#everything happens for a reason and other lies i’ve loved

[canthelpit0]

Enemies (with benefits)

Pairing: Cold!Chris x Reader

Word count : 1,489

Summary: Chris and reader have always been enemies ever since they’ve known each other. neither knew why they had this burning feeling in their gut. So one day they decide to fuck it out. Until, eventually doing it regularly

Warnings: smut, p0rn with plot, a LOT of plot, angst, name calling (bitch, slut, etc.), p in v, rough x, mentions of safe word (not used), rude/cold!Chris, degration, friend with benefits, awkward, (implied) RichKid!reader, no love (😔), unprotected, creampie, no after care, no use of y/n, no oc

(A/N: this is my first ever fanfic that I’ve posted on tumblr. So ya, I’m shitting bricks. Please give me feat back on my writing, and what I can improve. Also English is not my first language so I’m sorry for any mistakes. Hope you like it!! :D)

PT1 PT2 PT3 PT4 FINAL

Ever since I can remember, I’ve known the triplets. The sturniolo’s and my family were always really close. And ever since I can remember, I’ve hated Chris.

Now, enemies was a harsh word. A bit of an exaggeration. It wasn’t like we were at war for opposing countries. We were more like rivals. In every aspect.

Sometimes it felt like the only reason Chris studied for school, was to beat my grade. He wasn’t really stupid, but he was definitely not book smart.

The problem wasn’t that. We’ve always lived normally, simply hating and avoiding each other. After all he was my longtime nemesis.

Until that one fateful night where we’d been at my house. My parents have a big business so they’d frequently be on business trips. And it just so happened that that night my younger siblings were not home, both of them being at their separate sleepovers with friends.

We’d been paired for some project. And naive me thought, that it’d be fine. We could be civil for a few hours. But I thought wrong. The hatred was too strong and the tension was too thick in the air.

Seemingly everything I did made him agitated. And vise versa.

Until he finally snapped and we got into a full fledged argument, wich turned into a yelling match. However it all went quiet when he crashed his lips onto mine.

Breathing heavily I had kissed back, hard. It was easier to battle about with a kiss, rather than screaming. And like hell was I gonna be dominated by Christopher fucking sturniolo.

So the night progressed. He had me, my face buried in the sheets babbling out nonsense and screaming his name. But not in anger like I usually would.

It had been months since that happened, and it still haunted me. The idea that it even happened. That his lips had been on mine, his dick literally inside of me, that I was literally under him, disgusts me to my core. But it didn’t matter. It was one of many times.

Sometimes it was a quickie, sometimes an all nighter. Sometimes Chris was dominant other times he was not. Sometimes it was at my place other times at his.

And it wasn’t like those cliché stories of friends with benefits where one fell in love. This felt more like an urge. Like neither of us wanted to actually hook up but we were irking to. This was better than having a yelling match. And on the rare occasions I was dominant it felt great making him shut up and take it. It felt equivalent to winning an argument. The whole point was to teach a lesson, and express annoyance and anger without directly doing that.

“Chris-“ I let out a sharp cry, even the pillow that my face was buried in didn’t really make the scream sound quieter.

His hips keep drilling into my core hitting all the right spots to make me weak in the knees.

Sex with him, objectively, felt good. In the moment. He knew how to please a woman. But he also knew that he was pushing it right now.

“Don’t fucking tell me to slow down.” He snaps his tone, and words as harsh as his breathing. “You have a safe word. Use it if you need to. And other wise, shut, the fuck, up.”

I only let out a sharp whine when he seems to pick up pace even more. He’s made a mess of me. We’ve been at this for hours. Literally.

I’ve come more times than I can count and Chris wasn’t showing any sign of stoping anytime soon.

My back arches perfectly, but I’ve been in this position for too long for it to be comfortable. Him leaning over my back occasionally leaving harsh slaps on my ass while his other hand stayed firmly im my hair.

His hand being tangled in my hair as he was both pulling it, but also pressing me down into the pillow under me.

I feel the ache in my cunt subside again, as a knot starts to form. I’m close, again, and I don’t know if I can keep going after.

“Chris” I scream his name loudly panting and moaning. “I’m- close” I can barely form a sentence. His thrust are hard enough to knock the air out of my lungs every time.

“Oh ya?” He harshly slaps my ass causing me to moan loudly. “How much more you think this pussy can take?” He huffs his tone ever so cocky.

He always did this. He liked being dominant and absolutely wrecking me as much as he can. And he knows I’m close to breaking, and that’s what makes it worse. I just know he gets a wired satisfaction out of exerting me.. using me, like this.

His hand stays firmly in my hair tugging harder. His other hand trailing from my ass to my clit as he starts to rub on it harshly.

I clench instinctively, my whining and moaning getting even louder. “I’m gonna-“ a harsh slap on my clit catches me off guard.

Chris keeps going. “Fucking slut. You like getting destroyed like this?” he mocks, his tone condescending as his pace doesn’t let up.

“Go on bitch, cum on my cock. Come again.” He urges. And the rubbing of his fingers on my clit and the relentless torture to my cunt is threatening to push me over the edge.

“Can I come in that pussy again?” He asks his voice coming out strained and harsh from the pleasure.

“Yes-“ I’m cut off, again. As i am physically not able to speak with the pace he’s going at.

And the combined pressure of everything pushes me over the edge. Suddenly the knot in my stomach snaps and my body goes limp after loud moans. He goes for a few more thrusts before I feel the familiar hot liquid fill my cunt.

After a minute where we catch our breaths he slowly starts to massage my scalp knowing he’s been pulling on it for at least half an hour straight.

He pulls out not really gently, but not harshly either.

Hook ups with Chris always felt like one night stands, when they were really regular.

I let my body fall limp fully laying on my stomach as I sigh, content in my position, not attempting to move.

I can practically feel Chris watching me.

Normally I wouldn’t be this much of a mess. But than again normally we didn’t go for hours. Normally Chris used a condom. But today was not one of those days.

Sometimes chris had enough common sense to at least pretend to care.

But right now he was just staring.

“You okay?” He asks his tone gentler and more quiet than usual. He knew he was pushing it, but did he really care tho?

I shiver as I feel his hand start to rub over my back. Ever so gently pinching the skin to ease some tension.

“Ya”

My breath is short as I’m still calming down not doing or saying anything else.

After a while I turn around slightly, wincing as I lay on my back. My back hurt from the previous uncomfortable position I was in.

I opened my tired eyes, looking up at him, my eyes meeting his. I knew I probably looked like a wreck right now. My hair a mess because of all the moving and position changes as well as his pulling. My face having dried mascara and tear stains on it from when I’d been crying.

I was too tired to even hide my body. I just turned around not bothering to hide my chest as I did, I was too fucked out to care.

His lips pursed, looking over my face. But he wasn’t concerned. But rather disgusted at the sight. He was glad he made me look like shit, but I could see in his eyes that he would much rather be anywhere else right now.

After sex was the worst for us.

The arguments leading up to it were normal. The sex itself was great. But afterwards…

Usually he’d leave. But today he had gone far. He’s done worse before. But every time he did he felt like he should give me proper after care. But I can see the annoyance radiating off of him, and I just know he does not want to be here.

And as harsh as it sounds, he couldn’t really care less what state he left me in. He’s told me multiple times.

“You can leave.” I mumble sighing. My throat felt horse from all the screaming, crying and moaning, that I’d been doing. I’ll need to get a water soon.

He gives me a simple nod, quickly changing, then going to my bathroom to fix his appearance.

And than he leaves.

The room is quiet. Nothing to be heard, nothing to be said.

Masterlist

A/N: hope you liked it, this was literally my first time writing smut🫣 also I don’t have a taglist yet, so i just added my moots. Tell me if u wanna be added, or removed :D

‼️please don’t copy my work/idea‼️

Taglist : @muwapsturniolo , @sturnad , @iluvm4ttsturni0l0 , @evie-sturns

#sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x you #chris sturniolo x y/n #christopher sturniolo x reader #chris x reader #christopher sturniolo smut #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo x you #sturniolo smut #Spotify #smut

[cozage]

Hello dear writer, can I request Shanks and other charas getting a new perfume for the reader because they think it smells nice and would suit their beloved so they'll spray a little on themself and when the reader smells it they would think that they were cheating on them

Characters: gn x Shanks, Sanji, Ace Cw: miscommunication Total word count: 2.5k

New Perfume

Shanks

You noticed it the moment he stepped on the ship. Perfume. A kind that didn’t belong to you. You had to admit, it smelled nice. And it certainly wasn’t cheap. Lavender used to be your favorite scent, but now all it was doing was making your stomach churn. 

Whoever Shanks smelled like certainly lived a high dollar life. You shouldn’t have been jealous; you knew that. You had no reason to be. You and Shanks had never talked about being exclusive. If you wanted him to be only yours, all you had to do was ask. But you hadn’t asked him. So he was allowed to do whatever he wanted with whoever he wanted. 

You wanted to ignore it. You wanted to act like it didn’t bother you in the slightest. But everytime the wind shifted and you got a whiff of that light lavender scent, your stomach knotted into a ball the size of your fist. You hated being jealous of someone who was already a distant memory to Shanks, someone who had already been left behind on the last island, but somehow that made it worse. 

You stared out at the island growing smaller behind you, trying to get your mind off of whoever the perfume belonged to when strong arms wrapped around you from behind, and the sickening smell of lavender flooded your nose. You couldn’t help but tense against him being so close. The smell of him and the lavender perfume went together so well. 

“You okay?” Your captain hummed in your ear. 

“Fine,” you responded, trying to act normal. 

“You sure?” He rested his chin on your shoulder, trying to get you to look at him. 

But you knew if you looked him in the eyes, he would see your pain. So you kept your eyes fixed on the horizon instead, trying to remain as casual as possible. 

“Something’s bothering you,” he observed. His fingers danced along your sides, causing you to flinch from his tickling. 

“Shanks,” was all you had time to breathe out before his fingers dug into your skin playfully, and you let out a fit of giggles. You tried to pull away from him, but he held you tight and didn’t let up. 

“Tell me what’s wrong,” he cooed to you, turning you around to face him. He stopped his tickling assault, but he wrapped his arms around you so you couldn’t escape. 

“It’s nothing,” you lied. Your eyes stayed downcast, trying to avoid his gaze. 

He hummed disapprovingly, frowning at your visage. “Well I’ve got something to cheer you up. Wanna see?”

You finally peeked up at him, curious about what he was going to offer you. He had that stupid grin plastered across his face, and your heart skipped a beat. Shanks could make you weak in the knees just from a look. You hated and loved it at the same time. 

“Come on.” He intertwined his hand with your and pulled you along, heading for the bunkhouses. 

After a few steps, you pulled your hand away, but kept walking next to him. Shanks shot you a worried look, but you pretended not to see it. You rubbed your wrist, trying to act normal, but Shanks knew something was wrong. You hated that you were being like this. It wasn’t fair to him, and you knew that. But you couldn’t help feeling hurt, even if you had no reason to be. 

He quickly opened the door to his quarters and stepped to the side to allow you to enter. You walked inside and looked around, trying to find any hints of another person being in his room. But everything was how you had left it this morning, and you breathed a slight sigh of relief. At least whatever had taken place hadn’t happened in his bed. There was some consolation in that. 

Shanks picked up a little brown bag and handed it out to you. “For you,” he said. 

You hesitantly took it, and opened it to peek inside. There was a beautiful glass bottle filled with purple liquid. Your heart sank. 

“Perfume?” you asked him. 

“Try it,” he urged. 

You already knew what it was going to smell like, but you opened the jar and lightly inhaled. It really was a lovely smell. 

“I thought I smelled this on you earlier.” You tried to keep any cynicism out of your voice, replacing it with inquisition. 

“Oh yeah!” Shanks said, holding out his arm to you. “I tried a bit earlier at the store to see how it smelled, and all I could think of was how good it would smell on you.”

You pressed your nose to his wrist, smelling the concentrated perfume in the area he indicated. He had been shopping for you. The perfume you smelled on him was yours, or at least that was his intention. There had never been another person. 

“You okay?” Shanks asked, looking at you with concern. 

“This is for me,” you clarified. “And you found it in a shop?”

“Yeah,” he said, a confused look on your face. “I thought you liked lavender. What’s going on?”

“No, I just-” you paused, blushing at the embarrassment you were about to cause yourself. “I love it. But I thought the smell…came from someone else.”

Shanks took a moment to process your words for a moment and then laughed.

“Oh darling, don’t you know?” He lightly kissed the tip of your nose, smiling against your skin. “You’re the only one for me.”

Sanji

“My love!!” Sanji called, the door slamming open behind you.

You turned from your desk to see him, a smile spreading across your face. You and Sanji usually parted ways during island days, and today hadn’t been an exception. But you had missed being around him, even if it was only for a few hours. 

“Sanji! You’re back!”

He set a bag on the table and bounded toward you, enveloping you in a big hug. That’s when you smelled it. The hint of vanilla wouldn’t have been so out of place if it hadn’t been paired with a strong lilac smell.

Your stomach sank. Sanji was a man who loved to admire everyone, but he tended to keep it under control since the two of you had started dating. You didn’t think he was one to cheat, but you had seen how Sanji got around women in the past. 

You could feel your body tensing in fear and anger. Jealousy coursed through your veins. Why else would he smell like such a strong, lovely perfume if not from someone else rubbing against him. 

“Sanji,” you started, trying to keep your voice level. “Why do you smell like lilac perfume?”

“Do you like it?” he asked, pulling away and grinning at you. 

You tried to keep the fury out of your eyes, but you knew it was futile. When he saw your expression, his face fell. Disappointment flooded his eyes, and a familiar pang hit you in the gut. 

“I can return it, if you want,” he offered. 

Your brow furrowed, staring at him. “Return it?”

He could sense you were angry, that was obvious enough. He scanned your face, trying to figure out what exactly he had done wrong. He had been certain this perfume would suit you well, but now he was worried you were offended at his implication.

“The perfume. I can return it if you don’t like it.”

“What perfume? The one that you’re smothered in right now?” You couldn’t keep the venom out of your voice this time, and Sanji flinched at the harshness of your words. 

He blinked at you, trying to comprehend where your sudden burst of anger had come from. He put his wrist to his nose and sniffed, lilac with a hint of vanilla. 

“Do you mean this?” He held his wrist out for you to smell, the lilac so strong it made you sick.

“I don’t want to smell whoever was all over you, Sanji!” you snapped, slapping away his hand. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“But the lady at the perfume shop said it was one of their best sellers.” His voice was thick when he spoke, and confusion was evident in his eyes. “I thought you would like it.”

The pain in his voice gave you a quick moment to analyze his words. The gift bag on the table. Perfume shop. I can return it if you don’t like it.

“The perfume is for me,” you dumbly stated.

“Of course,” Sanji said cautiously, watching you closely. “Who else would it be for, darling?”

You stared blankly at him, not sure how you had gotten it all so wrong. Why had you gone to the worst case scenario? Why had you expected Sanji to hurt you like that? Of course he never would do such a thing. He loved you, and you loved him. 

“I’m so sorry,” you whispered, unable to find the words for anything else. 

He looked at you, his eyes full of concern. “Sorry for what, my love? Is everything okay?”

“I thought…” your eyes drifted over to the bag on the table. “I thought the smell was from someone else.”

Sanji’s curly brows creased, not understanding your implications. “Someone else?” he questioned. 

“I thought you were with someone else.” Your gaze moved back to his eyes, hoping he could see the regret in your expression. 

“Someone…else…” It took him a moment to understand your implication. His eyes widened in understanding. “No! No, I would never-”

“I know,” you cut him off. “I’m so sorry I thought for even a second that you would.”

Sanji pulled you into a hug again, holding you close to him. The smell of lilac and vanilla was much more comforting now. You noticed that it mixed wonderfully with his natural scent of clove and ginger. 

“I really like the perfume, by the way,” you mumbled into his chest. “It’s perfect.”

He squeezed you tighter in response, pleased that his shopping trip was a success. 

Ace

You and Ace had always been casual, but you had been unspokenly exclusive.  You bought gifts for each other and spent the days by his side and slept in the same bed. You were together in every sense except a spoken one. He was yours, and you were his. 

Everyone on the ship knew it, but island days were a different story. Bars and clubs came with strangers who were always curious about pirates, especially attractive ones. You got insanely jealous when he flirted with the locals, and he was protective whenever islanders tried to make a move on you. Normally you all stuck together to deter the unwanted attention, but Ace had asked to go off on his own today. 

When he sat next to you in the dining hall, you understood why. The smell of a sweet cherry medley came off his body, and your stomach churned. Ace wasn’t the kind of person to wear perfume, especially not something as sweet as that scent.

“Smells like you were busy today,” you noted, unable to keep the hint of hostility out of your voice. 

“Very.” He either ignored your tone or was oblivious to it. He grabbed his fork and dug into his food, practically inhaling it all before speaking again. “I wanna show you something later.”

“Not interested,” you grumbled. You rose from your seat next to him and stormed out the door, sulking back to your bedroom. 

Unfortunately, you shared a bedroom with Ace, and after a few minutes, he cracked open the door and peeked inside. 

“Can we talk?” he asked in his soft, tender voice. “Or do I need to leave you alone for a bit?”

You sighed and dropped the book you were reading back down on your bed. “We can talk.”

He quickly stepped inside the door and shut it, afraid that if he took too long you might change your mind. 

He sat next to you on the bed nervously, both of you glancing at each other. 

“Wanna tell me what’s wrong?” he finally asked. 

“Look I know we’re not officially together or anything but-”

“What do you mean?” Ace asked, cutting you off. “We are together.”

You stared at him. “Ace,” you laughed nervously, staring at him. “We are not together.”

“We sleep together,” he said, pointing at the bed under you. “We eat together and work on chores together and well…we do everything together.”

“But we're not exclusively together,” you reasoned, trying to give him the benefit of the doubt.

He looked hurt at your comment. “Have you been sleeping with other people? I thought-”

“No!” you rushed to clarify. “I just mean-”

“I haven’t either. So we’re exclusive.”

You were having trouble arguing with his reasoning. You never had any plans to sleep with anybody else. And it didn’t sound like he did either. But that perfume…

You took a breath, deciding it was better to ask than to endlessly contemplate. 

“What’s with the cherry perfume then?”

He stared at you, blinking a few times. You could see the gears in his brain turning, trying to piece together what your question had to do with the current conversation. 

“You mean this cherry perfume?” He picked up a fancy bottle on your bedside table and held it out to you. You hadn’t noticed it there before. It was beautifully made, with a light pink liquid swirling around inside of it. 

“I bought it for you,” he said.

You raised your eyebrow in suspicion. “For me?”

He nodded, squeezing the pump on the side. A mist of liquid came out from the nozzle, and a light cherry scent filled your nostrils. You closed your eyes and inhaled deeper. The scent really was lovely. 

“It’s really nice,” you admitted. 

You could feel Ace relax next to you, happy that you were satisfied with his purchase. “That's why I didn’t want to go shopping with you. I wanted to get you something nice.”

You opened your eyes again to find a blush spreading across Ace’s freckles. He looked embarrassed and timid, a side only you could pull out of him. You planted a quick kiss on his cheek, thankful that you had gotten the mishap cleared up. 

“I love it,” you whispered. 

He smiled sheepishly at you and placed the bottle back on the nightstand. “So are we exclusive now?” he asked. 

His dark eyes stared deeply into your soul, and you felt your heart flutter. You desperately wanted to jump up and down in excitement at his question, but you didn’t want him to know how thrilled you were about his question. 

A cheeky grin appeared across your face. “Are you asking me?” you teased.

His lips pushed out in a pout knowing you were taunting him. He was about to respond with something snarky, but you grabbed his cheeks and pulled his face towards your lips, desperate for a taste of him again. 

His lips were chapped and salty from the sea spray, but you didn’t mind it. When you finally released your mouth from his, he was only able to mumble out a few words before he dove back in for another kiss. 

“I’m all yours, if you’ll have me.”

You couldn’t think of anyone better to belong to.

#one piece #one piece imagine #one piece scenario #one piece x reader #one piece x you #shanks #red haired shanks #shanks x reader #shanks x y/n #shanks x you #sanji #vinsmoke sanji #sanji x y/n #sanji x reader #sanji x you #portgas d ace #portgas ace x reader #portgas ace x you #ace x reader #ace x y/n #portgas d ace x reader #cozage #✧˚shanks✧˚ #✧˚sanji✧˚ #✧˚ace✧˚

[diorsluv]

casual , part 6

“ someone you couldn’t lose ”

series m. list previous chapter next chapter

( socialmedia!au )

yourusername

liked by rutgermcgroarty, mackie.samo, and 75,188 others

yourusername guess what hoe (affectionate) ruined my day this time 🥰

tagged: rutgermcgroarty

view all comments

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username28 ethan’s definitely malding i can hear it already

edwards.73 i asked if you wanted to come over but you didn’t respond

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markestapa i have an inkling you’re doing this on purpose 🤨

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trevorzegras are you breaking my boy’s heart??

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username93 best friend supremacy

username1 this is your and rut’s world, we’re just living in it 🙏

dylanduke25 rosie did you know that jealousy is a real thing

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username75 what happened to ethan 😰

colecaufield BREAK IT OFF

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adamfantilli you stole my boyfriend.

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username60 oh look it’s my sanity slowly leaving me

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username18 PLEASE i’ve been begging for more content for forever i’m so happy

yourusername

liked by _quinnhughes, luca.fantilli, and 83,826 others

yourusername what are we?

view all comments

vivianliu damn babe when’d you get all philosphical and shit with your little quotes??

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_quinnhughes you’re really testing my nerves rosie

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username52 the quotes hit different though

adamfantilli this is literally a direct call out????

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mackie.samo he’s just being a pussy rosie don’t worry about it

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username74 shitttt this the story of my life

edwards.73 fr

next chapter notes ) so unfortunately i’ve decided that imma make the chapters shorter so it’s easier for me to post and i won’t get burnt out as quickly.. please forgive me!!

tags: @dancerbailey3 @hughesfein @loveforaugust @alwaysclassyeagle @love4ldr @inhoodmood @bunting58 @crazycat-ladys-blog @smoooore @bunbunbl0gs @lilasianmeat

#ethan edwards #ethan edwards x y/n #ethan edwards fic #ethan edwards fanfic #ethan edwards x reader #quinn hughes #jack hughes #trevor zegras #cole caufield #alex turcotte #luca fantilli #rutger mcgroarty #adam fantilli #mark estapa #mackie samoskevich #dylan duke #luke hughes

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for breaking up with my boyfriend after uncovering his web of lies?

Ok. I’m going to try keep this as short as possible, and there’s some things I’ll keep out because I don’t want to accidentally reveal our identities. I (31, m) just broke up with my partner (35,m) of 3 years. We met on an app during Covid, and lived together for 2 and a half years of that. I truly loved him, he was a challenging person which sometimes led to fiery arguments that I hadn’t experienced in past relationships, but he also pushed me to feel more comfortable with confrontation and conflict which I needed. He was also really ambitious and supported my ambitions; I’ve had 3 promotions since we got together and I wouldn’t have dared to go for them if it hadn’t been for his encouragement. Basically, on the surface it all seemed really great.

That is until I discovered he had lied about his entire past - and some of his present. It all started when I stumbled across pics of “his home” online and discovered they were a museum (he claimed to be from a wealthy background). I asked him and he said it was to protect his family’s identity and swore there were no more lies.

I have never met his family, nor talked to them on the phone - they are in another country and he claimed they were old fashioned and wanted to meet in person, but Covid was in the way at first, and then his mum was unwell. After discovering the pictures were a lie, I started to really think about other stories he’d told me and what evidence I really had for them. The more I thought, the more I realised things didn’t add up.

A few examples: his mum and dad both apparently had high profile jobs but I couldn’t find anything about them online; he claimed to be from money but wouldn’t buy himself a car and borrowed mine; he claimed to have a brother my age but I couldn’t find any social media of his.

There was a lot more, but that was enough to make me question whether there were more lies. I asked him a few weeks later why I couldn’t find anything about his parents online, and asked to be introduced to his brother on social media. I told him that this felt like the most normal thing that would happen in relationships - I was very clear that I didn’t want to test him, I just wanted some contact with someone who knew him before I did. He said it wasn’t possible because he was more distant from his family than he’d led me to believe, due to childhood abuse that his parents had refused to acknowledge. I’m also a survivor of childhood abuse so this touched a nerve and the conversation shifted to me wanting to support him and make him know I believed him.

Anyway. Fast forward another two months and nothing has changed. Tonight, it came to a head in a discussion where he wanted to get rid of my favourite chair in order to make room for a new TV. I told him I wasn’t comfortable with this because I felt insecure in the relationship as nothing had been resolved. I went over my concerns again and suddenly his whole tone shifted. He asked if I was “ready for the truth” and asked me not to share it with anyone.

The truth turned out to be very different from everything he’d said over the past 3 years. Whether it is the truth, I don’t know, but he claimed that his mum was actually a drug addict and he hadn’t known his dad until he was 18, he was removed by child services at 14 and the character he created as his mum to me was based on the woman he lived with during that time. He never studied abroad as he had first claimed, and a whole load of other lies. The worst lie was that his mum had cancer - the reason why we couldn’t visit because she didn’t want him to see her while she was weak (this made sense with the strong character her created for her). It turns out apparently the woman who took him in died from cancer when he was 18 and he based it on that. Now, I don’t even know how much of this is true, but it feels closer to the truth than the original stories. The thing is, he’s cried on me about his mums cancer, and he’s told my mum about it (a cancer survivor), and regularly talks about it in detail. In fact, all his stories have had incredible detail - which is what made us all believe them.

Now, here’s where I may be the arsehole. After he confessed all of this, I said I can’t be in a relationship with him because I can’t trust him. But he took a big step in admitting it all to me and he’s clearly very unwell if he is lying on this scale. He clearly has had a traumatic past and he told me that his lies were because any time he opens up to people about his past he loses them. I worry that by breaking up with him, I’m reinforcing this cycle where he feels he has to lie to be loved. The thing is - none of what he told me in any of this was the reason why I love him. I didn’t care where he came from, or his claims of wealth, etc. I just liked who he was as a person. I really feel torn because on the one hand he is clearly in need of help, stability and love in order to heal himself so that he doesn’t feel the need to lie. On the other hand, I can’t foresee being able to trust him in the near future. So, AITA for breaking up with someone who is so desperately in need of love and support?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

[scribble-dribble-writes]

Plastic hearts - (10)

<<<Prev Next>>>

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The fear of falling in love

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So close, hidden in the dark, this was no child’s play. His ocean eyes calling you to give in, to stop fighting this. You were caught, he knew you well to spot your lies.

“I see it now.”, you whispered to which he raised his eyebrow.

“What?”, he asked, his eyes flitting down to your lips.

“What do you see?”, his voice turning coarse before his gaze found yours again.

“The hold you have over the ladies. Your charm seems to put them in a spell.”, you chuckled but his eyes turned dark with desire.

“Does it put a spell on you?”, he grinned.

This was no child’s play, the thought ran across your mind as his smile captivated you.

“I’m immune to it.”, you held your chin high, your eyes not wavering from his, trying to play the same game he was playing.

“What a shame.”, he clicked his tongue but you were drawn in, your curiosity now wanting to know the reason for his stay.

“Why are you here?”, you narrowed your eyes at him.

“All the way in New York from Los Angeles?”, you edged closer, turning this around into an interrogation in the hopes that you could escape solve the mystery behind why he ended up in jail and in the newspapers.

But it broke the tension and the fun, his eyes widened as though you had opened his Pandora’s box.

You didn’t know everything that had happened. He looked into your eyes and there was no judgement in it. But if only you knew what he did, how he had changed to be bitter and selfish, would you still see him the same way.

“Hey, I was just joking. You don’t need to tell me.”, he heard you as you placed your hand on his arm to break him out of his thoughts.

“I was avoiding you.”, you admitted in the hopes that it might ease him. No friendship could be forged on lies. You had always felt comfortable around him, so maybe it was time to let him in a little.

“Why?”, he asked, his whisper filled with a weight of melancholy in it.

“Because I was scared.”, you admitted and he mustered his courage to find your eyes again.

“I was afraid of getting hurt again.”, you wanted to reach out, to try and touch his cheek.

“But you’re different now, -

He exhaled sharply as he closed his eyes. It was happening again, this was another rejection. Anything that starts with a 'but' was not going to end well. He had known well enough to leave it alone but he couldn't and so was going to get burned by the same flame twice.

“Am I?”, he questioned, his eyes boring into yours as he cut you off impatiently.

“If you think I’m not like the other men here, you’re wrong.”, he spoke, his words were sharp but it wasn’t from a place of anger. You knew it well, it was from unhealed scars.

“I was just as bad as them.”, he said it, he was living in a fantasy, in the sweet innocence of your gaze knowing well that it was only a matter of time before it broke. So he chose to break it now.

“I almost made the Ken’s take over Barbie land.”, he frowned in anger, anger that was aimed at himself.

“All because I was exhausted.”, he exhaled and it felt like he was about to crumble again. The shame still existing within him like tiny shards of glass choosing to tear him open once in a while.

“Of wanting and waiting, only to never get the girl in the end.”, he was working his way through the pain of his past that he had let it ruin him in the hopes he could have a chance to win what he desired, only to destroy it all.

“She chose to be human and I was alone again.”, he admitted but it shocked you that all this had occurred. To know what it would been like for him to let go of the woman he was specifically made for.

“All I am capable of doing, is destroying anything I’ve ever wanted.”, he pushed away from you and you felt the guilt like a bullet in your chest. He was the only one with whom you didn’t have to hide your truest self and yet he was the first you aimed you barrage at.

He knew he had to be detached, to his work and his accomplishments, but love was a drug that never left his system. As much as he would push it away, he will still yearn for it, look for it. And now he was afraid, that taking a chance to love again would make him revert back to his old ways and break the peace he had obtained from being enough on his own.

He caught your eyes in the dark, in the hum of the silence, there was only one truth that beat in his chest.

But I want you, it whispered through the chaos of his mind.

That very thought contended with him. He should not want you, your affection, he was here on a mission so why couldn’t he just seal the deal, finish the business here and wrap it all up. Why was your touch on his arm making him crave more, to want your hands to unravel his tie to feel the smooth panes of his skin?

He grumbled losing sight of where he was when all the old doors opened in his mind.

“All I was ever made for, was to be loved and it drives me insane,”, he snapped, throwing his hands up in frustration.

“That even after everything,”, he ran his fingers through his hair to pull it back.

“I’m still trying to keep you looking at me, Barbie.”, he yelled but only after he had said it did he realize whose name he had said. The flicker of shock to pity on your face was the last gust of wind he needed for his house of cards to tumble.

He needed some time away, to sot out him emotions.

His home lacked the mojo for days like these. He was tired of being played with, his feelings treated like they didn’t exist and all this time, all these years, he walked the streets of this glamorous city only being able to think of you. That he could never get close to any other woman only because none of them were you.

He gave up, he needed to reassure himself and set up boundaries. To remind himself that he was just here to take you back and as simple as it was, he was failing at it.

Because the real world was affording him the luxury to be around you, to let him feel his emotions to the fullest.

He stormed out the door, and it was all in slow motion, how you didn’t have to think about it, how your feet knew to chase after him.

He walked out the entrance and you reached for the hem of his shirt, to get him to stop, losing him all over again was not an option now, but he slipped through your fingers.

“You didn’t let me finish.”, you came to a stop on the sidewalk and hearing you he stopped too, standing with his back still facing you.

“You’ve always been different, Ken. In the way you care and love freely. I’ve known it since the first time I met you at the beach. So you making a few mistakes doesn’t make you irredeemable.”, you said as you caught your breath.

He didn’t turn to see you but by the sight manner in which the muscles on his back relaxed, you could tell it meant a lot.

“And also after I had said that, I wanted to invite you to tea or dinner or both tomorrow, if you would still like to that is.”, you said to which he shuffled his feet but still didn’t give you an answer.

“What is it going to be, Ken Castilian Ryder?”, you chuckled as you said his full name just like he had done which got him to laugh too.

“Fine.”, he said as he turned to see you.

“What was that?”, you cupped your ear and walked close to him as if you didn’t hear his response.

“I said, Fine, does 6pm sound good?”, he playfully exaggerated his response.

“Ok, I’ll see you then.”, you smiled and so did he as he lingered for a second before he turned to leave.

As you stood there feeling the cool breeze of the evening, the soft pastel pink skies made this world feel like Barbieland for a second. You didn’t hear the traffic but instead heard the birds sing. Maybe you had been focusing on all the wrong things.

Maybe you were good enough just as you were.

Maybe the real world could be just as good and beautiful as you wanted it to be.

---

Tags:

@imogen-skye @ateliefloresdaprimavera @meowkid1000 @jokersgrf @linacool13 @oh-kurva @dreamsarenicer @memospacexx @haleysucks00 @ibetyouthinkaboutmefics @tempobaekh @fallingwallsh @whatafreakingloser @lcversrockk @imonmyvigilanteshh @constellationscharts @eddiemunson4ever @freyafriggafrey @neptunelixir @iamruiningmylife @floralsightings @ynbutbetter @lazyboikat @mrharringtonsbae @spookyscellar @harleyquinn03041998 @haydensith @weasleytwinscumslut @bl00dy-murd3r @itstylersblog @papichulo120627 @lee-lee-23 @dazeglitter-blog @urmom24sworld @chaos-in-person @aremos @theoriginalwife000 @undercover-being-whack @puredreamagination @h-l-vlovesvintage @krazyk99 @agustdeeyaa @bluebear19 @porterport @urahara24 @wvndamaximilf

#barbie movie 2023 #barbie movie #ken barbie #barbie #ken carson #ryan gosling ken #ryan gosling #ken x y/n #ken x you #ken x reader #fem reader

[letters-from-dekarios]

midnight tears

summary: stricken with grief, anxiety, and the shadow of his former, prouder, self, gale takes to seeking comfort in the swift end he dreamt up many moons ago. tav finds him before it’s too late.

or: gale considers exploding and tav stops him

word count: 2.1k

tags: PLEASE READ BEFORE CONTINUING: this story contains themes of self-harm/suicide. it is not my intention to trigger or harm anyone who comes across this story, but, rather, to share a side of a fictional character I’ve taken a liking to. please do NOT read if these themes, discussed in a reasonable concept of detail, could potentially harm your mental state.

other tags include; gn!tav, act 1 storyline, major gale angst, im still a part of the mystra hate club

He had it all planned out. Written down. He had a failsafe in case things went wrong. Timed it down to the letter, against all the knowledge he had on the orb within him. If worse came to worst, Gods he hoped it wouldn’t, he knew precisely how he wanted to go.

When he first gathered the understanding of the Netherese orb within him, its desperate need to consume the Weave, he was confused. Which was a rare occurrence for him. He was always so knowledgeable that confusion rarely ever happened. He’d question things and soon find an answer, but with this.. no, this was different.

In his quest to prove his love, he only proved his egotism. Something he had tried to stay away from and here he was, indulging in it. How proud was he that he could be able to love the Goddess and Mother of all magic and still be unhappy? Still try to attain more power, more love? How dare he, a mortal man, try and capture the Weave for himself?

Was it really out of love, or was the idea of power and the concept of Godhood too tempting to be toyed with? How did he get this far? How did he manage to do it in the first place, if not by his handling of the Weave itself? He had all the power he could hold and still wanted more.

He was the epitome of a power-hungry, egotistical, jackass.

He deserved the consequences he now had to suffer. He could blame no one other than himself for Mystra’s decision to make him live with it. She could have, very well, killed him right there. But she, by her merciful graces (or what the larger part of Gale perceived as merciful), allowed him to live. He would sacrifice himself to right the wrongs he had created.

As he lay in his tent, one uneventful night, staring at the stars, he pondered the plan he had in his back pocket. He had it figured out for years now, so it wasn’t a question, but he questioned the actual statistics of it. He pulled out a little vial from his bag and turned it over in his hands, reading the neat handwriting over and over again. Midnight tears. A poison whose consequences would only take effect at midnight exactly. If he consumed it in the early morning, traveled far into the Underdark and waited, he would avoid injuring any innocents in the process.

It was a desirable end to his misery, he concluded. If he woke before Tav and the rest of the group, he could be gone before they arose. He doubted they would notice he was missing.

He knew Tav had accepted him for his faults, his lies, and everything else with him. They had encouraged him to stay traveling with them, but he didn’t feel as though he deserved to.

He wondered what the poison would feel like, how it would taste. The seller who gave it to him was vague on the details, and Gale didn’t know if he preferred that or the horrid truth of receiving every component.

He set the poison to the side and conjured a dagger in his hands. He twisted it between his palms, considering the other option to poison. It wasn’t the preferred way to go, but it was his failsafe in case the poison went bad. All he had to do was plunge the magic knife into his chest, and off he would go.

It wouldn’t be the prettiest, he knew that, but it would be better than nothing. His blood pooling out onto the ground, pained cries filling the air- he’d apologize again and again to Mystra, his goddess, his first love, telling her how sorry he was for the stupid mistakes he’d made.

His mouth would taste like copper, eventually, and by then he’d begin slipping away. His body would go numb, he figured, and then his hands would drop. He would fall onto his back, staring up into the vast sky of Faerún, before everything disappeared.

He had a letter written already for his soul to pass on to Tav and the others. He’d apologize to them, too, for letting them down. For not becoming the man they hoped and wished he was. For everything. There wasn’t enough time in all the realms where he could be forgiven for his mistakes.

The longer he sat there, with his thoughts, the more he twisted the knife between his hands. The more he sunk into himself, the harder he pushed it in his palms.

He didn’t even realize he was bleeding until he felt his hands become oddly slippery. He sat up and looked down, his eyes going wide as he saw the blood trickling down his fingers. His heart began to race, his chest becoming tight. He couldn’t live with himself if he died now and took out all his companions with him. Though, maybe he was just being dramatic.

The knife in his hands disappeared and he looked clearer at the cuts on his hands, cursing himself under his breath. He grabbed a nearby carafe of water and poured it over his hands, hissing in pain while they stung.

“Goddess forgive me..” he sighed under his breath, looking around for some cloth he could use to cover his wounds. Then, during one of their battles, he could play it off as an injury received. Why did he do this?

Why was he like this?

He could never know the answer to those questions. The questions that pulled at his heart and broke down in his mind- they had no real answers, they never were able to be answered to begin with. In all his years living as some high, extraordinary Chosen of Mystra, he never found the courage to become insightful of himself. He never understood why he was never enough, or why he couldn’t do things right. Why did he feel the need to lie to cover his imperfections? Why was he so scared that if he messed up, he would never be exonerated?

Mystra had planted the seed in his head that he was not worthy of forgiveness, that death would be the only thing to balance his scale. It got to him. Terribly so, Gale began to believe that she was right. After all, how could one commit such a sin against a God and not be considered unworthy of their forgiveness? He had tried to usurp her authority, whether for love or pride, and had to deal with her wrath. She had every right to not pardon him. She had every right to make him feel how he did.

Though he was rather calm in these situations, no matter what was happening around him, right now he was panicking. His breath picked up, his chest rising and falling faster by the second. Why couldn’t he find a damn cloth?

“Gale?” Tav’s sweet voice broke him from his thoughts. Was he crying, too? He couldn’t tell anymore. He was a whole mess and a half.

“Tav-“

“What happened?” The way they spoke, so much concern in their voice, he couldn’t help but be ashamed of what he had become. How could he sit here, hurting, and hurt others around him? The look Tav gave him was enough to break a thousand realms over again, and he felt awful for making them deal with him.

“I- I don’t know…” he replied, the panic in his eyes as evident as ever.

Tav disappeared for a moment but quickly returned with more water and some towels. They sat down beside him, sighing softly as they took his hands in their own.

He winced, pulling back for a moment before Tav eased him, gently cleaning the wounds.

“Gale..” they started again, and he looked away, ignoring the wounds on his hands. Gods, he was so stupid.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what happened,” he replied, taking a breath as Tav made sure his hands were okay.

“Gale,” they repeated, glancing down suspiciously at the poison beside him.

He looked to his side, sighed, and then opened his mouth to speak. How could he even begin?

“You promised me,” Tav sighed, waving their hands and muttering a small healing spell. Soon enough, the wounds closed, and his hands were clean again.

“I wasn’t going to-“

“Gale-“ they sighed again, running a hand over their face. “Why do you even have it? We discussed this. It won’t come down to that.”

“We don’t know that.”

Tav looked at him with those sad, puppy-dog eyes. Hurt laced their words, how could Gale be so cruel to himself?

“It’s for safety.”

“Safety of who, Gale? What happens if you accidentally drink it instead of a healing potion? What happens if it ends up in your food?” They asked, eyebrows furrowed together.

“I wouldn’t do that-“

“Oh, come on. We’ve all done it. These damn bottles look so alike! I hardly know the difference between a feather fall and an angelic sleep spell, Gale. It could happen to any of us.” Tav replied, their words rather sharp. Gale flinched, looking down at his fully restored hands.

“I cannot live on if I do not have a clear source of escape should things turn the wrong way,” Gale replied, honest-hearted words clashing with the things he was actually thinking. Yes, he felt that way, but did he think that way? Hardly.

Truth be told, Gale was angry with Mystra. At least, a small part of him was. He had done everything to love her, to prove his love, going so far as bestowing this upon himself, and instead of helping, she cast him aside. If she truly loved him as she claimed to, would he even be here? Why had she left him like this- surely death would have been much kinder. This was just plain cruel.

“I don’t want you to think like that, Gale. I want you with me, with our party, for as long as you can be. You’re supposed to stay by our side, not have a plan to leave us,” Tav took his hands in their own again, looking him in the eye. “Please, Gale. I want you to live. I need you to live. Planning your demise does no one any good, especially not yourself.”

“Mystra-“

“Enough about Mystra!” Tav dropped his hands, frustrated now. “We know. I know. Why are you so devoted to her when all she’s done is bring you pain? It makes no sense to me that you would continue to suffer in her name. You need to be free, Gale. Netherese orb or not, and whether you like it or not, you’re in this tadpole journey with us. I don’t give two damns what Mystra thinks or feels. This is about you, not her.”

Those words struck him. Yes, that tiny part of him agreed, Mystra was harsh for leaving him like this. She was rather harsh to toss him aside after doting on him and his abilities for so many years. But the larger part of him outweighed that piece, and he could only help but feel guilty for thinking such things about her.

“But-“

“No buts, Gale. You’re going to stop this stupid ‘I’m going to blow myself up for Mystra’ nonsense. I know it’s a part of who you are, we all have things we have to deal with, but please. For me, for all of us, you can’t go on with this weight on your back.” Tav sighed, taking his face gently in their hands and wiping away his tears.

“I’ll try to do better, I promise,” Gale replied, letting his face rest in their soothing hands. Why did he always hurt those that he loved? He couldn’t answer that. He never could.

“The next time you start contemplating your death, please, Gale, talk to me. Talk to any of us! We all want to be here for you, and I know I would be so incredibly miserable if we lost you,” They looked into his eyes and pulled his head against their own. Their foreheads touched, Gale’s eyes shut, and for a brief moment, he felt at peace. No matter what happened he knew he had friends to rely on. And for that, he was thankful.

Tav made sure he was alright before returning to the campfire to rest. He tucked the poison into the furthest part of his bag, laid himself to rest, and let his mind slip away into the night.

He would keep the poison and the letter handy, just in case, and it would take quite some time for him to be fully able to talk to the others when he was feeling like exploding, but it would happen. Eventually, he would be okay. Eventually, he would find peace.

#baldur's gate 3 #fanfiction #for you #for you page #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #bg3 #bg3 gale #gale fanfic #gale angst #bg3 tav #tav #gale x tav #bg3 angst #fanfiction angst #baldur’s gate fanfiction #bg3 fanfiction #fanfic #baldurs gate fanfiction #baldurs gate gale #baldurs gate 3 #gale

[sitp-recs]

Teddy Lupin Appreciation Reclist

I hope everyone’s already read my gorgeous gift Wield Me by @tackytigerfic because that fic finally inspired me to finish and post this rec list! I’ve been a big Teddy fan since his name came up in the books; thanks to @lqtraintracks I was lucky to get introduced to and fall in love with Harry/Teddy many years ago. Sometimes it’s hard to read them together with other ships because just like Peter Parker, Teddy holds a very special place in my heart and I just want him to be happy and loved 🥹 so to celebrate my long-standing love for this character - which was boosted a hundred times by Tacky’s gift, I thought I’d share my favorite Teddys - both in romantic and platonic relationships - in fic. btw if anyone wants to start a Teddy centric fest let me know!

🏍️ Coming Up for Air by @lqtraintracks (Hardy, M, 2k)

I could have died of it, your tenderness toward me. Instead I decided to live.

🍑 Five Years Since Bimbleswats by tryslora (Tedrarry, E, 4k)

It’s been five years since Bimbleswats, and Draco thinks that is definitely something worth celebrating.

💦 Waiting Under Vain by supergrover24 (Hardy, E, 5k)

Teddy wants to know how sex really should be. Harry can't resist, no matter how much he tries.

🥩 The Lies We Live With by @bixgirl1 (Jeddy, E, 5k)

It doesn’t really count… is almost always followed by a lie, James learns, growing up.

🎨 Surface Texture by @the-starryknight (Hardy, E, 5k)

I've drawn a hundred portraits, but none quite like Harry's. In the early hours of the morning, I lay him bare in charcoal and paper.

👠 When It Alteration Finds by @lqtraintracks (Hardy, E, 7k)

Teddy thinks this is the way to finally get what he wants. But there is more than one way to Harry's heart.

🧁 Holding Out for A Hero by @writcraft (Hardy, E, 7k)

Even as he says no, Harry’s hands push into Teddy’s hair. Even as he protests, his lips connect with Teddy’s. Before Teddy can offer any reassurance his heart’s thumping wildly in his chest and Harry Potter’s kissing him as if there’s no tomorrow.

🐉 On the Same Side by rillalicious (Teddy/Charlie, M, 7.5k)

Teddy is heading to Romania to protest a proposed anti-dragon law. He finds an interesting ally there.

🧅 Shut Up and Kiss Me by @unmistakablyoatmeal (Hardy, E, 8k)

There's a reason Harry walks an extra ten blocks to go to the shops and it has nothing to do with onions. AU.

🪞 Portrait of a Young Girl by @thusspoketrish (Drarry, M, 8.6k)

Recently married, Harry and Draco are tasked with raising a four-year old Teddy, whose emerging gender identity brings up an array of questions, fears, and revelations for them when they realise that Teddy might be transgender.

⚔️ Wield Me by @tackytigerfic (Drarry + hints at Tedrarry, E, 10k)

Draco Malfoy, blacksmith, is renowned through the magical world for his skill and exquisite creations. He could quite easily spend the rest of his days making pretty trinkets for the fae court, and being handsomely rewarded for the privilege. But why take the easy route when instead he could get involved in a dangerous mission with Unspeakable Harry Potter (who also happens to be Draco's... well, he's something, isn't he?). A little story about learning to strike while the iron is hot.

🦆 Hallo Spaceboy by @shiftylinguini (Jeddy, T, 10k)

Or: James kissed Teddy last night. This may or may not be the end of the world.

🧹 Overexposed by @nv-md (Tedrarry, E, 10k)

Teddy never expected to become a model for Nimbus, and he definitely didn't expect any of the adverts to catch Harry and Draco's attention. But now that it's happened, Teddy can't deny he gets a thrill every time he catches Harry and Draco staring, and he's going to do everything he can to keep their eyes on him.

🎸 like the lost lyrics of a song suddenly remembered by @lqtraintracks (Teddy/Bill + Jeddy, E, 11k)

Teddy Lupin, aging rockstar, is making a comeback after his life and career were nearly ruined by an illegal potions habit. Everyone's out to support him tonight. Including the man he's always tried so hard not to love -- as well as the man he's always turned to instead.

⛺️ Good Intent by @maesterchill (Jeddy + past Hardy, E, 12k)

It all starts on the camping trip when James gets his dick out in the tent.

🎾 Game, Set, Match by @writcraft (Hardy, E, 13k)

Teddy is smitten, Harry is lonely and tennis seems like a great way to avoid dealing with this thing between them.

🤝 Team Players by @shiftylinguini (Jeddy + James/Oliver, E, 15k)

Everyone has that one celebrity they’d move heaven and earth to get between their legs, and James Potter is no exception. He just never anticipated that number one on his Freebie List would end up in the same room as him, let alone would make the first move. But lucky for James, Teddy is a team player―well, he probably is, especially with what James is suggesting.

🍨 The Strongest Affinity by eidheann (Drarry, T, 17k)

Trouble finding a wand for Scorpius leads Harry and Draco to something they never imagined.

🦋 Meet Me at Midnight by @the-starryknight (Drarry, T, 57k)

Harry was beginning to wonder if he’d ever make anything again when Malfoy stormed through the door of Harry’s furniture shop. Now Harry’s got an impossible Ministry commission to finish, and even less energy than ever to deal with his elusive muse. That is, until he stumbles upon the surreal and beautiful world of a mysterious fae creature…

🌳 By the Grace by lettered (Drarry, T, 140k)

Harry is an Auror instructor. Malfoy wants to be an Auror.

#teddy lupin my beloved #hp rare pairs

[red-balloon12]

Everybody Hates Lila (And Why It’s Concerning Sometimes)

Lila Rossi is not a stranger in the Miraculous fandom. In fact I’d argue she’s more infamous than Gabriel in some cases. She’s despised by nearly everyone and while some reasons are more justifiable than others, she’s all around not a good person and a mid at best character.

But here’s my deal with it. The fandom hates this girl to I’d like to say an….unhealthy degree. Like the amount of salt this character gets is unmatched. And I feel like the causation of all of this salt doesn’t really live up to the response.

Lila is a liar who causes characters to act out of character very often. And not only that but she also is Marinette’s main rival now and is a jerk to her. She’s underutilized and her lies aren’t that convincing and yet the story wants to convince us she’s more important than she really is pre butterfly miraculous.

This is Lila’s character summed up. At the most I’d expect is frustration mixed in with mild dislike. Reasonable but not over the top. Instead though, I see SEVERAL people make so many salt fics and talk so much shit about her that I just have to sit down and say….y’all need to chill. You all seriously need to chill.

The fandom talks about this character like she’s the spawn of Satan, something we’ve been criticizing Astruc for doing with Chloe, all because she doesn’t have as many redeeming traits as her. Did we forget that they’re BOTH kids? Both of them still have room to improve on themselves.

And I’ll admit it, I was one of those people who kept on saying “Why demonize Chloe when we have Lila” but thinking on it now, neither of them deserves to have that fate. If we REALLY need a character to do the whole “people don’t change” thing, why not Gabriel?

It’s so much better to have this lesson taught to adults to not be like Gabriel, to accept change and loss and to be better. To teach how heavy the impact of a lost love can be and how old age isn’t an excuse to be “stuck in your ways”.

Plus the lesson works better for someone who’s older than for teenagers who’s literally at the stage of their lives where change is everything. And I’m not saying Lila needs to be redeemed or she isn’t allowed to be a villain. What I’m saying is that the over salting on her character, a character that can be easily fixed and patched up, is kinda dumb and kinda annoying to see…especially when some people do like Lila.

SPEAKING OF WHICH, don’t think I’ve forgotten what happened years ago with that one fan that claimed that they loved Lila. That’s what happens when you take salting on a character WAY too far. And I can say that it’s only gotten a little better.

I just don’t understand why people can’t spend their energy talking about how to make a character better instead of salting on them 24/7 and this goes for all of the characters in ML.

I’m gonna be in the minority when I say this but Lila doesn’t deserve to be salted in as much as she does. She deserves reevaluation and a true villain arc. The constant bashing and insulting her at any chance ain’t it.

But you wanna know the thing that frustrates me the most about the Lila salt? How she started getting salted on in the first place. Aka, her being another barrier to Adrienette.

If y’all don’t know already, I don’t like the lovesquare and even back then I didn’t like it. And when I started seeing people hate Lila for this reason, I got very annoyed. It’s the same reason as to why people hated Kagami and it’s a stupid reason (imo). At least the other reasons why she’s hated had some foundation and sense.

TLDR: Lila is a mess but she’s not a mess that’s beyond repair but the constant salting on her and her character isn’t going to do anything. (If you really wanna salt on someone, salt on the writers for making her writing so subpar)

#miraculous #miraculous opinions #miraculous tales of ladybug and chat noir #lila rossi #Lila sugar(?) #ml fandom critical #fandom salt #slight ml writers salt

[keerysquinn]

Coffee Cups and Unconditional Love

Summary: Wayne Munson has been there for his nephew since before he was born, and he'll be there for him for the rest of his life - a.k.a. an explanation of why Wayne Munson owns so many coffee mugs as told through his relationship with his nephew

CW/TW: alcoholism, mentions of child neglect, death, illegal activities, dismissal of mental health issues because it's the 70s/80s, season 4 spoilers if you haven't finished yet

Word Count: 17.6k

A/N: I'm just gonna apologize in advance for this one. It was a labor of love, and I hurt my own feelings writing it.

April 1965

Wayne Munson was a simple man with simple tastes. It didn't take much to make him happy. A couple cigarettes from his pack of smokes, a cold beer, and a working radio were the only things he needed to unwind after a long shift at the plant. He mostly lived off of TV dinners, cold sandwiches, and cereal, and that was fine with him. He had never been the greatest cook, and not wasting his time in the kitchen gave him more energy for work anyway.

At the age of twenty-three, he only had a few more payments left to make on his trailer before he owned it outright, and he had a foldout bed for his younger brother Richard to use when things weren't going so great with their parents. He'd made it clear that his home was always open to him, no questions asked.

However, that didn't mean he wasn't surprised to find his brother and a crying girl sitting on his front step when he got back from the grocery store.

Wayne was a man of few words, and the few he did have did not equip him with the skills to handle a clearly distraught, sixteen year old girl. He and his brother exchanged a look before he wordlessly ushered the two inside.

He put on a fresh pot of coffee before busying himself with putting away his groceries, occasionally glancing over to where his brother was attempting to calm down the crying girl on his sofa.

"Everything is gonna be okay, Linda," he heard his brother say. "Wayne'll know what to do."

Once his groceries were put away and the coffee was finished brewing, he realized that he only had the one coffee mug. He found a couple of plastic juice cups in the back of one of his cabinets and poured the coffee into those and the lone mug. He set the mug in front of the girl and then handed one of the cups to his brother. He held his own cup as he sat down in the chair across from the couch.

Before he could ask what in the world was going on, the girl gave him a funny look.

“Where are your other mugs?” she asked as she wiped the tears from her eyes.

“I’ve only got the one,” he replied.

“Who only owns one coffee mug?”

Wayne shrugged.

“My mother owns three entertaining sets in different patterns with eight mugs a piece. I can’t imagine someone only having one mug.”

She sniffled a bit, but it seemed as though she’d stopped crying for now.

“Don’t really need more than one when you live alone,” he said before taking a sip of his coffee. “Now, does someone wanna tell me why you were crying on my porch?”

Wayne looked back and forth between the two as they shared a look, both hesitant to come right out and say it.

“I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s going on, Richie.”

“Linda’s pregnant,” Richie blurted out as he started talking a mile a minute. “We didn’t plan for it to happen or anything, but it did. And then her parents found out, and all hell broke loose. You shoulda heard what they said about me, Wayne. About us. About our family.”

Even without being there, Wayne could imagine it pretty perfectly. Their parents weren’t exactly the greatest people, and there was a reason he’d left home as soon as he could, a reason why he had a spare bed specifically for his brother. Their dad was a mean drunk and took it out on everyone around him. The neighbors would hear him yelling, and the next morning, broken furniture would be sitting on the curb waiting for the next garbage pickup. Their mom just made excuses for him and watched as it happened. A bystander in her own life sweeping up broken glass and scrubbing beer stains out of the carpet. They weren’t exactly the kind of family that you’d want your daughter to involve herself with. Wayne had some firsthand experience with that fact.

“It was just awful,” Linda said as she wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “They told me I could either stay with my cousins in Kentucky until I had the baby and gave it up, or I could get out of their house. So, I got up, and I marched out with Richie.”

“I didn’t know where else to take her,” Richie continued. “There’s no way I’d leave her at mom and dad’s, and I just panicked and brought her here. We could help pay your bills or buy groceries or anything else you need. I got that job that I was telling you about - the one as a bag boy down at the grocery store.”

“And I’m going to pick up as many extra shifts at the diner as I can until I’m too pregnant to work,” Linda added, talking over Richie. “And we’ll help out around here with anything you need. You’ll barely even know we’re here.”

Wayne ran a hand over the back of his neck and abandoned his coffee on the table.

“Where’s all your stuff?” he asked. “You’re gonna need stuff if you’re moving in.”

“They didn’t give me time to pack when they threw me out,” she replied. “But I still have my house key, so Richie was going to take me back over there to get my things tomorrow when I know they’re both out of the house.”

“And I was gonna head over and grab my own stuff after we talked to you,” Richie continued. “Didn’t want to show up here with a bunch of stuff if we were gonna have to go somewhere else. I figured she could use the fold out I usually sleep on, and I can sleep on the couch.”

“No, you’ll take my room,” Wayne said as he moved to get up from his seat. “I’ll be fine out here. Just gotta straighten it up a little bit for you.”

Before he could leave the room, Wayne was practically knocked over by the force of Linda leaping up to wrap her arms around him in a tight embrace.

“I can’t thank you enough,” she said.

He awkwardly patted her on the back.

“It’s fine,” he replied. “I’d do anything for my brother.”

The next day, Wayne busied himself with getting his room ready for Linda and Richie to move into while they were out collecting Linda’s things. When the couple returned, Linda handed a brown paper bag to Wayne.

“These are for you,” she said with a smile. “A little thank you for all that you’re doing for us.”

Wayne opened the bag, and inside, he found three different coffee mugs - one dark green, one light blue with pink rosettes, and one yellow and white striped.

“I snagged a mug from each of my mother’s entertaining sets. It’ll drive her nuts, and now you have enough mugs for us all to have a cup of coffee. Everybody wins.”

The gift of coffee mugs wasn’t the only way Linda started to improve his life. She actively scolded him about the way he’d been eating and told him that she was going to fix his diet even if it killed her in the process. And so his TV dinners were reserved for the nights when Linda was working the dinner shift at the diner and hadn’t planned for leftovers that Wayne and Richie could easily reheat on their own.

She’d promised that he’d barely even know that they were there, but she made her loving presence known.

October 1965

Wayne ducked out of his shift at the plant several hours early when he got the call that Linda had gone into labor. His brother wanted him there for support, and he wanted to meet his niece or nephew the second they were born, so he was happy to do it. He sat in the waiting room for hours until his brother came to grab him.

“Ready to meet your nephew?” Richie asked him as they entered the hospital room.

Wayne’s attention was immediately drawn to Linda sitting up in bed cradling her tiny son. She was sweaty, and her wavy, dark hair was even messier than it normally was, but he didn’t think he’d ever seen her look happier in the six months he’d known her.

“Do you want to hold him?” Linda asked, never looking away from the baby in her arms.

Wayne nodded and made his way to sit in one of the chairs by her bed. Richie carefully took the baby from his girlfriend’s arms and placed him in Wayne’s awaiting hold.

“Wayne, meet Eddie. Eddie, this is your Uncle Wayne.”

"Hey Eddie," Wayne whispered, as he cradled the newborn. "It's nice to meet you."

"His full name is Edward Wayne Munson," Linda said, causing Wayne's gaze to snap up from the baby in his arms to look over at her.

"Really?"

"Would I lie to you?"

Wayne's heart swelled, and he would have been lying if he said that he didn't get a bit choked up.

Wayne was often awake with Linda during the late night feedings. With Richie still going to school and working extra shifts whenever he could to support his little family, he needed all the sleep he could get, so Linda would take Eddie into the living room whenever he got fussy.

"Are you sure this is alright?" she'd asked the first time she accidentally woke him up.

"Don't worry about it," he reassured her. "I've always been more of a night owl anyway."

So the two would sit together at the tiny kitchen table as Linda fed her son, a light blanket draped over her chest to protect her modesty. Not that Wayne would have ever stared at his brother's girl. He'd come to think of her as the sister he never had, and he was fiercely protective of her. He'd make her tea, and she'd tease him about how nice it was to have more than one mug to share between them.

"If I didn't steal my mother's mugs, we wouldn't be able to have nights like these," she said. "And wouldn't that be a shame?"

"You're never going to let that go, are you?" he asked with a small laugh.

"The handle was chipped, Wayne. You only had one mug, and it wasn't even in good condition."

"I've never needed much."

"Well, you'll never have to drink out of a chipped mug again. I'll make sure of it."

On the nights where Eddie was particularly fussy and wouldn't go back to sleep after being fed and changed, Linda would move over to the couch and pass the baby over to Wayne. Wayne would sit in the worn out rocking chair that he'd picked up at the Goodwill, and he'd slowly rock with him as she made herself comfortable. By the dim light of the lamp on the end table, she'd read aloud from her beat up copies of the Lord of the Rings novels, and Eddie would fall asleep to the daring adventures of hobbits and elves with his uncle’s finger in his grasp.

December 1965

Eddie was only a little bit over two months old for his first Christmas, and he could barely hold his own head up, but Linda still went over the top to make it as special as she could on her limited budget.

They couldn’t afford to get Eddie’s photo professionally taken with the Santa at the big department store in the city. It was just too expensive if she wanted to put any gifts under the modest tree that they were all pretty sure Richie had chopped down illegally. Instead, she placed her son in the Christmas stocking that she’d found at Goodwill and stitched his name onto and had Wayne take pictures of him with his beat up polaroid camera. They didn’t have anyone that they wanted to send the pictures to, so every single one was hung up on the refrigerator until Linda decided it was time to add them to her photo album.

“Next year, I want pictures of him playing in the snow,” Linda said as she looked at the collage of photos on their fridge. “And I’m getting a picture of him with Santa even if I have to force one of you to dress up to make it happen.”

On Christmas morning, the three of them sat in a circle on the floor in front of the tree with baby Eddie laying on his stomach in the middle. They all knew that he was too young to know what was going on, but Linda made a point of setting each of Eddie’s gifts in front of him so he could marvel at the brightly colored comics that she’d wrapped them in. There weren’t many presents under the tree, and they were all for Eddie anyway, so everyone was content to sit there with their morning cups of coffee for as long as the baby wasn’t fussy.

“Oh, before I forget,” Linda said as she popped up from her seat leaning against the sofa. She headed back to the bedroom and returned with a small parcel wrapped up in newsprint. She handed it over to Wayne as she sat back down and pulled her son into her lap.

“I thought we agreed on no gifts?” Wayne asked. “Save all our money to make things special for the kid?”

“It’s not from me,” Linda said as Eddie gripped her finger. “It’s from Eddie, of course, and you can’t expect him to follow our rules. He’s just a baby after all.”

Wayne sighed and carefully unwrapped the gift. Inside the crumpled newspaper was a coffee mug with “World’s Best Uncle” hand-painted on the side along with a bright blue baby handprint of Eddie’s.

“It’s not much,” Richie said. “But we hope it shows even a little bit of how thankful we are for everything you’ve done for us.”

“It’s perfect,” Wayne replied. “Really. Thank you.”

April 1967

For Wayne’s twenty-fifth birthday, he insisted that he didn’t need any gifts, and he didn’t want them to make any sort of a fuss over him.

“You’re being absolutely ridiculous,” Linda told him. “We can’t just skip your birthday.”

“I’m happy with what I have,” he said with a shrug. “We don’t need to bring more stuff into this trailer, and I’d much rather just spend the day playing with Eddie and maybe listen to the ball game on the radio if there is one.”

“That’s fine, I guess. But I’m making you your favorite dinner. And a cake. I’ll maybe even get some ice cream to go with it. And we’re singing to you while wearing party hats made out of newspaper whether you like it or not. It’s been decided, and I will not fight with you on this one, Wayne.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied with a laugh.

So, on his birthday, Linda made a pot roast slow roasted with carrots and onions and a side of mashed potatoes with extra, extra gravy. For dessert, there was a double chocolate chip cake with vanilla frosting and strawberry ice cream. Wayne didn’t fight about the newspaper hat that Linda made him wear, and he pretended that he didn’t hate being the center of attention when they all sang to him if only because he got to hold Eddie while it was happening. The eighteen month old tried to feed him a handful of cake before shoving it in his own mouth and giggling wildly.

He shouldn’t have been surprised when Linda set a small gift in front of him. He knew what it was without even opening it. Every time she thought of giving him a gift, it was a coffee mug, and he had started giving the same to her. They’d started an almost competition of sorts, seeing who could find the most interesting mug at Goodwill or one of the small thrift stores in the city. This one was beige and had the words Ohio University Grandma printed in green on the side. It might have been the best one yet.

“We have something else for you,” Richie told him after sharing a look with Linda. “A gift we couldn’t really wrap.”

“I expected the mug, but I told you guys that you didn’t have to give me anything.”

“We know, but this is a really important gift,” his brother continued. “We’re giving you your bedroom back.”

“You don’t have to do that. I don’t mind sleeping in the living room. We’ve been over this a hundred times. You need your privacy more than I do, and with the kid, you need the extra space.”

“We know that’s how you feel, Wayne,” Linda said. “But it’s time for you to start sleeping on a real bed again.”

“Which is why we’re moving out,” Richie blurted out.

“You’ve been so good to us these past two years,” Linda continued. “And we are so grateful for everything you’ve done for us and the life you helped us build. It’s because of everything that you did that we know we’re ready to take this step.”

“I finally grew a pair and asked her to marry me, and we found an apartment that’ll be ready for us to move into next month. It’s not going to be easy, but we’re excited. Really excited.”

“Well, I’m really happy for you guys,” Wayne told them. “Truly. But you’re gonna leave the kid with me, right? I’m way too attached to him to let him leave.”

As if agreeing with Wayne, Eddie reached up and pressed a sticky, chocolate-covered hand onto his uncle’s cheek. Wayne dug his fingers into the boy’s side and smiled down at him as he giggled and squirmed.

“I don’t know,” Linda said. “I think I’d miss him too much.” 

She looked at her son as if he was the whole world, and to her, he probably was.

“You’re probably right.”

“But you’ll still see us all the time,” she promised. “We’ll be over here bothering you every chance that we get, and as soon as we’re settled into our place, we’ll be having you over for dinner every single Sunday night. You’ll get sick of us and be longing for some peace and quiet before you know it.”

Wayne didn’t know how to tell them he didn’t need peace and quiet anymore. He’d grown used to coming home from work to see his nephew playing in the living room and laughing as he toddled around the trailer. He was used to Linda singing loudly and off-key along with every song on the radio as she busied herself in the kitchen. He was used to his brother cracking jokes and making loud comments about every single sport he watched on TV. He was used to there being too many people in his tiny trailer, and he didn’t want that to change.

But he was proud of them. So extraordinarily proud of the two of them and the life they were building together. In the past two years, he’d watched them grow from a couple of scared kids into the loving parents that neither of them had ever had themselves. It would hurt to live apart from them, but he knew that it was what was best for all of them.

May 1970

“Munson residence,” Wayne said as he answered his ringing phone.

“Wayne, it’s Linda,” the voice on the other end of the phone replied.

“I was just about to head over to your apartment. Need me to pick up anything on my way?” 

It wasn’t unusual for Linda to ask him to pick up something on the way to dinner. Especially now that she was in college. She’d gotten her GED the year before and was about to finish her first year of schooling to become a teacher. Now that Eddie was a little older and getting ready to start preschool, she was ready to give up her waitressing job and work towards something more stable that fit better with her life as a young mom. Something that would allow her to be home for his bedtime every night.

“Actually, I was calling to ask you for a different sort of favor. I hate to cancel our dinner so last minute, but Richie got called into work for an extra overnight inventory shift at the grocery store, and I have a huge group presentation for one of my classes due tomorrow. Normally, I would give you more notice, but I was wondering if I could maybe drop Eddie off over there for a sleepover? Richie would be able to pick him up first thing in the morning when he gets off work, and this way I can meet up with my classmates to put the finishing touches on our project. I’d owe you a huge favor.”

“You know he’s always welcome over here. Are you heading over now?”

“In a little bit. I still have to pack an overnight bag for the kiddo. One of the girls from my group is going to pick me up, and then we’ll drop Eddie off with you before we head over to the library.”

“Sounds good to me. See you soon.”

While waiting for his sister-in-law and nephew to show up, Wayne looked through the kitchen to see if he actually had anything that he could feed Eddie for dinner. He hadn’t been expecting to have to cook that night, and he usually did his weekly grocery shopping on Mondays before he came home from work. He supposed he could make the kid a TV dinner if it came down to it, and he maybe had a can of soup or two in the cupboard, but neither were up to the standards of the food that Linda normally made him.

But, when Linda arrived with Eddie, she entered the trailer carrying dinner for them.

“I’d already started cooking before Richie got called into work,” she said as she set the lasagna down on the table. “I knew you wouldn’t have had a solid dinner plan, and I wasn’t going to let two of my favorite boys get stuck eating what I’m sure would have been TV dinners.”

“You know me too well.”

Before Linda could respond, Eddie took a running leap at his uncle who caught him easily.

“Uncle Wayne!” Eddie said as he clung to his uncle’s chest. “We get to have a sleepover! And mama said I can stay up an extra half hour ‘cause it’s a special occasion!”

“She did? Well, that’s a good thing because I was thinking we could have a campout in the living room, and maybe if it’s okay with your mama, we could even make some hot chocolate.”

Eddie shifted in Wayne’s arms to face his mom and fixed her with his best pleading gaze, all puppy dog eyes and pouty bottom lip. The kid had them all wrapped around his little finger, and he knew it.

“How could I say no to this precious face? It’s fine with me,” Linda said with a small laugh at her son’s excitement at her answer.

Wayne set Eddie down on the counter next to the sink.

“Why don’t you wash your hands while I talk to your mama, and then you and I will have some dinner, okay?”

Eddie nodded vigorously and turned on the water, so Wayne turned his attention back to Linda.

“Alright, so bedtime is anywhere between seven thirty and eight tonight. He’s gonna be home with Richie all day tomorrow, and I know it’s going to be a lazy sleepy day anyway, so he’ll get plenty of rest if he doesn’t sleep enough tonight. His pajamas and clothes for tomorrow are in his backpack, but if you don’t have him dressed before he gets picked up, that’s fine, too. If he wants a bedtime story, Peter Pan is his favorite right now, and he usually falls asleep around the second chapter. That’s somewhere in his bag with Mister Lion. I gave him a bath earlier, so you don't need to worry about that, but make sure he brushes his teeth. He will try to convince you that he doesn’t need to, but he wants to be just like his Uncle Wayne, so if you brush your teeth when it’s time for him to, he shouldn’t put up too much of a fight. I don’t think I’m forgetting anything, but it’s not like you’ve never watched him before. You know how to handle my little hellraiser better than anyone.”

She looked over towards her son who was now laying with his stomach flat against the counter as he clapped his hands under the running water repeatedly trying to make the biggest splash he possibly could. She moved to turn off the sink before sitting her son upright on the counter and drying his hands off with the dish towel.

“Were you making a mess of the kitchen, you little stinker?” she teased as she skittered her fingers across her son’s belly.

“No,” he replied through his giggles as he curled in on himself. She stopped tickling him and ruffled his messy curls that matched her own.

“You be good for your Uncle Wayne, okay? Daddy will be here to pick you up first thing in the morning. Now give mama big hugs and kisses.”

Eddie stood up on the counter and flung his arms around Linda’s neck. Once she’d wrapped her arms around the boy, he moved his hands to squish her cheeks as he smothered her with as many kisses as he could give.

“I love you so much, Eddie Bear,” she told him, laughing as he kissed one of her eyes.

“I love you more,” he replied.

“And I love you most.”

She gave him one last big squeeze and kissed his forehead before setting him down on the ground.

“Alright, I’ve kept Sandy waiting out in the car long enough. Don’t have too much fun without me!”

Wayne and Eddie had a relatively easy night together. They ate dinner, and Eddie didn’t fuss when Wayne had to wash the sauce off of his face afterwards. He sat at the kitchen table drawing pictures with the crayons and notebook paper they kept at the trailer for him while his uncle cleaned up the kitchen, and he narrated all of his art as he drew. They had the hot chocolate that Wayne promised with extra marshmallows, and there were no complaints about brushing teeth since Wayne was brushing his teeth, too. Wayne set up the foldout bed in the living room with an extra set of sheets and the fuzzy yellow blanket that was Eddie’s favorite. They both changed into their pajamas, and then they read four chapters of Peter Pan before Eddie fell asleep on the couch curled up against his uncle’s side with his fingers threaded through Mister Lion’s mane. Wayne carefully moved the sleeping boy to the bed and placed a kiss on his forehead. He fell asleep on the couch shortly after.

Wayne always woke up at five without an alarm clock no matter what time he went to bed the night before. It was both a blessing and a curse. Being careful to keep quiet enough that he wouldn’t wake Eddie, he made his way to the bathroom to take a quick shower before his brother got there. He didn’t know when his brother would be there, so he wanted to be ready to head to the plant early just in case he’d be racing out the door.

When he was finished getting ready, he headed into the kitchen where he found a very sleepy looking Eddie with the fuzzy, yellow blanket wrapped around his shoulders. He was dragging Mister Lion by his tail behind him.

"What are you doing up, Eds? Did I wake you?" he asked.

"Bad dream," Eddie replied, sniffling a little. “‘Mnot scared, but Mister Lion needed a hug.”

Wayne scooped Eddie up, and the boy immediately wrapped his arms around his uncle’s neck.

“I got ya, buddy,” he said as he rubbed the boy’s back. “I got ya.”

Wayne continued to hold Eddie as he moved around the kitchen and started his morning coffee. Once he’d poured himself a cup, he headed to sit down on the couch.

“Why don’t you try to get a little more sleep, Eds?” he suggested. “I’ll start making breakfast after I finish my coffee, and then I’ll get you up, okay?”

Eddie nodded a little and moved to curl up next to his uncle on the couch not wanting to stray too far from the comfort that he’d found.

By the time Wayne had finished his coffee and used the little he had left in his kitchen to make some scrambled eggs and toast for the boy, it was close to seven. He had to be at the plant by seven thirty, so he was going to have to call in sick if his brother didn’t show up soon.

Eddie was not a morning person, so it took a few minutes for Wayne to get him up and seated at the table, and when he glanced at the clock on his wall, he knew he wasn’t going to make it to work on time.

“Mr. O’Grady? It’s Wayne Munson,” he started when his boss at the plant finally answered the phone. “I’m gonna be a little late for my shift. I’m watching my nephew. My brother was supposed to pick him up by now, but I’ve still got the kid, and I can’t leave him here alone.”

“It’s fine, Munson,” his boss answered. “In the ten years you’ve worked here, you’ve never taken a vacation, and the only times you’ve ever called off were when your nephew was born and when he broke his wrist last year. Take the day to spend with the kid. Sullivan has been asking for more hours anyway, and I can call him in to cover for you this time.”

“Thanks, Mr. O’Grady,” he said as he lunged to take the ketchup bottle away from Eddie before he could empty the entire thing onto his plate. “I really appreciate it.”

Wayne poured himself another cup of coffee and sat down across from Eddie who was more interested in eating ketchup than the eggs on his plate. He figured that inventory took a little bit longer than expected. The grocery store opened at nine, so they’d have to be done by then, and if his brother wasn’t at the trailer by nine thirty, he’d start calling their apartment.

Nine thirty came and went, and the phone call to Richie and Linda’s apartment went unanswered. The same happened every other time he called between then and noon. Wayne was starting to get worried, but he was trying his best not to let it show. His focus was on Eddie who didn’t seem to mind that he got to spend extra time there.

Finally, when Wayne was getting ready to set the table with the TV dinners that he’d ended up making for their lunch, someone answered the phone at the apartment.

“Hello?”

“Is everything okay over there?” Wayne asked, skipping the pleasantries. “I’ve been trying to get a hold of you all morning.”

“Everything’s fine. I was sleeping,” Richie replied. “What time is it?”

“For the love of god, Richie.” Wayne lowered his voice and glanced into the living room to make sure Eddie wasn’t paying attention to him before he continued. “I was starting to think something bad had happened. I called you at least a dozen times. Scared the shit outta me.”

“I’m sorry. I came home from work and passed out immediately. Didn’t hear the phone until just now.”

“But you were supposed to pick up Eddie before you went home.”

“I stopped on the way to change my clothes. Smelled like sweat and pickle juice after someone dropped a box and the shit splattered everywhere. I figured Linda changed her mind and was picking him up since she wasn’t home when I got here.”

“Well, she definitely didn’t come here.”

“She had a group presentation due today, and she was really hounding the other girls to make sure it was perfect. She probably just caught the bus and headed over to campus early. Do you want me to come over and get Eddie?”

“Don’t worry about it. You should get some more sleep. One of you can come and grab him after Linda gets home from class.”

“Are you sure? I know he can be a handful.”

“We’re fine. I’ll take him to the park or something, and he can do my grocery shopping with me. Besides, I just made him lunch, and I kinda like having him around.”

“You wanna keep him?” Richie asked with a laugh.

“Don’t tempt me,” Wayne responded with a laugh of his own. “But I don’t think Linda would be too happy about it.”

“You’re probably right. We’ll give you a call when we’re on our way to get him, okay? Most likely right around dinner time?”

“Sounds good to me.”

After lunch, Wayne finally got Eddie dressed and took him to the playground across town. Since they’d done nothing but sit around the trailer all morning, the kid had a lot of energy to burn, and he chose to burn it by giving his uncle a heart attack every time he went to leap off of something he probably shouldn’t have climbed in the first place. Eventually, he got tired of scaring years off of his uncle’s life, and Wayne agreed to push him on the swings as long as he promised not to jump off of those, too.

Once he’d successfully tired out the kid, Wayne loaded Eddie into his truck and headed to the grocery store. His usual get in, get what he needs, and get out trip took a lot longer than normal with his nephew riding in the cart, but debating about breakfast cereal and lunch meat with a kid who wasn’t even going to be eating them was wildly entertaining. In the end, he only ended up with three things that Eddie had wanted in his cart, and he was taking that as a win.

Standing in the checkout line, Wayne couldn’t help but overhear the conversation between the two housewives behind him. He wasn’t one to pay attention to town gossip, but he couldn’t ignore them.

“I’m sure you’ve heard about the accident last night,” the first woman said.

“News travels fast in a small town like Hawkins,” the second replied. “It’s a shame really. Those poor girls.”

“Oh, I know. I wonder if they’ve been able to find their families by now. Eleanor said that they weren’t sure who to call.”

“How did Eleanor get so much information about this anyway? It wasn’t in any of the papers today.”

“Her husband was on duty, and you know he went home and told her every detail. The man can’t keep a secret to save his life.”

“Can you blame him? A drunk driver crashing into a car full of girls leaving the community college library is probably the most exciting thing he’s ever seen working around here. Not that a tragedy is exciting mind you. It’s just more interesting to talk about than the occasional traffic violation.”

Wayne almost dropped the milk that he was holding on the ground. Their conversation meant nothing to him. To him, or his brother, or the little boy who was currently fighting to stay awake in his shopping cart. The fact that no one had seen Linda since last night was merely a coincidence. She was probably at home with Richie right now telling him all about how her presentation went and getting ready to pick up her son. She had to be.

But, when Wayne pulled up to his trailer to find his brother sitting on his front step looking more scared and alone than he had when he came to tell him that Linda was pregnant, he knew that wasn’t the case.

Wayne held Eddie throughout the funeral. Richie was an absolute wreck and could barely hold himself together let alone take care of his son. But he had his older brother to help pick up the pieces, and that was a comfort in such an upsetting time.

Wayne hadn’t expected such a large turnout for the funeral. With the way she lit up every room she entered, the fact that she had had an effect on so many people in her short twenty one years shouldn’t have been a huge surprise. There were groups of girls from all of Linda’s classes, and the diner had closed for the day because all of the waitresses and cooks wanted to be there. There were high school friends who had just arrived home from college, and there were families from their apartment building. All there to pay their respects. The only notable absence was Linda’s own parents. Not that anyone had really expected them to show up anyway. They hadn’t tried to contact her at all in the time since they’d kicked her out, and Wayne would have forced them to leave if they’d tried to show their faces.

After the services, Wayne took Eddie straight back to the apartment. He and Richie had discussed it beforehand, and they figured that the whole situation would be too overwhelming for him. They’d explained to him what had happened in a way that was simple enough for a child to understand, but the boy was still so young and confused about why his mother wasn’t coming home. He didn’t need to be surrounded by a bunch of people he didn’t know talking about what a shame it was that his mother was gone.

So, while his brother stayed behind to receive condolences, Wayne reheated one of the many casseroles people had dropped off at the apartment for them, gave Eddie a bath, and put him to bed. But throughout it all, he couldn’t help but notice that his usually bright and talkative nephew was the most quiet and reserved he’d ever been since he learned how to talk.

When Richie finally came home, he didn’t say anything. Just grabbed the casserole dish that Wayne had left on the counter along with a fork and sat down on the sofa where Wayne was pretending he cared about whatever was on TV.

Without saying anything, Wayne got up and grabbed a drink for his brother. Nothing fancy. Just a glass of the iced tea from the fridge. But there was an unspoken meaning behind it that they both could feel. That Wayne was always going to take care of them and get them what they needed. No matter what, he would always be there.

“Thanks,” Richie said as he accepted the glass. “For everything.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Wayne replied. “It’s what I’m here for.”

August 1970

Sunday dinners had remained the norm for the three Munson men, but Linda’s absence was always in the forefront of their minds. Not just because she was the best cook out of the three, but because she was the one who really got them to talk to each other. Wayne and Richie were never big talkers, and she had bridged their gap in communication.

And maybe that was why Wayne had accepted the Sunday overtime shifts that were offered to him. He hated missing the time with his family, but he hated the awkward silences more.

After not attending Sunday dinner for nearly a month, he figured that it was time to start going back. Eddie was starting school soon, and he felt guilty for the time he was missing with the kid. He felt even more guilty once he saw the state of their apartment.

He’d let himself in like he normally did, and the first thing he noticed was his brother passed out on the couch. There were empty beer cans strewn across the floor around him, and the room was in complete disarray. The kitchen wasn’t any better. The sink was overflowing with dirty dishes, and the trashcan was filled with enough beer cans to show that this probably wasn’t the first time this had happened.

He made his way back to Eddie’s room since the kid was nowhere to be found in the front of the apartment, and he found his nephew happily playing alone. It wasn’t exactly a comforting sight though. While the room was in relatively decent shape, the laundry hamper was overflowing to the point where there were small piles of clothes surrounding it, and there was a distinct odor hanging in the air. But the worst part was Eddie himself. The boy looked dirty. This definitely wasn’t the first day that he’d worn those clothes, and his hair was a tangled mess that obviously hadn’t been washed anytime recently.

“How’s it goin’, Eds?” Wayne asked, finally alerting his nephew to his presence.

“Uncle Wayne!” Eddie leaped up from his spot on the floor to give his uncle a hug.

As Wayne picked up the boy, he was hit with another wave of that stench, and his suspicions about said stench coming from Eddie were confirmed.

“So, when was the last time you had a bath?” he asked.

“We don’t have to do that anymore.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know,” Eddie said with a little shrug.

“And I’m guessing you’d have the same answer if I asked why the kitchen isn’t clean?”

“Yep.”

“And why the laundry isn’t done?”

“Yep.”

“Do you know anything?” Wayne teased.

“I know we’re eating TV dinners tonight!” Eddie said, excited that he could tell his uncle something.

“And how do you know that?”

“‘Cause we eat ‘em every night. Daddy puts ‘em on a plate so I won’t know, but he never throws out the box cause he’s too busy sleeping on the couch.”

“Does he do that a lot? Sleep on the couch like that, I mean?”

“Yeah. He’s no good at bedtime anymore.”

Wayne couldn’t tell if he was more heartbroken for his nephew or angry at his brother at that moment. All he knew was that he needed to do something.

“How do you feel about coming over for a sleepover?” Wayne asked. “We haven’t had one of those in awhile, and I miss hanging out with my favorite kid.”

Eddie’s response was an enthusiastic yes, so Wayne set him back down.

“I’m gonna go talk to your daddy, and then we’ll get your stuff ready to go, okay?”

“Okay!”

Part of Wayne wanted to be thankful that at least Eddie still seemed happy. He was okay on the inside even if it was clear that his dad had dropped the ball. But a much larger part of him was consumed by his anger. Angry at his brother for letting his home get this messy. Angry at his brother for clearly not taking care of his child. Angry at his brother for picking up their father’s bad habits.

But, most of all, Wayne was angry at himself for avoiding the awkward silences. If he’d kept going over for Sunday dinners, he would have caught the warning signs sooner. He could have kept things from getting this bad. He could have done something to help, and he was going to live with the guilt of not helping sooner for a very long time.

When Richie didn’t respond to his name or being shaken, Wayne grabbed a glass of water from the kitchen and dumped it over his brother’s head.

“What the hell, Wayne?” Richie sputtered as he came to and glared up at his brother.

“Don’t what the hell me,” Wayne replied. He was trying to keep his volume down so Eddie wouldn’t hear them. “It’s barely five o’clock on a Sunday, and you were passed out drunk.”

“It’s not a big deal.”

“It is a big deal. I shouldn’t have to tell you that with the way we grew up. Do you really want to put your kid through that?”

“I’m not turning into dad.” Richie sat up and laid his head in his hands. “I will never be anything like that man. I’m just not doing the best right now, okay? After everything, I lost my job. Missed too many shifts. It all spiraled from there. I just need some time to get back on my feet so we don’t lose the apartment.”

“You can’t take time when you’ve got Eddie to think about,” Wayne said as he took a seat next to his brother. “I’m bringing him home with me. This isn’t good for him, and you know it.”

“You can’t take my kid away from me.”

“The boy stinks, and I’m guessing he barely has any clean clothes left from what I saw in his room. This place is a wreck, and you don’t seem to care because you’re too busy drinking. He told me all you do is sleep on the couch like you were when I got here.”

Wayne ran a hand over the back of his neck. He hated putting this out there, but he had to open his brother’s eyes, and he didn’t see any other way.

“He starts preschool next week, Richie. If he gets there looking and smelling the way he does now or tells anyone anything about the way you’re living, someone is going to come here and take him away from you. He needs a safe and stable living environment, and this isn’t one right now. So you can either let him come with me while you pull yourself together, and you can still come and see him everyday. Or you can keep living like this, and you could wind up losing him for good. The choice is yours, and one of those options seems a lot better than the other to me.”

“Shit.”

Richie kicked the coffee table in frustration and sent empty beer cans flying.

“So, I can come see him everyday?” he asked after a moment.

“Whenever you want. I promise.”

“Okay . . . I’m not really turning into dad, am I?”

“No. I just think you went through some shit that you’re way too young for, and it made you make some bad choices. You’ve at least acknowledged it, so you’re doing better than he ever did.”

Wayne didn’t wait for a response from his brother. He just grabbed a garbage bag from the cabinet under the sink and headed back to Eddie’s room where he started shoving all of the dirty clothes into the bag.

“You can’t throw away my clothes,” Eddie pouted. “I need those.”

“I’m not throwing them away. I’m gonna do your laundry. Your daddy is awake, so why don’t you go talk to him while I get your stuff ready to go?”

Once Eddie’s clothes were taken care of, Wayne moved around the room grabbing whatever he saw that he thought his nephew would maybe want at his house and loading it into the duffle bag he found under the bed. He took the dinosaurs and toy cars that Eddie had been playing with when he came in. He took the stack of books and photo albums that were sitting on the tiny nightstand by his bed. He even grabbed the toy guitar that he was sure he was going to regret bringing with him. And, of course, he grabbed Mister Lion.

After a quick trip into the bathroom to grab Eddie’s toothbrush and other toiletries, he headed back into the living room where Eddie was giving his dad a goodbye hug.

“You be extra good for your uncle, okay?” Richie said as he pulled away from his son. “And I’ll be over to see you every day.”

“You promise?” Eddie asked.

“Cross my heart.”

Once they were back at the trailer, the first thing Wayne did was give Eddie a bath.

“I thought I didn’t need to do this anymore,” Eddie pouted as his uncle worked the shampoo into his hair.

“I’m gonna be honest with you, Eds,” Wayne replied. “You smell, and I can’t have you stinking up my trailer. So, it’s either you take a bath on a regular basis, or you’re sleeping on the porch.”

Eddie looked up at his uncle with wide eyes.

“You’d make me sleep on the porch?

“Never. Which is why we need to get you cleaned up.”

Getting Eddie bathed was the easy part. Tackling the tangled mess of his hair was an entirely different beast. Wayne tried to be as careful as possible as he worked through the knots, but Eddie was especially tender-headed, and his hair was a mess from the neglect, so there were plenty of complaints and tears.

“Mama never made it hurt,” Eddie said between his sniffles.

“I’m sorry, Eds,” Wayne replied. “I’m being as gentle as I can.”

“I miss her.”

“I know. Me, too.”

Wayne made grilled cheese and tomato soup for their dinner. It wasn’t anything special, but it was better than a TV dinner, and he made himself a promise that he’d never feed his nephew one of those for dinner ever again if he could help it. And, after the table was cleared and the dishes were done, he put the kettle on the stove to start heating up some water to make tea for himself and hot chocolate for Eddie.

When Wayne’s mug collection started to outgrow the small cabinet shelf, he’d moved most of them into the living room to put on display, but his favorites were kept in the kitchen for easy use. He pulled out the mug from Eddie’s first Christmas for himself, and then he grabbed Linda’s favorite mug - the light blue one with the pink rosettes - for Eddie. He carefully carried the mugs over to the coffee table before going through the bag of Eddie’s things to find the book he was looking for.

“Hey, Eddie, can you come over here?” he called over to his nephew as he sat down on the couch.

Eddie abandoned his crayons and the picture he was drawing to climb onto the couch with his uncle.

“You were too little to remember it, but did your mama and daddy ever tell you that you all lived here with me when you were a baby?”

“We did?”

“You did. The three of you shared my bedroom, and I slept out here. Whenever you were up at night, your mama would come sit in the kitchen, and we’d have tea together while she fed you. And then, when you still wouldn’t go back to sleep, she’d hand you over to me. We’d sit over here, and she’d read her favorite book to you until you fell asleep in my arms.”

Wayne grabbed the mugs off of the table and passed Eddie’s to him before picking up the copy of The Hobbit that he’d set aside.

“I know you miss your mama, and I know this isn’t the same as having her here, but this is a little piece of her that I can share with you.”

Eddie curled up against his uncle, and they sipped their drinks as Wayne started to read Linda’s most favorite adventure out loud to her son. It wasn’t much, but it was all Wayne could do to make Eddie’s first night in his trailer a little bit easier.

December 1970

Richie had made good on his promise to come and visit every day for the first two months that Eddie was staying with Wayne. But right around Halloween, he started missing days. And then multiple days in a row. It broke Wayne’s heart every time he saw Eddie realize that his dad had forgotten about him again, but there wasn’t much he could do about it. Richie had either stopped answering his phone at the apartment, or he was never home no matter what time of day Wayne called. Nor did he answer the door any of the times Wayne dropped by to check on him.

On Christmas Eve, Wayne realized that his brother hadn’t been over to see them since Thanksgiving, and he wasn’t sure if they’d be seeing him at all the next day. Wayne wasn’t going to let his brother’s screw ups ruin the holiday for Eddie though. It was going to be hard enough on him to spend his first Christmas without his mom. He didn’t want the whole day to be miserable.

Wayne had hidden all of Eddie’s gifts from Santa in the cabinet over the fridge - the only cabinet that Eddie hadn’t found a way to climb to yet - and he had gotten a small tree to prop up in the corner. It wasn’t very impressive, but Eddie was all smiles when he got to put the star on top, and that was good enough for him. He’d even picked up everything he needed to make cinnamon french toast for breakfast and a roast for Christmas dinner. It was shaping up to be a fairly decent holiday.

But, when he asked Eddie if he was excited for Santa to visit them that night, he was met with frustrated tears instead of the happiness he’d expected. Wayne stopped what he was doing and went over to where Eddie was sitting on the couch. The boy had tears streaming down his cheeks, and his tiny hands were balled into tight fists.

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” Wayne asked as he knelt down to get on Eddie’s level.

“I forgot.”

“Forgot what?”

“I forgot your present, and now it’s too late.”

“It’s okay. You don’t need to get me anything. I promise.”

“No, I gotta,” Eddie said as he wiped at his tears. “Mama said it wasn’t special if you didn’t get a mug, and I wanted it to be special.”

Wayne moved to sit on the couch and scooped Eddie up in his arms, allowing the boy to cry into his shoulder and get his feelings out.

“I was going to ask daddy to take me, but he’s never here.”

Wayne could pinpoint a lot of things about his brother that had angered him lately, but he didn’t know if he could ever forgive him for hurting Eddie like this. Still, he didn’t want his nephew to end up hating his dad. When Richie pulled it together, they’d be a family again, and he didn’t want moments like this to sour that.

“It’s my fault, Eds,” Wayne lied as he rubbed Eddie’s back in an attempt to soothe him. “Your daddy gave me some money so you could buy me a Christmas gift and told me that I should take you, and I got so busy with work that I just forgot about it. But if we leave right now, I bet we can make it to the Goodwill in time for you to pick out something real special.”

The opportunity to go present shopping cheered Eddie up immediately, and before Wayne knew it, the boy was pulling at his arm to get him to help grab his coat and shoes.

The Goodwill was still open when they got there, and nobody was inside except for the very bored looking teenager running the cash register.

“Now, you go pick something out, and I’ll wait here until after you’ve paid so whatever you pick can be a surprise,” Wayne said as he handed Eddie a few dollars.

Eddie took the money and wandered off towards where the homegoods were kept, and Wayne busied himself by looking at a rack of kids clothes near the front of the store. He wasn’t necessarily planning on buying anything, but if he could maybe find something decent that would fit Eddie, he might as well look. He only turned his attention back to the checkout counter when he heard his nephew’s voice.

“Excuse me,” Eddie said as he reached up to set his purchase on the counter. The counter was taller than he was, so he had to stretch just a little bit. “I want to buy this as a Christmas gift for my uncle, please. I have my own money and everything.”

“Well, aren’t you the cutest,” the girl working the cash register said as she picked up his mug. “Are you sure this is the one you want to get him though?”

“Yes, it’s the best one.”

“Okay, that’ll be one dollar. And for an extra quarter, I can even put it in one of these fancy gift bags for you if you’d like.”

“Yes, please.” Eddie set his money on the counter and waited as the girl got his change and wrapped his purchase.

“Here you go, sweetie,” the girl said as she handed Eddie his things.

“Thank you! Merry Christmas!”

Eddie raced back over to his uncle, and it was apparent that the tears from earlier were long forgotten.

When Wayne unwrapped his new “Virginia is for Lovers” mug in front of the tree on Christmas morning, he couldn’t contain his laughter.

“What’s so funny?” Eddie asked.

“It’s nothing Eds. I’ll tell you when you’re older.”

“Did I pick a good one then?”

“You picked the best one. I love it.”

And he did. Not just because it was Eddie that gave it to him, but because he knew it was the exact mug Linda would have chosen if she was there.

June 1973

Wayne and Eddie had settled into a routine together. During the school year, Wayne put Eddie on the bus before heading to work, and then he picked him up from after school care on the way home. Wayne made them dinner while Eddie did whatever homework he had to do, and then it was bathtime and books before bed. There wasn’t really enough room for two beds in Wayne’s bedroom, but he’d rearranged the furniture enough that they could just barely fit the fold out bed in his room when Eddie had expressed that he didn’t like sleeping out in the living room alone.

The only difference during the summer was that Eddie went to daycare instead of school. It was a little too expensive, but Wayne was doing his best to make it work.

Richie’s visits were few and far between at this point. They were lucky if he came to visit Eddie once a month, but it was usually a longer absence than that. They didn’t even have a way to contact him when he was gone anymore because he’d lost the apartment, and the only reason they knew he lost the apartment was because he’d told Wayne that if there was anything of Eddie’s still there, he should probably get it before the landlord changed the locks. When Wayne had showed up to grab the rest of Eddie’s toys and books, he’d grabbed the rest of the photo albums and a few of Linda’s things that were still around that he thought Eddie might like to have one day. Richie was supposed to give them his new address and phone number once he’d settled into a new place, but that had been nearly a year ago, and Wayne wasn’t holding his breath. His brother had broken so many promises since Eddie had moved in with Wayne, that he had a hard time believing anything his brother said.

So, when Richie showed up that morning and said that he wanted to take Eddie for the whole day, Wayne couldn’t have been more surprised. Even when Richie did remember to show up, he never spent the whole day with his own kid. But his brother said he had a new job, and he wanted to celebrate with his son. Wayne was reluctant to let it happen, but he knew the kid missed his dad, and if Richie wanted to step up, it would at least give him a chance to get some work done around the trailer without any distractions.

But when they came back around dinner time, Wayne regretted letting them go alone. Physically, Eddie was fine, but they returned in a different car than the one they’d left in. A much nicer car that Wayne knew his brother wouldn’t have been able to afford. He’d heard some rumors about cars getting stolen around Hawkins and getting brought to a chop shop somewhere outside of the town, but he hadn’t given it much thought since no one wanted to steal a car from someone who lived in a trailer park.

“Uncle Wayne!” Eddie said as he climbed out the car and ran to his uncle. “We had the best day!”

“You did?”

“Yeah! First, we went to the arcade, and then we got hot dogs, and after that, dad showed me how I can get any car I want for free!”

“Oh really?” Wayne glanced over at his brother who was leaning against the hood of what Eddie had all but confirmed was definitely a stolen car. “That sounds like a really great day, Eds. Why don’t you go inside and get washed up for dinner while your dad and I have a little chat, okay?”

Wayne waited until Eddie was out of earshot before he walked over to his brother.

“Seriously, Richie? Is that what your new job is? Stealing cars?”

“Lighten up. Do you know how much money I get for each car I bring in? I might actually be able to afford a decent apartment again, and I can quit sleeping on people’s couches. Eddie could even come stay with me.”

“Oh yeah. Sure. Being enmeshed in illegal activities is exactly what every seven year old needs. Do you even hear yourself?”

“Don’t tell me how to raise my son, Wayne. I think I know what I’m doing here.”

“Well, that’s rich coming from you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Since when are you the one raising him, Richie? The last time I checked, we haven’t seen you since March.”

“He’s still my son.”

“Then act like it. Because I’m the one who gets him to and from school and makes sure he gets his homework done. I’m the one who makes sure that he’s fed and clothed and has a roof over his head. I’m the one that he cries out for whenever he has a bad dream or he’s sick. And I’m the one who comforts him and distracts him every time you say you’ll be here and then don’t show up because you’re too drunk or you overslept or just forgot and didn’t care. And I am sick of you coming back around for a day and lying to him about how you’re going to be around more often and promising to spend more time with him because every time you break that promise, his heart breaks all over again. He deserves better than that, and you know it.”

“Shut up.”

“You can’t just tell me to shut up when you don’t want to hear the truth, and frankly, I’ve stayed quiet long enough. This is something you should have heard a long time ago.”

“I said shut up.”

“If she could see the way that you’re treating her boy, Linda would be so ashamed of you right now.”

“Fuck you!”

Richie launched up from where he was leaning on the car to post up to his brother. For a minute, Wayne was convinced that Richie was going to take a swing at him from the anger burning in his eyes, but nothing happened.

“You want me to be a better dad? Fine. I’ll be a better dad,” he spat as he stormed toward the trailer door. “We don’t need any help from you anymore.”

Before Wayne knew it, his brother was marching out of the trailer pulling a very confused looking Eddie behind him.

“Say goodbye to your uncle, Eddie,” Richie said as he opened his car door. “You’re not going to be seeing him for a while.”

“Richie, be reasonable.”

“You can’t have it both ways, Wayne. Either I’m the dad that you want me to be, or I leave him here with you. So I’m taking my son, and we’re leaving because I will not stand here and listen to you insult me. And if I ever hear Linda’s name leave your mouth again, that’ll be the last time you ever speak.”

Richie climbed into the car and slammed his door shut. Once Eddie was inside with him, he sped away and out of the trailer park leaving Wayne to spend the night alone for the first time in years.

February 1976

It was after midnight when Wayne got the call. He'd been asleep for a few hours at that point, and he'd been woken up by the phone. At first, he'd tried to ignore the call, but the person on the other end of the line was persistent, so the phone just kept ringing. He stumbled out of his bedroom and into the kitchen to grab the phone.

“Hello?” Wayne answered the phone, his voice hoarse from barely being awake.

“Have we reached Wayne Munson?”

“Speaking.”

“Mr. Munson, this is Chief Carver with the Hawkins police department. We currently have your brother in custody down at the station. His bail hasn’t been set just yet, and he declined his one phone call, but I’m calling to inform you that we also have your nephew here. He was asleep in the back of the car when my officers picked up your brother, and we’ve been told that you’re the only other family the boy has. We were hoping to place the child in your care as we’d rather contact family than anyone else in situations like these.”

“I can be there in fifteen minutes.”

Wayne didn’t need to hear anything else before he was putting on real pants and racing down to the station. He’d barely seen his brother and nephew since their fight as Richie had cut him out of their lives. He only saw them in passing, but Richie would quickly leave whatever public space they were in when he noticed Wayne was there, too. And even if he had a phone number, he doubted Richie would take his calls. He didn’t want to say that he was afraid of what he’d find when he got there, but he wasn’t expecting anything good.

“I got a call from the chief about my brother,” Wayne said as he walked up to the officer sitting behind the front desk. “I’m supposed to be picking up my nephew.”

“Wayne Munson, right?” the officer asked. “I’ll take you back to see your nephew shortly. Just gotta go over some official business first. You know how it is. Now, your brother will be staying here overnight because we won’t be able to get him arraigned until morning.”

“What is he facing in the way of charges?”

“Well, for starters, he was already wanted for multiple counts of grand theft auto and the possession and selling of stolen merchandise. Tonight, he was picked up on a DUI with multiple traffic violations, expired plates, and child endangerment to sweeten the deal. There was also a startling amount of liquor in the car with him. When he was pulled over, he attempted to assault an officer, and he resisted arrest. We don’t expect you to stay here until he’s arraigned, so we can call you and let you know what his bail is set at after the hearing occurs.”

“Don’t bother,” Wayne replied. “I won’t be posting his bail. All I care about is my nephew. Is he okay?”

“As far as we can tell, the boy is fine. A little shaken up, but okay. He was asleep in the backseat when the car was pulled over, and he only woke up when your brother started to get belligerent. We have reason to believe they were living out of the car from the sheer amount of stuff loaded into the trunk and backseat. Because the car was one of the ones he’s accused of stealing, everything inside it was admitted into evidence. However, we’re hoping someone will be able to sort through it after the weekend, so we can set aside anything that belongs to the boy and get it to you then.”

“Can I see him now? I just want to take him home.”

Finally, the officer led him back to the station’s break room where he found Eddie sitting on the sofa with his knees hugged to his chest.

“Alright, Eddie,” the officer said. “Your uncle is here to take you home.”

Eddie got up from the sofa and headed over towards where they were standing without saying a word. It was the quietest that Wayne had ever seen the boy other than when he was sleeping, and he hated it more than he could say.

Eddie stayed quiet the entire way back to the trailer despite Wayne asking him how he was doing, telling him he missed him, and just trying to get even the smallest bit of a conversation going. He tried not to read too much into it. It had most likely been an overwhelming night for him so far, and he was probably worn out.

It was only once they were back at the trailer that Wayne realized he didn’t have any pajamas or extra clothes for Eddie. He still had most of the clothes that had been left behind when his brother had taken the boy back, but he’d grown in the three years since he’d worn any of that stuff, so Wayne doubted he’d be comfortable in any of them. He grabbed one of his own t-shirts out of the basket of clean laundry he’d neglected to put away and offered it to Eddie.

“I know it’s not pajamas, but you might be more comfortable sleeping in this.”

“I’m fine,” Eddie replied, not bothering to take the shirt. “I sleep like this most of the time.”

The boy moved to sit on the edge of the couch, and Wayne set the shirt down on the coffee table just in case Eddie ended up changing his mind.

“How long do I get to stay here?” Eddie asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Am I gonna have to go stay somewhere else?”

“No, Eds. You’re here with me for good.” Even if Richie didn’t end up in jail for any of the charges he was facing, Wayne was never letting Eddie out of his sight again. Even if that meant spending what little money he had on a custody battle for his nephew’s wellbeing.

Wayne noted the confused look on Eddie’s face at his response, but he didn’t press the issue further. It had already been a long night for the both of them, and he was surprised that Eddie wasn’t already passed out.

“I’ve still got all of your stuff here from before, so I figure we can go through it tomorrow. See if any of your clothes might still fit or if there are any toys you might still want, and then we can go to the Goodwill and maybe get you some new things to replace what doesn’t work anymore.”

“You kept my stuff?”

“Of course, I did. Why wouldn’t I?”

“I don’t know,” Eddie said as he looked down at his shoes. “Figured you wouldn’t want my stuff here either.”

It was the either that struck him. How Eddie was so quiet when he said it as if he didn’t want to voice his fears out loud. Wayne moved to sit next to Eddie on the couch.

“What do you mean?” he asked gently.

“Nothing.”

“It’s not nothing, Eds. You’re upset, and I can’t help if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.”

Eddie refused to look at his uncle, continuing to stare at the ground instead.

“Dad said you didn’t want me here anymore. That there wasn’t space for me, so I had to go back with him.”

Wayne thought that being punched in the chest would have been less painful than hearing that. As much as he wanted to sit there and call his brother a liar along with a slew of much harsher names, he couldn’t let himself do that. Eddie had already been through so much that night, and he wasn’t going to be responsible for worsening the boy’s opinion of his own dad. Instead, he placed a comforting hand on Eddie’s shoulder.

“That couldn’t be further from the truth. There was not a day that went by that I didn’t wish you were here with me. Your dad and I had just had a fight, and it made more sense for you to be with him than it did for you to stay here. That’s all it was.”

Wayne got up from the sofa and moved over to where the old foldout bed was pushed into the corner. Behind it was a small, wooden chest. He picked up the chest and set it back down in front of Eddie. He encouraged Eddie to open it, and when the boy did, the first thing he saw was his old stuffed lion. He pulled the plushie out and hugged it to his chest before looking back to find many more of his childhood play things. Toy cars, dinosaurs, and little army men mixed in with crayon stumps, notebooks filled with his drawings, and his mother’s well-loved copies of Tolkien’s epic fantasy. The boy looked up at his uncle with wide eyes.

“I’m sorry if my mistakes ever made you feel unwanted,” Wayne started, “because the truth is that I would still want you here and have the space for you even if this trailer was the size of my bathroom and nothing bigger.”

“You swear?” Eddie asked. He held out his pinky, and his uncle immediately gripped it with his own.

“I swear.”

Wayne moved to set up the fold out bed.

“You don’t have to go through any of that tonight. It’s late enough as it is. Let me get your bed set up, and we can deal with all of that tomorrow.”

“I’m fine on the couch.”

“Don’t be silly. I’m not gonna let you sleep on the couch when I’ve got a perfectly good bed for you.”

“It’s really okay. When we weren’t sleeping in the car, I slept on a lot of couches at other people’s places. The floor sometimes, too. But I always liked the couches best."

The boy seemed eager to please as if he'd been told not to be difficult about where he slept in the past. To accept what he was offered without complaint. Wayne didn't want to fight him on this, but he also didn't want Eddie to think that this was any trouble for him. He'd give him the choice and let the boy do whatever he was most comfortable with.

"Well, I'm just gonna go ahead and set up the bed anyway. You don't have to sleep on it if you don't want to, but I want you to have it as an option."

Wayne barely slept that night. Eddie had looked at the fold out bed as if it was a trap before curling up into a ball on the sofa. It was then that it occurred to him that his nephew hadn't had his own room or any space to really call his own since the first time he'd come to live at the trailer. He'd always shared his uncle's room or the living room or whatever space his dad was able to provide.

Wayne had never needed much space. He didn't have a lot of stuff, and he figured he could fit most of his things in the tiny closet outside the bathroom if he did a little rearranging. Most of his drawers had been taken up by Eddie’s clothes when he lived there the first time anyway. He could take the fold out bed in the living room and give up his bedroom for his nephew. And if Eddie had his own space, maybe that would silence whatever was telling him that he was unwanted and allow him to relax.

So, instead of sleeping, he went through his closet. The boxes filled with Eddie’s old clothes were emptied onto the bed so he could load them up with his things. Moving it all into the hall closet and drawers could wait until morning since he didn’t want to accidentally wake his nephew, but he could get the room mostly ready for the boy to move into it. 

By the time it was a reasonable enough hour for him to go and make his morning coffee, he had all of his stuff piled in boxes in the corner and another box of things he was planning on donating to Goodwill. He figured he could wash the sheets and put a fresh set on the bed later, but everything else was ready.

Eddie was still curled up asleep on the couch when Wayne exited the bedroom, so he tried to be as quiet as possible as he started the coffee. He woke up before the coffee was done though, and soon enough, he was rubbing the sleep out of his eyes as he stood next to his uncle in the kitchen.

“You sleep okay, kiddo?” Wayne asked as he pulled out a couple cereal bowls.

Eddie nodded before moving to take his normal spot at the small table. Wayne didn’t want to pry too much, but he was clueless about what Eddie’s life had been like over the last few years, so he tried to get the boy to talk to him without it seeming like he was interrogating him.

Over bowls of Cheerios, Eddie shared that most of the time, his dad had him hang out at the comic book shop after school and on the weekends. He wasn’t supposed to get in the way while Richie was working, so every week, his dad gave him two dollars, and he could spend that on whatever comics he wanted even if the only ones he really cared about were the X-Men ones. The guy who ran the shop was really nice and let Eddie sit there for as long as he needed to even on the days that he wasn’t buying anything. He never missed school, and his dad always made sure he was fed, so at least he hadn’t been lacking in those departments. Richie was neglectful in a lot of ways, but he had managed to do the bare minimum. He could be thankful for that at least.

After breakfast, Wayne had Eddie help him sort through the boy’s old clothes. None of the pants were going to fit him anymore, but he had a handful of shirts that had been a little big before that he could still fit into. Wayne just hoped that they’d be able to find a few pairs of jeans in decent shape while they were at Goodwill because he definitely didn’t have the money to drop on new pants.

Eddie wanted to keep his dinosaurs and the one little car that had been his favorite, and of course he was keeping Mister Lion, but the rest of his old toys joined the Goodwill boxes. He just wasn’t interested in those things anymore. Wayne made a mental note to pick up a new box of crayons the next time he was at the grocery store since Eddie was very adamant about keeping all of his old drawings, and his old crayons were barely usable anymore.

Their trip to Goodwill was a successful one. Wayne had to use up a good portion of his cigarette budget for the month on a new wardrobe for Eddie, but it was a sacrifice he was willing to make. He’d been meaning to cut back anyway.

“Why don’t you go and put your clothes away in your room?” Wayne told Eddie when they returned to the trailer.

“My room?”

“The bedroom is yours, Eds. I just have to move a few things into the other closet and change the sheets, and then it’ll be ready.”

“You don’t have to give up your room for me.”

“I know. But I want to. Figured you should have a space of your own if you’re gonna be staying here permanently.”

Eddie dropped the bags he was holding and went to give his uncle a hug.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

“No need to thank me. You deserve this.” As Wayne was moving the rest of his stuff out of the room, Eddie was drawn to one item in particular.

“You play guitar?” he asked, eyeing the old acoustic in his uncle’s hands.

“I used to. I don’t think I’ve actually played it since before you were born. I was about your age when I learned though.”

“Could you teach me?”

“Sure can. I was just gonna stick it in the closet, but you can keep it in your room if you want and you promise to be real careful with it.”

Eddie nodded enthusiastically before taking the guitar from his uncle and carrying it back into his bedroom.

The rest of Eddie’s first day back at the trailer passed by without any incident. Eddie was slowly warming up to being there again even if he still seemed cautious about what he was and wasn’t allowed to do. It wasn’t until bedtime that Wayne was certain things would be okay between them.

By then, he was exhausted from having stayed up all night and all the work he did to get the bedroom ready for him. He’d just tucked Eddie in and was getting ready to set up his own bed in the living room when he heard the bedroom door open.

“What are you doing out of bed?” he asked. “Thought you were going to sleep?”

“I was,” Eddie said as he looked down at the ground. “But I was just thinking maybe you could set up your bed in my room like we used to? Just for tonight?”

“I think that can be arranged.”

Wayne squeezed the fold out bed into the cramped bedroom. Without saying a word, Eddie handed his uncle the copy of The Hobbit that was sitting on the nightstand, and even though he was ready to crash, Wayne settled in and read until his nephew was softly snoring beside him just as he had so many times before.

December 1976

Wayne was not spoiling Eddie for Christmas this year. If anyone asked, he insisted he wasn’t. He was staying well within his budget for the holidays, but he was buying pretty much everything secondhand, so his money went a little further. He’d picked up a few board games and an assortment of mismatched legos from the Goodwill, and he’d managed to get a good deal on a new set of strings for the guitar. He’d even picked up the 64 pack of Crayola crayons that had a sharpener built into the box and some plain, unlined paper for him to draw on. Eddie's Christmases with his dad hadn't exactly been great ones, and he wanted to do what he could to make up for that. There was just one last thing he wanted to get.

It had all started when Eddie had spent an entire day drawing at the kitchen table. Wayne hadn't been paying much attention to him because anything that kept Eddie occupied and quiet for more than five minutes meant he could get some cleaning done around the trailer without his nephew getting underfoot or making more work for him. He loved the kid as if he were his own, but he could be a handful at times. When he went to put another load of dirty clothes in the washer and figure out what he was making for dinner, he got a good look at what Eddie had been drawing.

Wayne gathered up the papers and shuffled through them, and he was amazed by Eddie's work. They were good drawings. Not just good for a kid drawings where you could tell what they were supposed to be but they still looked clumsy. These were actually good, and they were all dragons. Different shapes, sizes, and colors. Some breathing fire, some flying, and some sleeping, but all recognizable as dragons.

"Did you draw all of these?" he asked.

Eddie nodded without looking up from his current drawing.

"And you didn't trace 'em or copy them from something or anything?"

"Nope. I just drew what I pictured."

“These are really great, Eds. Best drawings I’ve ever seen.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really. Don’t know where you got all this talent from. No one in our family can draw more than a stick figure.”

Eddie was absolutely beaming from all of the praise.

“Which one is your favorite?” the boy asked.

Wayne flipped through the stack of drawings in his hand before pulling out one of a purple dragon asleep on a pile of gold coins and jewels.

“If I had to pick, it’s this one,” he said as he held up the picture. “Would you mind if I hung it on the fridge?”

“You wanna hang up my picture?”

“Of course, I do. Gotta display it like the masterpiece it is.”

After the first drawing was in its place on the fridge, Eddie wanted to hang the rest of his dragons up in his room, so Wayne carefully taped up each and every one of them exactly where Eddie told him to. The entire time, Eddie was sitting cross-legged on his bed monologuing about how cool dragons were and why they were his most favorite fantasy creature. It was then that Wayne knew he had to find a way to get his boy something dragon-related for Christmas.

The problem he was facing was that there seemed to be absolutely nothing dragon-related in all of Hawkins, and he was running out of time. He didn’t know what he was going to do until he spotted something on one of the shelves in the comic book shop.

Wayne couldn’t give Eddie as much money as his dad had been giving him to spend on comics, but every Saturday, they took a trip there after lunch and before they did their grocery shopping for the next week. Eddie was allowed to choose one comic to take home, and Wayne would let him take as long as he needed to make that decision. Usually, he’d just stand and wait with Eddie, but a box with a large red dragon on the front had piqued his interest, so he went to examine it. It didn’t take long for him to realize that it was the perfect gift for his nephew.

When Eddie ran up to him with the comic he’d chosen, Wayne told him to go wait in the truck while he paid. As soon as his nephew was out of his sight, he grabbed the box and bought it along with the comic. It was a little more than he wanted to spend, but he knew it would be worth it to see Eddie’s face when he opened it on Christmas morning.

Wayne had barely opened his eyes before Eddie was shoving a gift into his hands on Christmas morning. He’d insisted that he didn’t need anything like he had for every single Christmas of his adult life, and he had been ignored as usual. When he opened the gift bag, he was presented with four different coffee mugs.

“There’s one for this year, and one for every Christmas I missed,” Eddie said, looking very proud of himself.

“How’d you get the money to pay for these?”

“A group of kids on the playground bet me their milk money that I wouldn’t eat a worm.”

“You ate a worm?”

Eddie shrugged. “It didn’t seem like a bad idea at the time.”

Wayne snorted and moved to ruffle a hand through the boy’s curls. “We’ve gotta work on your impulse control, kid.”

“Do you like them?” Eddie asked.

“I love ‘em. In fact, I’m gonna have my morning coffee in one of them, and I’ll make you a special Christmas hot cocoa in one, too.”

After the drinks had been passed out, Wayne pushed his bed to the side so he and Eddie could sit on the floor together with the tiny fake tree that Wayne had found at a garage sale. It wasn’t much, and it looked even tinier when the small pile of gifts for Eddie was almost the same height, but Eddie had just been excited to have a tree which was good enough for Wayne.

As Eddie opened his gifts, Wayne made sure that the one he was the most excited to give him was the last one he opened.

“Dungeons and Dragons?” Eddie read off the front of the box.

“It’s a fantasy roleplaying game,” Wayne told him. “I don’t know much about it, but the guy down at the comic book shop said it’s pretty fun, and I know how much you like dragons and fantasy stuff, so I thought this could be fun. I figured you could read the manual and maybe teach me how to play? If that’s okay with you, of course.”

It was more than okay with Eddie. Wayne watched as Eddie did nothing but read the manuals and plan out a small campaign for them to play for pretty much his entire winter break. On New Year’s Eve, he sat his uncle down at their kitchen table and walked him through creating a character before diving into their fantasy adventure. Wayne tried his best to understand what was going on, and Eddie often had to remind him which die to roll and when, but the boy’s excitement and enthusiasm for the game was apparent the entire time. He never got frustrated with him for forgetting what he was supposed to be doing, and he put every bit of his dramatic, over the top personality into painting a picture of this fantasy world.

There were plenty of days where Wayne was convinced that he was doing everything wrong when it came to raising Eddie, but as he watched his nephew fall in love with his new game, he knew that he’d done at least one thing right.

May 1980

When Eddie started middle school, Wayne had decided he was old enough to take the bus home from school and be alone at the trailer until he got home from work. For the most part, this hadn’t been a bad idea, and Eddie had only almost flooded the trailer once. But, towards the end of eighth grade, there was one big hiccup.

“I messed up,” Eddie called from the bathroom the second Wayne had walked in the door.

"Messed up how?"

"Can you just come here?"

Wayne made his way back to the bathroom where he found Eddie leaning over the sink. Sitting on the edge of the sink was a pair of scissors, and there was a very obvious chunk of hair missing from the left side of his head. Considering the fact that Eddie had just told him a week before that he was planning on growing out his hair in an attempt to emulate his favorite musicians, Wayne was more than a little bit confused.

"Wanna tell me what happened?" he asked.

"I was just minding my own business and talking to my friend Jeff about how awesome Corroded Coffin was gonna be at the talent show next week when the kid in the seat behind me smashed his gum in my hair."

"Is this the same kid who called you a freak and ripped up your notebook last month?"

"Yeah . . . I've been ignoring him like you said, but he just won't leave me alone."

Wayne had never considered beating a child before, but there was a first time for everything.

"And I'm guessing the scissors are out because you were trying to get the gum out by yourself?"

"I tried everything. But I couldn't get it out with my hands, and trying to pick it out with my comb only made it worse. And I didn't know what to do, so I figured I could just cut it out, and no one would notice. But I ended up cutting off too much, and now I look like this."

"Why didn't you wait for me to get home? I could've helped you."

"I was embarrassed," Eddie said. The boy looked like he was about ready to cry. "I don't like talking about this stuff, so I thought maybe I could do it alone, and then I wouldn't have to tell you."

Wayne sighed before squeezing past Eddie to pull his clippers out of the bathroom cabinet.

"I can fix this," he said. "It's not going to be what you want, and it's going to take awhile for your hair to grow back, but I can at least even it out and make it look like you wanted your hair to be shorter, okay?"

Eddie nodded.

"Good. Now take a seat and let me take care of you."

Eddie sat down on the edge of the toilet, and Wayne got to work. To make it easier for the clippers to do their job, Wayne started out by using the scissors to cut off Eddie's curls in chunks that he tossed aside in the sink. Once his hair was a more manageable length, Wayne turned on the clippers and started evening out the cut. It definitely wasn't what Eddie wanted, but soon enough, the boy was sporting a fresh buzz cut.

“I’m going to clean up in here, and then you can take a shower if you want. After that, meet me in the kitchen. I think you and I might need to have a talk.”

After sweeping up Eddie’s hair, Wayne headed into the kitchen and put on the water for hot chocolate. That was their routine. Whenever they had to talk about something even remotely upsetting, they did it over cups of hot cocoa in the hopes that the sweetness of the drink would soften the blow.

Eddie came out of the bathroom and took his usual seat at the kitchen table just as Wayne was finished making their drinks. He set Eddie’s mug down in front of him before taking his own seat. It was obvious to him that the boy had been crying while he was in the bathroom from his red-rimmed eyes, but he didn’t comment on it. He didn’t want to make Eddie feel worse than he clearly already did.

Wayne couldn’t get a word out before Eddie started talking.

“I don’t think I wanna do the talent show anymore,” he said as he stared into his mug.

“Why not? It’s all you’ve talked about for weeks.”

“They haven’t even heard me play yet, and I’m already getting picked on for it. What if I suck, and it gets worse?”

“So what?”

“What do you mean so what?” Eddie asked. “You just had to shave my head. I don’t want anything like this to happen ever again.”

Wayne sighed and took a sip from his mug.

“I know we don’t talk about your mama very often, but after you, music was her favorite thing in this world. When you all lived with me, there wasn’t a moment of the day that she wasn’t singing along with whatever was playing on the radio, and she might have been just about the worst singer I’ve heard in my entire life. Couldn’t carry a tune in a bucket if her life depended on it, and we all teased her about it constantly. But that didn’t stop her from singing her heart out whenever she heard her favorite songs.”

“What does that have to do with me?”

“People around here are small-minded, and they’re raising their children to be a bunch of small-minded idiots. No matter what you do, there’s always going to be someone who’s gonna try to make you feel small. That’s just the way life is. And if you stop yourself from doing the things you love just because someone else is making fun of you for it, you’re only letting the bullies win. You’ve gotta be a bigger and louder version of yourself and not let them affect you.

“You are so much like your mama in a lot of ways. Practically a little clone of her at times. Especially when you smile. But the biggest difference that I can see is that you have talent. I may not understand the kind of music you like, but I can tell when something sounds good. I hear you practicing, and you’ve got a gift. I won’t lie to you and pretend that everyone is going to love your performance or that the bullies will magically disappear, but what I can tell you is that it would be a damn shame if you didn’t share your gift with the world just because some little shit stain on your bus clearly wasn’t raised right.”

Wayne got up from the table to put his mug in the sink, but he’d barely taken a step before Eddie had jumped up and wrapped his arms around his uncle in a bone-crushing hug.

“Thank you,” Eddie whispered.

“You’re welcome,” Wayne replied as he hugged him back. “I probably don’t say this enough, but I hope you know that I love you, and I’m always going to be in your corner.”

“I know. I love you, too.”

“Good. And if you have any more trouble on that bus of yours, you let me know, and I’ll kick that little punk’s butt. No one is gonna get away with treating my boy like crap.”

Eddie snorted as he pulled away from his uncle.

“I’m sure he’ll be terrified. You’re basically the least intimidating person I know.”

“Okay, smart ass. I’m plenty intimidating.”

“You’re about as scary as a teddy bear.”

It was Wayne’s turn to laugh.

A few weeks later, when Father’s Day rolled around, Wayne woke up to a gift and a homemade card waiting for him next to the coffee maker. He opened the card first, and printed in Eddie’s messy scrawl, it read:

I feel like this is probably long overdue, and I should have been honoring you today for at least a few years now. You’ve been more of a dad to me than I ever remember mine being, and I feel like I don’t tell you how much I appreciate everything you’ve done for me enough. So thanks for always being there. Happy Father’s Day from your boy.

Feeling a little choked up, Wayne pulled the gift towards himself next. It was wrapped up in the comics from the day before’s newspaper with way too much tape. He knew what it would be before he'd even unwrapped it, but he was always happy to see whatever mug Eddie had picked out for him. This one was dark green and patterned with sunflowers, and he knew that it was going to become one of his new favorites immediately if only because of the circumstances in which he received it.

March 1986

Wayne Munson was tired. Tired of people judging Eddie without really knowing him, tired of people not listening to him, and tired of people defacing his missing posters instead of actually helping him look. He was tired of having to keep his guard up when anyone tried to talk to him because he didn’t want to lose his temper and attack someone for spouting vile nonsense at him, and he was tired of spending every waking moment - and most of his sleeping ones - worrying about Eddie. Tired of sleeping in the high school surrounded by people who had actively been hunting down his boy to do who knows what to him. He was just tired.

So, when Dustin Henderson came up to him and gave him the news that Eddie was gone, he could feel himself crumbling from the inside out. At first, he didn’t want to believe it. It couldn’t be true. His boy was out there somewhere and hiding until someone could find concrete evidence that cleared his name. He had to be. But the guitar pick necklace that Dustin held out to him and the apparent pain plastered across the kid’s face had sealed it. His boy was dead, and he was never going to see him again.

Wayne had never been one to outwardly express his emotions. He tended to keep things tucked away until he could have a moment in private, and he certainly never cried in public. But hearing the way that Dustin spoke so fondly about Eddie broke him. Because Dustin was saying everything that he already knew to be true. If Hawkins had really taken the time to get to know his boy, they all would have been able to look past his outer appearance, and they would have loved him just as much as Wayne did. He was certain of it. He just never thought he’d hear someone else say it.

Shortly after he spoke to Dustin, Wayne and the other trailer park residents were given the all clear to go back to their trailers and gather their things. The relief workers had marked it as safe for them to enter briefly, but no one was going to be allowed to stay there for very long. They were instructed to gather up anything important and head back to their temporary housing at the school as soon as possible. Eventually, they’d be able to come back and grab the rest of their things when more permanent housing was found for them, but for now, they were limited in how much they could take.

Wayne didn’t know how much of his stuff was going to be worth saving. Frankly, he was surprised that his trailer had even been left standing when he saw the fault line that ran through what had once been his living room. Out of an abundance of caution, he had entered through the door down near the bedroom instead of the main entrance. He moved quickly, shoving as many of his clothes in his bag as he could. He’d much rather wear his own stuff than the donations that people brought into the school.

After that, he grabbed the sentimental things. For once, he was thankful that he didn’t keep things in conventional places because that meant that all of his photo albums were safe. The notebooks full of Eddie’s childhood drawings and his favorite dragon picture were safe. Eddie’s beloved stuffed lion was safe. All of these were carefully added to his bag. But the one thing he couldn’t take was what hurt the most to leave behind.

He’d known the second that he saw the fault line running through his home that his mugs wouldn’t have made it. What was left of his living room display was now smashed on the floor, and he could tell just from the look of it that there was nothing he could save. He knew it was stupid for him to be so upset about them. They were just a bunch of mugs and nobody else would find them important. Anybody else wouldn’t give them a second thought because they could be replaced. 

But they were important to Wayne. Those mugs tied him to better times with people he would never be able to see again. He could buy a new mug, but he couldn’t buy the mugs that Linda had stolen from her parents for him, he couldn’t buy the mugs that Eddie had eaten a worm to pay for, and he couldn’t buy the mug that Eddie gave him the first time he recognized him on Father’s Day. He couldn’t buy back the happiness that looking at those mugs and remembering their stories gave him. That was gone forever.

He didn’t want to set himself up for even more disappointment, but a part of him needed to know if the mugs that he stored in the cabinet had made it through the earthquake. Those were the ones that he used the most often. His favorites. He would be heartbroken if they were all destroyed, but he needed that closure.

When he opened the cabinet above the coffee maker, he was met with a shelf covered with the broken pieces of his mugs that had smashed against each other in the enclosed space. He knew not to get his hopes up, but it was still a painful sight to see.

But, pushed into the very back corner of the cabinet, there was one mug that appeared to still be intact. He carefully pulled it out of the debris to inspect it. Sporting a new chip on the handle, the mug featured the phrase “World’s Best Uncle” hand-painted on the side along with a bright blue baby handprint. The mug from Eddie’s first Christmas.

As he carefully wrapped the mug in a sheet of newspaper that was sitting on the floor underneath the kitchen table, Wayne felt himself choking back tears for the second time that day. It wasn’t his whole collection, but at least it was something. After all, he was only one man. He always said he didn’t need more than one mug.

#wayne munson fic #eddie munson fic #wayne munson #eddie munson #stranger things fic #my writing

[bettsfic]

hi betts!

i’ve been a fan of yours for years now (training wheels is one of my favorite stories— not just fics. stories— ever, and i really admire your style. as a writer myself, i want to ask how you’re able to keep your motivation up to complete your projects? i feel like i start out so motivated when i fall in love with an idea, but once that fevered haze fades, it’s almost impossible for me to get the motivation i need to write. i have a few wips that i feel so guilty about not finishing/not wanting to finish/wanting to finish but being unable to get the inspiration to. so, in short, how do you maintain the motivation to finish your wips?

thank you so much! i'm glad to hear it; training wheels is still very dear to me.

first, if you want a step by step guide to finishing your wips, i wrote a tutorial earlier this year in my newsletter.

also as i've said elsewhere, i believe it's more important to follow your inspiration and interest where it takes you even if it means not finishing things. one of the reasons i love fanfic is because it's the only genre i can think of where you get to read unfinished works and be present during the writing of them.

but you asked about *my* motivation to finish things, and i'll say it's taken me a long time to build the endurance necessary not only to complete big projects but also complete them to my satisfaction. in my experience, the better you are at finishing things, the worse you become at starting them, and so whereas i used to have a million wips and ideas happening at once, now i can see the ridiculous endeavor ahead of me and pick my battles more knowledgeably.

also, i don't finish everything, especially not right away. sometimes i sit years on a story before i eventually come back to it. but i've found that it's inevitable that when i put something down that i care about, i'll come back around to it when i'm ready. it's not something i have to force. my attention and interest bounces around all over the place but the things i love, i love forever. so i'll always come back around to them.

most importantly--and this is really very important--i lie to myself.

here are the two main lies i tell myself:

"this is the best thing i've ever written," and

"i'm almost done."

being a little delusional is a huge benefit as a writer. if you're too honest with yourself nothing can get done. but i've always had a natural talent for convincing myself of things that aren't true and although that's gotten me in a lot of trouble in all other aspects of my life, in writing it keeps me just far enough away from reality that i can finish things.

the process is something like this:

vague story idea!

will probably be very small, the shortest story i have ever written in fact

begin writing

feels good, feels organic

no no that's not right, bad vibes

start over

ohhh i see what i'm trying to do

outline the tiniest, easiest outline i have ever made. five bullet points. this happens, and then this and this, and the story ends. EASY

will finish by tomorrow, probably

write write write

will finish by tomorrow, probably

write write write

definitely tomorrow, almost done

check word count. 25k. uh oh

doesn't matter, almost done. have *checks* four out of five bullet points to go

write write write

five point bullet outline no longer effective

re-outline. five points turns into five pages. uh oh

check word count. 60k. big yikes

but! almost done! will finish tomorrow, probably

write write write

get stuck? how? but the outline...

the outline is ineffective. re-outline.

check word count. 100k. :(

almost done :)

a plot knot arises. spend six hours staring at a wall to undo the plot knot

plot knot is more insidious than expected. open new document. start over

*now* i'm almost done

rewrite, restructure, reorganize

check word count. 20k. :(

write write write

check word count. 200k. :((

weeks-long fugue state during which i am god

awaken to filthy apartment. i have not eaten a vegetable in many days. i have not seen the sun.

eat a broccoli

go outside

am i living? am i truly living? is this all life is? am i loved? am i worth loving?

return to safety of fictional world to avoid existential despair

write write write

will finish by tomorrow, probably

so it's really less about motivation to finish and more about motivation to chase down an increasingly elusive feeling of joy through immersion into worlds of my own making and control. it's way easier to run away from something than toward it.

#writing advice #motivation #process #listen i'm not saying i have a healthy relationship with writing #if you can do it healthier than i do that's what i recommend

[gyeomsweetgyeom]

[3:43 pm]

(cw: angst)

The last 2 days had been awkward to say the very least. Two days ago you and Jeno had gotten in a big fight that was initially followed by a day of silence. Not so much silent treatment but more so silence so you could both collect your thoughts to hopefully talk them out. However, you were both very passionate and hard headed people, so the conversation had started off as well- a conversation that eventually became an argument. You were both on the brink of yelling at each other moving past trying to express your feelings and just trying to hurt the other, which you were both successful in doing.

It was only a few minutes ago after a morning of avoiding each other with very brief conversations that you and Jeno finally sat and peacefully talked out your feelings. You had gotten to the root of the original issue and promised to communicate the next time a problem came up.

Fights with Jeno were few and far between, but that didn’t mean they never happened. There were more arguments than there were full blown fights, the first fights of your relationship had resulted in at least one of you storming out with complete radio silence for at least three days. As you both matured and grew in your relationship together some things just got easier to deal with, but that didn’t mean there weren’t exceptions. Things like miscommunications and misunderstandings were usually the root of these fights, like this last one. These fights were ugly things where both of you forgot the reason for the beginning of the supposed conversation and just began hurling digs and insults at the other until you ran out of energy or were too hurt to carry on. The usual routine for these fights was well, first the fight, a day later the conversation, and then the awkward day where you tiptoed around each other so as to not trigger the other with any remaining sensitivities after the mess of the fight.

This meant that now it was the awkward period after a fight where you both tried to get back into the habit of happy, loving couple. Even if you both weren’t aware of your awkward actions- they still happened. Did you hug each other? Did you cuddle while watching TV? Did you guys even send each other the stupid videos that made you laugh? You were sitting on one end of the couch while Jeno sat on the opposite end, both of you stiff with your eyes locked on either the TV screen or your phone screen.

You had busied yourself most of the day by doing load after load of laundry to keep yourself distracted with the routine of getting up at least once an hour to start a new load or fold a load. The last thing that had gone in was the sheets of your bed, everything else had been washed, all the dirty clothes, the towels, the throw blanket on the couch, after this there would be nothing left to distract you. Maybe cooking a dinner with a lot of preparation.

You got up for the last load of laundry, taking the sheets from the dryer and back to the bedroom. You began putting the pillow cases on the pillows and laying out the fitted sheet when a hiccup from the doorway stopped you. “Do you hate me that much that you won’t even do the bed with me?”

You turned with wide eyes, catching sight of Jeno with tears brimming his red eyes, “Jeno, I- of course I don’t hate you.”

“We always do the bed together because you get frustrated that the corners come off. We haven’t had our morning coffee together for two days and I know you said you’ve been waking up late, but you lied to me. I sat in the kitchen for 20 minutes alone with two cups of coffee while I heard you move around the room. You didn’t even care that I’ve been playing our show while you’ve been busy all day and you usually make me pause it if you so much as go to the kitchen for a cup of water. You’ve been cuddling a pillow to sleep instead of me which you never have, even in past fights. I don’t want to lose you,” Jeno let out through choked sobs.

You stood frozen, processing everything he had just said. He was right, you had been avoiding him and your usual routine. You stepped forward, bringing Jeno into your embrace which he immediately responded to, hugging you tightly while his tears were soaked up by your t-shirt. “I could never hate you Jeno. I love you with every fiber of my being and I will until the end of time. I love you.”

He let out a relieved breath, still not able to stop his tears of hurt and nerves while he kept you in his tight embrace to ground himself. Eventually the sobs subsided into sniffles, his breathing slowly evened out, he had calmed down enough to sit and talk about the feelings that you had both assumed to be resolved. 

You wiped the remaining wetness from under his eyes with one hand while the other rubbed circles on the back of his hand. “I thought we had already fixed everything, but all day today its been me alone. I hate being in our home together but feeling alone,” Jeno told you.

“I’m sorry I hurt you, it wasn’t my intention. I just didn’t want to go back to how we usually are in case I accidentally did or said something to reignite the argument.” 

“I don’t want you to be scared to talk to me after an argument, I’m sorry I made you feel like you couldn’t talk to me,” Jeno replied sincerely. 

“We both said some really mean things to each other, maybe I kept my distance because I’m still a bit hurt. I know we were both angry and in the heat of the moment, but what you say matters to me. You’re one of the most important people in my life and hearing you say some of those things isn’t something I can get over in a day. I wouldn’t expect you to do the same, I know I said really nasty things to you too.”

“I’m sorry, I’m going to do my best to show you how much you matter to me. I never ever want to lose you,” his forehead was now pressed against your own.

You let out a watery laugh, wiping away a tear that managed to escape, “Can we stop apologizing now? I just want to do the bed with you.”

Jeno laughed at that, “You usually hate doing the bed.”

You shrugged back, tugging on one corner of the fitted sheet, “Yeah, but I love spending time with you.”

#kpop imagines #kpop au #kpop scenarios #kpop reactions #nct #nct imagines #nct fluff #nct timestamps #nct x reader #nct dream #nct dream imagines #nct dream fluff #jeno x reader #jeno imagines #jeno blurb #jeno scenarios #jeno angst #jeno drabbles #jeno timestamps

[ekingston]

Apart from show canon, at which point did u think it was too late for lena's immediate forgiveness to kara's identity reveal

oh boy. anon, here is where i come clean about my shoddy recollection of canon’s chronology. i’ve done so many fragmented rewatches and skipping back and forth—there’s a reason i rarely dabble with canon-adjacent stuff! and that even when i do, i create worlds where Lena figures it out herself! 

second road bump to answering this question is that i have a LOT of feelings about how things played out on the show, and most of them are incongruent with the tone of sgcw. i understand their narrative reasons for keeping the secret from Lena for so long! but the execution is so, so terrible! ignoring large swathes of canon and replacing them with my own is the only way i’m able to enjoy at least the last tiny handful of seasons!

here is where i spend an hour procrastinating from my WIPs, while not successfully answering your question at all:

to be perfectly clear: i adore most parts of canon Kara. and i think i may be hard on her in ways i wouldn't be if i didn’t relate to her so much. i think her backstory is extremely compelling and i admire her ability to hold on to her kindness and hope and joy even after losing everything that was important to her, even when she’s tired and lonely and mad. 

BUT. a healthy Lena—one who we were made to believe was finally freeing herself from Lex and Lillian, rising above the coping mechanisms she’d developed as an unwanted and emotionally neglected child? i don’t think that Lena would (should?) have forgiven canon Kara at all.

after the rift, canon Kara flitted between telling Lena she’d lied to her ‘to protect you’ to ‘one person who sees me only as Kara’ to ‘your last name’ to ‘didn’t want to lose you’ until she literally told Lena she was on her own, and she’d treat her like any other villain until Lena repented, even rejecting her apology at first, as if Kara’s own decisions had played no part in Lena’s downward spiral at all.

the Kara Lena would have forgiven is the much more cohesive and coherent Kara brought to us by our talented fix-it writers: a Kara who is willing to let herself be vulnerable and to second-guess her motivations, one who is able to put together a proper apology and actually listen to Lena's own. 

but, okay, lets table all of that. this is me trying really, really hard to entertain canon:

Kara and Lena’s friendship became painfully lopsided by season 3. i think that was, if i recall correctly, when the super-friends decided to trust Lena enough to regularly ask her for assistance—but not enough to let her be part of their in-group; it’s where they left Lena in the dark about the fact that her best friend had come close to plunging to her death right in front of Lena's eyes, and was actively still fighting for her life; where they tricked Lena into having an extremely personal conversation with J’onn, while he was wearing Kara’s features, only to make belly-laughing fun of her about it later. 

and even then, honestly, it might already have been too late. what about the aftermath of Jack’s death? was that season 2? Jack was Lena’s ex-everything, someone who genuinely loved her, who saw her through the fallout of Lex’s arrest. he was one of her last remaining friends, and Lena pressed the button to let him die in order to save Supergirl’s life. how would Lena knowing that Kara went through that with her, knowing Lena had chosen to save the life of her favorite person in addition to National City’s hero, have changed the way she felt about that horrible situation? that’s where that extremely wonderful heart-to-heart on the L-Corp couch happened, right? Kara swore she’d always be Lena’s friend—while keeping silent about the fact that she was there when Jack drew his last breath, that she had witnessed their final moments.

so—i really can’t tell you anon, i’m so sorry. the 100th episode already fabricated reasons why Kara couldn’t possibly come clean to Lena back when she made the conscious decision to be her friend (and not in a ‘keep your enemies close’ kind of way!), and i’m beginning to think that was the only moment Kara could have told Lena that would have kept her conscience completely clear. Kara should have made it part of her decision—either she was going to be Lena’s friend and give her the same trust Lena was giving her, or she would keep things professional, and keep her identity a secret from her. 

Kara tried to do both, and if i really think about it, i don’t believe that was ever fair.

#i could have kept going anon #drifting further & further away from your original question all the while #i think it would have helped it supergirlcw would have figured out at one point what kind of show they wanted to be #and possibly maybe also perhaps if they'd managed to make up their mind about who these characters were and what they wanted? idk #is it lighthearted and fun? then lena knew all along and kara half-suspects but it's still hard to come out and actually say it #is it dramatic? maybe lena still knows but she's convinced kara not telling her means she's just another luthor AND MAYBE SHE IS #is lena just another evil luthor? so kara was right keeping her secret from her! bring on the (actual proper) villain arc! #etc etc ad nauseam & ad infinitum #thank you for letting me get this out i guess anon lmao #perhaps it is A Day #ask me things! #anonymous

[babybluebex]

Fic of reader dating Jamie but she gets so much hate after the ST release, like how she’s not good enough for him and too ugly, and she breaks up with Jamie because she can’t handle it. She doesn’t tell him the real reason why she broke up with him and they meet up by accident a couple of months later and it’s like this big thing where it’s so dramatic and you can feel the love between them. And whatever happens next is up to you!! Do they get back together, does she tell him the truth, has he moved on? Angst, fluff, smut, whatever you want!! Thank you :))

𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 | 𝐣𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: you break up with jamie, thinking it’s for the best, but, after you reunite months later, he helps you see how wrong you were. 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: jamie campbell bower (rpf) x fem!reader 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: angst, break ups, happy ending 𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: this is my first jamie fic and i’m so excited to share it eek!! i hope you all enjoy it!

You knew that, once Stranger Things dropped, everything would change. And you were right. 

Up until then, you and Jamie had lived in relative anonymity— every so often, you’d get someone who recognized him from Twilight, sometimes the lone fan who asked for an autograph from the singer of Counterfeit, but, after Stranger Things, that became a daily occurrence. You couldn’t leave your house without having someone stop you for a picture, and you loved that Jamie was finally getting the recognition he deserved. 

What you didn’t love, though, were the comments. Jamie was a natural at taking things in stride, any ugly comments about his performance or looks being cast aside like water off of a duck’s back— he had been doing this for a lot longer than you had been and had perfected not caring. It didn’t take very long for you to figure out that people didn’t like you, though. For one reason or another, it seemed that the vast majority of Jamie’s fans were not a fan of you; under every post Jamie made that had you in it, even just in the background, someone had something to say. 

ew, why is she there? or jamie deserves someone better or i bet she’s using him for his money. The first few hate comments were funny and you had laughed at them, but it started to take a toll on you. Maybe you weren’t good enough for the handsome and talented Jamie Campbell Bower. Maybe he did deserve someone better, funnier, prettier than you. 

It broke your heart when you ended things with him, but it was necessary. You rarely fought when you were together— even when you did, you managed to keep cool heads and resolve it within the night— which made the break up all the more painful. When you closed your eyes, you could still see Jamie’s big blue eyes, rimmed with red as he held back tears, pleading with you. “Darling, why?” he had asked, his voice scratchy and distraught. “What’s happened? What’s changed?” 

“Nothing’s happened,” you lied to him. “I just think we might be better off seeing other people. I…” You swallowed thickly, and your heart rammed itself painfully into your throat. You needed to make sure that there wasn’t a fight, that Jamie wouldn’t beg and grovel for you to come back; you needed to hurt him. It was the most painful thing you ever said, the words feeling like daggers as they left your soft mouth: “I don’t love you anymore.” 

“That’s bullshit,” Jamie said instantly. “Please just talk to me, I can help you—”

“No, you can’t,” you told him, your voice shaking. “I’ve made my decision. I don’t love you anymore, and I’m not going to sit here any longer and lie to you that I do.” 

“You’re lying to me now!” Jamie exclaimed. “Wh-What about last night? I thought— You said—”

“I know what I said,” you told him, and you did. Sweaty bodies, limbs entangled, his mouth pressed against your breast, you had told him “I’ll always love you”, and you had meant it with your full heart. “But I didn’t mean it.”

“So, what, are you just using me for sex at this point?” Jamie asked, his eyes narrowing. “Is that it? You don’t love me, but you’ll fuck me? And now I guess you’re bored of that now too? Fuck, you’re heartless, you know that?” 

“Better heartless than a liar,” you told him. You sighed and crossed your arms over your chest, feigning annoyance in a way that made your chest hurt. If you could, you would take back everything and run into his arms, but you needed to hold out. He deserved better than you. “Jamie, listen to me: I’ve made up my mind about this weeks ago, I’ve just been waiting for the right time to tell you. And last night got me thinking about it, so—” You shrugged, and you watched his thin face fall completely, becoming an emotionless mask. 

“Get out,” Jamie told you. “If you don’t care anymore, I don’t either. Go to your flat or wherever the fuck you find yourself, I don’t care, just get out of my house.” 

It took everything in you to delete his number from your phone, but it was for the best. You watched as every trace of you was deleted off of his social media, and you saw the fan response almost instantly. did jamie finally break up with her? Someone tweeted. took him long enough. A post from some low-brow gossip site asked Has Jamie Campbell Bower And Longtime Girlfriend Called It Quits? The comments under it were blistering, seemingly endless sighs of relief and declarations of good, she was fugly anyway. 

What you didn’t expect out of everything, though, was the song. You woke up one morning a few weeks later to texts from your friends, asking what you thought about Jamie’s new song, and you had groggily pulled up YouTube and found it. It was called Heartless, and it was an anger-laced song with low, crunchy guitars, where Jamie begged for answers: “Any truth will do/Your crooked lies blast me through/You’re so heartless but I still love you.” 

You couldn’t help yourself— you turned to Twitter. Jamie had tweeted out a simple link to the video, and the comments under it were ruthless. jesus did SHE break up with him?? does she think she can do better or something? Nothing satisfied the mob, and you cried as the full gravity settled on your shoulders. Nothing would satisfy them. You had broken up with Jamie, pushed away the love of your life, over something as trivial as anonymous online hate. And you had broken his heart so thoroughly that his one solace, his music, had been corrupted by you. It made you sick.

You never intended to see Jamie again. Los Angeles was a big city, and you didn’t anticipate ever finding yourself in a room with him again. You knew that, if you ever did see him again, it would take everything in you to not run back to him, and you knew that you weren’t strong enough for that. 

Which made seeing him again suck so much more. 

You had just wanted a drink, and you made the mistake of assuming that he wouldn’t turn up at the bar. It had been your place first, after all, you had shown it to him, and you had assumed that he would avoid places that reminded him of you. But, as you sat in the back corner, away from prying eyes, you saw the shock of blond hair that made your stomach flip. 

Jamie looked good. Tall, dressed in all black, his hair done in that perfectly undone way that you knew took either a whole team of people or forty-five minutes alone in the mirror to achieve. You used to giggle at him when he would fuss over his hair so much, but he liked your teasing. His dark roots were showing, and you frowned at it; he wasn’t taking care of himself. He could look as put together as he wanted, but you knew the real him, and he was regular about touching up his signature blond tresses. He was slowly falling apart without you, and it only made you feel worse.

Jamie spotted you just as you were getting up to leave, and you swallowed thickly as you willed him not to come over. That tiny bit of resolve you still had begged him to stay to himself, but his eyes raked over your form before he made his long-legged stride over to you. 

“Hey,” He said simply. Hey? After everything, that’s all he had to say?

“Hi there,” you said. “I was on my way out—”

“I know,” Jamie said. “I was just hoping we could… I don’t know. Talk.”

“I have nothing to say to you,” you told him. “I’ve said everything I want to.”

“But that’s not fair, is it?” Jamie asked. He lowered his eyes for a moment as he composed himself, and he calmly said, “You say what you want but don’t give me the chance to respond?” 

“I think you’ve responded plenty,” you said, eyes thin with anger. “How many streams does Heartless have now? Great song, by the way, I really liked how you made me seem like a cunt to everyone.” 

“I’m sorry,” Jamie told you on a sigh. “You don’t deserve that, but I just… I think you need to know how badly you hurt me.”

“Believe me,” you muttered. “I know.” A moment passed, and you took a deep breath. “I meant for it to.” 

Jamie’s face screwed up with confusion, and he said, “What do you mean?” 

“I don’t—” you started, and you edged past him in order to leave. You couldn’t get into it with him at that moment, or else you risked everything falling apart. The less he knew, the better. You heard him call your name from behind you as you left the bar, and you cringed at the downpour that you met outside. It hardly ever rained in LA, and you hadn’t seen any impending rainstorm on the forecast, so you were shit out of luck for a coat or umbrella. You crossed your arms over your chest to keep yourself warm as you started the walk back to your flat, but a familiar warm hand shot out and grabbed at you before you could make it very far. 

“What did you mean by that?” Jamie sputtered in the rain. “You meant for it to hurt, what does that mean?”

“Jamie,” you sighed. “I don’t wanna get into this—”

“Well, that’s too bad,” Jamie said. “Because I do. What’re you doing, why’re you running away? You lied to me, something happened to make you break up with me, and I just, I can’t figure out what. I’ve tried and tried and tried to understand, to come up with anything, but I’m coming up empty. What happened? Tell me the truth!” 

“Nothing happened!” you told him, and the lie burned on its way out like acid. “I just don’t love you anymore!”

“Okay, no!” Jamie exclaimed. “That is bullshit, and you know how I know?”

“How do you know?” you asked. “How could you possibly know more about my emotions than I do?” 

“You have never once lied to me,” Jamie said, his grip on your arm tight. “No white lies, nothing of the sort, and suddenly you’re lying over something huge like suddenly falling out of love with me? You’re keeping secrets from me and not— Y-You always talked to me! We were so good, and suddenly it means nothing? I don’t believe it for a second.”

“Can we not do this now?” you asked. You were shivering in the rain and Jamie’s hair was stuck to his face in wet patches, but he shook his head quickly. 

“No, we’re doing this now,” Jamie told you. “I’m tired of not knowing. Don’t lie to me; did you meet someone else?” 

“What?” you seethed. “What makes you think that there’s someone else?”

“It’s the only thing I can think of that explains why you’re acting like this,” Jamie said. “You met someone else and he’s doing more for you than I could. I know I wasn’t the best boyfriend to you, but I thought that I was at least enough—”

“Stop it,” you said. You sniffled and finally let your tears fall, hot as they rolled down your cheeks, and you wiped your nose on your arm. “You were enough, J, you were more than enough! You’re the best boyfriend I’ve ever had—”

Jamie let out a growl of frustration. “Then why don’t you love me?” he asked. The question, asked with those big baby blues full of tears and the tip of his nose all red, shattered your aching heart, and you jerked your arm out of his hand. 

“I do!” you finally admitted. “Is that what you want to hear? I do love you, and I’ve never stopped. I lied to you because… Because I was tired, okay? I was fucking exhausted of getting shit on everyday by everyone, and I thought that leaving you would make it stop, but it didn’t! It only made it worse, and then you had to go write that fucking song…” You trailed off, sniffling and sobbing, and Jamie’s face softened. “Everyone hates me, and I thought that…” You couldn’t even say the words out loud. You thought that leaving him would fix it.

Jamie watched you for a moment, taking in every part of you, and he dragged you into him with a tight hug. His warm chest was a comfort, and you cried as you threw yourself fully into him. His hand cradled the back of your head as he held you, and you nestled your cheek into his chest, just over his thumping heart. 

“When you told me you didn’t love me,” Jamie started, his voice low and rough. “It felt like you had driven a stake through my heart. You hurt me, and I never wanted to see you again. But… Darling… All of this because people don’t like you?”

“It’s okay,” you whispered. “You can call me stupid or heartless or whatever you want to; I deserve it.” 

“No, you don’t,” Jamie said gently. His palm moved to your cheek, and he cradled your face as he titled your head up to look at him, into his achingly beautiful blue eyes. “You deserve none of this. I’m so sorry that I didn’t see this before.” 

“It’s not something you should’ve been worried about,” you mumbled. “You have your own life—” 

“Obviously it was something to be worried about, if this is how it ended,” Jamie said. “I’m so sorry.” 

“Please don’t say that,” you told him. “I’m the one who’s sorry. I-I’m totally at fault here. I know how you feel about me, but, please, if any part of you still loves me—”

Jamie silenced you with a kiss. His lips pressed to yours harshly, kissing you deeply, imbuing every ounce of love that he had in his body into it. You held him tightly, kissing him back, your lips moving together perfectly. It was as if you had never parted; your lips still remembered his. 

When you broke away, you nestled your head underneath his chin, and you whispered, “Please take me home.”

“Of course,” Jamie whispered. “I’d do anything for you.”

A fat raindrop fell onto his forehead, and you giggled lightly, still sniffling away your tears. “With the rain, it’s like our own dumb little romance movie, huh?” you asked, and Jamie tilted his head a bit.

“Is it raining?” Jamie asked, and you melted under his fond gaze. He was smiling, his eyelashes fluttering as he blinked. “I hadn’t noticed.” 

“Fuck, you’re so cheesy,” you breathed, and you dragged him back down into another kiss. “I love you, Jamie.” 

“I love you too,” Jamie whispered. “Please don’t ever make me doubt that again.” 

“Never,” you told him. “Never, ever again… And, fuck, I actually love the song. I think it’s your best yet.” 

#jamie campbell bower #jamie bower #jamie campbell bower x reader #jamie bower x reader #jamie campbell bower rpf #jamie bower rpf #my writing

[acourtofthought]

hi I am a new ACOTAR reader 👋🏼 and I was so shocked to enter this fandom and see all the ship wars going on. I guess I’m more of a casual reader? But I thought SJM was going for elucien which listen - adorable - but then she spend the books after they were declared mates just dissing that entire plot line? Like ok I get it they don’t HAVE to be head over heels like feysand and nessian yet, but since ACOWAR there’s barely any elucien interactions and they’re all described as uncomfortable and idk why she would have them be mates and then turn around and just wreck that setup? Lucien barely is in the books anymore?

And then Sarah started writing these “looks” and shy smiles between elain and azriel and I was like ok I get it too I guess, if Lucien is like not even present in the books anymore? I feel like she straight up changed her mind or something because why did she do all that setup and now is introducing a new love interest? Being mates MEANS something right? Idk it seems like she’s abandoning elucien to me which is sad bc they could’ve been so good together 😭 like bat boy is great don’t get me wrong but we don’t know shit about him other than he is vaguely menacing and has shadows

He’s not shown interest in anyone except Mor or Elain so idk what his plotline will be (if he gets a book even). And yes, I did read this controversial bonus chapter and I genuinely saw it as a nail in this elucien coffin instead of gwynriel as people are saying. Like why would Elain kiss HIM when she has a mate? Lucien is RIGHT THERE ?? It just seems so convoluted for no reason. Like is this a love triangle setup? Idk 🤷🏻‍♀️ it would be easy if Gwyn and azriel were mates so elucien could nicely work out but I barely remember anything about Gwyn and Az interactions let alone anything to suggest romantic themes. So I don’t get that ship at ALL. Like azriel could be shipped with anyone at this point if Gwyn is being considered an option.

Idk I assume there’s hella analysis on this but I just don’t know why SJM would make elucien mates and then throw this random emo bat boy plotline in the mix. I’ve kind of abandoned that hope after ACOSF unless there’s something I’m missing that brings Lucien back in the game? (Genuinely where even is heeee like sir get your girl - respectfully)

Welcome to the fandom! And I'm sorry ahead of time, it's simultaneously fun, exhausting, and infuriating, haha.

I do understand why it feels like she set Elucien up with a bang and just let it fizzle but if you consider why she might have done that, I think it makes sense.

Are you in love? Have you been in love?

Imagine if you are a month away from your wedding. It's your first love, your first experience with intimacy, and the person you have imagined the rest of your life with. Maybe children, a home.

And overnight that dream is ripped away from you.

Not only is it ripped away from you but you're suddenly feeling a connection (because I fully believe Elain knew Lucien was something to her before he ever whispered that they were mates) to a random stranger who you have never seen before.

Your heart was promised to another but now you're chanting "traitor, traitor, traitor" over and over in your head because you're looking at this stranger and feeling big things for him.

But you're whisked away and the connection is broken and you're taken to a strange land where you're forced to think of everything that you've now left behind in the human lands. Where your fiance is probably wondering what happened to you, where you're no longer able to spend time in your gardens, see the people in the household you've grown to care for, knowing your father will be wondering what happened to you when he returns.

But through that depression you feel the tiniest bit of hope that you can go back. That your fiance will love you despite this new thing you've become and were taught to fear. That maybe, the life you loved can still be yours again.

But the stranger comes back into your life with it a torrent of emotions that you're struggling to understand and to control and it's all too much, it's too overwhelming so you shut down. You're not ready to face what it means when you're desperately trying to hold on to what was lost because if you can get that back, maybe things will make sense again.

But your fiance cruelly rejects you. The one who swore he'd love you until you were old and gray and he tossed you aside as if none of it mattered. As if you didn't matter. And he mentions the stranger to you as if it's a dirty word and maybe some of this is his fault. It's not, you know it's not but it's easier to blame someone.

But then you all nearly lose someone you care for during the war and suddenly, maybe that misplaced anger is easier to let go of.

But the war ends and you slowly settle into a new life, trying to forget about what you lost. Your fiance. Your home. Your friends. And even your father. So you put up a wall and you refuse to engage with your "mate" because some of that anger is back. You didn't ask for any of this. You don't want to be dealing with emotions you can't control when he's around when you're already dealing with so much. He makes it impossible to think straight. He makes everything confusing. But when you ignore him, it's easier to pretend. Everything is easier because you don't feel and when you feel right now, it hurts and it's too much and it's overwhelming.

But you can pretend around your sisters because they don't push you to deal with those emotions. You can pretend around Az because he keeps it light and you have no pull to him. He's handsome of course. But the conversations are surface level and you don't have to think about the things that plague you when it's late at night and you're alone. But you are lonely and comfort from another would be nice, wouldn't it? So you engage in a flirtation with Az. You avoid your mate when he's around because feeling too much is not something you can handle in the same year of your fiance's rejection and your fathers death and your lost humanity. You want to escape and you can do this in this school girls crush with him.

You alternate between dying inside while trying to make the best of your new situation and moments where you can fool yourself into thinking that infatuation is just the thing to help you get by but deep down you know you're avoiding everything. You hate yourself for ignoring your mate, knowing how patient he is, how kind but knowing that you're afraid. Afraid to love someone else. Afraid to lose someone else. So you'll keep taking the path of safety. Living in the NC, making Feyre's found family your new family. Liking the available brothers. It's all perfect and easy and safe.

Until the rejection on Solstice and your illusion comes crashing down. It doesn't matter what you do, you can't hide from reality for long and the time is coming for you to face everything you've been avoiding.

So yes.......Elain and Lucien on the surface appear to be lukewarm as of late.

But I think that when we finally get an Elain POV, we're going to see how intense and deep those still waters go. I think that's why SJM has hidden her POV because I think Elain's true feelings are going to bowl us over.

And I wouldn't say Lucien is not in the books anymore. He was heavily featured all the way up into the novella. SF of course was Nessian's story and since the POV shifted from Feyre to Nesta, it's understandable why Lucien was somewhat absent as he reports to Rhys (not Nesta) and lives in the Human Lands. SJM actually went out of her way to include Lucien on a few occasions in a story where his presence would have been odd when you consider his relationship to Nesta (non existent). I think people also fail to remember that everytime Eris and Helion were on page, that's information that can be applied to Lucien's future story too.

#elucien #pro elucien #elain archeron #lucien vanserra #anti e/riel #pro lucien vanserra #pro elain archeron

[blessedarethebinarybreakers]

Due to flare ups, I’ve been thinking more about my relationship with my disabilities and my relationship with God — any good resources/book you can recommend?

Hey there, sending love and solidarity as you go through flare ups and as you explore all this <3

You came to the right place — disability theology is one of my great passions! Here are my recs for you. If anyone has more resources to add on or insights for anon, please share!

For starters...

First, you might enjoy wandering through my #disability theology tag over on my other blog, which includes excerpts from various disability theologians.

Or reading through / praying with the disability text prayers I shared here last July for Disability Pride Month, which were written by a variety of disabled folks.

Since it's Lent, Unbound's Disabling Lent: An Anti-Ableist Lenten Devotional is timely!

___

Memoirs Exploring Christian Faith & Chronic Pain / Illness

My Body and Other Crumbling Empires, Lyndsey Medford (2023)

This memoir connects faith, chronic illness (especially autoimmune disorders), and the sickness at the heart of Western Empire / the Protestant work ethic.

How can we learn to work with instead of against our bodies? How can we rebuild our world to treat all bodies with the love and gentleness they deserve? .

This Here Flesh, Cole Arthur Riley (2022)

An incredibly beautiful book, poetic and searing...explores the goodness of embodied life and intersections between disability (particularly chronic illness), Blackness, queerness, womanhood, and more.

Each chapter focuses on a different emotion (anger, joy, lament, love...) to teach us how to honor and listen to what we feel in our bodies.

CW for accounts of sexual assault and other forms of and abuse and trauma, as well as accounts of antiblack racism. .

Everything Happens for a Reason and Other Lies I've Loved, Kate Bowler (2018)

If you've been steeped in any kind of prosperity gospel, "if you pray hard enough you'll be healed" type Christianity, I highly recommend this book.

Bowler writes with gentle honesty about how her chronic pain and then cancer compelled her to move away from that kind of harmful Christianity into a faith with room for doubt, grief, and a God that holds her in her suffering.

___

Disability Theology — Books, Podcasts, Videos

Disability: The Inclusive Church Resource edited by Bob Callighan (2014)

If you're interested in the perspectives of various disabled Christians, I love the range of voices they brought into this text! A great intro to how theology and church life impact disabled persons and how our churches must re-form themselves with disabled persons at the center. .

My Disabled AND Blessed YouTube series

I've got multiple YouTube videos that draw from various disability theologians!

I especially recommend my introduction to reading the Bible with a disability lens — stressing how different biblical authors hold different views around disability; so what's God's overall message? — and my video on Luke 14's parable of the banquet!

If you have questions about or struggle with the Gospels' healing narratives, I also recommend my livestream on that topic. .

My friend Laura's Autistic Liberation Theology Podcast (you can listen wherever you get podcasts)

Laura explores scripture through the lens of an autistic trans person who uses a wheelchair and has multiple chronic & mental illnesses.

I especially recommend their episode on "the Gethsemane of things," which takes an honest look at pain and where God is in our suffering. (Most of Laura's eps don't have transcripts, but I shared an abridged version of this ep on my podcast and it has a transcript)

"I am not your ornamental prophet" is also a great episode for thinking about what pressures are put on disabled persons and how to construct boundaries for yourself .

The Mad and Crip Theology Podcast

This podcast interviews the authors who are published in the Mad and Crip Theology journal, which is really cool! You can watch episodes with captions on YouTube, or listen wherever you get podcasts.

A good starter episode: this one "on Queer and Crip Sexuality and the Disabled Christ" .

Some eps of Blessed Are the Binary Breakers

While my own podcast largely centers trans perspectives, disability comes up frequently as well! Each ep has a transcript. These are the disability-focused ones:

"No End to Transphobia without Uprooting Ableism — exploring embedded forms of oppression"

"Our Pride Is Not a Sin — a Queer and Disabled Christian Lens"

"Goodness Embodied — an intersex, nonbinary first human and a disabled risen Christ"

"Marginalized Bodies as Spectacle and the good news in Jesus's disabling wounds"

"Eli and the prophet Elijah"

“Secular” books that helped shape my own theology

What Can a Body Do? How We Meet the Built World, Sara Hendren (2020)

Fantastic book digging into recent disability history, present, and future with focus on the “misfit” theory of disability where body and world interact with each other disharmoniously, and the creativity disabled people employ to make them more harmonious  .

Exile and Pride, Eli Clare (1999)

One of my favorite books of all time. Connects disability, queerness, rural life, trauma, and more. Clare is one of the originators of the concept of the “bodymind” (though he talks about that more in one of his later books)

___

Wanting even more resources? Here's my google doc with aaaaall the disability theology stuff — plus some helpful disability 101 stuff to share with loved ones!

Praying for comfort, wisdom, and community support for you as you journey! Please feel free to drop by again with any questions that come up or to share any insights you've gained any time <3

#disability theology #disabled AND blessed #disabled christians #faithfullydisabled #resources #recs #books #this reminds me i've been meaning to share more excerpts i've gathered from disability theology books... #anyone interested in that should go follow my other blog a-queer-seminarian and i'll start posting some in the coming days...

[doormatty3]

Veiled Passions - Josh POV (Josh Lambert x Reader)

Masterlist Ao3

Summary:

[Josh Lambert x Female Reader] [Josh Lambert x You]  I know I should stay away from her - to commit the sex we had to memory and move on with life. But my heart, stubborn and unyielding, refuses to comply, drawn to her like a moth to a flame, so it happens again and again until we decide to enter a committed relationship. Each stolen moment with her feels like a fleeting escape from reality’s constraints, and I know I’m head over heels in love with her. But when my own son, Dalton, develops feelings for her, the guilt and shame that gnaw at my conscience threaten to consume me whole. It’s as if fate has orchestrated a cruel irony, dangling love before me, only to reveal the painful consequences of my actions.  Yet, despite the turmoil and self-doubt that plague my mind, I find myself unable to let her go. But there lies a flicker of hope - a belief that perhaps, against all odds, love will conquer all. OR: I show her who she belongs to.

Wordcount: 9,570

Warnings: 18+, unprotected sex, creampie, breeding, vaginal sex, smut, dirty talk, older man/ younger woman, daddy issues, face fucking, blowjob

A/N: This is the second part of the story from Josh's perspective - click here for the first part.

It’s curious how a simple spark can ignite into a consuming flame.

I had sex with her in my son’s dorm room, and while I know it was never supposed to happen in the first place - it did happen again and again. Like starved, we just fell over each other in her room at the first chance we got. After that, we decided that it seemed impossible to stay away, so we started meeting up at my house.

I should harbour guilt - after all, she’s considerably younger and not as burdened as I am. Yet, inexplicably, I find myself devoid of remorse. There’s a natural ease, an undeniable chemistry between us. 

I’m drawn to her like a moth to the flame, unable to resist the magnetic pull that defies reason despite the potential consequences.

But it’s more than mere physical attraction. 

I crave a deeper, more profound connection with her, a connection that encompasses everything - mind, body, and soul. 

I believe she feels the same. Our relationship has evolved beyond the sexual; we eat together, share conversations, and have intimate moments that bind us in ways I never thought possible.

All that’s missing is a definitive label for what we share, a recognition of the depth of our connection and the gravity of our feelings. 

And as she prepares to visit me today, I am consumed with anticipation. I can hardly wait to hold her in my arms again, to lose myself in the warmth of her embrace.

_____

The gentle rap on my door pulls me from my thoughts, and without hesitation, I stride to it and grasp the handle and pull it open to reveal her standing on the threshold.

A smile naturally spreads across my face as I take in her beauty. The soft glow of the morning light bathes her features, enhancing her radiance even further. She’s illuminated with a gentle warmth, casting a halo around her head and accentuating the soft blush that graces her cheeks. 

Her presence is like a breath of fresh air, a welcome reprieve from the mundane routines of everyday life.  There’s an ethereal quality to her as if she’s stepped straight out of a dream and into my reality.

“Hey,” I whisper, my voice barely above a breath, a smile tugging at the corners of my lips. “I’m glad you’re here.”

A soft smile graces her lips. “Me too,” she responds, her voice carrying a hint of excitement. “I’ve been looking forward to this.”

With a subtle gesture, I step aside, inviting her in. As she crosses the threshold, I can’t help but let my gaze linger on her figure, appreciating the way her jeans hugs her ass. 

I close the door behind her with a soft click, and without hesitation, I wrap her in a tight embrace, my arms encircling her.

Her scent washes over me, a perfect combination of something sweet and uniquely her. I inhale deeply, committing it to memory as her warmth seeps into my bones. It’s as if she was made to fit perfectly against me, her body moulding to mine with effortless ease.

As she reciprocates the hug, her arms wrapping around me, I can’t help but smile. 

With a gentle tug, I pull back slightly, just enough to gaze into her beautiful face. Cupping her chin in my hand, I tilt her head upwards and capture her lips in a tender kiss. She tastes like coffee and just her.

I can feel the curve of her smile against my mouth, sending shivers down my spine and butterflies fluttering in my stomach.

Reluctantly breaking the kiss, I take her hand in mine and lead her into the living room. 

We settle onto the couch, her body pressed close to mine, and I revel in the sensation of her warmth against my skin. As she lets out a contented sigh, I can’t help but feel a sense of peace wash over me, knowing that in her arms, I’ve found my sanctuary.

But when her gaze meets mine, I notice a subtle change in her expression, a hint of nervousness flickering across her features like a passing shadow.

“Josh,” she begins, her voice barely more than a whisper, “there’s something I need to talk to you about.”

A chill runs down my spine at the solemnity in her tone, my heart skipping a beat with apprehension. Instinctively, I reach out to gently squeeze her hand in a gesture of reassurance.

“Of course, sweetheart,” I murmur, trying to keep my voice steady despite the rising tide of fear and concern. “What’s on your mind?”

As she takes a deep breath, her eyes flutter closed, and I can sense the weight of her words before she even speaks them. “It’s about us,” she confesses, and instantly, my blood runs cold, my heart pounding in my chest as I furrow my brow in concern.

My worst fears seem to materialise as she continues, her words hanging heavy in the air. “About where we stand, what we mean to each other.”

I swallow heavily, the lump in my throat making it difficult to speak. The thought that she might be ending whatever fragile connection we’ve built fills me with paralysing dread.

“Go on,” I urge softly, my voice trembling with fear, betraying the turmoil raging within me.

“It’s just...” She pauses, her words hesitant as if treading on fragile ground. “I care about you, Josh, more than I can put into words. But there are so many obstacles in our way.”

For a moment, time seems to stand still as her words sink in, the weight of her confession settling like a heavy stone in the pit of my stomach. She’s ending it, I think - a surge of panic coursing through me like an electric shock. But before I can interject, she presses on.

“The age difference, the fact that you’re my friend’s dad... It’s all so complicated,” she continues, her voice trembling with uncertainty.

“I know,” I murmur, my voice gentle and quiet, a fragile thread holding back the torrent of emotions threatening to overwhelm me.

Desperation claws at the edges of my consciousness as I search for the right words to keep her from slipping away. “Believe me, I’ve thought about all of that too. But none of it changes how I feel about you.”

A sense of relief washes over me as the truth spills from my lips, a small confession whispered into the void. But even as the weight lifts from my shoulders, I can’t shake the gnawing fear that lingers in the back of my mind. 

It would be her right to end it, I realize, the reality of our complicated situation looming over us like a dark cloud on the horizon. And yet, despite it all, I can’t help but hope that she’ll choose to stay.

“I want something permanent with you. Something real and lasting,” she finally says, her voice filled with determination and longing as it cuts through the tense silence.

My breath catches in my throat as her words sink in, a rush of emotions flooding through me like a tidal wave. She wants this, she wants us , and the realisation leaves me feeling both exhilarated and overwhelmed.

“And so do I,” I reply, my voice barely above a whisper but filled with conviction. “I want us to be in a proper relationship. I want you to be my girlfriend.”

The words hang in the air, heavy with anticipation, as I wait for her response. And when her smile lights up her face, a radiant beacon of happiness, I know that I’ve found my answer.

“I’d like that,” she says, her voice soft but resolute. “I’d like to be your girlfriend.”

A surge of joy rushes through me, a euphoria I can hardly contain. It’s as if all the worries and uncertainties of the past melt away, leaving only the promise of a future filled with love and possibility.

I reach out to take her hand in mine, feeling the warmth of her touch as our fingers intertwine. “Thank you,” I whisper, my voice choked with emotion. “You mean everything to me.”

Without another word, I lean in to capture her lips in a kiss. It’s passionate and tender, a promise of all the love and devotion that I have yet to express in words. And as we share this moment together, I know with certainty that I’ve finally found someone worth fighting for, someone I can see forever with.

_____

“I wish this weekend didn’t have to end,” she confesses, her words echoing the sentiment that has been lingering in my own mind as we reach the front door on Sunday evening. 

With a heavy sigh, I nod in agreement, unable to tear my gaze away from her. “I know,” I reply softly, my voice tinged with regret. “But we’ll see each other again soon, I promise.”

Reaching out, I take her hand in mine and intertwine our fingers, drawing comfort from the warmth of her touch. But when she looks down at our joined hands, a quiet question lingers in her gaze.

“Do you want to meet up next week?” she asks quietly, her eyes searching mine for an answer.

My heart sinks at the thought of disappointing her, but I know that I can’t make any promises I can’t keep. The question pulls me back to the harsh reality of our complicated situation. “I’d love to,” I reply honestly, “but I have the kids next weekend. It’s going to be a bit chaotic.”

The words spill from my lips like a bitter truth, casting a shadow over the fragile hope that had blossomed between us.

It’s not that I don’t want her to meet my other kids, Foster and Cali, but the thought of broaching the subject with Dalton fills me with a sense of unease.

We haven’t discussed how we’ll tell him we’re a couple, and the mere thought of it sends a shiver down my spine. I know it will be awkward, potentially even damaging to his friendship with her, and so I’ve been putting it off, hoping for the right moment to present itself.

Besides, it feels far too early to introduce her to the rest of my family. We’ve only been seeing each other for a short time, and while our connection is undeniably strong, there are still so many uncertainties lingering in the air.

Her smile falters momentarily, a flicker of disappointment crossing her features before she masks it with forced cheerfulness.

“That’s okay,” she says, masking the disappointment in her eyes. “We’ll find a way to make it work, even if it’s just for a little while.”

I can’t bear to see her sad, and the thought of waiting another two weeks until I can hold her in my arms again is almost unbearable. “How about you come over during the week?” I suggest a glimmer of hope igniting within me. “We could grab dinner or just spend some time together.”

Her smile, though tinged with sadness, is still blinding and radiant.“ I’d like that,” she says, her voice soft but full of warmth. “I’d like that a lot.”

With a tender smile, I use my hands to gently cup her face, savouring the softness of her skin and the way she leans into my touch. Her eyes flutter closed, a contented sigh escaping her lips.

Angling her head upwards once more, I press my lips to hers in a kiss that speaks volumes of the emotions that course through my veins.

Eventually, I break the kiss, my heart heavy with the knowledge that our time together is ending. “See you next week, sweetheart,” I whisper, my voice laced with a mixture of longing and anticipation.

“Until next week,” she replies, breaking from my embrace and heading towards her car.

I watch her until she disappears from view, the sound of her car engine fading into the distance. It’s a bittersweet moment, filled with the promise of our eventual reunion but tinged with the ache of separation.

Returning to the house, I notice a sweater. She’s left it behind on accident, and it’s a tangible reminder of her presence that fills the room with the scent of her perfume even if she’s not in it. With a smile, I drape it over the couch, making a mental note to return it to her when we see each other again.

_____

On Monday, Foster, my other son, visits the house to retrieve some items he had left behind, thinking he didn’t need them. But among them are school materials he now requires, so I go to his room and grab them for him while he stays in the living room. 

As I reenter the room, carrying the box of Foster’s belongings, I catch a glimpse of his furrowed brow and his gaze fixed upon the couch. Following his line of sight, I immediately understand the cause of his confusion - her sweater.

It’s a striking red, unlike anything I would wear, with a neckline too low and a size too small to be mistaken for one of my own - and, of course, it’s undeniably female. 

I swallow hard, my heart pounding in my chest as I brace myself for the inevitable confrontation. This is definitely not how I wanted my kids to find out about my relationship, especially not Foster, who I know has a close bond with Dalton.

For a moment, I stand frozen in place, unsure of how to proceed. Should I address the elephant in the room or pretend not to notice? 

If I want to avoid telling him about my girlfriend, I should definitely pretend that everything is fine, so I clear my throat to announce my presence and step back into the living room, hoping to divert Foster’s attention away from the sweater.

Taking a deep breath to steady my nerves, I consciously try to appear calm and collected as I approach him. With a forced nonchalance, I hand him the box, hoping to distract him from the sweater.

“Here you go, Foster,” I say, my voice betraying none of the anxiety swirling within me. “You left these in your room.”

Foster accepts the box with a nod of gratitude, but his gaze lingers on the sweater for a moment longer before he averts his eyes. I can sense his curiosity, his unspoken questions hanging in the air between us like a heavy fog.

But before either of us can broach the subject, I quickly change the topic, eager to steer the conversation away from the uncomfortable truth.

“So, how’s school going?” I ask, forcing a casual tone as I attempt to shift the focus. “Need any help with your assignments?”

Foster seems to catch on to my subtle diversion, and he launches into a discussion about his classes and upcoming exams. As he speaks, I can’t help but feel a sense of relief wash over me, grateful for the temporary reprieve from the inevitable conversation that looms on the horizon.

But even as we talk, I can’t shake the nagging feeling that this encounter is just the beginning of a much larger talk that we’ll need to have, one that I’m not entirely prepared for.

After a while, I walk him to the door, bidding him farewell, thankful that the conversation didn’t take a more awkward turn and that he didn’t ask me anything about the item of clothing. 

“Thanks, Dad,” Foster replies with a smile, seemingly oblivious to the tension that hangs in the air or just very good at pretending. “Are us coming over on the weekend still fine?”

Relief floods through me at his nonchalant question. “Yes, still fine. I’m looking forward to it,” I reply with a forced smile. “We could maybe go out to this good burger restaurant I found?”

Foster’s smile widens at the suggestion, and he nods eagerly in agreement. 

As I watch him leave, a weight lifts from my shoulders, but I know that the inevitable conversation with my kids and, especially Dalton is still approaching.

_____

Sitting in my home office, surrounded by stacks of tests waiting to be graded, I’m interrupted by the familiar chime of my phone. With a quick swipe, I unlock the screen to find a message from her waiting for me.

Hey,

Can I come over? I really need to see you right now…

Please?

My brow furrows as I read her urgent plea to see me. It’s not uncommon for her to reach out and text me, but there’s an edge to her message that leaves me uneasy, a sense of urgency that I can’t ignore.

I quickly type out a response, my fingers tapping against the screen with worry.

Of course, you can come over. Is everything okay?

Watching the message marked as read without a response, a knot forms in my stomach, my mind racing with worry over what could have happened.

The seconds tick by agonisingly slow as I anxiously await her response that isn’t coming, my heart pounding in my chest with each passing moment.

Around 15 minutes later, a hesitant knock on the front door breaks the silence in my home. I swing the door open to reveal her standing there, her eyes filled with a haunting turmoil that sends a shiver down my spine.

Without a word, I pull her into my arms, feeling the tension in her body melt away as she clings to me. Her embrace is tight, her head buried in my chest as if she’s seeking refuge from some unseen storm, and I hold her close, offering whatever comfort I can.

After a few moments, I pull back slightly so I can see her features. She looks calmer than before, and I brush a stray hair from her face, my fingertips lingering against her skin. I press a tender kiss on her forehead in an attempt to console her even further, to take some of that weight away that seems to be crushing her. 

“Come inside,” I murmur, my voice a soothing whisper as I guide her into the warmth of my home. My heart aches to hold and kiss her properly and hopefully find out what freaked her out so badly. 

We settle at the dining table, facing each other in the soft glow of the evening light.

“So, what happened?” I ask, my tone gentle yet filled with concern as I study her face.

“It’s about Dalton,” she starts, her voice barely above a whisper, and I feel my heart speed up in my chest as I listen to her speak. “Today, at the coffee shop... he...”

Her words trail off, leaving a heavy silence hanging in the air. Concern gnaws at me as I lean in closer, trying to catch every nuance of her expression - I’m growing increasingly worried for her and my son. “He what?” I prompt gently, my hand instinctively moving to run through my hair in nervous anticipation.

“He told me that he... has feelings for me,” she whispers, her voice barely audible but resonating loudly in the stillness of the room. The words reverberating against the walls as if she screamed from the top of her lungs.

For a moment, time seems to stand still as her words sink in, like a sharp knife slicing through the calm. My breath catches in my throat, my hand freezing in its tracks, fingers tangled in my hair as I struggle to process the weight of her revelation.

“I see,” I manage to murmur, my voice strained with the effort to maintain composure. Leaning forward, I rest my arms on the table, attempting to anchor myself amidst the tumult of emotions swirling within me as I try to process what this means for us. My son harbours feelings for my girlfriend – his friend from college.

Her trembling voice pierces through the heavy silence once again, pulling me back to the present. “I... I didn’t know how to respond,” she confesses, her eyes pleading for understanding. “I care about him, of course, but not in the same way.”

As I meet her gaze, a whirlwind of conflicting thoughts churns within me. Rationality urges me to consider what’s best for her to acknowledge the challenges posed by our age difference. Yet, my heart rebels against reason, unwilling to contemplate a future without her by my side.

Unable to face her, I cast my gaze downward again, grappling with the weight of our reality.

“Josh, I want you to know that I only want you,” her voice filled with conviction and sincerity. I can feel her eyes on me, searching for a glimmer of understanding amidst the turmoil within me. 

Her words catch me off guard, stirring a storm of conflicting emotions within my chest. I can’t shake the feeling that she deserves someone better, that she should not want me - instead, she should be happy and overjoyed that someone like Dalton wants her.

Reluctantly, I meet her gaze, my eyes locking with hers in an unspoken exchange of vulnerability and uncertainty. Her expression is a mosaic of pleading and fear, mirroring the chaos raging within me. I lean back in my chair, my fingers grazing through my hair again.

Unable to bear the weight of her unwavering affection, I avert my gaze, my thoughts spiralling into a vortex of self-doubt and apprehension. 

This feels like a universal sign, a cruel twist of fate reminding me of the impossibility and all the problems of our relationship. The mere fact that my son harbours feelings for her feels like the ultimate sign.

Lost in the labyrinth of my own insecurities, my self-deprecating thoughts are loud and incessant, and they suggest that I’m bad for her. 

Perhaps it’s time for me to assume the role of the adult, to sacrifice my own desires for the sake of her happiness in the long run - and let her go. 

In the depths of my soul, I acknowledge the bitter truth that our connection was doomed from the start, a delicate tapestry woven from threads of problems and obstacles. Orchestrated by fate itself, designed to unravel at the slightest tug, leaving us stranded in a sea of unfulfilled longing and shattered dreams.

I ignore the persistent voice in my head - a voice that whispers insistently, reminding me that this was her choice as well. She chose me, just as I chose her.

But the words escape my lips in a barely audible whisper, reverberating in the quiet room like a solemn decree. “Maybe... maybe someone like Dalton would be better for you.”

Even as the words leave my mouth, they feel foreign and wrong, a betrayal of the emotions pulsating within me. Yet, I cling to them as a lifeline, a semblance of rationality in a sea of tumultuous emotions. Deep down, I know it’s the right thing to do despite the ache in my heart at the mere thought of losing her.

Her eyes widen in disbelief, the shock and horror etched unmistakably across her beautiful face. It pains me to witness the anguish I’ve caused her, to see the flicker of hope dimming in her eyes as the weight of my words settles upon her fragile shoulders. 

My heart aches with the realisation that this may truly be the end - that I may be losing her forever and that it’s for the better.

“But Josh,” she protests, her voice laced with raw emotion, barely above a whisper. “I don’t want someone like Dalton. I want you .”

“I know,” I murmur softly, my own voice trembling with the weight of my decision. “But maybe... maybe I’m not what you need.”

The words hang heavy in the air between us, a testament to the agony of our shared dilemma. I know she wants me - I can see it in the depths of her pleading eyes, feel it in the tremor of her voice just as I want her with every fibre of my being. 

The mere thought of waking up tomorrow without her by my side fills me with a profound sense of emptiness, a void that threatens to consume me whole. And yet, I know deep down that this is the right thing to do, no matter how much it tears me apart inside.

I can sense her struggle, her silent plea for me to see past my own insecurities and fears, to embrace the love that she so willingly offers.

Watching her rise from her seat with agonising slowness, I feel a sense of helplessness wash over me - a realisation that I am powerless to ease her pain, to mend the fractures in our fractured bond. “I should go,” she murmurs softly, her voice barely audible above the din of my own anguish.

Tears well in her eyes and spill over onto her cheeks, my own heart breaking with each silent sob that escapes her lips. I know she feels broken because of what I’ve done, because of the pain I’ve inflicted upon her. And yet, I cling to the faint hope that she’ll come to understand, that she’ll see the necessity of my decision in the days to come - even if I cannot bring myself to do the same.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, my voice thick with emotion as I struggle to articulate the depth of my remorse. “I wish things could be different.”

But even as the words leave my lips, I know that wishes are merely fleeting whispers in the wind, echoes of a reality that may never come to pass. 

Suddenly, she whirls around, facing me. The evening light casts long shadows across her features, accentuating the intensity in her eyes that are swimming with tears. I’m momentarily stunned and surprised by her reaction, taken aback by the ferocity of her response.

“No, Josh. I won’t accept that,” she retorts, her voice carrying an edge of anger tempered by an unwavering determination. “I won’t settle for someone else when all I want is you .”

Her words reverberate through the room, echoing off the walls and resonating deep within me. It’s a declaration that catches me off guard, shattering the fragile equilibrium I had clung to.

Her unwavering conviction leaves me speechless, my thoughts swirling in a maelstrom of uncertainty, and I am having difficulties grappling with the fact that she wants me . And that she is fighting for me - for us .

“I just don’t know if this is such a good idea,” I confess, my uncertainty palpable as I avoid meeting her gaze. The weight of my doubts presses down on me, suffocating in its intensity.

It’s as if she can sense my inner turmoil, the silent struggle playing out behind my eyes. Without hesitation, she reaches out to take my hand in hers. Her touch is a lifeline in the tempest of my emotions, grounding me in the present moment.

“Josh, look at me,” she insists, her voice unwavering in its determination. Reluctantly, I raise my gaze to meet hers, feeling like a marionette under her commanding presence. Her eyes, pools of unwavering sincerity, bore into mine with a depth that leaves me speechless.

“From the moment I met you, I knew there was something special between us,” she continues, her words resonating within the depths of my soul. “I wanted you then, and I want you now.”

Her declaration leaves me stunned, my mind struggling to process the magnitude of her confession. It’s as if the world around us fades into insignificance, leaving only the echo of her words reverberating in the silence.

“I love you, Josh,” she declares, her voice a fervent proclamation of her unwavering affection. “And I won’t let you push me away because you’re too afraid to face your own feelings.”

As her words wash over me, I feel a wave of conflicting emotions surge within me. Part of me refuses to believe that I could be deserving of such profound love, while another part swells with elation at the realisation of her devotion.

I wet my dry lips, struggling to find the words to convey the depth of my emotions. With each beat of my heart, the truth becomes clearer until I can no longer deny it.

“I... I love you too,” I finally confess, the admission a balm to my restless soul. With those three simple words, the weight of uncertainty lifts, replaced by a sense of clarity and purpose.

I swallow hard, my gaze drifting away from her piercing eyes. The weight of her love bears down on me, intertwining with my own fears and doubts. Because I wonder - will it be enough? 

“But I’m scared, sweetheart,” I admit, my voice barely above a whisper. “I’m scared of what this could mean for us. Especially now that Dalton has feelings for you.”

She steps forward again, her presence a comforting anchor in the swirling sea of uncertainty. With each measured step, she closes the distance between us until we’re only mere inches apart. Her touch is gentle yet firm as she cups my cheek, her hand trembling slightly against my skin, and I feel the warmth of her touch seeping into my very being.

“We can face this together,” she says softly, her voice a soothing balm to my troubled soul, brimming with unwavering hope and determination.

At that moment, the weight of her words washes over me, stirring something deep within my heart. Maybe, just maybe, our love is enough to weather the storms that lie ahead. Perhaps we can navigate the murky waters of uncertainty together, emerging stronger on the other side.

The treacherous tendrils of hope begin to weave their way through the fabric of my doubts, igniting a flicker of optimism within my chest. Why continue to fight against the inevitable when it’s clear that she is the right choice, the beacon of light in the darkness of my doubts?

I want this, her, us. And I’m tired of denying myself happiness.

“Yes, we will,” I murmur, my voice quiet and soft, my resolve solidifying with each passing moment.

With a gentle urgency, she closes the remaining distance between us, her breath mingling with mine, and her soft lips meet mine in a tender yet desperate kiss.

In that fleeting moment of connection, time seems to stand still, the world around us fading into insignificance as we become lost in each other’s embrace. Her touch is like a lifeline, pulling me closer and anchoring me to the present moment.

With an urgency born of longing, I pull her closer, my hands tracing the contours of her back, desperate to feel her warmth against me. At that moment, she feels like the missing piece of my soul, filling the void with her presence.

As our lips part, a soft groan escapes me, my chest heaving with ragged breaths as I drink in the sight of her flushed cheeks and parted lips. The intensity of my desire for her is overwhelming, threatening to consume me entirely.

Unable to resist the magnetic pull between us, I draw her back into my embrace, capturing her lips in another searing kiss.

“I want you, Josh - only you,” she breathes, her voice filled with unwavering determination and love.

Her whispered words send shivers down my spine, the sincerity in her voice washing away any lingering doubts. At that moment, I know with absolute certainty that she is mine, and I am hers, brought together by a love that knows no bounds.

As our lips meet in another electrifying kiss, I revel in the sensation of her soft, supple lips against mine. My hands remain firmly planted on her back, pulling her closer with every passing moment, unable to get enough of her intoxicating presence.

Between kisses, I murmur against her lips, my voice heavy with emotion, “I can’t imagine wanting anyone else either, sweetheart. The way you make me feel... it’s indescribable.”

Her eyes light up with joy and adoration, reflecting the depth of her love for me as she enthusiastically returns my kisses. At that moment, I am lost in the overwhelming intensity of our connection, unable to imagine a future without her by my side.

With a deep breath, she breaks the kiss, her fingers tracing a delicate path along the contours of my jaw. I shiver at her touch, every nerve in my body electrified by her gentle caress, my cock twitching in my pants. My gaze remains locked on hers, drinking in the depth of her love and devotion.

Suddenly, she sinks to her knees before me, her movements graceful and deliberate. My heart pounds in my chest, anticipation mingling with desire as I watch her with bated breath.

At that moment, time seems to slow down as I drink in the sight of her kneeling before me, her beauty illuminated by the soft glow of the light. My heart races with excitement as I realise what she’s about to do, my body trembling with anticipation.

“Josh,” she whispers, barely above a breath, filled with reverence and longing. “I need you. I need us.”

Her words send a shiver down my spine as I gaze into her eyes, seeing the raw desire reflected in their depths. With trembling hands, she begins to trace delicate patterns over the fabric of my jeans, each touch sending a jolt of electricity coursing through my veins and straight to my cock that’s already straining against my jeans.

I bite back a groan, my breath hitching in my throat as her fingers dance along the outline of my muscles, teasing and tormenting me with every stroke. Arousal pulses through my body, my senses heightened as I struggle to maintain control, my breath coming in short, ragged gasps.

Every touch and every caress fans the flames of desire burning within me, threatening to consume me entirely. I fight against the overwhelming urge to pull her up into my arms and lose myself in her completely, knowing that she needs this as much as I do.

Almost suddenly, she reaches for the waistband of my pants, her fingers deftly undoing the button and zipper with practised ease. With a swift motion, she pushes my trousers and boxers down to my ankles, and I step out of them, the cool air of the room now caressing my exposed skin as my hard dick springs free, finally not confined to the tightness of my underwear. 

Reaching out, my hand trembles slightly as I cup her cheek, savouring the warmth of her skin beneath my touch. “You’re so beautiful,” I murmur, my voice husky with desire. “I can’t believe you’re here with me, doing this.”

She leans into my touch, her cheek pressing against the palm of my hand, and I feel a surge of affection wash over me. The intimacy of the moment is almost overwhelming, and I find myself lost in the depths of her gaze.

The sensation is electrifying when he wraps her hand around my throbbing cock. A surge of pleasure courses through my body, igniting every nerve ending and sending my senses into overdrive. My eyes automatically roll back in my head, overwhelmed by the intensity of the pleasure she’s unleashing upon me.

It’s crazy, really, how much she turns me on. Just the touch of her hand against my hardened dick is enough to drive me wild with desire. I can feel every inch of her soft, delicate fingers as they glide along my shaft, sending shivers of pleasure racing up my spine.

I can’t help but groan in pleasure as she swirls her tongue over the sensitive head of my cock. The sound of her quiet moans only adds to the intensity of the moment, fueling my desire and driving me wild with need.

With each flick of her tongue, I can feel myself growing harder and harder, the anticipation building to a fever pitch. I’m entirely at her will, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Finally, mercifully, she takes the tip of my throbbing cock into her mouth, sucking lightly as her hand continues to stroke my length. The sensation is indescribable, and I can’t help but moan loudly as I feel myself being engulfed in the wetness of her mouth.

My hands automatically find their way into her soft hair, fingers threading through the strands as she continues her tantalising ministrations.

“Christ, sweetheart,” I rasp, my voice rough and strained with desire. “You know how to drive me crazy. Keep doing that, please…”

As she takes me even deeper into her mouth, I can’t help but tighten my grip on her hair, the sensation sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through my body. I fight to hold back the urge to buck my hips or release too soon, desperate to savour every moment.

My moans grow louder, echoing off the walls of the room as the overwhelming pleasure threatens to consume me entirely. “Sweetheart, that feels incredible,” I groan, unable to contain the sheer ecstasy of the moment.

As I feel the slight scratch of her fingernails on my balls, I can’t help but buck my hips, a guttural groan escaping my lips as I feel my cock slipping further down her throat.

The sensation of being engulfed so deeply in her mouth is almost overwhelming, and for a moment, I’m lost in the exquisite pleasure. But then I hear it - the subtle sound of her gagging - and my eyes flutter open, my concern instantly piqued. I notice the tears pooling in her eyes, and without hesitation, I pull back slightly.

“Sorry, sweetheart. I didn’t mean to push it that far,” I murmur, my voice filled with genuine concern as I search her eyes for any sign of discomfort.

Before I can apologise further, she speaks, her voice hoarse with desire, “ Fuck, do it again,” she gasps, struggling to catch her breath.

For a moment, I wonder if I heard her correctly, but the look of pure ecstasy on her face and the way her thighs clench tell me everything I need to know. Without hesitation, I gently push my cock back into her throat, keeping a careful eye on her for any signs of distress.

As she gags around it again, I can’t help but tangle my fingers in her hair, the sensation sending shivers down my spine. Despite the initial shock, it’s clear that she’s enjoying herself, and I can’t help but feel a surge of arousal at the sight of her surrendering to me.

With each careful thrust, I feel a surge of pleasure coursing through me, the feeling of her lips stretching wide around my cock, sending waves of ecstasy rippling through my body. Her dazed expression only adds to the intensity of the moment, and I find myself unable to tear my gaze away from her.

As I continue to push my dick into her throat, I can’t help but marvel at how incredibly hot she looks, saliva glistening on her chin as she struggles to accommodate my length. The sight alone is enough to drive me wild with desire, and I find myself moaning softly with each slow thrust.

The sound of her gagging only serves to heighten my arousal, and each moan sends a jolt of pleasure straight to my cock. And when I finally manage to push my entire length down her throat, my balls resting against her chin, I can’t help but groan in satisfaction, feeling her throat spasm around my dick.

With a newfound sense of urgency, I pick up the pace, my movements becoming faster and more erratic with each passing moment. I can feel my balls tightening, the sensation of her warm mouth wrapped around my cock driving me insane.

As I fuck her mouth and throat with increasing fervour, I can see the dazed look in her eyes, a mixture of desire and love. With each thrust, I feel myself edging closer and closer to the edge, the promise of release tantalisingly close.

Feeling the urge to cum building inside me, I make a conscious decision - I don’t want to cum in her mouth or spill down her throat. I want to fill up her cunt. With that thought in mind, I gently pull my dick out of her throat, watching as it emerges coated in saliva, a thick strand connecting her mouth to the tip of my cock.

My arousal spikes at the sight, my cock throbbing with anticipation as I observe her taking a few deep breaths, her chest rising and falling with each inhalation. I can see the desire in her eyes, a hunger that mirrors my own, and it only serves to heighten my arousal even further.

I lean down and capture her lips in a passionate kiss, my tongue seeking entrance. I savour the taste of her lips; the intoxicating sweetness mingled with the faint hint of myself. With a gentle tug, I pull her up to stand, our bodies pressed together.

Breaking the kiss, I take a step back and remove my shirt, my gaze locked on her. The fabric falls to the ground with a soft thud. 

I watch as she follows suit, removing her own shirt, her movements mesmerising as she reveals every inch of her flawless skin. My eyes drink in the sight of her perfect, firm tits, her taunt nipples begging for attention, and her smooth skin tantalising me with its softness.

As she takes off her pants, pulling them down along with her underwear, my eyes are drawn to her cunt. 

I can see the wetness glistening between her lips, a clear sign of how much she enjoyed being on her knees and having my dick stuffed down her throat. My cock twitches at the thought of being buried deep inside her pussy, and I can hardly contain myself any longer.

I relish the feeling of her warm skin against mine as I pull her close again, my hand resting possessively on the small of her back. A guttural groan escapes my lips at the sensation, a primal sound that reverberates through the room.

“I’m going to fuck you hard, sweetheart,” I growl, my voice low and filled with raw desire. At this moment, all I crave is to claim her, to assert my dominance over her body and soul.

Guiding her to the couch, I lay her down gently, my movements deliberate and purposeful. With a firm grip, I lift her legs, placing them on my shoulders, exposing her wet cunt to my hungry gaze. My cock throbs with anticipation as I position myself at her entrance, ready to plunge into her.

Normally, I would take the time to prepare her and make her cum at least once so she can take my cock easier. But tonight is different - tonight, I crave to be inside her, to take her and make her feel every inch of me before she falls apart around me.

With a low, feral groan, I push my cock into her, feeling the slick heat of her pussy enveloping me. She moans loudly in response, her head falling back in pleasure as I fill her completely, every inch of me buried deep within her.

Her tightness grips me like a vice, pulsing and throbbing around my cock as I part the walls of her cunt, thrusting deeper until I am buried to the hilt. My eyes never leave hers, capturing every flicker of desire, every gasp of pleasure as she succumbs to me.

I feel her pussy clench and flutter around me, her slick walls pulsating in rhythm with her heartbeat. Pausing for a moment, I give her time to adjust, savouring the sensation of being buried deep within her, lost in the exquisite pleasure of our connection.

“You feel so good, Josh,” she breathes out, her voice laden with desire, her chest rising and falling with each ragged breath. “Please, move.”

Her plea ignites a primal urge within me to give in to the raw, unbridled passion that courses through my veins. With a growl, I begin to move, setting a steady and deep rhythm. Each thrust sends waves of pleasure radiating through my body, the sensation of her tightness enveloping me is driving me to greater depths of pleasure.

My hands roam over her soft skin, trailing over the curves of her breasts and the contours of her stomach. I revel in the desperate moans that escape her lips and the way her hips meet mine with eager enthusiasm.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” I encourage, my voice thick with desire. “Take it.”

Her responsiveness to my touch only spurs me on, driving me to thrust harder and deeper into her pussy. I watch in awe as her perfect tits bounce with each thrust, her moans filling the air alongside the wet squelch of her cunt. 

“God, you’re so hot,” I groan, overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment, as I feel her pussy flutter around me, responding to the praise. 

In a frenzy of desire, I thrust harder, pulling out almost completely before plunging back in. The sound of my balls slapping against her is loud in the room. The scent of arousal hangs heavy in the air, mingling with the heady aroma of our passion as we lose ourselves in the heat of the moment.

I lower my head, overcome with the need to taste her, and take one of her nipples into my mouth, sucking hard. She arches her back in response, a throaty moan escaping her lips as I tease her with my tongue. 

Her response only spurs me on, and I continue to please her with my mouth, alternating between gentle sucking and teasing flicks. I revel in the sound of her gasps and the feel of her cunt throbbing around me, a testament to her overwhelming arousal.

“You’re so damn responsive for me,” I murmur against her skin, my voice husky with desire. My hands roam freely over her body, tracing the contours of her curves with a possessive urgency.

I leave wet, open-mouthed kisses along her chest, each touch eliciting a shiver of pleasure from her. I switch my focus to her other nipple, licking and biting gently, relishing the way she responds to my touch.

“Only for you, just you,” she mewls, her voice barely a whisper as she lets me take her.

I growl in response, the possessive thrill coursing through me as I revel in the knowledge that she belongs to me and me alone. “That’s right, sweetheart,” I grunt against her skin, my voice rough with desire. 

I tighten my grip on her thighs, determined to leave my mark on her, to imprint myself on every inch of her skin.

With each powerful thrust, I drive deeper into her wet pussy, my need to possess her overwhelming every other thought. I adjust the angle of my thrusts, seeking out that spot that drives her wild.

When her mouth falls open, and she lets out a whimper, I know I’ve found it. The way her cunt flutters and clenches around me tells me she’s close, her hips moving in perfect harmony with mine.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” I growl, my voice rough with desire as I urge her on. 

“Nobody fucks me like you do. Nobody pleases me like you do,” she stammers, her words a desperate mixture of moans and gasps. “You feel so good, Josh.”

“You belong to me,” I assert possessively, my dominance asserting itself as I take her roughly, my hips slamming against hers with unrestrained force. The headboard of the sofa thuds against the wall with each powerful thrust, the sound echoing in the room.

I can feel myself getting closer and closer to the edge, every nerve in my body ablaze with pleasure as I fuck her with ruthless abandon, lost in the ecstasy of the moment.

“I’m so close,” she whimpers, her voice trembling with desperation.

My own breath comes in ragged gasps, my voice a deep growl of desire. “Let it all go, sweetheart. I want to feel you come apart in my arms,” I encourage, my hands gripping her hips as my hips thrust rapidly into her, my thumb finding her clit to rub rough circles.

I watch as her mouth falls slack, her eyes glazed with pleasure as my thumb works her clit relentlessly. “That’s it, sweetheart,” I groan, my voice strained with the effort of holding back my own climax. “Let me feel you.”

She cries out my name as she cums, her body convulsing with pleasure as her cunt clenches violently around my cock. I’m determined to ride out her orgasm, to prolong her ecstasy, so I hold back, feeling her quiver and shake against me.

When she finally slumps against me, spent and trembling, I thrust into her one last time, burying my cock deep inside her as I let myself go. I cum hard, filling her quivering cunt to the brim with my cum. The orgasm is so intense that for a moment, I feel like I black out, overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of it all.

“Oh fuck,” I breathe heavily, still buried deep inside her as her pussy continues to milk my aching dick. I hold her close, our bodies entwined, unwilling to let her go. 

I hear and feel the frantic beat of her heart slowly returning to its normal rhythm. My breath comes in heavy pants, my chest rising and falling with the aftermath of our fuck. I keep my cock buried inside her, relishing the sensation of her warmth enveloping me.

“I’ve never felt anything like this before,” I pant, my voice husky with emotion as I continue to hold onto her hips, unwilling to let go. My cock twitches slightly as it begins to soften inside her. “You’re incredible, sweetheart.”

“You’re incredible, Josh,” she whispers back, her voice barely above a murmur as she nestles closer to me, her warmth enveloping me like a comforting embrace.

I tighten my hold on her, pressing a soft and gentle kiss to her temple, savouring the moment. “I love hearing that,” I whisper, my breath hot against her skin as I slowly begin to withdraw my cock from her warmth.

With a wet pop, my cock slides out of her, leaving behind a trail of our mixed juices on her thighs.I can’t tear my gaze away from her gaping cunt, still dripping with my cum. The sight of her, so thoroughly fucked and wrecked, fills me with pride.

“Damn, sweetheart,” I mutter, my voice thick with desire as I reach down to brush my fingers against her slick folds. A soft moan escapes my lips as I feel the warmth of her juices mingling with my own. The desire to claim her again, to fill her up once more, pulses through me, undeniable and fierce.

Lowering my head, I capture her lips in a soft and tender kiss, pouring all my love and passion into the gentle caress. At this moment, with her in my arms, I feel complete. I love her - with every fibre of my being. And as I hold her close, I know that I never want to let her go.

She’s so beautiful, and as she looks at me, I see nothing but love in her eyes. I kiss her again, savouring the taste of her lips against mine. Her fingers trace patterns over my torso, and I feel the familiar pull of desire again. I pull her closer, deepening the kiss, lost in the heat of the moment.

I know it’ll be a while before I can fuck her again, but I also know that she doesn’t need a pause. So, instead, I want to fuck her with my fingers, ensuring she feels every lingering trace of my cum deep inside her. As I lean in to kiss her once more, my hand hovers over her pussy.

But just as I’m about to start, I hear footsteps echoing through the house.

With a racing heart, I quickly reach for my boxers and toss her my shirt, hoping to cover ourselves before anyone sees us. 

But it’s too late. The door swings open, and there stands Dalton, his expression a mixture of shock and betrayal.

“What the hell is this?” Dalton stammers, his voice trembling with disbelief as he takes in the scene before him.

I’m momentarily frozen, unsure of what to say or do. I notice his gaze flicker towards my girlfriend, who shrinks back, and I instinctively step in front of her, as if to shield her from his gaze and potential anger.

This isn’t how I wanted my son to find out about my relationship. But here we are, and it’s clear from Dalton’s expression that he’s not taking it well.

“Dalton,” I interject firmly, my voice carrying a hint of warning as I hastily pull on my boxers,  keeping her shielded behind my back.

But Dalton’s eyes are filled with hurt and betrayal as he looks between us, the pieces of the puzzle falling into place in his mind. His anger is palpable, his fists clenched at his sides as he struggles to contain his emotions.

“I can’t believe this,” he says bitterly, his tone laced with raw emotion. “I confessed my feelings to you, and this is what you do? Sleeping with my father ?”

His words cut through the air like a knife, and I feel a pang of guilt and regret. It’s not as though we started our relationship when he confessed his feelings; we had been seeing each other long before that - but he doesn’t know that. But I doubt that it would make a difference now. 

“Dalton, I...” I start, my voice heavy with remorse. “I never meant to hurt you. I know this is difficult to understand, but…” I trail off, struggling to find the right words to explain the complexity of the situation. 

I want to tell him that this is not what it looks like, to try and defuse the situation - and yet, it is exactly what it looks like, and there is probably nothing that can calm him down right now. 

But Dalton’s fury is unrelenting, his eyes blazing with a fire threatening to consume everything in its path. “Difficult to understand? You’re sleeping with my friend, Dad,” he retorts, his voice laced with bitterness. “She could be your daughter!”

His accusation cuts deep, slicing through the fragile facade of peace and happiness we had clung to just moments before. I close my eyes momentarily, feeling the weight of his words bearing down on me. The worst part is that it’s true - but I still love her and it’s more than just sex.

Dalton turns to her before anyone can say anything, his gaze filled with betrayal.

“And you,” he says, his voice trembling with emotion. “I thought I could trust you. I thought you cared about me.”

“Dalton, I...” she begins, her voice faltering as she searches for the right words, tears glistening in her eyes.

But Dalton shakes his head, his anger and confusion clouding his features. “I don’t want to hear it,” he says bitterly, his voice barely above a whisper.

I reach out and gently squeeze her hand, a silent reassurance that my feelings for her remain unchanged despite Dalton’s outburst and that we will face this together. Her reciprocation brings a wave of relief, a flicker of hope amidst the turmoil.

Dalton recoils at the sight, his face contorted with disgust at the intimate gesture. “I can’t believe you would do this to me, Dad. And you,” he adds, turning his gaze to her once more, “you should be ashamed of yourself.”

With that, he turns and storms out of the room, leaving us alone in the wake of his departure. The silence that follows is deafening, a stark reminder of the pain and heartache that now fills the space between us.

As I turn to her, I can see the pain etched in her features, mirrored by the regret in my own eyes. “I’m sorry,” I whisper, my voice heavy with emotion. “I never wanted things to escalate like this.”

Her response is a soft murmur, barely audible, yet filled with understanding and resolve. “I know. But we have to find a way to fix this. For Dalton’s sake and for ours.”

I can’t bear the thought of losing Dalton, nor can I imagine a future without her by my side.

With her words echoing in my mind, I feel a surge of determination coursing through my veins. I refuse to let this rift tear us apart. I’ll do whatever it takes to mend the fractured relationship with my son, to bridge the gap that now separates us.

“I’ll talk to him,” I declare firmly, a promise laced with determination. “I’ll make him understand.”

As I meet her gaze, I can see the flicker of hope reflected in her eyes. We may be facing an uphill battle, but together, we’re stronger than any obstacle that stands in our way. 

At that moment, as our hands remain clasped together, I know that we’re in this together. No matter what challenges lie ahead, we’ll face them together. For her, for Dalton, and for the love we share, I refuse to let this be the end.

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