned to call home, the man she’d learned to call home, she opened the gate, ready to forge into the unknown. 

“Petal,” she thought she heard his call, his nickname for her. Though when she turned around, he was nowhere to be found. 

She must’ve imagined it, wished for the impossible. As she took steps through the gate, she looked out at the world around her, the plum petal a few feet in front of her. Maybe she would take a piece of him with her, after all. It was too tempting not to. 

She moved, trying to ignore the tug she felt back toward the palace, the invisible string of fate she thought that tied her to August trying to tangle her back in. She wouldn’t do it. She wouldn’t go back. 

She bent down, clutching the petal tenderly in her palms and letting the first tears fall. 

“So that’s it, hm? After all that, you weren’t even going to wish me goodbye.” 

She rose swiftly, whipping around to the voice’s owner. 

There, leaning against the outer palace wall, was August. 

The alarm on your phone chimes, pulling you from the book in your lap. You’ve been reading all afternoon, the sun now taking its final bow before plunging the world into darkness. Soon you’ll have to turn the lights on, then it will be time for work. On your only day off. 

You groan, stretching your neck as you allow yourself to come back to reality. 

To some, it would be hard to call your job “work”. Many people dreamed of being professional game streamers. Who wouldn’t want to be paid to sit online, play games, and talk to people? 

You don’t. That’s the problem. 

Your ascent into gaming stardom was a fluke. About 9 months ago, you were in between semesters for your grad program and looking for ways to unwind. Your oldest friend, Wonwoo, was a pretty successful streamer who often hosted game nights to play with his viewers and friends. 

You frequently watched his streams, letting his soft voice be the perfect background noise as you studied and formulated the next lesson plan or behavioral assessment. You’d known Wonwoo for what felt like forever at this point, being his first subscriber, first moderator, and first kiss (not in that order). But your middle school kiss outside of the convenience store never led to anything more than that, as desperately as you’d wanted it to. 

Once he moved across the country, you let your crush die with the distance. The years turned faster and your twenties were spinning by with the revolving door of lovers you’d watch him pine over, cry over, and in one case, almost marry. Streaming then became one of your main forms of connection, and your role as his moderator tied some part of you to him out of loyalty. To imagine him as anything other than a friend now feels ridiculous. 

But that loyalty you have is also to a fault. When Wonwoo’s usual streaming friends bailed one night during a tournament, you subbed in…for a game you didn’t even know how to play. 

And to make matters worse, this was a game that required talking to each other on-stream, which meant you not only sucked major ass at this game, but Wonwoo’s 700 viewers that day were also subjected to your constant frustrated squeaks, swears, and embarrassed maws as you tried to key-smash your way to victory but ended up throwing the entire team’s game with your incompetence. 

Wonwoo wasn’t mad, though many others were. He knew what he was getting into when he agreed, and his streams operated with very few rules: no hate, no spam, and we are in this to have fun. And he did have fun. By the time the first round was over, he and most of the chat were losing it over your commentary. 

As he wiped tears from eyes and took in a breath, he read his comments. “‘Damn, I never heard a chick threaten someone with a plunger like that before’. Yeah, I’ll give it to you, Y/N, you got really creative with your insults in that. Hey, PartyShitty thanks for the sub! ‘I can’t BREATHE’, yeah I’m still trying to get it together. W00000000000000000ziiiiii–damn that’s a lot of zeros in that username–thanks for the 5000 points! ‘Is she hot’ uh, I mean, I don’t— 

“Oh shit, LetsGetIt15, thank you for gifting twenty subs! ‘Please, Y/N, start your own channel. I’ll be the first subscriber.’ Actually, no, I’ll be. But really, that's not a bad idea.”

Wonwoo navigated the rest of his stream with ease that night, but after it was over, he called you to try to convince you to start your own channel. 

“It could help with school at least! Or you could get that special edition of that one book you like with the dragons or the blue alien porn stars or whatever it is.”

“They’re neither of those things, they’re actually–”

“Whatever they are! The book that has people fucking nonstop and some plot. You know, the special edition cover that you keep talking about in your close friend story that you won’t buy?” Wonwoo said. “The point is, if you start streaming you could finally buy it and then stop talking about it and I won’t need to see sections about how hot you think their alien or fairytale or demon whatever cocks are.” 

You couldn’t help but laugh at his exasperation. “That won’t stop with me getting that book, just so you know. And if it bothers you so much, I can take you out of the close friend story. I didn’t even know you looked at my stories that much.” You didn’t know he still used Instagram at all actually. He very rarely posted. He mostly lived on his Discord channel talking about games with his subscribers or other friends.

Regardless, it was nice to know that he was trying to be aware of your interests, even if it was incredibly embarrassing. Although the copious amount of smut you read wasn’t something you always wanted to broadcast to the public, you’d still made some friends from online book communities over the last few years and enjoyed keeping them in the loop of your reading list.

Also, Wonwoo had a point. Streaming could help paying some of your school expenses…or get you more books. You told him you’d think about it, and while you weren’t completely in love with the idea of streaming, it did provide you with some steady income until you landed your job at the restaurant.  

After that conversation, you haven’t discussed smut or cocks since, and you’re honestly relieved, not because Wonwoo is hard to talk to about things, but because you are. Which is why streaming always feels a little uncomfortable and your position ironic, because you can barely have conversations successfully unless you really know the person to ramble about your interests to, or you can occasionally eke by with small talk. 

But streaming requires the spotlight being on you in some way at all times. It’s your face that is fixed to the corner of the screen, monitoring your every reaction. It’s your voice that echoes into the mic and responds to your chat. Sure, you have mods and some streamers don’t interact with their chat at all, but you don’t want to be like that. You’ve been on the other side before, and know that most people are just lonely and looking for connection. . 

From the moment you decided to do this, you were aware that because you were now a “gamer girl” you would be subjected to the three extremes of the comment section: chronic oversharers who tell strangers all their personal baggage perhaps in the hope that you will assume some role of therapist to them, people coming to insult your gaming (which is the point so that can’t impact you) or physical appearance, or sexually explicit comments. 

Over the months, you’ve seen many things flitting by on the screen, deleted in haste by your trusty mod squad, but it doesn’t stop the fact that you still see them. 

Those things you can handle. They are impersonal and a direct copy-paste of the same thing.

But when people compliment you? That makes you want to bury yourself under your covers and never come out. Because the compliments are always personal and touching a part of you that is authentic.

The people in your chat want to know you. They want to know what kind of music you like, your favorite foods and books. They ask if you have a boyfriend or girlfriend or partner, compliment your hair or the shirt you’re wearing or your gaming setup. It feels intimate. Almost like you could find these people and touch them and let them know you. 

But they can’t. Because the only thing that drew them to you, the part where you’re this funny, positive gamer chick who sucks at video games but is down for whatever, isn’t real. 

Spring Day Streams Y/N is a persona. You don’t stream because you’re her. You stream because you have to be her in order to survive.  

And now she’s taking up more time. Last month’s streams landed you Streamer of the Month, which thanks to the exposure, brought dozens of new subscribers and thousands of points, and that helped take care of some of your expenses for the new semester. Some. You’re still behind on your credit card bill. 

Also, more people means more expectations for streaming. So you’ve kicked up your streaming schedule from twice weekly to three times a week, with you occasionally hopping onto Wonwoo’s channel even if you aren’t streaming to mod. 

When you aren’t glued to your computer, you’re usually at the restaurant, in a cramped kitchen where you do the prep work, often alongside him, your sexy coworker-but-now-boss, Seokjin. 

The man you are quietly obsessed with. You can’t think about Kim Seokjin without thinking about all the positions you want him to fuck you in. 

Which is also why you’ve been devouring books lately. When you’re home, you throw all your energy into the escapism they provide, especially ones where you can get yourself off to whatever fantasy Seokjin effortlessly slips into. 

For every hot mob boss, corrupt CEO, longterm best friend, dragon-rider, fairy, demon, alien, ghost, or hockey playing love interest you can find, Seokjin is sure to fill the role. A hot merman looking for someone to help him grow legs and something else? Seokjin. A Grinch who inherits his family’s Christmas tree farm and discovers how much he loves to ho ho ho? Seokjin. A god who tears apart the underworld to find his lost lover, and then during the reunion fucks her on the throne of Satan while she wears the crown? All Seokjin. 

Unfortunately, his transition from co worker to boss has made your fantasies all the more dirty. 

It’s been incredibly difficult for you to handle the fact that any flirtation you two previously shared in the months before he was your boss can no longer continue. But it’s also incredibly hot.

Fantasies of him eating you out on the counter have been replaced with the fantasy of him shoving you in the back office and fucking you on the desk while wearing one of those perfect-fitting dress shirts he often parades around in. 

And when he rolls up the sleeves to help in the kitchen? Fuck, it’s humiliating how wet you get.

The entire thing is pathetic really. He’s just standing there half the time, lecturing everyone on proper kitchen hygiene and ensuring one of the cooks doesn’t use expired seasonings for his eomma’s secret sauce. 

And you’re standing next to him clenching your thighs together because when you’re this close, you can just make out the freshness of his cologne and feel the heat of his body close to yours. 

When someone fucks up, he has a tendency to take over, chopping with unmatched precision and self assurance, trying to keep his voice even and usually failing as everything builds in intensity until he’s accidentally speaking at a million miles an hour and lecturing until his face turns red. 

If someone were to pass by the shop, they’d probably mistake his shouting for anger, but you’ve come to understand Seokjin is just passionate about things. Usually when he comes down from his tangent, he’s embarrassed and apologizes, and not long after the entire staff is laughing along with him as he cracks a joke at himself for his inability to tone it down.

Which to you makes him even hotter. Seokjin is able to see his faults and work with them, not against them. He holds himself accountable. He’s nothing like the haughty men you’ve gone on brief dinners with after downloading dating apps for the hundredth time while you’re drunk. He’s actually funny, knowing the right way to use humor and tell jokes, never at someone else’s expense, and definitely without being disgustingly crude. 

All those clowns you suffered through drinks with always made comments and digs at other women or referenced their cock like they were setting up some goofy scene from porn and you would find it hilarious and endearing. 

Seokjin isn’t like that at all. He probably refers to his dick as a penis and would blush to high heavens if he knew how horny you are for him. He’s unwound you, and he has no clue. Maybe if it hadn’t been literal years since you’ve last had sex you could tone it down. 

With working all the time and going to school, it’s already been hard to even go on singular dates here and there. And since the prospects were frankly awful, sex is just something that has had to go onto the back burner for a bit, but you seemed to scorch the fucking pan by forgetting to turn the heat off and now you are burning and hungry. 

With a final sigh, you put the book down, annoyed that you didn’t have time to finish it today or at least get to a good part where you could insert yourself into the role of the palace servant and Seokjin as the Prince. Based on the reviews, there’s sure to be a hot sex scene coming up involving using a sword in a particular way that has piqued your curiosity. 

In a moment of depravity earlier, you’d snaked one hand down the front of your panties to rub a few damp fingers around your clit to take the edge off. 

You check the time on your phone, already aware that you don’t have time to cum before streaming. You already hit the snooze button twice. The spicy stuff will have to wait. 

Defeated, you stand up, turning on the lights in your apartment as the sun finally fades away and the dark creeps in. You eat a bowl of cereal while doing your makeup, what little of it you want to put on. Finally, you fire up your PC, trying to ignore the irritation you’re already experiencing from being so high strung and unsatisfied.

The second this stream is over, you’re going to make sure you cum until you pass out. Until then, it’s time for work.

“At what point am I supposed to become good at this again?” You ask Seokjin as you attempt (and fail) to julienne carrots. 

When you arrived at work at an ungodly hour this morning to prep for the weekend rush, Seokjin had already started the coffee. 

Your empty cup now idles next to your scrap pile of too-wide carrot blocks that’ll have to be pulverized by the blender and repurposed in another recipe. 

Seokjin chuckles as he buzzes about the kitchen, reaching tenderly around you to grab your mug for a refill. 

“That all depends on how much you practice.”

“So should I expect a large carton of carrots to be delivered to my home this evening with the instructions to have them julienned by Monday?” You tease, as you split another carrot down the center, half of it flinging off the prep counter and onto the floor. 

Seokjin smirks and bends down. He picks up the carrot and deposits it into the garbage bin. “Two cartons, actually. Given how many carrots we’ve lost already today, I need to make sure at least some of our inventory lands on the customer’s plate and not just into the trash.”

“How considerate of you,” you chide, and put down the knife, reaching out to accept your newly filled coffee mug. Seokjin’s hands are red from the constant washing and chopping of potatoes, which you recently learned he’s allergic to. 

As well as garlic, and you’ve already voluntarily peeled and minced that for the day. That much you can do without guidance, but anything besides your imprecise chopping is on the list of knife skills Seokjin wants you to improve upon. 

This is fair, given how dangerous your previous cutting methods have been. Once Seokjin saw the way you tried to stab at a watermelon, it was over. Now you often come in an hour and a half early before each shift to practice. 

And to also be alone with Seokjin before he is forced from the kitchen to deal with other duties. 

“Thank you,” you say, as you take the first warm sip and shiver. It’s freezing outside, and it’s only supposed to get worse. 

There’s snow forecasted for the weekend, which could mean one of two things: everyone stays home and avoids driving, or they all leave the house in one show of silent agreement and fill every nook and cranny of the restaurant to order bowls of sundubu jjigae or crisp and hot pajeon. 

Seokjin predicts that because a warm front is moving in afterward, people will utilize one of the only days of snow you’ll likely get this winter to gather together.

Valentine’s Day is soon, and the city has started to prepare. Storefronts have begun switching out new year sale signs for pink and red heart motifs, with spas and restaurants offering couple specials. The perfumeries have moved from campaigns advertising the perfect Christmas gift to ones of sexy, decadent colognes sure to transform a man into his inner beast. 

And then there’s the chocolate. It’s like the air in the neighborhood the restaurant resides in smells different, less greasy and grimy and more sweet. Everywhere you turn there’s pastries, cakes, bonbons, crepes, chocolate dipped nuts and other confections that just looking at makes your teeth sore. 

With the district washing itself in a pink glow, more and more couples have been braving the cold, landing in the restaurant after weighing themselves down with shopping bags. 

You’ve seen what’s in them, often tripping over or kicking at least one bag each shift while you attempt to bring an order to the table and spilling the contents. This year seems to be popular for matching couple outfits. You’ve seen a lot of pairs in their early twenties wearing or recently acquiring sweaters that have the same characters or color combinations. With the temperatures dipping into a bitter chill this week, some have elected to wear cute but inconvenient sets of mittens that allow them to hold hands as they stroll. 

When it snows in the city, the world gets quieter, cleaner. Even if people shuffle around in the bustle of novelty experiences, how they show their love, from brushing the snow off each other’s coats or taking kissing selfies in front of snow fallen trees, it always makes you feel a little softer, a little more at peace. 

Snow is really romantic.

“What?” Seokjin asks, which alerts you to the fact that you’ve been staring at him as you let your thoughts run, a dopey grin splattered across your face. 

“Oh, sorry, I was just thinking about how much I love the snow.” You break eye contact, feeling the heat of embarrassment flood your cheeks. 

“Ah, yeah. It’s supposed to start soon,” he looks at you thoughtfully before looking back down at the tofu blocks he’s draining. 

A silence falls on you, the once normal pause now becoming a bit awkward. 

“What do–”

“I just–”

You both stumble over each other, trying to fill the unnatural pause you’ve reached, which has you laughing and Seokjin cracking a wide grin. 

“What were you going to say?” he asks, and then motions for you to get back to your carrot desecrating. 

“Ah nothing. You were going to ask something?”

You slice a carrot, this time less match stick and more shaved. Damn. 

“Oh, um. I was going to ask you what you like about the snow. That thought kind of came from nowhere and I was trying to follow.” His voice is careful, as if he’s trying not to offend you. Is he nervous?

Your mouth draws into a thin line. Can you risk saying what you were just thinking? Is it inappropriate to talk about romance in front of your boss, who you’ve thought about kissing in the snow at least three times a day? You don’t want to make him uncomfortable. You’re aware of the ways in which Seokjin’s new position of authority weighs on him. 

While he’s always had more authority due to being the owners’ son, it isn’t like Seokjin walked around the place with a power complex before his promotion. You two had become something akin to friends in the months you’ve worked together, falling into occasional flirty banter as you shuffled around each other to mop floors or wash dishes. 

You know he used to work for a large company a few years ago but quit to help his family with their restaurant. You also know he loves MapleStory and is always showing you his newest splurge from their online shop or the latest piece to his collection. 

He doesn’t have any pets, but sometimes debates getting a dog and then when shown support, he dismisses it with boisterous laughter, talking about how he doesn’t have the time and if he ever wants to get a dog, he will have to buy a house. Usually once he lands on discussions of a house, he gets a little more quiet, perhaps a bit sad.  

He has an older brother who has one child and another on the way, a major reason for his parents’ decision to travel now, before the new baby arrives. His brother and brother’s wife have visited a few times while you were working, but Seokjin’s mother had mentioned that her son and his wife recently moved into a new house outside of the city, and with the new addition joining sometime in the spring, it can be a bit exhausting to pack up the car for a few hours of visiting time. 

While you haven’t experienced Seokjin as an uncle, you know how much he loves being one, excusing himself from the front of the shop to Facetime with his nephew from the back office, where you can hear his voice carry with high pitched impressions and jokes or random songs he babbles to the youngest Kim. 

Knowing him in this way feels a bit awkward now that he’s the one signing your paychecks. Since his transition, he’s been a bit more formal with you, you assume trying to be respectful and professional. 

You understand where he’s coming from, but you miss the past connection you two had formed. And that seems to dictate your response. 

“I like how romantic snow is. How it not only makes the lights twinkle more, but how people do cute things in it. Snowball fights, drinking hot chocolate, building snowmen. They change their behaviors for the snow. To celebrate love in it. Last time it snowed here, I saw one girl push her boyfriend into a snowbank.”

Seokjin laughs as he begins popping the tofu blocks into containers. “That sounds awful,” he says. 

Your heart plummets. “Oh,” you squeak. 

His head darts up to catch your expression and his eyes flash. “Oh, no no! Not like that. I mean, being pushed into the snowbank. That poor guy was probably soaking wet and freezing after that!” He waves his knife in his hand wildly with his gesture and then quickly deposits it into a sheath before stepping over to your workstation. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for it to come out that way.” 

You recover. “Oh he was. He also got his revenge by pulling her in with him. And she wasn’t even wearing a coat.”

You watch Seokjin’s tense shoulders relax. His broad frame is so close now, towering over you. He smells a little like the earthy starch of potatoes, but you like it. 

“I, uh,” he says, his voice becoming more raw. “I like the snow too. You’re right, it is romantic in a way. The snowflakes getting caught in your hair, you huddle closer to someone to share body heat, it’s nice.”

As if on cue, your bodies inch a little closer to each other. Seokjin reaches his arm forward, brushing along yours as he grasps one edge of the workstation to lean in. 

“Yeah,” you reply lamely. 

You blink up at him and he smiles back. You both sit there for a moment, neither of you moving, just studying the other’s expression. 

Then, he leans in.

Your breath catches, and his other arm lifts up above you on the other side, caging you to the workstation.

Your eyes close from the intensity. He’s so close that you feel the fabric of his rolled shirt sleeve graze against your cheek. 

All it would take is him leaning in and searing his lips onto yours and you would fold for him. You know this.  

This is what you often fantasize about, the two of you in this position. That’s the power he has over you, his smooth seduction, your willingness. 

If he asked you right now, you would strip down and bend over this workstation, let him fuck you with your nipples brushing against the cold steel of the counter, carrot shavings squishing against your face as he impales you with his cock. 

It would be so easy, he just needs to ask you. 

“Y/N,” he says, a bit more distant now, but you shudder at how roughly he says your name. 

“Mm?” you hum, forcing your eyes to reopen. Seokjin has pulled away from you. How long has he been just looking at you standing here with your eyes closed?  

“Turn around,” he says. 

Wait, what? 

You stare back at him blankly. Is he reading your mind? 

Seokjin rolls his eyes and laughs, holding up the package of dried seaweed that was above you on the shelf. He tosses it on the counter behind him.

“Are you still here or did I lose you? I said turn around.” You freeze, confused. 

He did all that to reach above you for some seaweed? Is he fucking with you? And what does he want you to turn around for? 

“Wha–”

You open your mouth to ask but Seokjin moves in, his hands on your wrists as he takes you and spins you around so you’re up against your workstation, his stomach resting on your back as you stand sandwiched against him and the cold counter. You clench your thighs, suddenly aware that you are wet. 

Fuck.  

“You need to focus,” he says low in your ear. You take a shaky breath. 

Focus. How are you supposed to focus when you imagined this exact scenario exactly one minute ago? 

“I, what?” Your words fail you as you stand there, stunned and aroused but also completely confused about what he wants from you. This entire situation is a mindfuck. 

Seokjin’s hands leave your wrists and make their way to your hands as he moves you like a puppet. 

“Y/N, were you even paying attention? We just went over this. God, I swear, I’ve told you. You need to be present in the kitchen space. You’re lucky I resheathed the knife for you while you were on another planet. You could have easily gotten hurt.” Seokjin scolds you overhead. 

Oh. You look to the right and see the kitchen knife you were using back in its protective shell and not where you left it, which, come to think of it, was incredibly close to where your hands were now on the counter under Seokjin’s. Yikes. 

“Sorry,” you mutter, feeling a prick of shame seeping through the fog. Seokjin isn’t trying to fuck you against the counter; he’s trying to make sure you don’t cut your finger off. 

He tuts above you, his grip still firm as he directs you to the uncut carrots and chopping board. 

“Tsk, honestly. You’re ridiculous. What am I going to do if my best girl is hospitalized after losing her hand because she’s too busy daydreaming about snow storms instead of having basic kitchen awareness? You know, I could send you home over this. Make you unable to come back until you rewatch those kitchen safety videos with the fake blood and awful actors. Seriously.” 

You shiver at his words. He’s so busy setting up for a rant, you almost miss it. 

“Your best girl?” You ask lightly. 

Seokjin stills, your joined hands hovering over the cutting board. “Oh, uh. You know what I mean. You’re the best….girl we have on staff. You know.”

You don’t. You’re far from the best girl on staff. Seha has a degree in culinary arts. She’s usually the one who has everything prepped days ahead with perfectly formed cuts. She manages the kitchen cleanliness with rigidness. She even barks orders at Seokjin when he’s in the kitchen because he isn’t as clean as her. 

If she wasn’t out with the flu, none of this work would even need to be done. Maybe Seokjin is getting sick too. He’s been feverish looking and a little uneasy around you all morning, and clearly he’s now being delusional.

“Ah,” you concede, and give your hands a shake to urge him to continue. 

“Right, anyway. You’re getting better at your cuts, but I’m losing money quickly with all your sacrifices to the floor goblins. And we don’t have much time left before the others start coming in, so let’s finish this up.” 

You let Seokjin guide you, literally hand-over-hand, as he restructures your positioning on the knife and angle of the blade to slice through the carrots a lot more cleanly and easily. 

“That’s it, good. You’re doing such a good job,” he breathes. 

You feel his exhale along your spine. God, you’re a pervert. He’s just trying to help you better yourself, and all you’re thinking about is how dominating he seems right now and how much you want to please him. 

God, if he calls you a good girl you know you’re going to moan audibly. That’s how bad he’s got you.

You keep working, and once you get the hang of it, Seokjin’s grip loosens, allowing you to finish the bag by yourself. But his hands are still on yours, even if you’re the one in control. 

After a while though, it’s becoming too much to handle. Him bent over you like this is limiting your range of motion, making it hard to wipe the sweat on your hands or move your scrap pile further down the counter. 

He’s also a human furnace, the space between you still so limited that you’ve begun sweating under him. 

In one particular cut of carrot, the sweat caused by the joint heat of your hands causes you to lose your grip, shooting it down onto the floor. 

Reflexively, you reach down to grab it, but with Seokjin still attached to you, it proves to be an immediate disaster. 

You throw your body into a bend, which forces you back, your ass grinding directly into Seokjin and being met with something very large. 

You gasp and Seokjin grunts, swiftly releasing your hands, which are actually balancing you in your bend. 

You fall forward, smacking your head into the edge of the counter as you go down. 

The kitchen echoes with an embarrassing clang as your forehead ricochets off the metal. 

“Fuck,” you groan, a sharp pain shooting through you.. 

You scramble to recover, one hand going to your head as you steady yourself, rubbing the soreness. Seokjin flails above you, panicked. 

“Oh shit! Y/N I’m so sorry! Oh my god. Are you okay? I shouldn’t have let go, I just was–” Seokjin rambles as you stare up at him, trying to get him to steel himself. 

“No, fuck, ouch, it’s okay! I’m okay. Seokjin, can you please just get me some ice and help me up?” You aren’t sure you can get yourself up as your vision swirls from the heat of the pain. You really went down hard. 

Seokjin ceases his flailing and shouting, leaning down and picking your body up off the floor with impressive strength and carrying you to a clean workstation in the center of the room. He sits you on top of it, making you now almost his height. 

Holy shit.

Once sure you’re not at risk of flopping over, he walks over to the ice maker with a clean kitchen cloth and folds some ice cubes inside. 

You reach for the cloth, but he refuses to hand it over. 

“Yah! No. Please let me do this, I can see the bump forming already. I’m the one who caused your injury.” He gingerly lays the cold cloth against your head. You wince. 

“‘Snot your fault,” you pout, trying to ignore the pain. “It was an accident. No one caused it.” 

Seokjin sighs and places his free hand behind your head, discouraging you from angling away like you’ve subconsciously been doing. 

“It is my fault. I let go of you. After just lecturing you about kitchen safety. God, what kind of example am I setting? I’m really sucking at this boss thing.” 

You reach up, placing your hand on Seokjin’s wrist to remove it from the ice. But he doesn’t relent. You keep your hold. 

“Seokjin, you’re not a bad boss. God you’re literally the opposite. Everyone here loves you. You’ve only been the manager for a little while. Give yourself some time. And keep in mind both of your parents ran this place, and now it’s down to just you.” 

You feel the tendons under his wrist adjust, his grip a little looser. Seokjin’s wrists are soft and tan, a thin coating of hair trailing up his forearms and under his sleeve. Your grip loosens too, and you let your thumb brush back and forth through the hair. 

“Yeah, well, I wasn’t supposed to be the manager. My brother was supposed to manage the restaurant when my parents were ready to retire. That was always the plan, anyway. But things change. When they were getting their apartment ready for my nephew to arrive, I think they realized how tight space can be living in the city. We grew up in an apartment complex not too far from here and it always felt like we were on top of each other. 

“Which, we kind of were. My brother and I shared this tiny room that had bunk beds, and we lived that way until he went away to college. I used to always smack my head against the ceiling when I was a teenager and woke up in the middle of the night. My forehead would get huge bruises on it, probably a lot like the one you’re going to have on your head.” He frowns. 

“I guess my brother didn’t want to see his kids living like that either. I never minded it so much, but maybe that’s because I was the younger one. Not having any privacy during puberty or dealing with me during puberty was probably a nightmare for him.”

You shoot him a sympathetic smile. “It was nice of you to take over on his behalf then. I know you used to work for major companies in the business district downtown. This must have felt like a sacrifice.” 

Seokjin’s arm falls away from your head, your soft caress pulling away with it. He sets the cloth down next to you. He worries his bottom lip into his mouth and then shakes his head. 

��No, it was never like that. I’m sure eomma filled everyone and their brother’s ears with stuff about me. ‘Seokjin is our business minded son! He’ll make a great leader!’ ‘Seokjin is talented in the kitchen and spent his whole life working for us. We trained him well!’ ‘Don’t worry about him abusing his power. He knows exactly how it is for everyone!’” Seokjin’s says, his voice inotating the same pattern of his mother. 

“Well, she wasn’t wrong. You are all those things,” you argue, lacing your fingers in his. You know it’s not necessarily appropriate behavior between a boss and his employee, but at this moment, you’d argue Seokjin needs a friend more than anything. 

“I’m not, though, Y/N. I didn’t sacrifice anything to do this. It wasn’t some great act of loyalty where the son with a promising future gives up his dream for his family business. In fact I had to beg my parents to let me work here! Because I, their failure of a son, lost everything and had nowhere else to go! And the shit I ended up doing to even keep myself afloat…I’m not a great leader. I’m nothing more than a fraud.”

Seokjin rakes his free hand through his hair. 

“I had a good life before this Y/N. A good job, a nice house, a fi-...just..I was living a dream that I no longer have for myself is all. But at the time I was on top of the world and now I feel like such a fucking failure.” 

Seokjin looks like he’s falling apart, eyes darting madly as he shifts around, suddenly transforming into nothing like his usual cool, goofy self. 

You need to stop this from getting worse. To distract him and stop him from talking himself into a pit of despair. If Seokjin’s mouth is occupied somehow, he can’t continue with all the negative self-talk. 

A stupid idea flashes in your head. You don’t even think before you roll with it. 

“Jesus, I can’t even manage properly. I messed up Mino’s paycheck a few weeks ago and I’m still not sure how it happened. I’m just not–”

Your lips connect with Seokjin’s, your legs wrapping around his waist to tug him closer as you move your body against his. Seokjin returns the kiss in earnest, parting his mouth to welcome your tongue as you lap the words out of his mouth. 

His plush lips feel so soft against yours, his taste a bit bitter from the coffee you both drank earlier, but you find yourself craving more of it, sucking his bottom lip into your mouth with the hope that maybe you can absorb it. 

Seokjin groans in response, gripping your hand tighter, his other settling on your lower back as he pulls you closer. If you didn’t know any better, you’d swear every atom in your body is vibrating at a higher frequency from his touch. You want to feel him everywhere. 

You break the kiss, and see Seokjin’s eyelids are heavy, almost like he’s drunk. You’re about to move back in, to tongue along his sweaty, long neck, suck on his protruding Adam’s apple. 

That’s when you hear it. The slam of the back door as your coworkers arrive.

Seokjin jolts back, breaking the hold you have around his waist with your legs. 

His mouth looks a little red and swollen. And his eyes are wide, panic flashing across his face. 

“I–I’m sorry!” 

Before you can reassure him, tell him that you’re the one who should be sorry, you started this, who crossed this line between boss and employee by kissing him, Seokjin bolts from the kitchen. 

You sit for a minute, stunned, and then look around, taking in the scene around you. The carrot shavings all over the counter, the discarded one still on the floor. Your knife is unsheathed again. There’s containers of tofu and seaweed just abandoned in a pile next to a large pot. 

And you can feel the puddle forming under you from where the ice has begun to melt. What the fuck just happened? What mess did you just get yourself into? 

The rest of your shift, you’re anxious. Especially because you’re short-staffed due to the weather forecast, which has led to three call-outs from people who commute from across town. That means you’re performing multiple roles: taking orders, bussing tables, seating customers, and getting appetizers, drinks, and side dishes ready for each group of people coming through the door. 

Seokjin was right in his prediction; you guys are slammed. And because there’s less staff, that means Seokjin is orbiting around you, following behind with cleaning rags as you finish bussing or running into you in the narrow doorway as you both attempt to fetch an order from the kitchen. You’re both flushed and sweating, the hairs on the back of your neck now matted down. 

Your mind is swirling around that kiss and its consequences, but you don’t have time to lose focus; the minute you finish one thing, you’re pulled into another task for a temporary distraction.

Only to be thrust back into the reminder of this morning when Seokjin lightly caresses the small of your back as he squeezes behind you to grab more plates. 

If either of you ever need a break, you don’t say so, only pausing in between rushes to pee, take a bite of something, and chug water before you’re thrown back out into the mess. 

Finally, after you elect to work a double, it’s closing time.

“Y/N!” Seokjin calls you from the front as you scrub the grime off a stack of dirty dishes.

Your pulse quickens. You’re the last one here. The storm kicked up an hour ago, and since you live the closest, you shoved your coworkers out the door so they could get home before the roads were a mess. 

You dry your hands on your messy apron, pulling out your phone and wincing at the slew of missed calls, texts and notifications. You were supposed to stream again tonight with a bunch of other girl gamers as a part of a “Galentine's Day” collab, playing dating simulation games as a warm up before jumping into some first person shooters. 

You’d reached out to cancel once you saw the stress tugging at Seokjin’s face, his jaw set, his brow constantly furrowed. While the other streamers were completely understanding, you still have a ton of notifications from your social channels asking if you are okay and some texts from Wonwoo and a few other friends asking the same. 

You’ll fill them in later. But now, you have to face Seokjin. 

He’s sitting at a freshly wiped-down table, counting the drawers and preparing the deposit slip. 

He ushers you over and gestures at the stack of cash, silently asking you to verify his numbers. You comply, the room silent less the shuffling of bills or coins under your fingertips and your habitual mouthing of the numbers to ensure you don’t lose count. 

He nods at your final calculation, jotting the number down on the sheet and placing the bills together. You turn and begin to head back to the kitchen. 

“Wait,” he says, and you freeze. 

Your stomach is quickly turning into a bundle of knots. You suck your lips into your mouth as you spin back around, Seokjin’s eyes meeting yours. 

“I…” Seokjin takes a deep breath before continuing. “Listen. I’m really sorry about this morning. Today’s just been a whole mess and I really shouldn’t have been airing my frustrations to an employee like that. It was inappropriate and immature. I know better than to behave this way.”

Did you say your stomach was in knots? You mean it’s filled with heavy, sickening lead. “Oh, right. Uh, don’t. I mean, I started it. I just…you were panicking and I didn’t know what to do and I thought maybe this would help.” 

Seokjin’s brow furrows, a frown on his face. “Why are you apologizing when I’m clearly the one in the wrong here? Ah, no let me finish! I’ve always prided myself on my professionalism and ability to keep personal matters out of my work. And I failed in doing so, which takes advantage of you since I’m your superior. You not only felt a need to comfort me but also stop me from spinning out. I’m truly sorry Y/N, about the oversharing and the um, kiss. I definitely gave into my emotions in a moment of weakness. Please forgive me, I promise I will never touch you again. This won’t happen again.” 

His head droops and he looks down, clearly ashamed.

Oh. So he doesn’t want this. Which, why would he? He’s right in that he’s your boss, and clearly Seokjin values his reputation and his job because they’re a reflection of not just him, but his family. Why risk that with someone like you?

You swallow the lump in your throat along with any response. There is the boundary, you know better than to cross it. 

As you move again, Seokjin rises from the table. “Y/N…you know what? You go home. The storm is really coming down.”

“But, there’s still mopping and all those dishes left,” you croak. Your voice is so hoarse from being dehydrated and talking all day that you barely recognize it as your own. 

“Don’t worry about those. You look and sound exhausted. It’s not your job to take care of everything. Go home, enjoy your romantic snowy trek,” he smirks, “and get some much needed rest. You’ve more than earned it.”

When you arrive home, your body slugs onto your bed, finally giving into the fatigue you’ve ignored all day. Your feet ache, your stomach now settled enough from your walk that you are starving. And you smell awful. 

As much as you want to fall asleep, you know that you at the very least need to eat something. 

With a groan, you rise, hobbling to your kitchen to make some instant ramyeon. The collab stream is now over, you learned this while finally checking your phone on your way home and seeing a thank you message blasted out by one of the streamers. Oh well. 

You suppose you could get back to your book, see what Prince August and his lover are getting up to in their reunion, but that seems like more brain power than you’re willing to give. 

You elect to eat, then take a shower, rinsing the grime of the day off you. When you step out of the shower, you see an ugly looking bump and purple bruise on your forehead. 

That’s right, you’d already forgotten about your injury from earlier. You touch it lightly and recoil from the sharp pain. Damn, maybe you should’ve checked to see if you were concussed earlier. You didn’t realize you hit your head that hard. 

You decide to ice it before bed, crawling under your covers and trying to rest while you play back your day. 

How you started is so significantly different from where you are now. When you woke up, you were eager and excited to be around Seokjin, to learn new skills and feel light and warm in his presence. Now, the idea of going back to work in a few days, to have to muddle through the rejection you got tonight and try to get back to a baseline makes you feel nauseous. 

Seokjin wants to make this all water under the bridge, and you want to do that for him. But it’s nearly impossible when he’s, well, him. He doesn’t understand how much more difficult it’s going to be to look at him because you’re not walking around with a face like that: perfectly balanced and delicate features and a full, delicious set of lips. 

God, he really did taste fantastic. You wonder what would’ve happened if you two weren’t interrupted. Would giving into his emotional need for comfort have given you more? You know it’s wrong to think about, because you're the one who took advantage of him, not the other way around. 

He can say he took advantage of you with his power imbalance or whatever, but you’re the one who was seconds away from licking down that thick neck or grinding back onto that massive cock. 

Fuck, that’s right, Seokjin is huge under all those clothes and your ass got to experience rubbing against it today. And maybe it’s just wishful thinking, but he seemed like he was a little hard. 

If Mino and the others had been just a little later, you might have seen it. They might have walked in on you on your knees as you choked on it, Seokjin’s moans and whines echoing in the kitchen. 

Because now from kissing him, you got a taste of those little noises he makes. And the memory has you becoming slick and needy. 

It’s late. Too late to read your smutty book, especially since you’re not at the next smutty scene yet. August and his beloved are just reuniting. You’re sure it’s bound to be good, but you don’t have that kind of patience right now. You need to cum, to get your ideas about Seokjin and what he firmly set as a boundary out of your head once and for all. 

Which means you need to give your fantasy of him out of your head too. You shove the ice pack you’ve been holding to your head aside, ready to relieve some tension. 

You reach under your shirt and gasp when the chill of your icy hand plucks at one of your nipples. Yes, you need more of this. 

You touch the other one with your other hand, disappointed that it’s warm. And then you get a fantastic idea. You grope around for a moment until you feel the cold cloth housing the ice cubes from your freezer and pluck one out. It melts quickly in your hand, but the cold water is stimulating as you feel it run down your forearms, a droplet or two rushing down and reaching the heat of your armpit. You pull the large shirt you use as pajamas  up further with your other hand, fully exposing your chest and stomach to the chilly air of your apartment.  

The ice cube drips over your navel. You hiss as the new sensation floods your core with warmth. Some of the water pools in your belly button, a satisfying dampness taking over your body. Then, you drip the melting ice cube onto each nipple and relish how erect and sensitive they’ve become from your arousal. 

Your breasts are plush, something you love to grab and tug as you play with yourself. They’re heavy, the weight of gravity tugging them down instead of staying up as porn once made you believe was possible. 

You can understand why people sometimes get caught up playing with tits all the time. They’re arguably fun to play with. 

As the ice cube warms and shrinks, you become more curious, taking it between your fingers and swirling it directly over each nipple, a shock of cold hitting them and your hips bucking in pleasure. More. Whatever you’re feeling right now, you need more of it. 

You rip your sleep shorts and panties off in desperation, splaying your legs open and aiming yourself up so the last drips of the ice cube can fall directly onto the folds of your pussy, a few dribbles landing right on your aching clit. 

Heat, that’s what you actually feel. Fire and ice swirling together in a decadent and hot pleasure. You reach over and grab another cube, this time skipping the teasing and touching the ice right to your clit. It’s a lot. Too much. Not enough. The pain shooting through your clit is also full of so much pleasure and you don’t want to stop. 

You rock against your hand, rubbing your clit with your fingers as the ice melts, mixing the wetness of the water with your own, getting you messier, hotter, hungrier. 

The memory of Seokjin holding the ice pack flits through your head, how cold his one hand was as it held yours, similar to the chill of your own hand as you grind it against your pussy. You need something inside of you. Now. 

And unfortunately for you, all your toys are currently dirty. When you finished streaming last night, you made good on your promise to fuck yourself until you passed out, which means your collection of dildos and vibrators are now discarded in a pile next to your bed that you’d intended to wash after work today. 

You insert a finger and sigh. It’s not enough. The angle is too awkward and you can’t get far enough in. Seokjin’s hands are much larger than yours, capable of pumping his long fingers deep within you, to get to the part of your core that is aching. If he were here right now, he could be itching that scratch, a smug look on his face as he comments on how soaking wet you are for him and commands you to cum. 

Ugh. You said you wouldn’t think of him, yet here he is again, stirring up inside your fantasies. You can’t give in, you need to distract yourself, look at another face so you can feel motivation. 

You remove your fingers, wipe them on the damp washcloth next to you, and reach over on your side table for your laptop. 

You don’t watch a lot of porn, finding the videos often too fake, but you’re desperate. You scroll through the website, quickly losing some of your arousal as you click through pages of straight porn, the ones you know that will have some awful plot, or the woman has some nasal and fake moan that kills your buzz. Or the guys are so ugly, proving that porn always has the male gaze in mind. 

You just need to cum. Today has been awful enough, and knowing you have to stream tomorrow again is already causing you to wind up. No, this is necessary stress relief. An unwinding. Make it dirty and to the point. 

You click over into the other categories. You need just a man, someone else who isn’t Seokjin. You hover over the male masturbation tag, still disappointed. Then you see a banner ad for a camming site: Worldwide Handsome, Hunks From Around the Globe. That, you think, seems more promising. 

Live cams are interactive, more with immediacy. Usually the guys on them are hot or gay or both and just ready to jack off for money and give in to some dirty talk. Even the gay camboys don’t always care if women are viewing. Money is money. 

You click the banner, praying this doesn’t immediately give your computer a hundred viruses that will delete all your coursework you’ve saved to the harddrive. 

Luckily, it’s a legitimate website, much like OnlyFans, just with the emphasis on queer men from every country. You might just be saved. 

There are so many categories to choose from: couples, kinks, trans, bisexual, furries, just chatting, BDSM, interactive games, private rooms. It’s a little overwhelming. You select the “solo” tab, which, of course, has the most videos under it, and begin exploring. 

You click on one that seems promising, but quickly exit out because the user has fallen asleep and it feels too intimate. 

In another, the streamer is yelling at his chat for outting him to his parents, and you exit out of that as well. 

You’re about to give up when you refresh the page, but then a recently started stream catches your eye. It’s quickly gaining views, and has a little “1” next to it, probably to indicate that this streamer is the most popular one in his category. 

The title for the stream is Unwind with me. Late night play with Daddy which makes your core throb a little with promise. The thumbnail is black, which is a little odd, but you’re curious who this “Daddy” is and how he plans on helping his viewers unwind. Because that is exactly what you need. In his associated tags, there’s a tiny banner at the bottom that urges you forward “all genders welcome”. 

You click the link, and the video itself is black, but there’s still hundreds of comments fluttering through the chat. Is your stream broken? This sometimes happens when you stream too, but after a quick refresh you realize that the screen isn’t black. There’s a little bit of light pouring through whatever is covering the camera, detecting some movement through the veil. 

“You don’t know how stressed I am today,” a low voice groans. 

Whoa. You lean closer, tapping the volume button on your laptop to the max and leaning back. God, whoever this guy is, he sounds hot. This might actually work to get you off and get over Seokjin.

You balance your laptop on your knees and roll your hand down your stomach and between your legs, finding your aching clit and sighing as you delight in your touch. 

“I know we don’t always play games like this baby. I know you usually like it when I beg. But I can’t play like that today. It’s been so long since I got to fall back into what I desperately, absolutely need.”

His voice is so seductive yet also comforting in a way that’s familiar. You feel more of your arousal dripping out of you, and you scoop it up to swirl it around your clit, feeling a little twinge of that white hot pleasure return to you. 

“And what I need is to take the edge off, to remind all of you who is in charge. Some of you have been very, very bad lately. Haven’t I given you enough? A two-year anniversary stream? I gave you all my cum didn’t I? All of it.” 

The chat is going nuts, comments replying with “yes Daddy” accompanying tips that vary from twenty bucks to one thousand dollars spilling in. You check his timestamp. He’s only been live for five minutes and he’s already getting this much? Even your most successful streams take hours to reach a little over a thousand after royalty cuts. 

To his credit, though, if you had a grand to drop on him, you just might, and that’s going by his sexy voice alone.

“I let you watch me spill from my cock, let you see me touch myself. And you were greedy. Don’t think I don’t know what you did. I saw your questioning comments, trying to shame me for muttering someone’s name in pleasure. But I’m not ashamed. I’m proud.”

Fuck, what you would do to have this guy moan your name. You feel your orgasm approaching and rub yourself harder, a soft squelch echoing through your room.

“You took what I gave you for granted, you fucking whores. And now, you need to be punished.” 

You’re so close, the little peaks of pleasure starting to build up higher in intensity. 

The mystery man stops talking, and you along with the chat, begging for more. 

“Please,” you moan at your screen. 

Suddenly, you hear it, a wet, slick sound. Fuck, is he touching himself? 

“It’s been a long day. All day, I was working and I was so horny because some people in this world can’t stop fucking teasing me, tempting me to punish them, just like you.”

You feel the tremor of your first orgasm, but it’s not as sharp, more like a hint of what is to come. You pinch your clit between your fingers, sighing a little bit at the relief of pressure.

“You’ve all been very bad. And until you show me you can be good, I’m going to pump my cock and not let any of you see. You think you can do that? You think you can be my good little subs and prove to me you’ll behave?”

Oh god. Fuck. He’s insane, he’s so hot and insane, and you’re also insane, nodding along. The condescension is so hot, and it reminds you of earlier in the kitchen, when Seokjin scolded you for not being safe with the knife. His voice got rough just like this guy. And it makes you feel so needy and desperate. 

Please, you beg silently, just like how you did this morning. I’ll do anything. 

Almost as if he knows this, you hear a moan carry through your speakers. You assume he’s reading the comments and tips with promises to behave. You clench around nothing, really wishing at least one of your toys was clean for you to use to feel less empty. You’re never falling asleep without washing them again. 

“Good, that’s what I like to see. Now remember, you don’t get to cum until I get to cum. Go ahead and play with yourself for me, get yourself all worked up. And then be good and listen. I’ll tell you what to do next.” 

Whoops. Well, the first one didn’t count. You aren’t satisfied. 

He groans, signaling that he’s stroking himself again, rough jerks you can hear from the way his hands are sliding over his (you assume) lubed cock. 

“You want to see me cum? You want to earn it all over you? You know what you have to do, my pretty little subs. Work for it. And not a penny less.” 

In a frenzy, the tip jar continues to buzz in the bottom corner, the graphic of coins depositing into it glitching out a bit as it fails to keep up with the volume of tips. While he’s the most popular streamer on this site, it’s not as though the website is the only one of its kind, and that means that his couple hundred viewers are putting in the work and the cash. 

You watch the numbers rise next to the tip jar as his subs showcase their double entendre: both his subscriber count soars and his comments flood with loyal submissives.

Please, Daddy. Please let me cum. 

I’m sorry Daddy. I’ll be good, I swear. 

Remove the blindfold please! I need to see your big cock! 

Ah, it’s a blindfold. Of course. 

The graphic of the jar changes, exploding and sending animated dollars and coins across the screen. This is wild. His viewers have already met the milestone. They’ve just raised ten grand in less than 15 minutes. That has to be some kind of record. 

He tuts and the sound of it punches your gut. Why does he sound so familiar?  “Tsk, that wasn’t so hard, was it? I knew you could do it. You want my forgiveness that badly, huh? Okay, I’ll give you what you need. I’ll forgive you.” 

Your pussy is throbbing. You’ve had to scale back the touching, feeling a weird sense of obedience to this camboy that you can’t describe. 

There’s a ruffling sound and the camera jolts before light pours into view, a blur of shapes and colors you can’t make out greeting you until it comes into focus and you’re met with a massive, leaking cock. 

“Holy shit,” you moan, finding your footing on your bed and moving your resting hand from your inner thigh back to your clit. 

The camera is framed from the user’s toned abs down to just the top of his thighs, showing off his heavy, tight balls and red, angry tip. 

“Is this what you’re begging for?” 

Yes, you shudder a breath. Yes. 

Large hands with long knobby fingers run along his thighs, one sweeping under to cup his balls while the other works his shaft, thumb sliding over his slit to rub precum around the tip. 

“Alright, then.” He begins pumping, smooth, tight jerks that have him squeezing his length and encouraging more strands of precum to leak out. He falls into a steady rhythm and you mirror the pace on your clit, gasping for breaths as you become all the more sensitive now that you have a visual to follow. 

“My face? Oh, no. You didn’t earn the right to see that. Don’t start with me. If you want to see my face when I cum, you have to reach the next milestone. You know the rules.” 

You don’t know the rules, but you hope someone else will be desperate enough to reach it for you. You’re dying to know what he looks like. 

Almost instantly, the money animation explodes on the screen again. A $5000 tip. Jesus Christ.

“Ah, of course mapl3stor33, I should’ve known it was you. Always so good to me.  Because of you I got to get that new collector figurine. Thank you. Well everyone, because of mapl3’s generosity and mmm…loyalty…fuck. I guess I’ll let you get your full fantasy. Let you see my face as you imagine you get to make a mess of me, milk my fucking cock all over you and let me make a mess of you.” He’s moaning as he speaks, pausing between sentences to pump himself harder as he gives “Maple” a proper shout out. 

Your cheeks heat in embarrassment. It’s one thing for you to create the fantasy, but him acknowledging it with some judgment, as though you’re not good enough to even fantasize about him, it’s leading you quicker to your undoing. 

His pace builds to a heavy, slick rut. His hands are slightly red, almost like how yours looked after washing the dishes before Seokjin kicked you out. 

Wait. Red hands. His look similar to Seokjin’s, with the same knobby long fingers. And the figurine and Maple…like, MapleStory? 

There’s no way. No, you’re clearly just losing it with your fantasies. This one is taking it too far. 

“Fuck, yeah that’s it baby. Touch yourself. Be good for me. Where do you want my cum? Oh, you dirty slut, fuck, yes. Okay, I’ll cum all over myself. Just for you. Shit. Almost, come on.”

Your fingers are still following his lead, unable to stop, so close to finishing, to the release. 

He moans, his hands blurring as he strokes fast and hard, jerking into himself. And that’s when you know. You heard that moan. You caused that moan. 

With a final solid, slightly whiny grunt, he backs up. His face coming into frame, and the first strands of thick white release cascades across Seokjin’s chest as you focus in on the pure bliss washing over him, his head thrown back and mouth shaped into a delicious “o”. 

“Oh, fuck. Take it, take my cum. Yes, that’s it. That’s my best girl, so good for me. Such a good girl.” 

The second you hear the praising fall from Seokjin’s mouth, he takes you over the edge with him. Your body rockets into your orgasm with a heavy clench of your core, feet losing their solid hold below you as you begin to shake and succumb to the feeling. 

You’ve unwound, the tension of your body unfurling as you’re cast out to sea, your body bobbing along each wave with a newfound euphoria. Out here on the water, the world is silent except the ring in your ears. You bask in the peaceful ebb until you feel a tingling in your fingertips and toes calling you back, forcing breath back into your lungs with a heavy pant. 

Once you recenter, you gaze back at the stream, confirming that this is the smiling and grateful Seokjin you just saw three hours ago. 

He called you a good girl. He came all over his sweaty chest. And he’s the top streamer on a gay sex cam site. 

©2024 by jooniperbonsai

#seokjin smut #bts smut #jin smut #ksj #seokjin x reader #jin x reader #kim seokjin

[havecourage-darling]

That boy is mine now // Eddie Munson

Prompt: “Apparently all of our friends have a bet going on when we’ll get together.”

A fic that absolutely no one asked for based loosely around Avril Lavigne’s song sk8r boi (our boy gets his heart broken but lucky for him you’re there to pick up the pieces, strangers-friends-to-lovers, slice of life vibes)

wc: 26k (i dont know what to say lmao)

*as always, adopted female reader with (hopefully) no references to race or weight. Masterlist || AO3

He was a boy, she was a girl, can I make it any more obvious? He was a punk, she did ballet, what more can I say?

The first time you saw Eddie Munson you were hiding in the trees on your first day of school.

Despite protesting the entire month, your parents had decided to uproot your whole life and drop it in this middle of fucking nowhere town, Hawkins Indiana. Your father had decided it’d be good for you all to be by family. Hilariously ironic considering both your dad and your aunt and uncle were never around anyway.

Taking a deep drag from your cigarette you rubbed your temple, a desperate attempt to assuage the migraine that was building. You weren’t used to being the center of attention – your old school was too big and got new students almost every semester – but you guessed it made sense, considering the population of the entire town rivaled the one of your old neighborhood. Kicking a few leaves around, you frowned. It was so fucking quiet here at night.

“Who leaves New York City for Indiana?” You huffed to yourself, already missing your best friend so much it’d felt like someone had amputated a limb. You two had known each other since kindergarten – besides, she’d know how to handle the stares you’d gotten all day.

You’d taken two steps into the hallway, one of Steve’s friends guiding you to the office, and it’d felt like the metaphorical crowds had descended. To be fair, Robin had tried to warn you that everyone would be curious – she’d even offered to have you sit with her at lunch but the need for a cigarette had been clawing at you from the moment you’d woken up. God this was a shitshow.

The constant questions about what New York was like, what music did you listen to, were those real tattoos? Were endless.

It didn’t matter, you told yourself, it was your senior year and you just needed to make it through before you could make your own way back to the northeast. Back to your real home.

The sound of crunching leaves brought you out of your depressive spiral and you instinctively dropped behind the trunk of the tree you were leaning against. “Shit,” you hissed, throwing the cigarette onto the ground and stubbing it out. Great, it was the first day of school and you were already about to earn a detention. For smoking. Your mother was going to strangle you.

Then, you heard giggling. Peeking from around the tree, you watched as a blonde cheerleader bounced in front of a boy you faintly recognized. Robin had waved to him in first period, Marty? Mason? The only reason he’d stood out was because he didn’t look like a carbon copy of everyone else. He’d had an old Metallica shirt on and wild curly hair – you thought you’d seen a tattoo peeking out from his collar.

“Eddie, you know we can’t – Jason would kill me. The girls, they would never…they wouldn’t understand,” the girl sighed.

“Yeah, I know,” Eddie said, wincing, “but the concert is two towns over. I could drive us and no one would recognize us.”

Guilt flashed across the cheerleader’s expression before schooling it into a pleading one. “You said you wouldn’t push me when it came to this.”

“I know,” Eddie sighed, running a frustrated hand through his hair, “but it’s been almost four months Chrissy.”

Well shit, you thought, catching yourself leaning forward and feeling conflicted at the accidental eavesdropping. It’s too late now, you were in this.

Chrissy’s face softened into something real and she wrapped her arms around his neck. “Be patient with me, please. I like it when it’s just us two, in our own world. Don’t you?”

You cringed, you had an inkling about what was happening and you felt for Eddie.

“Yeah,” Eddie said, his voice sounding defeated. “Of course I do sweetheart.”

“Great, shoot, is that the time? I’m going to be late. I’ll see you after Hellfire, okay?”

You watched her reach up and kiss him quickly before darting up the hill towards the football field you’d crossed. The muscles in your legs ached from your frozen squat and you needed Eddie to run along after her so you could finish your smoke break in peace.

Instead, he walked over to the decrepit looking wooden bench and slumped onto the table.

“Fuck,” you muttered to yourself, the beginning of a cramp building in your left calf. Crab walking a few yards away, under the cover of a few trees, you finally stood and shook out your leg. If you crouched down far enough, you’d be able to sneak away through the side of the parking lot-

“Who’s there?” Eddie’s voice cut through the silence of the forest.

Shit. Well, there was no point in running away, your lungs weren’t built for that anyway. Acting oblivious and oh-look-I-didn’t-see-you-there it was.

“Uh, sorry,” you said, stepping out from behind the trees, adding some confusion to your expression. “I came out for a smoke and got a little lost.” You lifted the pack of cigarettes in your left hand as if he’d been asking for proof.

Eddie straightened, eyes looking a little panicked as they darted to where the cheerleader – Chrissy – had just disappeared through. When his eyes shot back to you, you tried your best to keep your expression neutral.

“Are you a student? I don’t know you and everyone here knows everyone,” Eddie said and you noted the bitterness in his voice.

With a tentative step closer, you pushed your pack into your jacket’s pocket and shrugged. “I’m new,” you said, not being able to help the sad sigh that came after that.

At the sound, the corner of Eddie’s mouth tilted up. “You sound excited to be here.”

“We moved from New York City,” you explained, “no offense to your little town here but it’s got nothing on the city that never sleeps.”

Eddie’s eyes widened, his brown eyes flashing. “New York? Dude, no way! I’ve always wanted to go there. What’s it like?”

You walked over to the table, sitting carefully across from him on the splintering wood and dropped your weight onto your elbows. “It can be shitty – dirty and loud but man, it’s home, you know?” Your gaze drifted over his shoulder, imagining what you’d be doing if you were back. “My best friends and I would get breakfast at a bodega by our apartment building, best bagels in the city.”

Something like recognition lit up his face. “Wait, you’re the new girl…you’re Harrington’s cousin, from France or something,” Eddie said, eyes trailing down your face. “You two don’t look related.”

Snorting, Eddie’s neck went splotchy as he winced. “I didn’t mean for that to sound that way.”

“It’s fine,” you said, waving him off, “I’m not from France. I told one of the preppy girls who wouldn’t leave me alone that we’d just gone to Paris over the summer and apparently that makes me French.”

Eddie snorted. “That’s small towns for you, news travels fast and it’s not always correct,” he said, definitely bitter this time.

“What, so you’re not actually a devil worshiper?” You asked, eyes widening for effect.

At that, he rolled his eyes. “Dungeons and Dragons is a game. I don’t know why everyone thinks we’re worshiping Satan. And even if we were, technically it’s no one’s business.”

“Oh shit,” you sputtered, realizing you’d hit too close to home by accident, “is that actually what people say? I was just fucking with you.”

Eddie chuckled, shaking his head. “Well, when you eventually hear all about it – know that only half of it is true.”

“The Devil worship part?” You teased, wanting to help the defensive glint in his eyes.

Eddie finally smiled and nodded. “Obviously,” he said and nodded to your black jeans and jacket, “although considering we’ve got pretty similar style if you’re not careful their wrath’ll turn on you.”

You looked down at your usual outfit for the fall: t-shirt, denim jacket, ripped jeans, and your all-stars. Eddie definitely wore his style with more grunge than you but you were far from a metalhead back home. Clearly, that was something to avoid here. Your school had popular kids but no one was overtly in your face about it – shit, is that something you had to worry about now? You groaned internally.

“I’m adopted,” you said, wincing at the awkwardness that settled after that. “That’s why we don’t look alike – me and Steve.”

“Oh,” Eddie nodded, noting your subject change, “that’s cool.”

“It’s not when they drag you over state lines in your senior year of high school,” you huffed, “I wanted to go to prom with Kevin Singh.” You thought back to the boy in your class.

His brows rose, a smile teasing as he leaned in. “Boyfriend?”

You smiled, scrunching your nose at him. “No, I wish. He was my lab partner in Chemistry last year. He didn’t know I was alive, much less interested.”

“I know the feeling,” Eddie muttered, hands opening the lunch box near him and pulling out a joint.

Eyes following his fingers, you noticed something and perked up. “What do you play? Guitar? You guessed.

Eddie paused midway to lighting his joint and eyed you. “How’d you know?”

“Calluses on your fingers, guitar pick necklace, Metallica t-shirt, not hard to spot a metalhead when you see one,” you said, resting your chin against your palm.

“You play?” Eddie asked, smiling.

Shrugging, you eyed the flame from his lighter. “Shouldn’t you already know, considering small towns and all?”

Eddie tossed his head back and laughed. That, out of everything, struck you. He had a nice laugh.

“Fair,” he said, snorting once more and you hated how endearing it made him. Eddie offered you the joint and you glanced back at the school. What the hell, your parents wouldn’t be home to hear the message the school left saying you’d missed a few periods anyway. With a shrug, you grabbed it and took an inhale. “Wait,” you grunted as you exhaled, “I’m going to reek of weed and I don’t have anything to cover it up.”

“I got it,” Eddie said, rummaging around in a metal lunch box. He popped out a small body spray, looking confused, and his face flushed. He tried to quickly shove it to the bottom of the box but it’d been too late, you’d seen the label.

“Cinnamon Sugar Cookie scented?” You asked, a smile growing despite your attempts to smother your laughter.

“I-” Eddie sputtered, clearly not knowing how to admit that it wasn’t his, “I could like Cinnamon scented things.”

You laughed harder at his defensive tone and by habit reached out to smack his shoulder as tears almost leaked out your eyes. “You should’ve seen the horror in your face,” you snickered, reaching out for the body spray. “Oh, come on,” you said when he stayed frozen, “I already saw it. Just hand it over, I’d rather smell like a preteen girl than like I just came out a frat party. I’ve still got like two periods before I can go home.”

Eddie reluctantly handed it over to you, his eyes looking panicked again.

“I promise I won’t tell anyone,” you said, avoiding his gaze. Your mind flashed back to the tiny cheerleader and her arms wrapped around his neck. If New Yorkers knew anything, it was how to mind their business.

“Tell anyone about what?” He asked, cautious.

Forcing your eyes to meet his, you chewed on your cheek before taking another drag and handing him the joint back. You thought back on your dad, his disappointment in you, your interests, hobbies, grades, and you felt for Eddie – you knew what it was like to have someone wish you were something else.

A memory of Steve a few years ago, hair shorter and a sneer etched onto his face, eyes always darting to your uncle. Yeah, you thought, your family was intimately aware of what it felt like to crave approval like oxygen. To want to mold yourself so you could get just a scrap of affection.

“Anything that happened here,” you said, nodding to the joint and standing up with the spray in hand, “or anything I may or may not have heard.”

Eddie’s face blanched. You sprayed yourself a few times and instantly started coughing. “Jesus, that's some strong preppy ass perfume,” you waved your hand in front of your face, trying to get the smell out your nostrils. “What I’m trying to say is that maybe small-town people like to talk shit but, where I’m from – we know how to mind our business. So, you don’t need to worry about me, okay?” You grabbed your backpack from the ground and pulled it over your shoulder.

Realizing you meant it; Eddie shot you a grateful look. “Thanks.”

Waving it away, you motioned to the school. “Don’t mention it, Sugar,” you said, winking when his expression shifted.

As you walked away, Eddie’s laughter rang through the trees – following you as you walked further away from him. Your heart sputtered awake and you slapped it back into place. He clearly had some complicated things going on. Not the right person. Especially not in this tiny ass town. You refused to be stuck here, no matter what friends you made along the way. Glancing back at his smiling face, you sighed.

Shit, he really did have a nice laugh.

He wanted her, she'd never tell, secretly she wanted him as well. But all of her friends stuck up their nose, they had a problem with his baggy clothes.

You were starving. Grumbling as you pulled your backpack over your shoulder, you hurried down the hall and towards the cafeteria. Of all the days to have one of your teachers hold you back – to ask about how you were adjusting no less. As if any of them cared.

Hawkins was the worst, you grunted, almost colliding with a jock who glared at you. Shooting him a withering look back, you sidestepped his posse.

“Hey Harrington!” Jeremy, your partner from theater called out. You smiled and waved at him as you jogged towards the double doors.

“See you last period sunshine!” You replied, laughing when he stuck out his tongue at the inside joke.

Okay, so, maybe Hawkins wasn’t the absolute worst.

You weren’t sure if it had a lot to do with the fact that you were new but you’d managed to make a few friends in most of your classes. Bursting through the doors, you hurried towards the food and sighed when you finally grabbed one of the last normal looking sandwiches.

“Hey, sitting with us today?” Brianna asked, bumping her hip with yours. Smiling, you bumped her back and grabbed an apple before walking backwards towards your usual table.

“Tomorrow? I promise?” You laughed when she rolled her eyes, knowing that while you bounced around – you usually sat with –

“Harrington!” Dustin’s voice called out for you, hand waving in the air like he was hard to miss.

Brianna smiled when you shot her an apologetic look. “Go on,” she said, “see you after school.”

You’d met Brianna at band practice – where you sat on the bleachers and waited for Robin – the entire band had welcomed you into their circle, thanks to Robin. Jeremy, and the rest of the theater club, had also befriended you after you’d defended them against some stupid jock with an inferiority complex.

“I’m coming Henderson!” You shouted back when he called you again. You waved to Brian and Amanda, those two had pulled you into the book club with them after you’d gotten a job at the arcade and were surprised to see them working there too.

While you did have to admit, you had made friends a lot faster than you’d thought you would – your dumbest decision was managing to migrate into Eddie’s world. Not because he did satanic rituals like Jason loved to boast, but because you loved to make your life complicated and had managed to develop an incredibly soft spot for him.

You’d barely put a foot in the door on your second day of school and he’d tucked you under his arm, promising to show you where all the cool kids hung out. And, well, shit – you might’ve gotten a little addicted to the sound of his laughter and the way he enthusiastically poured himself into everything he did.

So, here you were, two months into having moved to this shithole and you managed to spend most your time with the entire Hellfire club. Eddie had wasted no time dragging you to the Hide Out for his performances and to his trailer to meet his uncle Wayne.

Letting your backpack slide off into your lap, you tossed an arm around Dustin and Jeff. You bit back a smile when they eyed you suspiciously. “Who do you two love most in the world?”

“Suzie.”

Jeff nodded, “My dog.”

Rolling your eyes, you elbowed them both. “Wrong answer, you’re meant to say me,” you said, rummaging around in your bag. You handed Jeff the book you’d found last night and Dustin the comic he’d been looking for.

Both of them squealed, startling you, and you found yourself smushed between them in a massive hug.

“Revising your previous answers?” You asked smugly.

“Yes!” Dustin said, shaking you. “I can’t believe you’re just giving this to me? Are you sure?”

Jeff was more awed, his eyes sparkling. “Dude, this is a first edition.”

Your dad had an extensive library but you knew it was born out of wanting to have things to show off rather than any actual interest in literature. Jeff had practically salivated at a familiar book downtown when you were out together last weekend and you had sworn that you’d recognized it. Dustin had been searching for a limited-edition X-men comic and almost cried when every store you took him to was sold out. Both of which, you managed to find in boxes hidden away in the basement. Since your dad wouldn’t miss it, you’d handed them to people who would.

“Why are you two screaming like little girls?” Eddie asked, shoving Jeff away and sitting down next to you. Ignoring the way your heart picked up its pace, you smiled when he leaned into you. From the first day that you’d sat with them, Eddie had made it a point to always sit next to you.

“We’re best friends now, Harrington, there’s no use fighting it,” he’d joked when you pointed it out.

Dustin and Jeff rushed to explain, both of them already looking through their gifts, when you felt Eddie elbow you. “That was nice of you.”

“I’m a nice person, Munson,” you said with a pointed look, “besides, my parents won’t even know they’re gone. The books should be with people who appreciate the real worth of it, not hide them away in a basement - you know?” You took a bite out of your sandwich, wincing when you felt the wilted lettuce hit your tongue.

At the lack of response, you glanced up at Eddie and realized he was staring at you meaningfully. Your eyes widened when you realized how backhanded your comment had sounded. Freezing, you swallowed around the bite of food.

“What if they’re not worth much?” Eddie asked quietly, eyes shifting over your shoulder, to where you knew the jocks and cheerleaders sat.

Angry at this thing you both knew about but never mentioned, your eyes drifted over to Chrissy’s back – her ponytail high with a bow tied securely at the base. You hated how small Eddie seemed to get at any reference to her. You hadn’t known him for long, but you knew a great person when you saw one – and your dislike for Chrissy only grew every time you saw the kicked puppy look in his eyes.

Moving without thinking too hard about it, you tapped Eddie’s jaw - ignoring the zing it sent down your hand - and waited until his eyes came back to yours.

“Those books are priceless, okay? And their worth shouldn’t be dependent on what others think, especially not ones who…put books down in the basement, hidden away.”

Dustin’s curls shifted in your peripheral. “I mean, it’s a limited edition but it’s not priceless,” he whispered to Mike, who was eagerly looking through it too. Eddie, however, knew what you weren’t saying – especially considering how his eyes softened into something that resembled gratitude. Your heart thumped against your ribcage, like it always did when his eyes were on you.

Feeling mortified at your lack of subtly, you stood quickly. “Well, I promised Robin I’d sit with her today,” you lied, scrambling onto your feet.

A hand on your wrist stopped you. The warm metal of his rings made you glance down at his fingers. Eddie’s nails were still black, the polish chipped at the edges, from when you’d painted them when he’d been over your house last Saturday. His gaze on you was unreadable and a little guarded. “Only a few months in and already such a social butterfly?” Eddie smiled, teasing. “I didn’t know we had such a hot commodity gracing us for lunch.”

Gareth snorted and you shot him a glare. “I can’t help it if people find my presence fun,” you joked, starting to sweat. Dustin’s eyes caught yours, a knowing look in them.

Fuck, you needed to get the hell out of here.

“Remember, I stumbled onto you first,” he joked, eyes flashing a little and you hated how you wanted to preen at the fact that he seemed protective over you. Get it together, you screamed at your heart, he’s not interested.

With a small smile, you took a few steps away and watched as his hand fell away. “Don’t worry Sugar,” you said, biting back a smile when he laughed at the now-familiar nickname, “I won’t stay away for too long.”

The first inkling that maybe Eddie was the only one blind to your feelings came a few weeks later, when you were sitting on the counter next to your grumbling cousin.

“Do you guys think I’m overreacting?” Robin asked, hands on her hips.

You shook your head and pointed at her. “Definitely not. If she asked you to call her later and you waited a day, that’s like – later, right?”

“That’s what I said!” She exclaimed, throwing her hands up in the air.

Nodding emphatically, you let her ramble her most recent encounter with Vickie out her system. She’d never calm down otherwise.

“Don’t you have a job, like a few yards to the left?” Steve asked, as you stole another fry from his lunch.

“What would our parents say if they heard you, Steven?” You gasped, hand clutching your chest dramatically.

Steve snorted, elbowing you gently. “Nothing, considering they barely see each other.”

“Which is hilarious considering they dragged me down to this hellhole because we needed to be by family,” you said, bursting out laughing when Steve cracked a smile.

“Why is that funny?” Robin asked.

Steve put a hand on his stomach, looking like he was about to tear up – which in turn, only made you laugh harder. “B-because,” you stammered around your laughter, “we live right next to each other and the only people in our houses are us.”

“Now, at least, we can grab dinner for two most days,” Steve said, grunting when you grabbed another fry. “Harrington families like to forget they have children. I think only cousins and siblings really like each other.”

“Ironic, considering they picked me out,” you joked morbidly. Robin looked at you horrified but Steve just laughed, used to the adoption jokes. You snorted, chewing on the salted goodness thoughtfully. “Which reminds me, wanna just order pizza today?”

Steve nodded, guarding his fries more fervently.

“You guys aren’t normal; you know that right?” Robin said, shaking her head.

Sticking out your tongue, you had a quip ready when someone interrupted. “That’s what makes her so intriguing,” a new voice said, startling the three of you. Snapping your head back to glance at the door, you grinned when you saw Eddie standing there.

“Hey Sugar,” you said, tilting your head back as he reached out to steady you, “thought you had band practice?”

“Gareth’s parents came home early, ripped him a new one for failing his English test,” Eddie explained.

You sighed. “I told him! But he refuses to let me help him study.”

“I know, Jeff said the same thing.”

Throwing a hand up in the air. “Yeah, I helped Jeff pass his midterm – I know what I’m talking about! I’m in AP English!”

“I know,” Eddie smiled, laughter trickling down into your hair and onto your skin. You shivered, gaze going up to him as he teased Robin after running into her that morning with Vickie.

Releasing his hold on you, he grabbed a few tapes from the romantic comedy section and watched Robin raise her brows. “That’s a new one,” she said, shooing you off the counter to check him out.

Eddie’s face turned red and you felt your chest constrict. Eddie liked to watch horror or cheesy action films. So, you knew who these were for.

“I’m a man of many interests,” he said, avoiding your eyes. You busied yourself with taking a sip of Steve’s milkshake.

“Right,” Robin said dryly, hanging him the tapes. “See you Monday?”

“Yeah, see you Harrington,” Eddie said, stepping forward as if to reach for you. Steve, however, stepped forward and offered him an awkward fist bump. You stared at Steve’s back, recognizing the protective action for what it was, and waved at Eddie as he walked out.

Robin pulled her vest off and pointed to Chinese takeout restaurant at the end of the strip. “I’m going to grab my lunch if you guys want anything?”

“No, I’m not hungry – I’ve got Steve’s lunch, thanks,” you said, laughing when Steve glared at you.

“So,” Steve hummed, eyes avoiding yours.

Realizing the time, you stepped around the counter and pulled your bag onto your shoulder. Brian’s break was up next and you knew he wanted to return a few books to the library across town. “Spit it out Steve,” you said.

“Eddie’s complicated right now,” he said quietly, tone unsure, “I see how you look at him. How he acts around you – it’s not…he may like you too but it’s just…bad timing. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

Equal parts mortified that he’d seen through you so easily and touched that he cared enough to mention something, you hugged him as you passed by. “I know,” you said, not wanting to go back on your promise to Eddie, “his sights are set on someone else, and I’m painfully aware of that.”

Steve shot you a knowing look and you realized he probably suspected. “Thanks, for warning me though,” you said, bumping your shoulder with his affectionately.

“He’s a good guy, he’s just got shit to figure out first and I don’t want you to get caught up in it.”

You pulled the door and smiled. “I know, see you for dinner Stevie?”

“Yeah – and stop calling me that!”

“Is that Eddie?” Robin asked you, both of you cutting through the football field to get to the parking lot. “Shit, that’s Gareth on the floor.”

Your head whirled around towards the far left and you growled when you saw a sprawled Gareth bleeding on the floor. Eddie managed to dodge the first swing but you quickened your pace when he doubled over with the second one.

Robin broke through the throng of people and immediately walked over to Gareth, who looked like he’d taken a punch to the nose. Liam stood, frozen, in the clutches of a football player. Behind both of them you saw Jeff, Dustin, Mike, and Lucas looking worse for wear by the bleachers. Furious, and mostly acting on instinct, you shoved Jason hard and he stumbled back.

“Don’t know how to pick on someone your own size, Carver?” You asked, making sure the guys were okay. Dustin nodded, his eyes flashing.

Ignoring you, Jason laughed. “Oh look, your girlfriend’s here to save you Munson,” Jason snapped, hard glint in his eye. His gaze trailed down your body and he shook his head. “Such a shame to see another Harrington be such a loser.” Eddie used your outstretched hand to steady himself. He clamped down on your arm when you hissed at the sight of the blooming bruise on his jaw.

“Shut the fuck up, you moron,” you hissed back at Jason. His groupies all laughed, as if amused, and you felt your temper flare.

Eddie’s grip on your arm was tight, trying to pull you back but you shook him off. “Don’t,” he whispered, “it’ll only get worse and they’re not worth it.”

At that moment, a blonde curled ponytail caught your eye. You watched as Chrissy chewed on her nail, eyes worriedly darting up to Eddie’s split eyebrow. Of course, this was about her, it always had something to do with her. “You can’t be serious,” you said, eyes still on Chrissy. Hers snapped up to you, guilty expression rearing as she ducked her head.

“Let it go,” Eddie said again, grip on you tightening when he saw who you were glaring at.

These were your friends and you weren’t letting anyone fuck with them. “They might not be worth it, but you are,” you snapped at him, yanking your arm out from his.

Cracking your fingers, you stepped up to Jason. “I’ll give you one free punch,” you said, “then we’ll go for it.”

His posse laughed like you’d told the most hilarious joke in the world. “What? How precious, his little girlfriend is going to fight his battles for him. You’re both fucking garbage – but I gotta tell you sweetheart, you can do so much better than him. Just say the word and we can work something out,” his eyes lowered onto your cleavage and you fought the urge to gag.

“Not even in your fucking dreams Carver.”

Eddie growled, straightening at the implication but you held up your hand. His stupid friends chuckled, like he’d told the funniest joke ever and you shrugged. Clenching your hands and steadying your feet like your friends back home had taught you, you lunged forward. Your knuckles creaked painfully as you collided with his stomach, but you grinned triumphantly when Jason doubled over; groaning, and his lackeys scrambled to his aid.

“You bitch,” Jason shouted, voice shrill, as he clutched at his stomach. “You fucking worthless grunge bitch!”

“Don’t talk to her like that!” Eddie shouted, swinging and landing another punch on Jason. They both went down tumbling, when Patrick reached for Eddie. You shoved him, feet coming out to kick the other idiot who was inching towards a stumbling Gareth.

Eyeing a discarded bat from baseball practice earlier, you lunged for it and raised it up.

“You wouldn’t,” Chase said, brows rising as he froze in his spot. Chase was the most tolerable of Jason’s friends – he’d never been outright mean to you and you felt a twinge of regret before tightening the grip on the bat.

“Try me,” you sneered.

Chase stepped back, arms up. “Hey, I know Harrington guys – she’s not fucking around. Let’s just go,” he said, pulling Patrick back by the jacket.

Realizing it wasn’t an easy fight like he’d thought Jason spat out blood and wiped his mouth with the back of his wrist. His gaze went around to you all but your blood froze when it lingered on Eddie. Fuck.

“Whatever,” Jason said, turning to you, “watch your back bitch.”

The guys stalked off but you saw a few cheerleaders hesitate. Chrissy’s worried gaze bounced from Eddie’s to you.

“Chrissy, come on!” One of the other cheerleaders hissed at her. “Who knows what they’ll do.”

“Yeah, right,” she said, letting herself be pulled away.

Eddie’s eyes fell to the floor as she said nothing but turned to walk away. You watched her glance back a few times, having at least the decency to look ashamed.

Not wanting to spare her any more effort, you turned to see your bloody friends and sighed when Jeff groaned from the bleachers. Robin’s fingers tentatively took the bat from your tight grip and you let her. Loosening your hold, adrenaline crawling back, you winced when at the blooming ache in your knuckles.

A cold hand came up to take yours, Eddie’s expression both grateful and a little sad. “I’m going to have a bruise tomorrow,” you sighed. His mouth turned down, thumb coming to caress your swelling knuckles. Remembering Steve’s warning, you pulled your hand from his and walked over to check on Gareth. You felt Eddie’s eyes on your back as you leaned over him, checking his nose. “It’s not broken, but you’ll have a hell of a bruise.”

Gareth groaned as you touched it softly, his hand fisting your jacket in pain. “At least you’ll look badass,” you whispered. Jeff, seated next to him, snorted and groaned – a hand coming up to his ribs.

Standing up, you dusted your palms on your thighs – ignoring Eddie’s searching eyes – and grabbed your backpack. “Let’s get the hell out of here. I got room for three more in my car.”

Lucas, Mike, and Dustin immediately followed you and Robin like ducklings. Eddie cleared his throat but you didn’t turn around.

“Thanks,” he said and you knew Robin was rolling her eyes. Her hand reached out for your unbruised one and she squeezed.

“Anytime,” you called back, continuing on towards the parking lot. You were fuming, not at anyone in particular but – just at life. Why did Eddie let himself be shoved aside by someone who wasn’t worth it? Your feelings aside, Eddie was your friend and it hurt you to see him clearly so into someone who wouldn’t fight for him.

The group was silent until you were out the parking lot.

“Well,” Dustin said, breaking the silence, “at least one Harrington knows how to win a fight.”

At that, you finally smiled.

He was a skater boy, she said, "See you later, boy.” He wasn't good enough for her. She had a pretty face, but her head was up in space. She needed to come back down to earth.

It wasn’t exactly a secret that you didn’t like Chrissy Cunningham. You knew she was the school’s darling, with her wide pretty eyes and bouncy blonde hair – honestly, how was that fair? How did anyone compete with that? Even her stupid eyelashes were pretty.

She’d been perfectly nice to you the few times you’d interacted, even after you suspected she knew that you were aware of whatever she and Eddie had. You only shared one class with her – your second period AP English class. She was smart and always kind to anyone you saw her talking to – alone. Ironic, considering she tended to keep to the back whenever Jason was tormenting someone.

Somehow, that infuriated you more. She could be perfectly normal with everyone but the one person you knew craved her attention the most. Sometimes, when you felt her eyes on you in class, you got the feeling that she liked him just as much as he did. You could see it in the way her eyes searched him out first, the way she ducked her head when anyone was rude to him, or the way she shot you grateful looks when you defended him.

Which, annoyed the shit out of you. Because it meant she clearly cared for him, she was just too scared to show it. And you couldn’t help but have a little sympathy for her – you knew what it was like to feel trapped by people and expectations you didn’t meet. It could be debilitating.

“Harrington,” your teacher called out, “you’re with Cunningham.”

Groaning internally, you startled when you saw her already settling in the chair next to yours. “I wasn’t paying attention,” you admitted openly, “I have no idea what we’re partnered for.”

Chrissy laughed lightly and you frowned. Even her fucking laugh was pretty.

“It’s just a in-class assignment. Here,” she showed you her notes and you nodded.

Pulling your book out from your backpack, you made a face at it and laughter fell from her lips.

“What?” You asked, thumbing through to the chapter you needed.

“Nothing, it’s just-” Chrissy cleared her throat, voice softening, “your expressions, you’re like – an open book.”

Trying to remain neutral you rose a brow at her.

“It’s refreshing,” she admitted, “sometimes it feels like everyone has a hidden agenda. Since you moved here, you’ve always been brutally honest. That’s why…Jason wanted you to join us at the beginning of the year.”

At that, you snorted. “Right, because I look like someone who Jason Carver would get along with.”

“No, I suppose not,” Chrissy admitted and you rolled your eyes. “But you did catch his eye, if that’s something you’d like.”

Not able to help your laugh, you smothered it quickly. “Most people aren’t attracted to those that bully their friends, Cunningham. I wouldn’t let Jason touch me for all the money in the world.”

She fell quiet.

Taking the next few minutes, you wrote out the answer to the first three questions and handed the paper off to Chrissy. She nodded, scribbling in the last bit at the end and passing the paper back.

You both sat in silence for a while, as you edited through the few paragraphs you had, but you could feel her stare on your face.

“Just say what you want to say,” you said without missing a beat.

“I want to thank you, for being his friend,” Chrissy said, “for standing up for him.”

A spark of anger burned in your chest and you tried your best so it wouldn’t take over you. “I’m not doing it for you, or looking for any gratitude. I’d do it for any of my friends. Ask Chase, he was being an asshole to the band kids last month and I threw my textbook at his head. Had detention for a week. He bitched about it for weeks.”

“I know,” she said quickly, “I just – I…I do really like him.”

Fighting the urge to roll your eyes, you nodded. “Sure.” She really had one hell of a way to show it. If that’s what liking someone looked like, you hoped to never fall in love in this town.

Her brow twitched in annoyance and you felt a little proud of yourself for breaking through her façade. “You don’t know what it’s like for me,” she snapped, “what my life is like.”

“You’re right,” you said, turning to finally look at her, “but I do know that regardless, it makes you a liar.”

Her eyes flashed. “No one would approve of him. Not my parents, not my friends, no one,” Chrissy said, her tone angry. You froze, panicking. You’d never spoken openly about this – to anyone. Certainly not to Chrissy fucking Cunningham. “I can’t ruin everything I’ve built for something fleeting. He’s…you know how he is.”

Fleeting? What a bitch.

“Then let him go,” you hissed back at her, “stop prolonging the inevitable. You just stood by and watched as they beat up him and his friends. Who does that? Who lets that happen to someone they care about?”

Chrissy frowned, petulant. When she didn’t answer, and avoided your look, you sighed.

“That’s what makes you a bad person,” you said, “you’re not thinking of him. You’re only thinking of yourself. What you want. What you get from him. You don’t see how you drain him. You’re turning him into someone I don’t recognize. He wouldn’t ruin anything. He’s-” perfect the way he is, you thought, bringing your gaze up to her. “He’s a good person and you just take and take anddon’t care. You might be a decent person going through a shitty situation but so is everyone else. Be fucking honest with yourself and go sell your ‘poor me’ story to someone who cares.”

With that, you ripped out your paper and handed it to the teacher. He nodded approvingly and you stalked out of class. Running off towards the bathroom, you locked yourself into a stall and rubbed at your head.

Shit, what had you done?

“Holy shit, I’m so drunk,” Steve said sloppily, drink sloshing out his cup. You laughed, happy that Steve had finally managed to loosen up. Searching out for the redheaded girl he’d come with; you saw her dancing with her friends – looking just as drunk.

“Robin?” You called out, her frizzy hair popping out from around the corner where she was waiting in line to the bathroom. “We need to remember to drop off Steve’s girl – she’s wasted too.”

“Jesus Steve,” Robin admonished, “we’ve been here for like an hour.” She fixed her cowboy hat and disappeared from sight.

Steve just smiled dumbly at you, chewing absently on some chips he’d found in the kitchen. “Okay, stay here,” you told him, “I’m just going to go to the bathroom really quickly and I’ll be right out.”

He nodded, grinning and you sighed when you stepped into the bathroom after Robin. She hopped onto the counter as you disappeared into the room with the toilet – honestly, what house was so big it had a room inside the bathroom for the toilet? And that was coming from you. “Did you see Eddie?” Robin called out.

“What?” You sputtered, hurrying out. “I thought Jason and company was here.”

“They are,” she sighed. “They tend to avoid parties the other will be at but…”

Of course, you frowned. “Adam asked him to come by to sell,” you finished for her.

Robin nodded, watching you as you washed your hands and shrugged. “So far there’s been no incidents. You’re having fun, right?” She asked and you smiled. You knew she was worried she’d dragged you along to Adam’s Halloween party for nothing but you had already promised Adam you’d come. He was the tuba player and he’d been anxious that no one would show up considering he was hosting it a week before Halloween. Unfortunately for him, half the school had descended.

“Come on, let’s go before Steve starts anything,” you said, pulling her out. The second you rounded the corner you groaned.

“What? What?” Robin asked, peeking over your shoulder. “Ugh, Dingus.”

Steve had disappeared, the hallway empty save for three girls waiting for their turn.

“You take the basement?” You asked her.

Robin sighed, “Yeah. You take the main floor – I’ll meet you in the kitchen in a few.”

“Alright,” you said, marching out into the chaos. You searched for Steve’s costume – a store bought Indiana Jones – and winced when someone smacked into you.

“Sorry!” The person slurred, jumping along to the music. You rubbed your shoulder and came up empty. Weaving your way through the crowd, you tried to make your way towards the kitchen – maybe Robin had more luck.

“Oh my God!” A loud shriek startled you. “You clumsy bitch! You ruined my fucking costume!”

Startled, you turned to glance at the sound and saw a cowering girl you faintly recognized from the theater club. Courtney? Claire? You squinted again as a cheerleader stomped forward, shoving the girl back into a corner. The small girl cried out, hand shooting up to her shoulder. “I’m s-sorry! It was an accident!”

Without thinking twice, you walked over to them and placed yourself in front of the freshman. “Alright, everyone, take a breather,” you said.

The girl behind you clutched at your shirt, hands shaking. “Of course, it’s Harrington – you never know how to mind your own business, do you?” You quirked your brow, recognizing Brittney instantly.

“Hey Brittney,” you said, rolling your eyes, “always a pleasure. I’m going to guess the poorly dressed nurse is Linda? Yep. What would you two ever do without each other?”

“Shut up,” Linda snapped, chomping at her gum. What a cliché.

“What’s going on?” A third voice joined. You glanced to the side and saw Chrissy, dressed as firefighter. “What happened?”

“Your two friends don’t know how to pick on someone their own size. Claire here – it’s Claire, right?” She nodded, eyes wide and terrified. “Claire accidentally spilled her soda on Brittney – who doesn’t know how to take an apology without being a bitch,” you said, shooting her a fake wide grin.

Brittney’s face twisted and you knew this was far from over. “Who the fuck do you think you’re talking to?”

Snorting, you crossed your arms. “Alright relax terminator-”

“Come on guys, let’s just go,” Chrissy said.

Her sharp blue eyes whipped to Chrissy, who seemed to flinch at the sight. “No, I’m tired of you always letting these losers get away with it,” Brittney said, her gaze turning apprehensive. “Remember what we talked about, Cunningham.” Chrissy frowned, looking a little panicked, before nodding.

Chrissy’s eyes looked a little worried before steeling into something hard. “Well, if she ruined your costume, then it’s just fair if we do – this.” In a move you hadn’t seen coming – and one you had no room and no time to avoid - Chrissy dumped her drink on your shirt. Before you could say or do anything, Brittney and Linda followed her lead.

Anger bubbled to the surface as you felt the sugary red drinks sink into your white shirt. Clearly not enough, you felt a hand reach out and tug at your vest until you heard the fabric rip.

“Stop!” You said shoving the person away from you. Chrissy stumbled back and the other two wisely stayed where they were. Before you could think of anything to say, you felt a pair of hands slam you into the wall. Groaning, you winced when the meat of your shoulder hit the corner of a shelf and you knew you were going to have a bruise.

“Don’t fucking push me,” she hissed, the venom in her voice almost unrecognizable. Alright fine, she wanted to fight – you could fight.

Narrowing your eyes, you took a step forward, doing your best not to show the pain thrumming on your left. “I wasn’t afraid of your little cult leader, I’m certainly not afraid of you,” you said, hands clenching. Uncertainty flickered in you when Brittney and Linda stood at her shoulders. Before you could make the fist move, Chrissy’s hand came out and you presume to think she was aiming for your cheek but managed to slap your jaw. It still stung like a bitch, Chrissy had sharp nails, and you launched yourself at her.

A pair of arms pulled you into a chest a millisecond before you could gouge her eyes out. “What the hell is going on here?” Eddie’s voice cut through the music.

Claire, surprising you, grabbed your hand and pushed you both out of the corner. Brittney stumbled, shouting something, but you couldn’t hear anything past your own pulse. She shoved you behind her small frame and frowned. “I spilled my drink on them by accident when they shoved me out the way and Harrington came to my defense.” You tuned out the rest of the recap and glanced down at your torn vest and ruined costume.

Dustin and Steve had helped you sew this. He was going to his own party - dressed as Princess Leia, and you’d decided to go as Han Solo. Both of you had found it hilarious and promised to take photos next week. Dustin had spent almost a month, most of his allowance and your paycheck, getting everything to look as authentic as possible. He’d even biked a town over to get you the right fabric for your vest.

Without waiting to see what was happening, and slightly afraid Eddie wouldn’t believe Claire, you slipped through the crowds in the house. Running out the front door, you darted towards the side of the house and to your horror you felt tears burn your eyes. What the hell was wrong with people? You dabbed at the huge stain fruitlessly, feeling a lump form in your throat. By the stinging in your cheek, you knew you’d have a bruise tomorrow.

“Harrington?”

You closed your eyes. Of course he followed you out, you shouldn’t have expected less. “I’m fine,” you said quickly, willing the tears to disappear.

“I know you are,” he said quietly, his hand coming up to your elbow, not turning you around yet. “It takes more than some cheerleaders to take a Harrington down.”

You huffed a weak laugh and felt a hand try to pull you into his arms. “I’ll get you dirty,” you said trying to step away.

“Harrington, I don’t care. Just let me hug you.” He wrapped his arms around you and sunk into his hug.

A wave of emotions welled within you and you realized then, a moment of clarity, why you’d gotten so upset. Because this is what Eddie felt, every time she pretended not to know him, or sat by and watched them bully him or his friends. They were awful, vain people and you couldn’t do it anymore. You really couldn’t stand by and be the shoulder to cry on any longer.

Swallowing around the lump in your throat, you looked up at him. “She hit me first,” you said, “I swear.”

Eddie’s eyes lowered to yours and you realized they were red. They went soft and fuzzy, like he wanted to say things you weren’t in the mood to hear. As if already knowing, he nodded. “I know she did, I saw her. I had to struggle through the dancing X-men to get to the kitchen. Even…even if I hadn’t seen it. I would’ve believed you.”

Surprise, you glanced at him. “Yeah?”

You watched hurt flash across his face before disappearing. “Yeah, Harrington. You’re my best friend.”

Placing your head against his chest, you sighed. “I’m telling Gareth you said that.”

Eddie snorted. “He knows, they all know.”

What the hell did that mean?

You didn’t get the chance to ask because Robin’s shrill voice broke the silence. “What the fuck dude? Claire found me and told me you needed me. Aw man, the vest is ruined,” Robin’s face twisted into something sad, knowing how hard you’d worked on it. “Whatever, we’ll fix it. I’m going back in with Vickie and we’ll find the redhead and Steve. Fuck this party. You go home, Vickie will drop them off and she’ll take me to your place for the night. Okay?”

Robin’s indignance on your behalf made you smile.  

“Thank you,” you said, stepping back from Eddie and tugging the hem of your ruined shirt. You felt silly being this upset over a costume.

Eddie’s fingers twitched like they wanted to reach out to you but you took another step towards Robin. “Do you want me to come by-”

“No,” you said quickly – too quickly. Avoiding his eyes, you knew he was hurt by your answer but after the night you’d had it was for the best. If Chrissy was who he wanted, then it was his life. Who the hell were you to criticize?

With a faint wave in his direction, you all but ran to your car.

You managed to avoid Eddie for a whole week before he set his kids on you. Despite it being definitely too cold to eat outside, you’d spent the week’s lunch period between your car and hiding in the library.

Which, coincidentally, was where Dustin found you.

“Harrington?” He called out, wincing when the librarian whirled around to glare at him. “Sorry!”

Hurrying towards you, he plopped down next to you – seated between two old forgotten and unused aisles. “What could you possibly need from the Korean dictionary aisles?” You asked him.

“I could ask you the same question,” Dustin said, brow raising.

With a wiggle at your homework in your lap, you shot him a look. “I’m doing my homework, all the tables are full so I found a quiet area to sit,” you said, the lie well-practiced and on the tip of your tongue.

Dustin deflated and you only felt minutely bad that he’d bought your lie. “Well, Eddie is looking for you,” he said, a knowing glint in his eye.

You knew, he was who you were dodging all week. “What for?” You asked, eyes immediately going back to your textbook. Dustin huffed and you knew he heard the wobbling in your voice.

“He’s got something he wants to give you,” Dustin said, trying to catch your eyes.

“Tell him to hand it over to Steve or something, it’ll probably be easier.”

Dustin crossed his arms and you frowned. “Harrington. Why are you avoiding Eddie?”

“I’m not avoiding Eddie.” Lie. You lying liar who lied.

“Which is why you haven’t eaten lunch with us all week?” Dustin flopped over. “Eddie looks like someone killed his puppy – please, for me, can you just talk to him?”

You chanced a look at Dustin’s pleading face and cursed internally. What a rookie mistake. “I’m busy,” you insisted, sticking to your guns.

Dustin sighed dramatically and you had to tighten your grip on your notebook to keep from rolling your eyes. Clearly Eddie’s dramatics were rubbing off on them.

“Fine,” he grumbled, opening his backpack and pulling out a carefully folded top. Your eyes widened when you realized it was your Han Solo vest.

Hands shooting out to grab it, you ran your fingers over the previously torn fabric. It’d been stitched up carefully, looking exactly like it had before. “Dustin, how?” You stammered. Robin, who was the best at sewing, had said it’d take a lot of fabric to fix the tear and stains.

“Eddie found a store a few hours away that sold the same fabric. He helped me fix it,” Dustin explained. “The shirt is a lost cause but that’s easier to get. I knew you wanted to wear it for the trick or treaters tonight so, we worked quickly.”

Tears sprung to your eyes, overwhelmed at the idea of these two rushing to try and fix something just because it meant something to you. “Dustin, thank you,” you said, voice even more shaky.

“It was Eddie’s idea,” Dustin said, “I don’t know what happened between you two at the party, but Eddie’s trying. I promise, he’s trying to fix it. Give him a chance.”

You rubbed his head, not answering. Damn meddling kids.

Living next to your cousin, one you actually liked and got along with, had its perks. It also had a downside.

“Steve, I will be fine handing out candy alone. If you stay here, they’ll egg your house – go hand out candy and I promise I’ll come over at the end of the night,” you said, shoving Steve out the door.

“Are you sure? You’ve been mopey all week and I don’t care if they egg my house!”

Rolling your eyes at the stupidly protective older brother that you didn’t have, or want, you squeezed his arm. “I swear, I’m not moping, I’m fine.”

“Alright fine,” Steve sighed, “but you better come over for the movie. And you are moping – you’re both moping.”

Pushing him out the door, you ignored the last mumbled part of that sentence and shut the door in his face. “Good bye Steven!”

“That’s not my name!”

Snickering, you set up camp in the living room. You wondered how long it’d take for you to get your first trick or treater – and pretty quickly got your answer.

The next three hours flew by and you’d managed to be completely out of candy. Which, considering how much candy you and Steve had purchased – was saying something. You’d seen a very spooky looking vampire, a dinosaur, some Mike Myers, and most notably, some adorably dressed pets.

After a half hour had gone by since your last visitor, you’d ordered pizza to Steve’s. You knew if you didn’t go over, he’d drag you himself.

The doorbell rung just as you’d made the move to change out of your costume. Shit, you thought, gathering up the last old pieces of chocolate you could find in the kitchen. “Hi! I’m sorry but I’m out of candy for the night except for these choco-” You blinked when you saw Eddie standing at your door, bag in his hand.

“Eddie,” you said dumbly, the doorknob creaking under your grip. “What are you doing here?”

He smiled, eyes taking in your costume and he nodded towards the vest. “It looks good.”

“Oh,” you said, stepping back so he could walk through, “I’m sorry – I wasn’t expecting you. Yeah, thank you…really, I hadn’t expected it and was going to talk to you Monday since I had to rush home to change-”

“-I broke up with Chrissy at the party,” he blurted out. Your teeth clinked together as you shut your mouth and you blinked at him.

“What do you mean you broke up with Chrissy?” You asked, feeling like the ground was folding beneath you.

Eddie scuffed his food against the brick in your doorway and shrugged. “The last time we were together was back in September. She hadn’t had a lot of time in October and when she was free, I had something to do, it’d gotten messy and too complicated to handle.”

Say something! Your brain shouted, noting his slumped shoulders.

“Was it because of what happened at the party?”

Jesus out of everything to ask, that’s what you end up with?

Clearing your throat, you spoke quickly. “I meant – I don’t want you to think it has to be me or her. I just…it was…I don’t mind. You didn’t have to break up with her.”

Eddie smiled, watching you flounder and you fought the urge to punch his shoulder. His smiled widened as if he knew. “I did, have to, I mean,” he sighed, running a hand through his hair.

“Sorry,” you jumped, realizing you hadn’t let him in, “come in.”

“Are your parents home?”

Shooting him a look over your shoulder, you dropped the candy bars you’d scrounged up by the door. “Yeah, that was a dumb question, sorry,” Eddie said, sighing when he sat in his favorite chair in your living room. “It’s not about what happened at Halloween. At least not only that. Seeing her treat you – our friends – that way made it real. What I felt, pissed, was what you guys were feeling when it was happening to me.”

“I wouldn’t go that far-”

This time, Eddie shot you a knowing look and you quieted.

“I could see you. All of you giving me these looks-”

“-I wasn’t giving you looks-” you quieted when you saw his glare.

“It was a shitty situation, but…someone really important to me told me that I was priceless once,” he said and you wanted to sink into the dirt.

“She was right, sort of,” he laughed self-consciously and your heart slammed against your chest.

Needing to break the tension, you joked, “She sounds like a really intelligent and super wonderful, pretty smart person.”

“Yeah, she is. I should’ve listened to her – to everyone – sooner.” Eddie sighed and let his head fall back onto the edge of the chair. “I knew but I didn’t want to accept it – not until I had to.”

Not wanting him to feel bad, you stepped forward. “There’s nothing wrong with that,” you said, sitting on the coffee table in front of him.

Sitting in comfortable silence for a moment, you watched Eddie’s chest rise and fall. “She’s not a bad person, you know. She doesn’t have the best family,” Eddie said quietly, “I’m not defending her – it’s just…it’s hard to explain.”

You did know. And somehow, that made it all worse. It was easy to hate someone who was a villain. But you learned a long time ago that people weren’t black and white – they were grey and a mix of colors with a million tiny little pieces that made them…well, them.

“I suspected,” you said quietly, “but I still don’t like her.”

There was a beat of silence before Eddie burst out laughing. He sat up straighter, shaking his head at you. “I know. I know you don’t.”

Thinking about Steve, you motioned to your backyard. “Want to go over Steve’s and eat some pizza I ordered then smoke?”

“Fuck yes,” he said, dragging himself up to his feet. You hesitated for a second before pulling him into a tight hug. His arms immediately wrapped around you, his face burying into your hair. You felt him shiver and you squeezed tighter. “I know it needed to happen but, it still hurt.”

“I know,” you said quietly and the faint memory of your ex’s face swam into the forefront of your mind. Shutting your eyes, you fought the image of Chrissy and Eddie kissing from floating to the surface. “But it won’t hurt forever.”

You hoped.

What the hell?

Cracking an eye open you groaned when you caught the time. Who the fuck was calling you at three in the morning? As the phone stopped ringing, you closed your eyes and slowly drifted back into sleep when – again? You threw your covers off and stomped across the room.

“What?” You tried to shout, your voice coming out more groggy than angry.

“Harrington?”

Rubbing a knuckle across your eye, you grunted. “Yeah, who the fuck is this?”

“It’s Gareth – I’m sorry for calling you so late but, I really need your help.”

“Gareth?” Your brain struggled to catch up. “Are you okay?”

“It’s Eddie.”

It took you twenty minutes to get to the Hide Out. The bartender narrowed his eyes at you when you walked in. “We’re closed sweetheart; besides you look too young to be in here.”

“Harrington!” A loud voice boomed, echoing in the mostly empty bar.

With a wince, you motioned to the drunk Eddie and sighed. “I’m here to take him home.”

“Ah, you’re the ex-girlfriend?” The bartender asked, demeanor softening when Eddie tried to stumble his way over to you.

With a sputtering no, you pointed to Eddie. “We’re just friends.”

“She moved here from New York City, Rick,” Eddie said, hiccupping.

A weird expression came over Rick’s face and you couldn’t make out what it was. “Oh,” he said, appraising you with a soft smile, “you’re the new girl.”

“I…think so? I moved back in the summer,” you said, reaching out to steady Eddie. You wrinkled your nose, “Jesus, Munson, you smell like the inside of a liquor bottle.”

“I haven’t seen you in forever,” Eddie said, burying his cold nose in your neck and you yelped. “Hmm, you smell nice.”

Rick snorted and you shifted your hold on him. “You saw me two days ago at school, you weirdo,” you said, hand coming up to scratch at his scalp. He mewled, leaning into your touch like a sunflower turning towards a sunbeam.

“That’s too long ago,” he said, “I always miss you.”

You laughed at his cross-eyed expression and pulled his leather jacket on. “Come on drunky, it’s almost three thirty and I’d like to get some sleep before school tomorrow.”

“Do you need any help with him?” Rick asked, eyeing Eddie’s stumbling walk. “I can help you drive him home.”

“I’ll be okay,” you said, grateful for the offer.

After struggling a little to buckle him in, you made sure you had his keys and a bag in case he got sick. “Don’t puke inside my car, okay? Nod if you understand.”

Eddie’s head bobbed up and down, his eyes hazy but faintly focused on you. “I meant it,” he said, as you started the car.

“Meant what, Sugar?” You asked, watching a small smile grow on his face.

“I love it when you call me that, you know?”

You did. He’d roll his eyes and be his usual dramatic self about the nickname but you’d always known that he liked it.

“Yeah, I did,” you said quietly.

A few blocks away from his trailer, you felt his eyes back on you. “Are you listening to Madonna?” Eddie asked, nose wrinkling and eyelids drooping.

“Are you drunk off your mind and half asleep and criticizing the music?” You asked, laughing incredulously. “It’s the radio, asshole, I didn’t pick the song.”

Eddie laughed, eyes back on you. “You're so close but still a world away, what I'm dying to say, is that I'm crazy for you. Touch me once and you'll know it's true,” he sang and you hated how he could still sing despite his inebriation.

“Eddie Munson,” you gaped, “do you know the lyrics to a Madonna song?”

He giggled, actually giggled, and you felt your jaw drop. “Oh my God, I’m telling everyone,” you whispered to yourself.

“Come on, sing,” he said, poking your cheek.

Sighing as he begged, you relented once the song was coming to a close. “It's all brand new, I'm crazy for you. And you know it's true, I'm crazy, crazy for you.”

Eddie’s hand almost smacked your face and you ducked. “I am driving, Munson, keep your limbs to yourself!”

“Harrington, you can sing – like really sing,” he gaped, eyes awed. “Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

You pulled your car into Eddie’s regular parking space and sighed. “Because you never asked,” you said, walking around to his side of the car. “Now come on, we need to get you into bed.”

“I am a lady,” Eddie said, faux-scandalized, and voice a touch too loud for how silent the trailer park was. “I don’t get into bed without being taken out to dinner!”

Grunting under his weight, you elbowed him. “Stop screaming.”

“I’m not screaming,” he shouted and you sighed.

As you rounded the trailer you noticed a green pick up on the other side and winced. Shit, Wayne was home. Being as quiet as possible, you walked past a sleeping Wayne and rushed Eddie down the hall.

He threw himself onto his bed, bouncing a little and immediately knocked over a pile of books beside his bed. Wincing, you quickly shut his door and pulled Eddie’s shoes off. You helped get him out of his jacket and rubbed a hand down your face.

“Eddie, why were you at the Hide Out drinking alone on a Sunday night?” You asked quietly.

His head lolled to the side, eyelids drooping and you chewed on your bottom lip. “Can I tell you a secret?” He asked.

“Always,” you crossed your legs, settling in next to him.

“Even though we broke up last week, it’s been a month and half since I’d really spent any time with her,” Eddie started, your heart breaking at the sad expression on his face, “but I miss her sometimes. Maybe not so much her, but the fact that someone was there.”

You pushed the hair away from his face and you smiled down at him. “It’ll take time, Sugar, but you’ll get there. We all do eventually.”

“She was mean sometimes,” he whispered, words slurring together as his eyes closed further, “I didn’t like how she made me feel.”

“I know,” you said, because you did.

“I never told anyone. It’s embarrassing…” he trailed off as he fell asleep.

Standing, you made sure you placed a trash can by his side and filled a glass with water. You scribbled a note and left it on his nightstand before creeping out his room.

You’d made it to the door when a lamp illuminated the living room. Wincing, you turned slightly and waved to Wayne. “Hi Mr. Munson,” you said quietly.

“Good evening,” he said, dipping his head to look out the window, “or should I say good morning?”

“I…uh,” you scratched the back of your neck, “I was just dropping by…and now….I’m leaving!”

“Thank you,” Wayne said, eyes on you, “for bringing him home.”

Shit. Of course, he heard you – the whole trailer park probably heard Eddie. “It’s nothing. He’d do the same for me,” you said, smiling a little.

Wayne seemed to eye you, weighing something in his head. “He just needs time,” he said eventually.

“I know,” you said, crossing your arms, “I’ve been through it. Time usually is the only thing that helps.”

Smiling, Wayne shook his head and you got the feeling he wasn’t talking about Chrissy.

“He sees you too, you know.”

What? You furrowed your brows, confused, but Wayne kept talking.

“He’s felt guilty since September. I know he thinks I don’t notice things but I knew that girl was hanging around here in the summer. I’m old, not blind.”

You laughed, covering your mouth when it came out too loudly. Wayne smiled and it made face light up. They had similar smiles, you thought.

“Ever since you started coming around, things shifted. I think he felt guilty,” he said.

At that, you straightened. “Mr. Munson, I swear nothing has happened between us-”

“I know. Or else you two wouldn’t be dancing around each other like this but - I wanted to tell you that he’s coming around. He has been since you moved here.”

Shifting your weight, you felt uncomfortable. “I…don’t know what to say.”

Wayne nodded. “You don’t have to say anything - just, accept an old man’s gratitude for helping his kid realize he doesn’t need to change for anyone. I know he ain’t perfect, but he’s a good boy.”

You glanced at the door to Eddie’s room and nodded. “Yeah, he is.”

December crept up on you slowly but surely. As you stepped out your car in the music store’s parking lot, you couldn’t help but feel excited at the sight of all the Christmas decorations.

You loved downtown Hawkins. It was a bit busier, stores littering the main street, and a lot louder than the suburbs but – you really did love it. Trying to remember Eddie’s instructions, had he told you that the album Steve wanted was in the back of the store or to the front?, you avoided a small patch of ice.

Maybe it’d be obvious once you were inside. Taking a few hurried steps through the cold air, you sighed in relief when the warmth from the store helped defrost your fingers. Clenching them together, you started browsing.

“Crap, I’m never going to find this stupid tape,” you sighed, squinting to see the back of the store.

“Can I help you?” A voice asked.

Jumping nearly out your skin, you whirled around and smiled sheepishly at the sight of an amused employee.

“Sorry,” he laughed lightly, “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Flustered, you tugged on your jacket and bit back your own smile. “No, it’s totally on me. I can sink into my own world sometimes,” you said.

“Same,” he grinned, eyes trailing down your body. Suppressing the urge to run a hand down your hair to tame any fly away pieces, you couldn’t help but smile at his blatant interest.

“Uh, I’m doing some last-minute Christmas shopping,” you said guiltily, “I know it’s like…in four days, but hear me out – I’ve had a really busy week at work.”

You glanced down at his name tag – David – and smiled when he waved your excuses off. “Trust me, I get it. What are you looking for?”

“Oh! I’m looking for David Bowie’s new album,” you said, “and Iron Maiden’s second to latest one.”

David led the way towards the back left corner and grinned. “That’s a curious mix,” he said, handing both tapes to you and walking back to the cashier. He rang them up slowly, his blue eyes darting up to yours. “Are they a gift for your boyfriend?”

“What?” You squeaked, hating how high your voice got when you were nervous. “N-no! One is for a friend and the other is for my cousin.”

“Ah,” he said, smile widening. “Good choices.”

“Thanks,” you said, handing over the money, “they both managed to break their copies so I thought getting new ones would be a good gift.”

“Thoughtful too,” he teased and you felt yourself get lost a little in his eyes. “Are you from around here?”

You fiddled with the end of your scarf and shook your head. “I moved here last year from New York, we have family in town,” you leaned forward, feeling a little bold, “but, Hawkins is growing on me.”

“Is it?” He asked, smiling hopefully. “I’m glad. It’s probably not much in comparison but I’m sure it’s glad you’re here.”

David handed you the bag and you blinked when his fingers bumped into yours. “Oh, well, um – thank you for your help,” you said, tugging your scarf around you tighter, “Merry Christmas!”

You’d only taken a few steps away from the counter when he called out, “Wait!”

Whipping around, your eyes widened as he hopped over the counter. Jesus, those jeans were tight. “What’s your name?” He asked.

You introduced yourself, smiling when he shook your hand formally. “Well, now that we know each other, officially, would you happen to be free tomorrow for dinner? I know it’s a few days until Christmas Eve and you don’t really know me, I’m a freshman at Indie State, but-”

“-yes!”

David trailed off and grinned so wide it almost split his face in two. “Cool, I’ll pick you up?”

“Yeah, yeah, sure,” you said, scribbling down your number on your receipt. You handed it to him and he pocketed it quickly. “Call me?”

He smiled bashfully, ears red, and you couldn’t help but find it endearing.

“Definitely. See you tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow,” he echoed, waving as you scurried out.

You all but ran to your car and threw yourself into the front seat. Hands on the steering wheel, you glanced back to the store and grinned. The bag in the seat next to you crinkled as the heat blasted and you looked down at the tapes. Eddie, your mind reminded you and the smile slipped off your face.

Shaking your head, you put the car into drive and sighed. You couldn’t always be trapped by your crush, eventually you’d need to move on. Eddie had never been yours. Just because he’d broken up with Chrissy almost two months ago now didn’t mean he’d be interested in you – or anyone. In fact, he’d probably never be. Eddie Munson was your friend. Besides, there wasn’t anything wrong with liking the attention someone else gave you. At least considering how fast your heart was beating.

Nodding to yourself, you turned onto Riverside Drive and decided to go to the mall. You’d need Robin and a new outfit for tomorrow.

The first signs that Eddie was slowly coming back to himself was the sudden resurgence of energy during campaigns. His smiles were easily given, eyes always flashing with mischief – and if you were being honest with yourself, you were relieved to see him finally revive.

“You’re still coming over, right?” Eddie asked, voice eager and loud.

You pulled on your new platform boots and smiled at the boost they gave you. They definitely weren’t walking shoes but they made your legs look longer. Robin had all but threatened you if you didn’t keep them. “Yes,” you said for the thousandth time, your phone cradled between your neck and your shoulder, “I’m just getting ready!”

“For what?” Eddie grunted; his voice muffled but clear. “Wheeler if you try to look at my notes one more time, I’m going to break your arm!”

Snorting, you looked at yourself in the mirror and nodded, satisfied with the meticulous planning you’d done. A small sigh escaped when you realized you were going on a date, an actual date. It’d been a while and you were excited.

Brushing your fingers along the soft fabric of your dress, you nodded to yourself. “The longer you bug me, the longer it’ll take me to get there,” you told him. Even on winter break, the guys got together to finish up the campaign they’d started weeks ago. You’d started sitting in on them in the hopes of getting used to how the game was played – although, even after all the times you’d sat in, you were still mostly confused. It didn’t matter, you were invested in the story and didn’t want to miss any twists.

“Don’t forget to bring your notebook, and a sweater – Henderson’s house is freezing,” he muttered.

“I will, Dad,” you huffed, picking up your bag, “I’ll be over in like twenty minutes.”

“Fine, ignore my worries. Freeze to death. Who am I but a stranger?” Eddie sighed dramatically.

You rolled your eyes and Eddie huffed. “Don’t roll your eyes at me young lady.”

Laughing at the drama in his voice, and happy it’d come back, you said goodbye and hung up. You knew he’d never let that go, which is why you were completely unsurprised when you knocked on Dustin’s door, he’d opened it with arms crossed.

Pushing past him, you shivered as you tugged your coat off and hung it up by the front door. “You hung up on me, Harrington,” he said, eyes narrowing playfully before they widened. You watched as they trailed down your new dress. You’d tried to steer a little away from your normal black wardrobe – Robin had been the one to pick the maroon color and insisted that David would love it.

“Anyone would,” she said, waggling her brows at your cleavage.

“Are you wearing heels?” Eddie asked, voice sounding strangled.

You glanced down at your shoes and nodded. “They’re boots,” you said, motioning to the light snow that was falling. Eddie’s face looked like you’d struck him over the head with a hammer. “What’s wrong with you? Does it look that bad?”

“I just didn’t know you were dressing up for campaigns now,” he stuttered, eyes still roaming. “You look great, you always do.”

Pleased at the unexpected compliment, you grinned. You grabbed your small notebook out of your bag, pulled your sweater around you, and nodded towards the basement. “Everyone else here?” You asked, walking down the steps without waiting for an answer.

A loud cheering greeted you as the guys grinned at your arrival. “Harrington’s here!” Jeff shouted. Mike held up his fist and you bumped it as you took your usual seat towards the end, next to Dustin and Gareth.

“I’m back, I’m back,” Dustin said, smiling when he saw you. “You’re here!”

“Hey Dusty,” you said, bumping your shoulder against his affectionately when he glared at you for using the off-limits nickname. “Merry almost Christmas!”

Dustin’s eyes narrowed as he took in your outfit but you just smiled. Eddie sat at the head of the table, as always, and avoided your gaze. “Everyone ready?”

“Let’s kick some ass,” Gareth said, slamming his hand onto the table.

Since you’d only started sitting in on the most recent campaign, so you were nowhere near ready to create a character – much less play – but you’d always known Eddie was a great DM. He lived for the theatrics of it, played into it entirely earnestly, and his excitement was contagious. You were sure it was mostly due to his effort that you never realized how much time had passed until you glanced at a clock.

“Fuck,” you said, scrambling to stand. Your back cracked as you stretched, having been leaning in while the group decided whether to proceed into the forest or through the mountains. Damn it, you were going to miss the big climax you knew Eddie was building towards.

“What? Snack break?” Jeff asked, blinking like he’d too been pulled out of a dream.

Feeling a little awkward, you chewed on your bottom lip before just deciding to be honest. “Uh, I actually have plans – soon. I didn’t want to miss this so I just came over already dressed.”

“You have plans during a campaign?” Gareth asked, looking mildly offended.

“I’ve got a date,” you said, feeling oddly bashful. Instead of the teasing you’d expected, you realized everyone’s eyes had darted to Eddie. Who, in turn, hadn’t noticed the looks and was blinking at you blankly.

“A date?” Dustin said eventually, clearing his throat. “Like a romantic date?”

Glancing at the group, all of them who were still watching Eddie warily, you hesitated. “Yeah?” You were confused now, brows furrowing. “You know, with dinner, kissing – hopefully.”

Jeff winced, eyes darting down to his notebook and you felt even more confused.

“A date?” Dustin repeated, sounding like a broken record.

Shit, why was it so tense? You smiled, pretending to joke, “Right, so when a boy likes a girl-”

“-who?” Eddie asked, reanimating. “Is it someone from school?”

At that, you snorted, “Absolutely not.  It was actually at the store you suggested!” You said, pulling your sweater on. “The one downtown?”

Eddie’s eyes narrowed. “The cashier? David? You’re going out on a date with that – with David?”

“Yeah!” You exclaimed. “He just sort of asked me out. I guess I’m a little nervous for it. Either way-”

“That’s why you’re all dressed up,” Mike said, eyes still darting towards Eddie. You rolled your eyes.

“Why did you say that like I look horrible normally?”

Mike straightened, looking panicked. “No! That’s not what I meant.” You laughed, only teasing, as you reapplied some of your lipstick in the nearest reflective mirror.

“So, how do I look?” You asked, twirling jokingly. The guys all blinked at you and you had to fight back a laugh at their awkward compliments. God, guys really were clueless about all this.

Well, that’s what you got for being the only girl of the group. “You look beautiful,” Eddie’s compliment rose above the rest. Your eyes snapped to his and you fought the sheepish smile that wanted to grow on your face. Of course he wasn’t making this easy for you.

“Yeah?” You said instead, transfixed by his guarded gaze.

He nodded, hair shifting as he did, and you smiled. “Thanks guys,” you said, clearing your throat. “I’ll see you guys at Eddie’s on Monday? To exchange gifts?”

They all nodded dumbly and you started for the stairs. Pausing at the top, you pulled your jacket on and made sure your hair was still in place. A flurry of sudden harsh whispers floated up the stairs, making you pause.

“You aren’t going to say anything?” “What the hell do you want me to say?” “Dude, you’re just going to let her go? After everything?” “What do you want me to do!”  “I don’t know, something! Anything!” “It’s gone on for too long man, if this isn’t a sign – I don’t know what you’re waiting for!” “It’s no use-”

The sound of your boots against your driveway felt very solemn. David’s car puttered as he drove off and you gave the car a last wave before climbing the rest of your way up to your door.

You sighed, rubbing at your temples. It hadn’t been a total disaster but, definitely not what you’d hoped. Flashes of him snapping at the waiters and theater usher made you wince. There were more than a few times where you’d gotten close to snapping at him for staring obviously at your chest. It was nice to be appreciated but Jesus, look at someone in the eyes when you’re talking to them.

Whatever, you thought, nothing gained, nothing lost. Ugh, all you wanted was a warm shower, some hot cocoa, and your bed. Walking up your long driveway, you startled when you saw someone sitting on your front porch.

Your parents weren’t home, they were off somewhere with your uncle until Christmas morning, and you were sure Steve had said something about dropping by some band party Robin was going to. The figure shifted and you realized you recognized the long hair.

“Eddie?” You called out, struggling to see him clearly in the dark. “Are you okay? What are you doing here?”

His head snapped up at the sound of your voice. “Hi,” he said, jumping to his feet and bouncing up and down. “Do you mind if we go in? I’ve been waiting for a while and I’m pretty sure my hands are frozen.”

“Shit, yeah, of course,” you opened your door and ushered him in. “Is Wayne okay? You knew I wasn’t home – why were you waiting?”

Eddie didn’t answer you, instead he ran a hand through his hair and you sighed. You knew his tells and he was nervous. Fuck, you hoped this wasn’t a Chrissy problem – he’d been getting better.

Shrugging your coat off, you hung it up in the front closet and groaned when you pulled off your shoes. Wiggling your toes against the cold floor, you sighed at the comfort of finally taking off heels at the end of the night.

“While you think this through,” you said, waving to him, “I’m going to go make us hot chocolate.”

You’d only taken a few steps towards the kitchen when Eddie’s hand shot out to yours. “Wait!”

“Eddie, please, it’s been a long night,” you sighed, really not sure your heart could handle hearing about girl problems right now, “if no one’s dying, you’re lucky I’m not drinking after that date.”

His eyes darted to yours. “It didn’t go well?” He asked, no longer pacing or jerking around like a live wire.

Shrugging, you perched on the edge of the sofa. “It wasn’t bad, he was just – a little rude to be honest,” you said, shaking your head, “definitely no second date but dinner was nice. I might make Steve take me back to try the carbonara.”

A tense silence followed your admission, most of it rolling off Eddie in waves. Shifting, you brought your hand up to your chin and frowned. What was so urgent that Eddie looked like he was ready to pass out? His eyes were focused on your shoes that you’d left haphazardly in the doorway. The sound of one of your neighbor’s garage doors opening was faintly audible and you tilted your head, realizing it was coming from Steve. Speak of the devil.

“I could take you,” Eddie blurted, eyes wide and panicked.

Not wanting to spook him even further, you nodded slowly like you were approaching a wild animal. “Yeah, sure, we could all go. I think Robin would love the tiramisu; it was amazing-”

“-I like you,” Eddie said, cutting you off. The Christmas lights he’d helped you hang in the living room bounced off his wide eyes and gave the room a warm glow. You hadn’t turned the main light on and you loved how cozy it made the house feel.

You blinked when Eddie repeated himself, like you hadn’t heard him. What was going on? You just wanted hot cocoa. “I like you too, weirdo,” you said, still half-thinking about the dessert and Christmas lights, “you’re my best friend.”

“I’m telling Robin you said that,” Eddie said automatically and you smiled. He shook his head suddenly. “Wait, no – I’m not, I don’t want to chicken out this time. Harrington, I like you.”

Eddie’s eyes finally met yours and you were struck by the severity of it. He swallowed visibly, his hands twitching like they wanted to reach out for you – for something – and he spoke again. “I like you.”

The words floated into the air and you watched them disperse. You knew Eddie better than anyone, you knew what he was saying and felt your heart drop into your stomach.

“Harrington, I like you.”

He really needed to stop saying that.

Because every time he did, you felt like someone was slapping you across the face. “That’s not funny,” you said, serious. Ignoring the fact that you knew Eddie wasn’t cruel enough to joke with you about that. Your brain couldn’t handle logistics when your heart felt like it was about to beat right out your fucking chest. Standing, feeling the itch to pace yourself, you mumbled, “That’s not a funny joke, Eddie.”

“I’m not joking,” his eyes softened like he knew you were panicking and you didn’t know what to do with that. You weren’t entirely sure you hadn’t entered an alternate dimension. “I think I always have, at least a little bit of me, since the first time we met. You’re so…you. It’s like you radiate fucking sunshine – I’m pretty sure that’s why everyone is drawn to you. I can’t believe you never noticed; the way people just gravitate into your space.”

Shocked into silence, a rare moment really, you sat back onto the sofa. What the hell was happening? He couldn’t be…he couldn’t.

Clearly unnerved by your sudden silence, Eddie continued. “I know it’s weird because we’re friends but I just, I can’t keep it in anymore. It’s selfish and Dustin told me that I needed to say something before you ended up engaged to some quarterback – Steve, well shit, don’t get me started on Steve. He said he’d kick my ass if I ever hurt you, which I understand – I’d say the same to any asshole trying to date someone who was like my sister-”

Quarterback? What? Steve? Dating?

“Eddie, I – I don’t know what you’re saying.”

He shook his head, as if that would stop the rambling. “Right sorry, the point is, I like you. A lot. A scary amount.” Your heart lurched forward, slamming against your ribcage.

You felt like someone had dumped a bucket of cold water over you. He wasn’t joking. Eddie wasn’t fucking joking. “Why didn’t you tell me?” You croaked.

He shot you a look and well, duh, you knew why. “The last girl I liked didn’t want anyone to know that we breathed the same air much less that she liked me too.”

You scrunched your nose, immediately offended. “You can’t possibly believe I’d be anything like her,” you said, not able to keep the venom out your voice. A little embarrassed at how easily it shot out, you wrung your hands but caught the amused glint in his eyes.

“No, you’re nothing like her,” he said quietly, “but it’s an explanation, why I kept quiet for so long. Why I let her stay in my orbit when I just wanted to spin around in yours. I thought I had time. I had planned – I wanted to – but then I pictured you driving off with that – that, cool sports car driving hair spray wearing guy and panicked a little.”

Still feeling like you were on one of those teacup rides, dazed and dizzy, you blinked up at him. “Eddie, are you sure?” You immediately heard how stupid the question sounded but, Jesus Christ, you really weren’t expecting this tonight.

To his credit, Eddie smiled at you patiently. His fingers inched towards yours and you let your hands unfurl from where they were clutching at the hem of your dress. You watched him trace the lines on your open palm, the touch sending shivers up your arm. His rings pressed comfortably into your skin and you fought to keep your breath even.

“You’ve always seen me, the real me, and made sure to let me know that you liked what you saw. Everyone else sees me and makes assumptions-”

“-to be fair we do have similar style-”

Eddie shushed you and you shot him an amused look.

“-but you never did. If you knew…the way you make me feel. I shouldn’t have stayed with her for so long, not when I’d already started to drift away. She made mistakes but, but I fucked up too,” he sighed, and you winced – the reality of how complicated this was hitting you. “Do you know that you mouth along to the words when you’re reading a book?”

Confused at the sudden turn of topic, you shook your head.

He smiled, eyes darting down to your lips and you felt something in your stomach curl. “There’s this little sigh you do, it’s my favorite one, when you sit on the picnic tables outside the cafeteria. You’ll prop your feet up and turn your face to the sun, close your eyes and sigh. Or this smile you have whenever you’ve helped us study and we get a good grade – it’s like you’re so proud of us, you have this innate ability to make people feel like they matter,” he laughed, eyes unfocused like he was lost in a memory. “Or the way you never walk by and let anyone who needs help be ignored. The way you’re just so fucking reckless and swing before thinking it through.”

Eddie’s thumb swiped across the back of your hand and you tightened your hold on him.

“You’re an enigma, a tornado that burst into Hawkins and completely upended my life. You’re one of my best friends and I can’t imagine life without you in it,” Eddie said, smiling at you like you weren’t two seconds away from a heart attack, “so yeah, Harrington, I’m sure.”

The quiet after his declaration was less tense but still heavy. Your eyes darted between his and you watched him as he waited patiently for you to gather your thoughts. Eddie never rushed you, not even in the small moments. You brought your finger out to trace his jaw and his eyes fluttered closed at the feeling of your touch. His skin was soft, stubble catching against your thumb as you brought it down to his bottom lip. Something in your stomach clenched when his eyes opened, pupils blown as your thumb caught his lip and pressed down lightly.

“Eddie,” you said quietly, as if afraid you’d shatter the moment with your volume.

He hummed, the sound so familiar and comforting, you couldn’t help but smile. Wetting your lips, you watched his eyes follow the motion and you felt a small ember ignite in your chest. If he was brave, you could be too.

“I like you too,” you said, feeling your heart crack open at the sight of his beaming answering smile. It reminded you of a sunrise and you felt it settle between your ribs, a feeling of permanence washing over you. This was going to change everything. And yet, despite the fear of being in freefall, you said it again. “I like you.”

Eddie’s shoulders dropped in relief, his sigh the loudest noise either of you had made since the start of this conversation. His forehead pressed against yours, eyes closing as he inhaled.

You exhaled, the anxiety in your veins ebbing away, returning back to its cave. With a small huff, a thought floated to the surface of your mind. “What?” Eddie asked, leaning back just a little.

“I’m pretty sure everyone knows already, about me at least,” you said, feeling slightly embarrassed.

“What?” He asked, confusion evident.

“Steve told me, a week into having moved here, that I needed to steer clear from you because you weren’t available. A week.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

Eddie crossed his arms, teasing glint rising in his eyes. “Why didn’t you ever say anything?”

“You were obviously preoccupied, I’m not blind,” you said, not able to keep the jealous hint out of your voice. Wincing at the sound of it, you sighed when Eddie smiled, looking pleased.

“We broke up on Halloween,” he said, taking your hands between his, “it’s almost Christmas.”

“Well, you could’ve said something too,” you huffed. Eddie shot you a look and you frowned. “I…if she was any indication of your type then I surely wouldn’t qualify,” you mumbled, you motioned to your dress, “I had to go out and buy this. I – you know what I look like normally.”

“You’re beautiful always,” Eddie breathed and you felt yourself grow flustered at the honesty in his eyes. A sudden thought bubbled to the forefront of your mind and you squeezed his hands.

“Eddie,” you said, watching as he intertwined your fingers together, the knot in your stomach taking root, “I can’t be the pit stop before you find someone else – someone like Chrissy. Our friendship won’t survive me being your rebound. I might not survive it.”

He shook his head before you stopped speaking. “I don’t want someone like Chrissy, I want you, exactly like you are,” Eddie breathed, his other hand coming up to your cheek, “I have for a while. If you…if you want me too, I’m in this. Totally, completely, head first.”

Eddie must’ve seen the hesitance in your eyes because he reached for your arm and tugged you into his. “Trust me to know what I want, trust what I’m saying – trust me,” he said, fingers tangling with your hair. “You’re not my rebound. Everyone else in my life was yours.”

At that, it finally sunk in.

Eddie liked you. Eddie liked you. Eddie liked you.

Shit, he might’ve broken your brain. This was a lot to process; a lot had happened today. “Eddie, are you sure?” You asked again, sounding like a skipping record.

Smiling patiently at you, he nodded. “Yeah, I’ve never been surer of anything.”

Despite your stomach feeling like it was at the top of a rollercoaster, you already knew your answer. “Okay,” you said. Because it really was that simple. It’d always been him.

“Okay?” Eddie echoed, confused.

You nodded. “Yeah.”

At that, a grin slowly grew on Eddie’s face. “So, I like you and you like me?” He said, the joke breaking the tension. Of course, you couldn’t expect anything less from him.

“This feels like we’re in middle school,” you huffed, amused.

He wiggled his brows. “Check yes if you want to go on a date with me?” Eddie teased again.

You planted your forehead on his chest and groaned. Eddie laughed, the vibrations of it crawling down your skin and sinking into your bones. He had a beautiful laugh, you thought.

Eddie pulled you closer into him, arms wrapped around your torso for a moment before he started nosing at your temple. “Can I kiss you?” He whispered.

“Hell yes,” you said, surging up and pressing your lips against his before he could move. You felt his answering smile against your lips and soon you had to lean back because you were both grinning. Eddie’s grip didn’t let you get too fair. 

“Not so fast,” he said, pulling you back into him, “that didn’t count.”

Before you could make a joke, Eddie’s lips descended. He herded you towards the nearest wall and you shivered against the sudden lack of warmth. With a sharp nip to your bottom lip, he swallowed your gasp and used the moment to slip beyond your lips. You playfully fought for the upper hand but was quickly pressed harder into the wall. Eddie’s hand on your hip gripped you tightly, like you were the only thing anchoring him to the moment. His other hand slid up the length of your body and settled at your neck, possessively.

Your fingers were wrapped around the lapels of his leather jacket, clenched tightly as his leg slipped between yours and you groaned when he pressed into you. Not wanting to be left behind, you released one fistful of leather and snuck a cold hand underneath the hem of his Hellfire shirt. He hissed as your hand warmed from his heated skin and you let your nails scrape lightly against his waist. “Ah, alright, you win,” he said, eyes wild. You grinned; a little punch drunk off the fact that you had this effect on him.

“Can I ask you for a favor?” Eddie said. Nodding, you brought your lips down to his neck – tongue lapping at the muscle like you’d always wanted to do. Shuddering, Eddie’s grip turned vice like and you laughed lightly. “It’s hard to formulate thoughts when you do that.”

“Is it now?” Eddie shot you a heated look and you leaned back. “What did you want?”

“Could we…keep this a secret until we’re back at school next week?”

And just like that, your heart dropped to your feet. Pushing him away, Eddie scrambled forward, already realizing his mistake. “Wait, no, that came out wrong.”

You tried to shake off his hold but you’d reacted too slowly. Within seconds you were back, entangled in each other, with Eddie’s chest rising quickly.

“I’m sorry, I should’ve said that better,” he said, ducking to catch your eyes. “Our friends have a bet going on when we’ll get together. Robin and Max are the last ones at New Year’s. I don’t want to give any of them the satisfaction.” He shrugged, looking a little pink. “I know they’ll be relentless too, insufferable really, and I want it to be just us just for a little. Without our friends being assholes.”

“Oh,” you breathed, relief evident.

Eddie’s face softened into something apologetic and he bumped his nose with yours. “I’d let everyone know that I like you if I could,” he said, “but considering we were the last to realize, I wouldn’t be surprised it they all already knew.”

Your heart jumped into his hands willingly, you watched him curl his fingers around it, like he’d protect it with his life. And you…trusted him to. Smiling at his earnest expression, you nodded. “Yeah, Eddie, I don’t mind.”

Sorry, girl, but you missed out. Well, tough, luck that boy's mine now. We are more than just good friends. This is how the story ends.

You’d barely managed to make your way down to an empty kitchen when the phone rang. Wincing, you glared at it from across the room. Why had this phone always had such a shrill sound? As you padded towards it, you glanced out the west window to see Steve’s curtains pulled tightly. Maybe you should bring him some breakfast.

“Hello?” Your voice sounded like gravel.

“Hey.”

Eddie, your heart jumped in recognition. “Good morning, Sugar,” you said, leaning your hip against the wall.

Eddie’s chuckle warmed you and you closed your eyes. “I miss you,” he said without preamble and you bit back a grin.

“You just saw me a few hours ago,” you reminded him. After your disastrous date last night, and the subsequent make out session you’d had, Eddie hadn’t left your house until two in the morning.

“Doesn’t matter,” he insisted and you could see him huffing in your mind, “I’m pretty sure you’re supposed to be cool and wait two days or something before calling the girl you’re trying to ask on a date.”

Laughing, you could feel his answering grin from over the phone. “Being cool is overrated,” you said.

“That’s what I thought too. Besides, when the girl you’re dating has already witnessed most of your embarrassing moments, what’s the point in playing it cool?”

“I wouldn’t say most, you still have room for a few more,” you teased, grinning when he protested. You tightened your grip on the phone and glanced at the clock. “How much time do I have before you’re in my driveway?”

“Is two hours too soon?” He asked a little hesitantly and you shook your head like he could see you.

“No, that’s actually perfect.”

“Great,” he said, “see you soon.”

An hour and half later, your doorbell echoed in the empty house. You gave your hair one last glance before hurrying down the steps. Flinging the door open, Eddie wa leaning against one of the columns.

“Hey beautiful,” he said, eyes meeting yours. You beamed, reaching for his hand and pulling him into the foyer.

Giving him a short kiss, you let him pull you into his arms for a hug. Tucking yourself into his neck, his black scarf soft and warm, you smiled again. “What?” He asked.

“Nothing, I just missed you too,” you admitted, laughing when he exclaimed. Extracting yourself from his hold, you pulled on your warmest boots and coat. Hesitating at the sight of your scarf, you turned to Eddie. “Want to swap?” You asked.

He raised his brow and you motioned to your light gray knitted scarf. “I like the way yours smells,” you admitted, liking the way Eddie’s face flushed – pleased.

“Sure,” he said, unraveling the garment from his neck. As he looped it over yours, you let him tuck it tightly against you, a kiss pressing to your temple before stepping back.

“Holy shit, what – are those-”

Eddie’s hand came up to pull the neckline of his shirt down further and you followed the expanse of his once pale skin. Bruises mottled the column of his neck and you gaped. “Did I?”

“Mark your territory?” Eddie joked, breath going shallow when you trailed your fingertips over them. “Yeah. It was fun explaining them to Wayne this morning over breakfast.”

“Oh my God,” you whipped your eyes to his. “Does he know-”

“-that you were the one staking your claim? Yeah.”

“Eddie!”

At that he laughed, that stupidly beautiful laugh and you felt your organs turn into mush. He shook his head and wrapped your scarf around his neck, hiding away the evidence of last night. “He spent most of the morning telling me not to mess it up,” he said, pulling you in by your belt loops. “Apparently, you have my uncle’s full approval.”

Flustered, you fiddled with the scarf around his neck until Eddie pressed a quick kiss to your lips. You chased after him, feeling lightheaded and filled with butterflies.

“We’re going to miss it if you don’t stop tempting me,” Eddie said, nipping at the sensitive skin underneath your jaw a few frantic minutes later.

“Miss what?” You breathed, eyes fluttering.

Eddie exhaled deeply, pulled his hands out from under your sweater and smoothed it against your torso. With fumbling fingers, he zipped you up tightly. “Come on, you’ll see.”

You laughed as he pulled you eagerly to his van, nose turning red in the cold weather. A few minutes later you blinked as you passed the ‘You’re leaving Hawkins, visit us again soon!’ sign.

“Is this all an elaborate plan to kidnap me?” You asked, eyes turning to his profile.

“Obviously,” Eddie answered, grinning. “It’s only a few minutes out of town – you’re right at the edge of it.”

True to his word, a few minutes later, Eddie parked next to what looked like a massive Christmas festival. As soon as you opened your door, the smell of peppermint and gingerbread wafted over to you. “That smells amazing,” you said immediately.

“Wayne used to bring me here,” Eddie said, intertwining your fingers. He brought your cold hands between his and rubbed them. “I loved looking through all the stands. My mom she – uh, she loved Christmas.”

“I love it,” you said, grinning brightly before pointing to a cookie stall. “Can we go there first, please? The smell is killing me.”

Eddie laughed, pulling you along towards the crowded vendor. “The sugar cookies are the best ones,” Eddie said.

“What?” You sputtered. “Chocolate chip cookies are a classic, who are you?”

“Sugar cookies are underrated!”

You rolled your eyes. “How did I not know this about you? I’m on a date with a sugar cookie apologist.”

Eddie clutched as his chest, eyes bright, and mouth twisting into a dramatic gasp. “Take that back!”

Ready to quip back, you heard someone call your name. Turning to your left, you smiled when you saw your classmate. “Hey Brian!” You waved. As he broke off from his group, you felt Eddie drop your hand as he came closer.

Frowning, you looked up at him, mildly confused, when you saw a flash of panic bleed into his gaze.

“Oh my god, it’s so cold,” Brian said, hugging you in greeting. He waved at Eddie a little sheepishly. “Sorry for interrupting, I just haven’t seen you all break! We wanted to go to the new bookstore downtown remember?”

Leaning over to tuck yourself under Eddie’s arm, you picked up his left hand and brought it around to your left shoulder. “I know! I’m so sorry, can I call you tonight? We can bring Amanda and see if we can find that book she wanted!”

“It’d be a good present,” he whispered, leaning in, “I haven’t gotten her anything yet!”

You laughed. “Brian!” You both knew she’d bought him his favorite album last month.

“It’s been a long month,” he said, grinning, “anyway, I’ll see soon!” He jogged back to his friends and you turned back to the line.

“So, we were talking about how wrong you were about chocolate chip?” You were met with an amused silence and you could feel his eyes on you.

“I know what you’re doing,” Eddie said, amused, pulling you in tighter to him.

With a small smile, you reached out to pick up a few wrapped cookies for Steve and Robin. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you said, paying and putting them gently into your bag.

If you needed to cling to his side the entire year to help him realize you didn’t care, in fact, you actively enjoyed it – it was a cross you were willing to bare.

“Mhmm,” Eddie hummed, kissing your temple, “did you want to stake another claim or was that one enough?”

Ignoring his teasing, you pulled him along to the next stall. “I do have a question though,” you said, slipping your gloved hand into his. “Did you want me to stop calling you Sugar?”

Eddie frowned. “No, what? Why?”

You hesitated. “Well, because of how it came about,” you said tentatively, “I was always just teasing when I used it.”

Eddie’s face looked a little flushed as he avoided your gaze. “I like it,” he admitted, “it doesn’t have anything to do with anyone but us. It’s our inside joke and I wouldn’t want you to change it now.”

“I just wanted to be sure,” you said, squeezing his hand.

“I do – but – I also want something to call you,” Eddie said, tugging you along to the next vendor.

You wrinkled your nose at him. “Isn’t my name good enough?” Eddie rolled his eyes.

“What about one that matches yours? Cupcake? Cookie?” Eddie snickered at the sight of your expression. “My little honeybun?” Eddie said, barely containing your laughter as his options got more and more ridiculous.

“Oh my God, if you call me honeybun I will never speak to you again,” you threatened.

Eddie laughed and you stuck your tongue out before approaching a flower stand. The red roses were beautiful, reminiscent of the ones you knew your dad gave your mother at every holiday. A flash of purple caught your eye, hidden beneath a bunch of lilies. Reaching for the smaller bouquet, you realized they were wildflowers.

They were a little wilted, small, but the purple and orange petals stood out amongst the red of the Christmas themed flowers. A short, older woman sitting in a chair wrapped up in blankets smiled at you. “Those arrangements are left over from an order we had that fell through. They’re not worth much, I’ll give you a good discount if you want.” Fingers tracing the bloom of the small orange flower, you nodded. They’d look nice on your desk. You reached for your wallet but Eddie was already handing over money.

“Eddie, wait, no-” Eddie waved away your protests and dropped a few bills into the tip jar. The woman beamed at him and you sighed. “I was going to buy them for myself.”

“Too slow,” Eddie teased, kissing your cheek. When you opened your mouth to protest, Eddie sighed, “Don’t deny me the right to buy you flowers.”

“The right?” You repeated, raising a brow.

Eddie nodded, carefully packing the flowers into your tote bag. “Just say thank you.”

“Thank you, Eddie,” you said with an eye roll. You glanced at the bits of purple peeking out from the top of your bag and smiled. You’d never had anyone buy you flowers.

“They’re pretty,” he said with a smile, his eyes lighting up, “what about Petal?”

You scrunched your nose but laughed at Eddie’s eager expression. “Isn’t Sugar embarrassing enough? You want to add calling me Petal to that? You want to be that couple?” You asked, exasperated.

“Yes! We’re steering into it,” Eddie said, clearly having made a decision. Petal, you thought over, liking it but not wanting to give him the satisfaction of giving in too easily.

“Most boyfriend’s call their girlfriend something cute like baby, darling, sweetheart,” you said, turning to pretend and read a vendor’s signs to hide your smile.

Instead of the returning quip you expected, you turned to see Eddie staring at you meaningfully, a brow quirked. “Boyfriend, huh?”

Jesus Christ Harrington, you groaned internally, eyes closing. It was your first date for fuck’s sake. You hadn’t even gotten past first base and you were already fucking it up.

“I’m just messing with you,” Eddie hurried to promise, realizing you were curling into yourself in mortification. “I swear.”

“I’m sorry?” You stammered, unsure and not knowing how to get yourself out the hole you’d dug.

“Don’t be,” Eddie assured you, looking hesitant. “I’d…like that if you would.”

You opened one eye. “Really?”

Eddie laughed, arm coming back around your waist, both of you getting as close as you could with all the layers you had on. “Yeah, your ability to always say exactly what’s on your mind is one of the things I like the most about you,” he explained, smiling when you raised your brows, “and it’s us. We’re still just us, making up the rules to whatever we want. Yeah?”

Something that felt a lot like relief bloomed in your chest. “Yeah,” you said.

“Good,” he said, “cool.”

“Cool.”

Without hesitating, you pulled his face down to yours and kissed him soundly. “Was that clear enough?” His eyes stayed closed, a little dazed, for a moment.

Eddie pretended to think before shaking his head. “Not yet, let’s try a few more times so it can be really clear.”

You laughed and let him kiss your jaw, head tilting to give him more space. His lips landed on your ear, his teeth nipping at your earlobe and the coil within you standing at attention. “You’re cold,” he said, voice low. You watched him pull his beanie off and pull it over your own head.

He pulled you towards a hot chocolate stand. “Hi! What would y’all like to order?”

Eddie turned to you, brows rising. “Petal?” He asked, wiggling his brows, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

You grinned, shaking your head at his blatant amusement at the new cheesy nickname. “A peppermint hot chocolate please, with whipped cream.”

“Now that winter break is over, does that mean we win the bet?” You asked Eddie, his fingers intertwining with yours as you both emerged from his van and crossed the parking lot. The skin on your neck stung as the cold air rushed to meet you, Eddie’s teeth had no doubt left a mark. You’d barely gotten out your car when Eddie pounced on you a few minutes ago. “We could go to dinner with the winning pool.”

Eddie laughed, “I like the way you think,” he said, squeezing your hand and using the other to tighten your scarf – it was still wrapped around his neck. You’d both had conveniently forgotten to return them, since his was tucked into your bag.

“Who do you think is going to make the biggest deal about it?” You wondered out loud, already knowing the answer.

Sharing a look, Eddie snorted. “Henderson’s locker is right by yours. I wouldn’t be surprised if-”

“Eddie!”

You grinned. “Speak of the devil,” you said, moving to let go of Eddie’s hand. With an exaggerated pout, he reached for your hand and pointedly intertwined your fingers together.

“Where the hell were you going?” Eddie asked, tugging you closer. Laughter spilled from you, surprised and caught off guard.

“I thought you’d want to head over to him while I went to my locker. Our first periods are on opposite ends of the school,” you reminded him, bringing your joined hands up to kiss his knuckles.

His eyes softened from teasing into something that made the butterflies in your stomach swarm. “What’s one more tardy?” He said, kissing the corner of your mouth. Eddie’s hand came up to the back of your neck and pulled you in closer until –

“Holy shit, holy shit, YOU GUYS IT FINALLY HAPPENED,” a very Dustin-sounding voice shrieked.

Eddie laughed and his breath minty from the gum he’d stolen off of you. “Henderson.”

Dustin skidded towards you, his eyes wide and shocked. “I win!” He pumped his fist into the air.

The rest of them followed, looking annoyed. “You couldn’t have moved faster?” Gareth grumbled, sliding a victorious looking Dustin a ten-dollar bill.

“I’m sorry, what’s happening here?” You asked, narrowing your eyes at them. “You were betting on us?”

Eddie buried his face into your hair and you felt his silent laughter as everyone sputtered. 

Everyone started backtracking, gazes avoiding you, mumbling together. “In our defense, you two were the only blinds one here,” Dustin said, crossing his arms. “Even the Drama club asked me if you two were dating.”

“What?” You said, genuinely floored.

“Duh!” Mike said, throwing his hands up.

Jeff nodded, pointing at Eddie. “Since the day the new year started, he’s only ever been able to focus on you in a room.”

“Hey,” Eddie huffed. “It’s not my fault I have a small attention span.”

Gareth snorted. “Yeah, that’s why you couldn’t take your eyes off her bu-”

“Alright!” Eddie snapped.

Amused beyond reason, you turned to Eddie who was flushed a brilliant red. “Edward.”

“I plead the fifth,” he muttered. You squeezed his hand, wanting to tease him further when Mike snorted.

“She’s not any better,” he said, crossing his arms. “Have you tried to get her to study effectively when Eddie was there? She spent half the time staring at him.”

You felt Eddie’s gaze on you but you were too busy glaring at Mike, who had the decency to look a little worried. Lucas snorted.

“Whatever, he’s hot, I can stare at my boyfriend if I want to,” you said petulantly, ignoring Eddie’s delighted laugh.

“Say it again,” he said, a little too zealous – you almost tripped as he pulled you toward him.

Confused for a moment, you smiled gently at him when you realized. “Boyfriend?” You said quietly. “I can stare at my boyfriend whenever I want to.”

“Yeah, you can,” he said and you rolled your eyes. Pulling him down for a kiss, you ignored your friends’ gagging noises - and for their sakes - kept the kiss short.

“Which reminds me,” Eddie said, leaning over to rip the money from Dustin’s hand.

“What! Hey! Give that back!”

Eddie tucked it into his jacket and shook his head. “We didn’t start dating until right before Christmas. So technically, you were all wrong. And shitty for betting on your friends.”

“Nancy was in it too!” Mike said, ever the younger brother.

Max grinned, her nose turned up into the air. “I wasn’t.” You shot her a grateful look.

Eddie shot him a glare and the group looked chagrined. Their gazes downward and wide, you rolled your eyes. “Alright, enough with the sad puppy looks.”

The bell rung, startling you all, and you frowned. “I’ve got to get my English textbook,” you said, “I’ll see you for lunch?”

Eddie sighed when you nudged him in the opposite direction. “How will I ever survive?”

“God, they’re nauseating.” You whipped your glare around to Mike, who scurried away.

“Yeah,” you said, “meet by my locker?”

Eddie nodded, kissing your cheek once more before jogging after Mike.  

Despite Robin and Nancy’s endless teasing, you managed to make it to lunch. Shoving your bag into your locker, you struggled with your Physics textbook – grinning in triumph when it finally fit into place. A pair of arms snaked around your waist and pulled you backward. Caught totally off guard, you shrieked, smacking the arms when you recognized Eddie’s laughter.

“You scared the shit out of me,” you huffed, pushing your hair out of your face.

“Aw, did little Harrington get scared?” Eddie teased, tilting your chin up so he could kiss you. Letting him, because you didn’t hate yourself that much, you nipped at his bottom lip in retaliation.

Eddie snorted, leaning against the locker next to yours, watching you organize everything for your last few classes. He was mid-story about a student getting kicked out of his second period class when you almost went flying into your locker. Eddie’s hands came up quickly to steady you, his eyes narrowing. Whirling around, you caught a familiar blonde head snickering with his two lackeys.

“I see you two finally decided to make it official, can I ask – how do you decide who gets to bottom?” Jason sneered.

Without thinking twice, you grabbed the baseball you had sitting at the bottom of your locker and launched it across the hallway towards his head. Shrieking, Jason jumped out the way at the last minute and the ball slammed loudly into the wall behind him.

“Nice arm,” Eddie whistled, appreciative eyes falling on you.

“Thanks,” you huffed, shoving your hair out your face. “Keep fucking with me, and I’ll rearrange your goddamn face, Carver. That goes for all of you,” you hissed.

Swinging his arm around your shoulders, Eddie straightened to his full height. “I wouldn’t mess with her if I were you,” he added.

“Whatever, fucking weirdos,” Jason spat, stalking down the hallway towards his own locker.

Jesus, what an inferiority complex.

Before you could go and recover your baseball, the bell rang and the hallway flooded with students running to the cafeteria. Eddie wasted no time in herding you towards your locker, his shoulders blocking out the rest of the busy hallway and you tilted your head up to look at him.

“Any regrets yet?” You asked, rolling your eyes at the idea of Jason and his entourage.

Eddie grinned, his eyes darkening. “Considering that was pretty hot, no. I’m good,” you laughed, “I mean besides being interested in a girl who doesn’t like Iron Maiden obviously.”

You pinched his side and he jumped, rubbing at the skin “I’m joking! Don’t bully me next!” Eddie pretended to cower but stopped to quirk his brow. “I mean, if you’re into that I don’t mind being the bottom…”

“I’ll accept an apology,” you interrupted him, ignoring his wiggling brows, your own growing interest, and his widening smile.

Eddie placed his hands on either side of your neck and tilted your head up. His swiped his tongue along your lip, his chest pressing against yours the deeper the kiss got. Your hand had started to wander when a loud wolf whistle broke you apart. Without looking, Eddie flipped off two grinning faces as they walked past you both. “When you come up for air, remember we sit at the back of the cafeteria,” Gareth joked, laughing with Jeff as they disappeared around the corner.

Nodding towards the corner, Eddie did a poor job of hiding his grin. “Let me put some books away and we can go get lunch?” You nodded, out of breath, and realized that most of the hallway had emptied while you’d been preoccupied. Eddie kissed you quickly once more before jogging off.

Smiling to yourself, you placed a hand to your lips and glanced around the hall. Your eyes caught a set of familiar blue ones staring at you. Chrissy startled, her eyes widening when she realized you were staring back. Despite everything, you couldn’t help but feel a little bad. Just a little. She glanced over her shoulder before shooting you a small, sad, smile.

You looked down the hall for Eddie and when you didn’t see him, you nodded at her. After a second, she nodded back, the grip on her books tightening before she was tucked under Jason’s arm.

“Ready?” Eddie’s voice scaring you. He raised a brow at your sudden jumpiness and you huffed.

Turning back around to see her blonde ponytail swishing as she walked towards the cafeteria, you turned back to Eddie, his eyes on you. “Yeah, I’m starving – let’s go.”

“You know, I didn’t think I’d be hauling music equipment into a dirty bar for our two-month anniversary,” you told Eddie, wiping your forehead with the back of your hand.

Freezing, Eddie raised his head to look up at you from where he was squatting by the amp. “Uh-”

“I’m fucking with you,” you said, laughing at his blatant relief, “we’re not the type of people who celebrate monthly anniversaries.”

“I mean,” Jeff said, looking at you both doubtfully. You narrowed your eyes at him and he shrugged. “What? You two are practically fused at the hip.”

“To be fair, they were like that before,” Dustin added, Mike and Lucas nodding next to him. Max pushed the front door open and waved to Rick. He pushed a Dr. Pepper onto the bar and she grinned.

“Hey Eddie!” Rick shouted, waving the phone at the bar in the air. “It’s Gareth!”

You exchanged a look with Eddie. Gareth had said he felt like he was catching something but promised he’d make it to the show tonight. Rick had managed to print a few flyers and the Friday slot seemed to always get the most attendances now. There was no way they could miss one.

“Fuck,” Eddie said, hanging up and leaning his head against the bar. “Gareth’s got food poisoning.”

Jeff’s shoulder slumped; his groan audible as he pinched the bridge between his eyes. “Shit, what are we gonna do?”

“What about his brother? Isn’t he in town?”

You shook your head. “John knows how to play bass not drums!”

Eddie swore again, slumping down into the seat next to Max. She patted his shoulder awkwardly when he groaned.

“We have arrived for your transportation needs,” Steve said, Robin rolling her eyes at his side.

“Technically we’re a little late to being early but we’re still here before opening,” Robin said, teasing tone trailing off when she noticed Jeff, Gareth, and Liam’s slumped figures. “Uh, what happened?”

“We don’t have a drummer, he’s sick.”

Robin whistled. “On a Friday? Fuck.”

“I know,” Eddie said, voice muffled from where he had his face buried in his arms.

“Can’t you do it?” Steve asked, his gaze turning to you.

You widened your eyes, shaking your head and freezing when Eddie popped his head up. “You who? You me?”

Steve rolled his eyes. “No, you – her,” he said, pointing to you despite your clear glare.

“You can play drums? I thought you knew some guitar,” he said, brows rising in genuine surprise.

Everyone’s heads whirled around to you and as the only one left on stage, you felt your shoulders rise up – tense. “Uh, no, you assumed I played guitar. I just told you I played an instrument, like in September.”

“Dude,” Dustin snorted, “you don’t know what instrument your girlfriend plays?”

Eddie bristled. “She never mentioned it!”

“That’s true,” you said, backing him up, “I haven’t played since…”

Steve snorted and you shot him a death glare. He immediately silenced, raising his hands up high. “I was laughing at a joke Robin said,” he said lamely.

Robin quirked her brow, crossed her arms and shook her head. “You’re on your own, Dingus.”

“Doesn’t it take like a few weeks at least for a musician to learn a song? Even if she can play, she can’t just do it,” Max said, smiling when you shot her a grateful look.

“I mean, if she’s been at all their practices, she’d probably know them well enough,” Dustin said.

You did know them, at least most of them. They had a few new covers that were too advanced for you but Gareth had always let you sneak in a few minutes during break for you to play on his set. Eddie’s hand came out to touch your ankle and you looked down. “Hey, it’s okay, you don’t need to.”

Shit.

“Okay, full disclosure, I have pretty bad stage fright. I played at a talent show,” you shot Steve a murderous look, “and it didn’t end well. Let’s just say, I may or may not have puked on my guitar player who then slipped and knocked over our lead singer.”

“Like bowling pins,” Steve whispered, “in front of the whole school.”

You closed your eyes and tried to stomp down on the memory of you running off the stage and crying in the bathroom. Steve, who had been visiting, with your other cousin had been the ones to find you and eventually coax you out. “You don’t have to,” Eddie said, climbing up onto the stage with ease. His arm wrapped around your back and you let him pull you in close. “Seriously, it’s not the end of the world if we miss one night.”

Inhaling deeply, you eyed the drum set behind you and cursed. “Fuck it, I’ll do it. I’ll need to run through the set list and tell you which ones I don’t know.”

Jeff, Liam, and Dustin – as Corroded Coffin’s manager – all scrambled to help. While they ran circles around you both, Dustin screaming for some drummer sticks, you felt Eddie’s lips on your shoulder. “Petal, I’m serious. You don’t have to.”

“I know,” you said, turning to wrap your own arms around him, “but I want to.”

You were rewarded with his sunrise smile and soft kiss. “How have we known each other for this long and I didn’t know you played drums?”

Shrugging, you pulled him back in for another kiss by the collar and sighed. “Because it’s mortifying. I get all sweaty and nervous, wait, is what I’m wearing okay?”

Eddie laughed, the sound going straight to your stomach, and nodded. “You look beautiful.”

“Alright,” you huffed, pulling up every ounce of courage from deep within you, “fuck it, let’s do it.”

“Wait,” Liam said, waving a hand up, “Gareth did backup vocals on some of the covers. Do you want Jeff to pick those up?”

Eddie nodded, turning to Jeff who now looked a little nervous himself.

“I can do it,” you sighed, again.

This time, everyone balked. “You can sing?” Eddie added, looking like he was trying to remember the numerous car rides where you both screamed along to the radio.

“Barely,” you said, walking towards the drum set. “I sang with you once.”

“With me?” Eddie squawked.

“Back in early November, I picked you up – piss drunk, remember?”

Eddie squinted. “I remember Wayne telling me you’d dropped me off but uh, no. I’d remember if you sang to me.”

“We sang along to the radio, Sugar,” your mouth twisting into a smile, “Madonna. You knew all the words.”

Jeff snorted, quieting when a red-faced Eddie turned to glare at him.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Eddie said, swinging his guitar over his torso.

You glanced towards Liam and both of you looked like you were ready to bust into laughter. “Sure, Munson, suuure.”

“I don’t!”

He's just a boy, and I'm just a girl. Can I make it any more obvious? We are in love, haven't you heard? How we rock each other's world.

“So, are we going to talk about it at some point?” Eddie asked, his foot coming to nudge yours.

You knew what he was talking about but you turned to smile at him. “About how embarrassingly into me you are?” You teased, kissing the edge of his jaw.

Eddie rolled his eyes and tugged you closer onto his lap. “About that Columbia application I saw you pretend not to fill out that day in the library months ago.”

Shit.

“Jeff’s acceptance to Hofstra was sent out last week and you’ve been acting weird since two weeks ago so I’m assuming…”

Feeling guilty for having hidden it from him, even if it was just until you could wrap your own head around it, you jumped up from his lap and plucked the papers from between your bookshelf. Handing the envelope to Eddie, he read through the first page and beamed up at you. “Petal, you did it, you got in!”

“I know,” you said, smile creeping out from beneath your anxiety. “I got into Indie State too and a few others closer to Hawkins.”

Eddie’s brows pinched together when he glanced at you. “Why?”

Because you’re here. The words went unsaid but you knew Eddie had heard them anyway.

“Oh, hey, no,” Eddie tugged on your arm until you went tumbling into his lap and sighed. “One of the first things you ever told me was that you hated it here.”

“I didn’t know I’d end up actually liking it!” You defended quickly. Eddie shot you a look and you grumbled.

His fingers danced across your cheekbone, his eyes flickering back and forth between yours, and sighed. “I guess I should’ve told you about this sooner but it felt a little like I was being smothering-”

“Eddie.”

He let his eyes lower to your intertwined fingers and chewed on his lip until you elbowed him. “Wayne says he knows a few people out there who’d give me a job if I wanted one. He used to live in Connecticut because of his old job.”

“Out there?” You asked, confused. Did he mean in New York?

Eddie smiled, curling one of his fingers around your hair gently. “I got in to a community college there too.”

Mind blank, brain frozen, your hands scrambled for his own. “Are you saying you’d move with me?” You couldn’t ask him to do that, there’s no way. You’d known that showing your parents your acceptance letter would solidify their desire for you to go – especially your dad. There would be no way he’d let a chance like that slip by. His only daughter at an Ivy League? Your fate would be sealed. But, you knew your new life here was special, something you’d never expected. And Eddie…

“What about Corroded Coffin?” You asked quietly, nerves twining up your legs like vines. “I can’t let you leave that behind for me.”

“It’s not a permanent good bye,” Eddie assured you, “Gareth is going out to California, Jeff will be a few hours away from us, Liam’s a train ride away in Baltimore. They said they were willing to make the trip in if whenever we decided to start up again.”

“But Gareth-”

“-said you could take his place until he’s back,” Eddie laughed when you scrunched your nose. “Hey, he’s not wrong – that song you wrote for us last month was a big hit at the Hide Out.”

Crossing your arms, you turned your scrutinizing glare towards him. “Eddie, are you sure? I don’t want you to end up regretting this. Regretting…me.”

“Hey, that’s not possible,” he assured you, his nose coming up to nudge yours. “You’re one to talk. Indie State? This town will snuff out that light of yours. No way I’d let that happen. Besides, I’ve always wanted to go to the Big Apple.”

“What about Wayne?” He was the only stable, present, family member either of you had at this point.

Eddie grinned, his hand inching up to your neck. “He said if I show him a diploma after four years, he’ll consider making his own way up there. Said something about not wanting to miss his only son’s life.”

Happiness burst within your chest, its tendrils reaching out towards Eddie and pulling him in tightly into their hold. How could your life have flipped completely around in just under a year? You released Eddie from your tight hug and leaned back to search his face for any hesitation.

“If you want to stay, we’ll stay,” Eddie said softly, his lips reaching up towards you for a kiss. “We can do long distance for a while if you want, I don’t mind. You’re…”

Eddie’s expression morphed into something serious and a little hesitant. His fingers dug into your thigh, bruising almost. “I love you,” he said, his brown eyes burning you, “I love you and even though it’s only been a few months, I know we have something special. I’ll be wherever you want me to be, until you don’t. Okay?”

“Yeah,” you said, feeling tears burn at the back of your eyes – no one had ever told you they loved you before - “okay.”

With a beaming smile, Eddie surged up and captured your mouth with his. The kiss turned heated quickly, both of your hands scrambling and tugging at clothes. It wasn’t until hours later, both of you sprawled on your bed, skin sticky and hearts full, that Eddie huffed.

“Again?” You asked incredulously, eyes half closed. “Let me take a nap first and I promise I’ll do that thing you like.”

Eddie’s laughter filled your room, and your chest, and you couldn’t help but smile at the sound of it. You never could. “What?”

“I was going to say that I just realized you didn’t say it back,” he hummed, fingertips trailing down your spine.

You knew he’d been waiting to bring that up. With a smile, you lifted yourself up onto your forearm and looked at him.

Eddie’s hair was damp, bangs stuck onto his forehead, the curls wildly sprawled onto your pillow.  His gaze was soft, teasing, and held enough interest in them to make heat pool in your stomach.

“I love you, Eddie Munson, how could I not?”

You had first fallen a little bit in love with Eddie because of his laughter but the brilliant smile that beamed at you now let you know it was racing against the former for the special spot in your heart. It made you feel like you’d burst at the seams, like it wasn’t possible to be this happy.

“We can nap when we’re dead,” Eddie said, his hands pushing you onto your back and his hair curtaining around you.

“Eddie,” you gasped, his fingers already pressing lightly at the bruises on your thighs. He dropped open mouthed kisses to your neck, his teeth scraping against the sensitive skin at the corner of your jaw. Your skin felt like it was on fire, his trail of kisses making the butterflies in your stomach flutter frantically. His lips swallowed down your moan and his hand trailed up higher. The coil within you tightened with every move, your eyes starting to roll when his mouth joined his hand. He lapped at your center, fingers twisting, rubbing just right -

Then, he stopped. “Say it again,” Eddie teased, fingers stilling. You grunted, annoyed at the edge he was holding you over. “Please, Petal? For me?”

Desperate, you whined. “I love you, I love you so much,” you said, words stumbling over each other. “I think I’ll love you forever.”

Eddie leaned back, eyes a little surprised, and you felt suddenly a lot more vulnerable than you’d meant to get. Then, like a man starved, he pulled the sheet from between you.

“Fuck, I love you.”

You were almost positive, considering Steve’s disgusted expression that night at dinner, that the whole neighborhood had heard your screams.

The joints in your knees cried for relief as you climbed up the third-floor walkup towards your apartment. The street one block from yours had yet to be shoveled and you’d spent the entire walk tense and trying to avoid slipping on the ice.

“Hello?” Eddie called out as soon as he heard the door close behind you. “Petal?”

“Hi, I brought us dinner,” you answered, smiling when your clingy black cat came running at the sound of your voice. “Hello baby, I missed you.” You hurried to drop the bags onto the kitchen counter before picking her up and pressing kisses to her pink nose.

Eddie leaned against the kitchen doorway, arms crossed and expression amused. “Why does Midnight get a kiss but her dad doesn’t?”

“Because she’s the baby of the family,” you said, snickering when Eddie pouted. “Hi Sugar,” you relented, giving him a kiss.

Happy with your affection, Eddie helped unpack the takeout and groceries. You stepped out the galley kitchen and into the foyer, knowing Eddie hated how crowded he felt in the small space. Despite his frustrations with it, you both knew it was a major step up from the shitty studio you’d both managed to live in for a year and a half when you’d first arrived. Eddie had hated your noisy neighbors and lived in a state of anxiety when you had night shifts and had to half run from the train station.

Eyeing the last remaining boxes in the spacious living room, you promise yourself you’d unpack them in the morning. A soft thump from below, and a subsequent scolding, made you smile.

This time, after years of saving, you both found yourselves on a quiet street, living below a widower and above a single father. Matilda, his daughter, was a sprightly fourth grader. She loved the music Eddie played for her on Friday afternoons, when he watched her until her dad could make it home through rush hour traffic.

Matilda had greeted you both with tight hugs and homemade cookies when you had returned yesterday from your yearly Christmas trip to Hawkins. Snow sprinkled the street, the trees bare, streets slippery, and air crisp. You and Eddie had already agreed to skip most of the invitations you’d received from your friends for New Years and opted to stay in instead.

Refreshing Midnight’s water, you left her in her little cat tower, content and purring. Stripping out of your snow damp clothes, you switched into one of Eddie’s old t-shirts and thick warm socks. Glancing at the time as you searched for your pajama bottoms, you winced. That fifteen-minute pick up from your favorite restaurant had turned into a thirty-minute trek.

“Sugar?” You called out, almost tripping on a pair of Eddie’s discarded shoes. Closing your eyes and asking the universe for patience, you couldn’t help but smile when you heard a sheepish apology from the doorway.

“Are we sure those are mine?” Eddie asked, already whisking them away and back into the small closet.

You quirked a brow. “Am I sure the combat boots that are twice my size are yours? Maybe not.”

“Here, to make it up to you,” Eddie said, producing two mismatched glasses with a red tint that you knew was more vodka than cranberry juice. “Presents time now?”

Laughing, you put your drink down – after a burning sip – and dug out a small bag from underneath your vanity. Excitement bubbled up within you as Eddie eyeballed it curiously before handing you a thick envelope. Not one to wait, you ripped it open and snapped your eyes up to Eddie’s smug ones. “Two, floor tickets, to Fleetwood Mac. They’re passing by DC at the end of next month and Liam said we can stay with him.”

“You said they were sold out!” You jumped up and down, clutching the tickets to your chest. “You fucking liar!” Laughter bubbled out of you as you peppered his face with kisses.

“Yeah, yeah,” he grinned, eyes teasing, “let’s see if you can beat that.”

Rolling your eyes, you sat down at the edge of your bed. “Despite how happy I am, I think I just might…” Eddie furrowed his brows at the sight of the band t-shirt. You knew he’d spotted the signatures when his entire body froze.

“H-how?”

Entirely too full of yourself, you crossed your arms and grinned. “One of my TA’s best friend’s dads knows the tour manager for them. I owe about fifty people favors and maybe an organ but, I know how bummed you were about missing out on the concerts. I thought an autographed t-shirt would make it up to you.”

Eddie held out the signed Iron Maiden t-shirt in front of him, jaw hanging. The last-minute tickets to Hawkins for Christmas had cost you both a little more than expected and while Eddie swore that he didn’t mind, you knew he was little torn about missing their New York tour dates.

“Happy Anniversary Sugar,” you said, head swimming when Eddie shot you that same illuminating smile from years ago.

Pressing a quick kiss to your forehead, Eddie shook his head as he padded out to the kitchen. “I’ll get you one of these years!” He shouted over his shoulder, his voice bright. You followed him out into the living room, sitting on the soft sofa that had cost a small fortune, and grinned when he came out with a huge cupcake, a tradition now, with a candle shaped in the number three.

“Cheers,” you lifted your glass, the drink watered down and much more palatable, and Eddie grinned. “To our new home.”

“To loving each other for forever,” he said, kissing your palm.

Your heart galloped, its little hands reaching out for him like they always had. Feeling your own expression soften into something indescribable, you smiled. “To loving you, Cinnamon Sugar Cookie, for forever.”

Eddie’s nose wrinkled, eyes sparkling. “Don’t use my full name.”

Tossing your head back, you laughed loudly, squealing when Eddie tackled you onto the sofa. “Don’t get food on the couch!” You said between laughter, wrapping your legs around his hips.  Eddie tasted like vanilla frosting, shitty vodka, and…like home.

I'm with the skater boy, I said, "See you later, boy.” I'll be back stage after the show, I'll be at a studio, singing the song we wrote, about a girl he used to know.

“Oh,” you crooned, looking at the free drinks in the green room, “this is nice.”

Liam, already reaching for a bottle, grinned. “Right? I guess once you’ve got a song that’s reached the top hundred people start giving you free shit.”

You nabbed a bag of pretzels and chewed on one absently. “Where’s Jeff?” You asked, double checking everyone’s personal bags had been brought in.

“Here,” he said, walking in with Eddie hot on his heels. “Sorry, we were making sure the lighting director had the right notes.”

“Hi you,” Eddie said, bending down to give you a quick kiss, “you ready?”

Nodding, you chewed on another pretzel and glanced up at him. “I always get nervous when I’m going out on stage, you know that,” you said wringing your hands together.

“But you always kick ass,” Liam reminded you, shooting you a grin.

“Besides, you’ve been joining us like this whole tour,” Jeff added, grabbing a water bottle.

“Yeah, but we’re in Indiana, it’s always different when we’re back here,” you said, feeling a bit more pressure.

Dustin breezed through the doorway, VIP pass swinging from his neck. “Plus, there’s a ton of people from Hawkins out there. It’s insane, have you seen?”

“Jesus,” you said, feeling your anxiety swell.

Eddie’s comforting hands cupped at your jaw and you tilted your head up so he could see your eyes. “Hey, you’re going to do great, okay?”

You nodded, his thumbs caressing your skin. “What if I mess up?” You whispered.

“Impossible, but if you do,” he leaned down, “then no one who matters will care and you’ll still be one of the best drummers I’ve ever heard.”

“Kiss ass,” you teased, feeling a little better.

Eddie’s mouth stretched into a wide grin. “Only yours,” he whispered, hand inching down to said ass until you smacked it away. “If you’re so tightly wound, I know something that could help…”

Before you could tease back, Eddie had pressed his lips to yours, biting softly into you. Sighing, you sunk into his hold, world muting around you.

“Jesus, it’s been seven years, shouldn’t you two have calmed down by now?” Gareth’s voice asked. You broke away from a disgruntled Eddie and beamed at your friend. He’d just arrived, bag still slung over his shoulder.

“Gareth!” You cried, happy to finally see him.

Eddie tugged at your chin. “You saw him last week at rehearsals,” he reminded you, chasing your lips.

Gareth gagged and you rolled your eyes, indulging him with another kiss.

“I’ve been asking them that for years,” Steve said, voice a little out of breath. “Henderson, you run fast.”

“Holy shit have you guys seen the crowd outside?” A third new voice asked. At that, you pulled away from Eddie and stood – ignoring his grumbling.

“Robin?” You said, in disbelief. “I thought you said you couldn’t make this one!”

“What? And miss your first performance back home? What kind of friend would I be?” Robin asked, cocking her hip. Both of you paused for a beat before running towards each other with loud screams. She slammed into you, her longer hair tickling your skin as she squeezed her arms around you.

“Where’s Lauren?” You asked, looking for her girlfriend.

Robin winced. “She couldn’t change her flight, she’s still back in London but sends a hug and her good luck!” She said hugging you again.

Your hand came up to her arm, tears burning your eyes. “I can’t believe you’re here. I’ve missed you Buckley.”

“Aw, shucks,” she said, waving away your emotional smile. “I’ll be back by early next year, we finally managed to get a transfer to the New York office so Dingus and Munson will have my scintillating presence again.”

Eddie’s arm swung around her shoulders and Robin smiled up at him. “It’ll be like high school all over again,” she said, wrinkling her nose at him.

“Considering these two still go at it like they’re teenagers, that’s fitting,” Gareth complained.

Flipping him off, Eddie snorted and Robin shrieked.

Everyone jumped as she lunged towards you. Her cold fingers wrapped around your left hand. “Let me see, let me see!” She whistled, shooting Eddie a teasing look. “That’s a nice rock Munson, black diamond huh?”

Eddie smiled, cheeks pink and expression pleased. You rolled your eyes at his endearing reaction. He always seemed to get a little awed and loved retelling the story of how he’d proposed – despite it being almost six months ago. “I always said that she had my heart, just because she has it doesn’t mean it’s not black like my soul,” he said, giving himself devil horns.

Steve snorted but you laughed. “It’s perfect,” you said, kissing him.

“It better be, he spent like two months panic shopping and I couldn’t handle another week,” Dustin grumped.

Robin smacked him in the back of the head and turned to Eddie. “I can’t believe you proposed when I wasn’t here. I demand another party.”

“The engagement party is next month,” you promised, “I waited until I knew you’d be back.”

She turned to Steve. “See that, that’s true friendship Dingus.” You knew she was referring to having missed his recent graduation.

“I can’t control when I graduate Robin!” Steve defended, the both of them bickering.

After making sure everything else was in line, you found their manager and assured her you’d confirmed with the stage hands for the last song. You were on the way back to the green room when a familiar face was waiting for you outside.

His arms went around you, pulling you towards his chest. “How are you feeling?” He asked.

Nosing at the crook of his neck, you inhaled deeply. Eddie’s scent was always calming, his leather vest soft, and hands warm.

“Apparently half of Hawkins really is out there,” you told him and you knew he picked up on your anxiety.

Steve shrugged, mouthing at your neck and placing a kiss at the base of it. “Anyone that matters will be waiting for us off stage.”

“Are you sure we want to sing that last song?”

“The only one that you’re willing to join us on stage for and the one that went viral? Absolutely. Besides, after we visit your family for an awkward dinner - where they no doubt will ask a thousand questions about the wedding – we’re back to Brooklyn for the next set of dates so we’re not staying long anyway.”

“You just miss Popcorn,” you teased, thinking about your small fluffy dog that worshipped the ground Eddie walked on. Him and Midnight were being watched by Wayne’s dutiful eye.

“She’s my daughter,” he said, exasperated, “we’ve never left her for so long.”

“Midnight always does fine whenever we’re on tour, we were in Europe for two months last year,” you reminded him.

Eddie frowned. “Pops is just a baby!”

“Wayne is watching them,” you sighed, for the thousandth time, “he loves her more than he loves us.”

“Okay, okay!” Eddie pouted, ever the toddler. “Matilda and Jack did say they’d visit if they had time.”

Rubbing a hand up his back, you smiled. “You see? They’re fine.”

“I feel like maybe I might need a distraction,” Eddie said, eyes wide in faux innocence.

“Really?” You said, biting back your smile. “A drink maybe?”

Eddie’s lips were already returning to your neck, tongue lapping at the bruise he’d left last night. “Something stronger, more effective.”

You pretended to think for a beat too long because you knew the moment Eddie’s patience had snapped. Herding you towards a corner, his lips pulled you in – like they always did. His wandering hands slipped under the hem of your t-shirt and yours clenched around his.

“I found them!” A disgruntled voice called out. Eddie unlatched himself from you and dropped his forehead to your shoulder. “Hello! We have a concert to put on? For shit’s sake, you’ll have alone time after!”

Snorting, you brought your hand to the back of his neck and waved to Jeff.

“Can’t a guy make out with his fiancé in peace?”

“Apparently work calls, come on rockstar,” you said, kissing him one last time.

Dragging a pouting Eddie towards the green room, you let the guys have their few minutes before walking with them towards the stage. Most of the party had managed to make it, all of them talking excitedly behind you. “I’ll see you in a few,” he said, kissing you one last time – for good luck, he’d always say.

The first familiar chords of their opening song caused a wave of cheering unlike you’d heard before. You peeked out at the massive crowd and felt a surge of pride. The past year had been big for Corroded Coffin, two songs breaking into a few major charts. Venues started selling out, tours had been planned, and more money had come in. There was talk of possibly booking bigger venues and larger festivals. Crossing your fingers, you hoped so because you didn’t know anyone more deserving.

Dancing along with your friends, you sang the lyrics you knew by heart. At one point, you and Robin had gotten lost in the music that a nervous stage hand had to tap you on the shoulder. “Ms. Harrington? Your cue is coming up.”

You startled, not having realized the hour having gone by. “Oops, I’m ready!” You said, letting him help you set up.

“Good luck!” Steve shouted as you walked off, waving.

Then, Eddie was doing crowd work. “We’ve got a special guest, which I’m sure some fans will recognize,” Eddie announced, the crowd’s screams intensified and you grinned. The flutter of anxiety calmed as Gareth darted off the stage and gave you a high-five before you ran out.

Waving to the audience, you grinned when their cheering went up another level. “Since we’ve got Harrington here, I know you guys know what that means.”

You sat by the drums, eyes on the crowd, and adjusted the mic to your height.

Eddie shot you a proud look and you smiled. “Hello Indianapolis! I think you all know the words to this song, so don’t be shy!” You said with a wave. Eddie took a step back from the mic, standing with Jeff, closer to you. At the opening chords, the crowd went wild.

“He was a boy. She was a girl. Can I make it any more obvious?”

The crowd almost drowned you out at one point, their heads bopping as they jumped. Adrenaline rushed through you, your pulse matching the drums you bent to your will. With the guitar solo coming up, you grabbed the mic from it’s stand. Jeff’s strumming softened and you grinned, a well-known announcement by now.

“This one goes out to all the blondes who missed out - you have my eternal gratitude,” you said, winking at a laughing Eddie. He always did like when your occasional flare of jealousy came out.

“Too bad that you couldn't see, see the man that boy could be. There is more than meets the eye, I see the soul that is inside!”

Standing, you always felt a bit extra nervous at this part. The crowd screamed as you walked over to the left where a stage hand quickly helped you sling the guitar around your neck. Hurrying over to Eddie, who was hopping place, you couldn’t help but watch him perform. He had beads of sweat on his brow, hair frizzy, and chaotic energy radiating off of him. His eyes turned to you, expecting your arrival, and he grinned as Jeff started his guitar solo.

‘I love you’ you mouthed. He beamed, beckoning you closer and you lead them into the last chorus. Your fingers strumming to the song’s melody – just the way Eddie had taught you.

“He’s just a boy,” Eddie sang and you leaned in to share his mic.

“And I’m just a girl, can I make it any more obvious?”

Together you sang, “We are in love, haven’t you heard?”

“How we rock each other’s world?” Eddie grinned at you, bopping as you took a few steps back, letting the guys take over, and watching the crowd eat it up.

You helped with back up vocals on the last few lines and grinned when the second of silence transitioned into deafening cheers. Liam urged you forward, stumbling into Eddie’s arms. Sheepishly, you let Eddie pull your hand into the air, waving at the crowd as they screamed.

“Give it up for my girl everyone,” Eddie said into the mic, kissing your cheek before you darted off towards your friends waiting by stage left.

“That was awesome,” Robin shouted, “you kicked ass!”

Adrenaline pumping, you shook your arms and let one of the assistants carry off your guitar. “Thanks,” you said to both of them. “I need a drink!”

Steve handed you his and you shot him a grateful look. “I can’t believe that you being dragged to Hawkins ended up with you becoming a semi-rockstar,” Steve teased, bumping your shoulder. “And to think, you didn’t want to move in the first place.”

“Yeah,” you said, remembering your massive meltdown all those years ago.

The beginning notes of a fairly new song, one Eddie had written about you over summer break, came on and you bit back a smile. Selfishly, this was your favorite of the upcoming album.

Eddie’s voice softened, lighter than before, floating over and kissing your skin as it washed over you.

“I've always been yours, only yours,” Eddie sang, turning to look at you, winking once before turning back to the crowd.

“I didn’t know I’d ever say this but, thank shit for Hawkins,” you said, Robin and Steve laughing. As you watched Eddie shine under the spotlight, you looked down at your ring and smiled.

Thank you, Hawkins.

A/N: 1) I know Eddie doesn’t technically fall under the skater boy emo vibes but if you squint one eye and tilt your head we can soft of pretend that means metalhead. 2) I would like to formally apologize to Chrissy Cunningham for making her into the mean girl in this because she deserves the world. Also, headcanon for this is both reader and eddie are 18+ at the start. This really wasn’t meant to be as long as it got. Over an Avril Lavigne song. But, well, c’est la vie.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson

[supercap2319]

Baby It’s Cold Outside Chapter 2

A/N: Warning: Mention of child abuse. Abuse. Running away. This is depressing as fudge, I promise next chapter will be happier.

Tyler nervously watched the time on his phone change from 11:59 pm to 12:00 am. It’s midnight and his father still isn’t home yet. The young man had been pacing around the room in a nervous anticipation ever since his conversation with Y/N at the Weathervane earlier today. After his shift at work, he waited antsy for his father to come home in hopes that he could ask him for permission to spend Christmas with Y/N.

Hopefully, he said yes.

The sound of keys jingling and the front door opening up jolted Tyler out of his thoughts as he watched his dad come into the living room, still dressed in his sheriff’s uniform. His tired eyes cast a glance over at Tyler as he turned fully towards his son. “Looking for something?”

Tyler shook his head no.

“Shouldn’t you be in bed already?” Sheriff Galpin asked. He sat down in a chair and began to remove his boots. Tyler watched him pull his feet free of them before putting them on the side of the chair. “I-I couldn’t sleep. Plus, there’s something that I need to ask you.”

That got the Sheriff's attention as he looked at his son with inquisitive eyes. Eyebrows raised. “Oh, and what might that be?”

“Can I go to Y/N Munster’s house for Christmas? He invited me to go.”

“Munster invited you?” The sheriff asks.

Tyler nodded his head.

The sheriff is silent for a second, looking at Tyler. Looking him up and down and Tyler has to fight the urge to look away from him, or look down. Finally, Tyler’s dad gave him his answer, and it makes his heart sink faster than the Titanic. “No. No, I don’t want you to go with that boy. He’s a menace, and I don’t trust him or his family.”

“But dad it’s only for a few days and I’ll be back in no–”

“–What part of ‘no,’ don’t you understand, boy?” The sheriff glares up at his son as the youngest Galpin falls silent. His father’s tone was any indication that this conversation was over. No more arguing or bargaining. Tyler wasn’t going anywhere, and that was final.

Tyler nods his head in defeat as he tries not to cry in front of his dad. Cry would only make the situation worse for himself if he did. So, he sucks it up until he’s safely inside the confines of his room to cry in peace. “Yes, sir. Sorry, dad. You're right.”

Sheriff Galpin nods his head. “Good. Now, go to bed because you still have semester tests tomorrow before winter break.”

Tyler nods once again as he leaves the living room, and up the stairs towards his room as he goes inside, shuts and locks the door before the tears fall down his face. He should have seen this coming. His father was the walking personification of a macho, straight male guy. Of course, he wouldn’t want his son going to an outcast's house for Christmas. Tyler was so stupid to believe that he would say yes. He should have expected the disappointment.

He sat down on his bed and looked up at the ceiling as he cried. His dad never used to be like this. So cold. Mean. Abusive. It started after his mom passed away when he was 6. And now sheriff Galpin was always on his son’s case about everything. And the worst part of it all was that Tyler hadn't told him about Y/N. That they were dating. He wouldn’t be disappointed in him, no, he would be fucking disgusted and beat him black and blue until the homosexual came out of him. Which is why Tyler hasn’t told Y/N that he hasn’t told his dad about them. He didn’t want to put Y/N through all that, but none of that mattered because he wasn’t going to be able to spend Christmas with his boyfriend.

Tyler looked at his phone and debated in his head on whether to text Y/N the bad news. Tell him that his dad has forbidden him from going anywhere with him. He could picture his boyfriend’s face, sad and full of tears, and it was enough to make Tyler cry once again, but he couldn’t. Not now. Not ever again. Maybe it was the Hyde side of him taking over, but in the recesses of his mind, a plan started to form. A plan that would change everything for him. His life. His relationship with his father. All of him. Was he prepared to accept the consequences?

Tyler got up from his bed as he began packing his things. Throwing clothes, shoes, personal items inside a giant duffel bag. He realized that his Hyde side might be pushing him, but ultimately this was his decision. He was conscious even to know what this would mean, and that there was no turning back once he chose to go down this road. And to be honest? Tyler couldn’t care less. He was running away from the town of Jericho. From his abusive dad. All of it.

….

The next day, Tyler kept spacing out, staring at nothing. He wasn’t paying attention during his classes, and he almost failed his semester tests, catching the worried eyes of his teachers. The thought of his father easily finding out about his little plan to run away. Catching him and punishing him. It made him shiver more than the cold weather was supposed to. He shakes his head, as if that act would instantly clear his head. That’s when he focuses on his task at hand, finishing his tests so he can leave school, pick up Y/N, and go. Once he’s finished each and everyone one of said tests, he leaves the classroom thinking he’s done his best. Probably not an A+ material, but good enough to pass for the semester.

Tyler holds tightly on his backpack straps as he passes by Lucas Walker. The son of the former mayor and sheriff as he nods to Tyler in understanding. This morning before school, Tyler offered Lucas a deal. If he would say that Tyler’s staying at his house for a few days, the Galpin boy would pay him fifty dollars to keep quiet. By then Tyler will have come up with a better plan by Christmas, he hoped. Lucas’s friends eyed him suspiciously as they still resented him for hanging and being friendly to the outcasts at Nevermore. Thankfully, not knowing of his Hyde side and all the terrible things he did, because they would hate him even more than they already did.

The young halfbreed pushed through the doors of the school as the frigid air of December blew through his clothes as he walked towards his truck.

“So, you and Tyler are both coming home for Christmas?”

Y/N could practically hear the smile in his mother’s voice as she said that. He chuckles. “Yeah, Ma. Tyler and I are coming home for Christmas. Tyler’s picking me up at 1:00 pm after he gets done with his semester test and we’ll head that way.”

“Well, your father and I can’t wait to meet him. Neither can grandpa Marilyn and Eddie.”

“Did you say that the whole family was coming from the old country?” Y/N asked as he pushed the last of his clothes into his duffel bag.

“Yes, dear. All your uncles are coming home for the holidays.”

“Well, I can wait to see you guys and everyone else, but I’ve got to go.”

“Okay, honey. See you soon.”

“Bye, Ma.” Y/N hangs up the phone as he makes sure he is everything ready before Tyler gets here. Nevermore was almost empty. Almost everyone had left this morning. His cousin Wednesday and Thing had left when his Uncle Gomez and Aunt Morticia came to pick up their daughter. Enid’s parents had come to get her. Bianca’s mom came to get her. Then Ajax had left with his older brother. Then a black, sleek car pulled up to the front of the school, as Xavier got in and winked at Y/N as he left for home as well. That left Y/N and a couple of other students who were still waiting for their rides and staff members.

About 15 minutes later, Y/N gets a text from Tyler that he’s on his way.

The young Munster smiled as he got his duffel bag, his backpack, and bundled up for the cold as he walked out of his dorm room, down the stairs and out to the front, waiting for his boyfriend to come pick him up. When he saw the red of Tyler’s pickup truck, Y/N smiled widely.

It pulled up right in front of him as the windows of the passenger side rolled down and Tyler’s boyish face could be seen. “Hey, baby.”

Y/N’s heart skips a beat at the nickname as a blush chases its way onto his face as Tyler comes from the driver side and pulls Y/N close into a kiss as red colored both their cheeks. From the kiss and the cold. Tyler pulled away, his blue eyes shining and a teasing smile on his handsome face. Y/N noticed the way light snow fell on Tyler’s golden brown locks and he had to resist the urge to run his fingers through them.

“You all set?”

Tyler’s voice brought Y/N back to reality. “Yeah, all set. Just this duffel bag and backpack and I’m good.” He showed the other boy his contents as he grabbed them from his hands and put them gently in the bed of his truck as he came back and laced his fingers with Y/N’s, pulling him towards the open passenger door. Tyler then puts a hand on the small of Y/N’s back, and the curly-haired barista pushed him into the passenger seat and closed the door as he came around to the driver side and got inside as he smiled. “Alright, next stop, New Jersey?”

“Yeah. I have the directions on my phone.” Y/N messes with his device for a few minutes before the navigation system comes on. It’s about a seven hour drive if they don’t stop too much.

“Great. And I’ve got a phone charger here for our phones and I’ve got chips and soda here, but if you get hungry we can stop somewhere later if you want?” Tyler asked him.

“Sounds perfect. I can’t wait for my whole family to meet you. I’m so excited.” Y/N is practically jumping in his seat with excitement as Tyler chuckles at his boyfriend’s amusement.

“And your dad was okay with you spending Christmas with my family?”

Tyler knew this question would pop up sooner or later, but he was still shocked when he heard Y/N ask it. He had prepared a whole speech for Y/N last night about how his dad didn’t give him permission at all to come with him, and oh, there was that small little detail of him running away from home. No biggie. Instead of telling him the truth; Tyler slipped into his other half. The half of him that lied to Y/N the first time when he had been accused of being the Hyde by Wednesday. The part of himself that almost ruined things between them. And now here he was, jeopardizing that very same relationship again, thanks to his lies. He just hopes that Y/N will understand and won’t hate him for lying to him again.

Tyler then put the truck in drive as he and Y/N drove away from Nevermore as it got smaller and smaller in the background as they drove through Jericho as Tyler’s heart spiked as they passed the Now leaving Jericho sign. Any minute now, his dad’s police car would show up behind them in the rear-view mirror. Tyler would be in so much trouble. His dad would probably beat him so badly that he wouldn’t dream about running away ever again and he would forbid the barista from associating with Y/N ever again. But it didn’t matter because Y/N would hate him when he found out about Tyler’s lies and deceptions. The same old tricks. Looks like Hydes couldn’t be trusted no matter how many chances you gave them.

Tyler’s heart didn’t stop hammering until they drove past Burlington and towards New Jersey.

.

#x male reader #male reader insert #male x male #wednesday 2022 #tyler galpin x male reader #tyler galpin x y/n #tyler galpin x reader #tyler galpin #hunter doohan x male reader #hunter doohan #sheriff Galpin is an asshole parent #sheriff galpin #past abuse #christmas fic #will get better #the munsters #Y/N Munster

[actual-changeling]

my therapist said something interesting/unexpected yesterday, an observation she's made over the last few weeks. which is always fun because i have an unhealthy desire to know how i'm being perceived and she always puts it as like. a question i guess. as in "i think this, what do you think?"

i don't remember the exact phrasing but it was something along the lines of "i've noticed a role change in you" to which my response was half a minute of staring followed by "elaborate?"

apparently i've been very. keen. on the idea that if i tried returning to college full time this semester i will fail and that i cannot do it, like just can't. because i'm too fucked up. which i guess boils down to me being more depressed in a different way than usual.

i know she cannot fix me, no one can fix me, including myself, but i also don't know how to get my brain to not be the way it is. i feel hopeless, i suppose. i feel like i am stuck like this forever and i'm scared i will never be able to do anything. i WANT to do stuff. i just can't. not like this. i'm terrified of even trying because trying and failing is worse than not trying in the first place.

the issue is also that i have never been comfortably functional and can't even imagine what that would be like. thinking about the future makes me panicked and suicidal and i cannot think about it without freaking out, so i don't. but i also don't want to stay stuck like this.

i'm tired. sometimes i wish i was back in high school, stuck in a horribly abusive household, dissociated out of my mind and so stressed out it was making me physically sick all the time. it was horrible but i was forced to move/do shit from the outside and it got me somewhere. i didn't have to think about what i want because it didn't matter. i was surviving and trying not to die and trying to ease my suffering even a little.

it sucked and i was extremely suicidal but it's all i've ever known so how the hell am i supposed to come up with something different now when there has never been an alternative to that system?

and yeah, my therapist and i are working on it and i'm supposed to look into accommodations for college (which feels like cheating and like i'm failing and i feel like i don't deserve help because i shouldn't need it. i know that's my parents talking but it doesn't change the way i feel) but there's so much happening in my head and it's driving me insane.

#alex gets personal #not really a vent more of a blog entry ish thing #since anna (my therapist) once again told me to stop keeping everything bottled up in my head

[shuttershocky]

Does the passage of time ever depress you?

You know what depressed me? Being in college with half my department branding me as an undesirable graduate because of my poor grades and trying to boot me out. I was in and out of the admin office managing an appeal every time they kicked me. I was being told things like to be on my guard because I was being watched for the smallest mistake and professors that helped me would get in trouble. It was bad enough that someone raised ethical concerns about how they were treating me.

So one day I thought I'd rather just kill myself than explain to my parents that 5 years of tuition fees went down the drain because I took a course I was warned in high school that I couldn't do. I walked from my department to the road where I knew trucks drove fast and kept nearly hitting me wherever I crossed.

I waited for a truck, stepped out on to the road, then jumped back on to the sidewalk when this seething hatred for my department and academia surged through my thoughts and I realized if I died here then they'd finally get rid of me, but if I walked back and miraculously passed the hell semester they designed, then I'd be in their faces for one more year.

The truck flew past me, so close and so fast that the wind slapped my face. It didn't even bother to slow down when it saw a student on the road.

So I went back, and with the sheer power of venomous, unending spite (and some luck), I passed all my classes while doing both my thesis (I owe my adviser my life for her being so understanding, and my thesis was a truly cool project that sent me all over the place) and my part time job for a nearby indie game dev.

During my graduation, the Dean of Engineering (who I also owe my life to) asked the crowd to raise hands if they were graduating in 4 years. Then she asked for 5. Then 6. Then 7+, with the last batch laughing nervously while raising their hands. Then the Dean said to raise those hands with pride, because even if it took awhile and even if the grades weren't perfect, graduation is graduation. You did it. You're getting that degree.

And thats when it really hit me, you know? At the end of the day, I won. A bit unfortunate that none of my professors attended my graduation, because I really was hoping they'd see me get my degree. I wanted them to see that I wouldn't be there if I didn't learn to despise my department the way it despised me.

Does the passage of time depress me? Sometimes I feel nostalgic. My elementary school is gone now, and my high school is nearly unrecognizable after renovations. I've had difficulties keeping in touch with some friends who I still feel much fondness for, and I wish I had been there during some milestones of their lives. But the passage of time itself? No.

What depressed me was being told that I was undesirable. What depressed me was being told that I was being watched for the smallest mistakes. What depressed me was seeing the years of fluking my way through scholarships and other things meant for genuinely gifted kids and not good test-takers (I was good at memorization) finally catch up to me when my ambitions exceeded my abilities.

Now I'm a working adult with a completely different job using skills I got from the various part time jobs and internships I took over my college years rather than anything I actually learned from my classes. Having a daily grind sucks, and so does things like needing to buy food and pay taxes and all other necessities that shrink your salary, but it doesn't depress me.

Every time I feel down or tired, I recall the time I fucking won and this wide, hateful, bitter smile splits my face in two. I'm still here to enjoy the years go by, seething in my trauma, but still here.

Let me just add that I don't like recommending spite as a motivation. Hatred is exhausting and soul-sucking in a way that nothing else is like, and I'm the sort of person that prefers to find even a little joy in whatever I'm currently doing. I feel like if you push yourself forward through spite, you hollow yourself out and become unable to fully enjoy the good that you find.

I can't however, say that spite isn't real damn effective.

It sure worked for me.

#tw suicide mention

[jmtorres]

oh man i'm gonna have to unfollow dimension 20 shit

fantasy high: junior year the actual episodes are giving me some academic trauma flashbacks but like I know that's happening and I've braced

people in the d20 and fantasy high tags asking if xyz is really how high school works in america is going to completely murder my brain

my personal history:

gifted kid

undiagnosed adhd

perfect PSAT

too many AP classes

got into state schools but not the schools i wanted

should have petitioned to graduate early (i had all the credits except gym) and instead barely went to class senior year due to aforementioned undiagnosed ADHD. (i could have had a gap year! i mean I wanted a gap year even after senior year but my parents thought i was too immature to au pair in France or whatever. maybe? but if they'd let me, then it wouldn't have been my academic future i was shooting in the foot)

failed most of my classes senior year of high school i think?

went off to college with none of that addressed on the strength of that fucking PSAT score

completely bombed out of my freshman year of college

diagnosed with (but not actually treated for) depression

proceeded to bomb out of several more semesters at multiple institutions

took a decade and a half to get a bachelor's degree

had to ask my college to overlook my GPA and let me graduate despite the many classes i'd failed due to adhd and depression

AFTER i got the goddamn degree, sought mental health treatment

it's been over two decades since high school and a decade since college and I STILL have nightmares about being sent back to high school because i fucked everything up

"is high school/junior year/applying for colleges/etc really that stressful in america" YES IT FUCKING IS, EVEN (maybe especially?) IF YOU'RE REALLY FUCKING SMART. ADULTS EXPECT SO FUCKING MUCH OF YOU BUT DON'T THINK YOU'RE RESPONSIBLE ENOUGH TO MAKE DECISIONS FOR YOURSELF

(nothing I have heard in intervening years suggests it's gotten any easier for today's teenagers. I'm so sorry.)

#academic trauma #mental health #neurodivergent #turned off reblogs because this is personal #all caps rant