#happy Saturday have some silliness

[livingemkayde]

ride

neighbor!joel miller/dbf!joel miller x f!reader

Warnings: Rated 18+. Minors please dni. Smut. fingering f!receiving, grinding/dry humping, pet name (angel, baby), swearing. Not proof read.

a/n: bit the bullet and wrote something about joel. This was meant to be a one shot (a really fucking long one-shot holy shit) but if you guys want more parts just comment or lmk. Taking a small teeny tiny break from my beloved din (he will forever and always be the standard tho lol).

wc: 4k

this is the first installment of my small dbf!joel mini series!

find the next parts in my masterlist

“Hello?” you shout as you walk through the threshold of your home — your childhood home. You haven’t been back in Texas for a couple years. Your studies and research have admittedly kept you too busy and sometimes your dad would fly out to see you in California. 

You really haven’t been back since two Christmases ago. And by really you mean you haven’t seen Joel since two Christmases ago. 

You’d been desperate for graduation some weeks ago, and now that you’re back, you remember how slow Austin is. And how small. How everyone knows each other and each other’s business. But sometimes that’s kinda nice. 

Word spread quickly about your recent graduation and your dad kept bothering you about having a party — but it all seemed silly to you. 

He isn’t the party planning type, so naturally, it fell through the cracks. He did say something about having Joel and Sarah over instead. That got your attention. You haven’t seen your neighbor from across the street in a couple years, his daughter even longer. You wonder how grown up she is—you miss them both.

You know your dad and Joel have gotten closer since you’ve been gone. When you were younger, they were always friends, but more so in a ‘we’re neighbors and we both have daughters so let’s hang out a couple times a week’ type of way. But after your sparse visits and facetime calls, you can tell they’ve gotten close. Really close. The kind of friend that has keys to your front door and can ‘use my grill whenever you want ol’man’ said your dad. The kind of friend that spends every holiday together, and treats each other's kids as their own. 

“Hello?” you try again as you lug a suitcase and duffle bag into the foyer. You had shipped all your belongings back to Austin from California a couple days ago and hopped on a flight with no return ticket. It felt nice to be home — you were excited for your first summer with no prospects of school looming around the fast approaching September. 

“Nice welcome,” you mumble under your breath as you shut the front door. You figure your dad might be out. It's a Saturday — and it’s fucking hot. You huff and shrug out of our cardigan, placing it on the banister of the stairs before rolling up your sleeves. 

You haul your suitcase up the stairs and abandon it on the floor of your bedroom — partially unzipped from digging a pair of shorts and a tank top out before making your way downstairs. 

You shuffle into the kitchen to get a drink— a note on the fridge catches your eye. 

Someone’s number. And your name underneath it. 

You recognize the area code as someone who lives in Austin, but you aren’t sure whose it is — let alone why your name is written under it. Like someone called asking for you and your dad was too forgetful to tell you.

You brush it off and move towards the whiteboard which hangs on the fridge next to the note. 

It’s your dad’s handwriting, you recognize it. It’s a list of stuff your dad had planned for the day. 

Grocery 

Home Depot

Joel’s

You smile at his poorly articulated plans and at Joel’s name at the bottom of the list. You’re happy they can keep each other company. Sarah is at that age where all she wants to do is hang out with friends at the mall, and you’ve been away for four years. You note your dad is probably with Joel. You didn’t get a chance to text him when you landed so you don’t blame him for not being around when you got back. 

You grab a mug from a cabinet and fill it with ice, opening the fridge to grab some lemonade. When you begin pouring, you can hear the door open from the foyer directly ahead of you. 

A loud chorus of laughter rings through your ears when the door opens and you look up from the drink you’re pouring to the door. 

Your dad enters first, his figure hunched over, laughing, while his hand jiggles the keys out of the front door. 

You can hear another laugh join from behind him. It’s not as loud or obnoxious (not that your dad is obnoxious) but settles for a small huff and a couple ha ha’s. You know who it is before you can see him. You can see the peak of curly brown hair follow in as your dad’s eyes meet yours. 

“Baby!” he shouts, drops his hand from the door — the keys still hanging from the lock — and moves towards you in the kitchen. You abandon your drink and move to hug him. He gives you a big hug, lifting you off your feet and sets you back down while giving you a kiss on the forehead. 

“Hey dad,” you say while straightening out your all too small tank-top you wouldn't have worn if you had known there was going to be company. Especially this kind of company. 

“You shoulda told me you landed! I was waiting to pick you up from the airport,” he notes while putting his hand on his hip. You can see Joel out of the corner of your eye, picking the keys out of the lock and shrugging off his light jacket — showing his gray t-shirt which lies under. 

You flush. 

“No, no dad —” you chuckle, breathless. “It’s okay. Taxi was faster. You always get lost around the airport.” 

“Damn signs get me all turned around,” he mutters under his breath while making his way past you into the kitchen. 

“You ‘member Joel right?” your dad jokingly asks from the kitchen. He’s already got his head buried in the fridge looking for something to eat. 

“Yes. Ha ha dad —” you turn your head from the kitchen and look up at Joel, “— hey,” your arms come to wrap around your torso, suddenly a little insecure about your state of dress. 

“Hey, kid,” he replies coolly. Settling into the middle of the foyer. His head bends to the side slightly but he keeps his eyes trained on you. He looks at you through hooded eyes. 

“So biology —” he moves past you to follow your dad into the kitchen, you trail after him, “too smart for your ol’man now.” 

“Hardly,” you say as you all settle in the kitchen. You dad — who still has his head in the fridge — snorts. He mumbles something about plants, doctors, and I ain’t that old from behind the door. 

Your dad tosses Joel a can of beer and he catches it. He pulls one out for himself and shuts the fridge. They both swig the cold beer — relief hits them after being in the heat. 

“Congratulations are in order,” Joel says and takes another sip — his eyes don’t leave yours as he tilts his head back, you watch his Adam's apple bob up and down. He leans back against the counter, facing you, arms crossed.

“Yeah…thanks,” you reply sheepishly as you sit at the island chairs giving him a small smile — the counter separating you. 

“No neighborhood party?” Joel says while turning his head to look at your dad. 

“I — I tried my fuckin’ best. You know how hard it is to get everyone’s number?” your dad laughs while taking another sip of his beer, running a hand over his forehead — rubbing his eyes. 

“Just knock on people’s doors man — it ain’t that hard,” Joel quips back teasingly while chuckling. Your dad shoves him playfully. You smile at them. They remind you of teenage boys. Or frat boys. You laugh at both images. 

“You want a party, kiddo?” your dad looks at you sheepishly, like he really means it. 

Maybe it would be nice to see the people in your neighborhood, but the thought of a party dedicated all to you seemed overkill. 

“No…s'alright,” you reply, sipping on some lemonade. Your eyes quickly shift to cheat a glance at Joel, but he’s already looking at you. You avert your eyes quickly.

“Maybe barbecue. Not a party. Barbecue,” your dad throws out his arms and says the words like he’s testing the idea to you and Joel. You shrug with a smile in response and Joel tips his beer to your dad and takes another swig. 

The phone rings in the other room. You honestly still can’t believe your dad still has a landline. He rushes to get it, leaving you and Joel alone in the kitchen. 

“Remind me where you were at again?” he says, pushing off the back counter and leaning forward on the island to meet your eye. 

“USC,” you reply before bringing your lips to the rim of the glass again. 

“That’s right,” he says and stands back up straight. “Smart girl,” he adds — lowly — and you sort of freeze. 

His words — even though seemingly not sexual or suggestive — send a heat down to the place between your legs. You push your thighs together and pray he doesn’t notice. 

“You liked it?” He adds. 

“Loved it. The bio program there was really great,” you say, playing with your cup’s handle.

“How’ve you been?” you ask, curious. You rest your chin in the palm of your hand. 

“M’fine. Same as always,” he says, meeting your eye. 

“Sarah?” you ask, tilting your head. 

“Good. Into boys now or somethin’,” he notes, shaking his head. 

“‘S normal,” you chuckle. He gives you a certain look that makes your head spin. It’s suddenly too hot in this house despite the constant flow of your air conditioning. 

“I guess,” he mumbles. 

Your dad emerges from the living room, shaking his head. 

“Fuckin’ kid again. Always callin’ my phone like it’s a goddamn hotline or somethin’,” he mumbles as he enters. He looks up to you, “Some kid is always callin’ the house askin’ for you,” he nods in your direction. 

“Who?” you ask, curious, and now — maybe a bit on edge because of Joel.

“Dunno. Some kid named Liam. Said he went to highschool with you,” he says, sitting across from you, Joel somewhat behind him. 

“Always askin’ if you’re home yet — you know this guy kiddo?” he asks, his head quips to look at you. 

Suddenly it feels like all eyes are on you, because they are. Joel’s are trained carefully on you, waiting for your response. You glance up at him and quickly look back down to meet your dad’s gaze. 

You did know him —  Liam. An old fling from high school. A ‘friends with benefits’ sort of thing, but you had ended it pretty quickly after school finished. You made it your mission to go to college with no strings attached to anyone. He tried to keep it in touch through college but you eventually attempted to ghost him — you thought it was successful until now. 

Your eyes widen. 

“Uh—yeah. I guess,” you flush and look down to your fingers around the glass of lemonade. You pick at the skin there. “Boyfriend from high school, dad.” 

“Huh. Don't ring a bell,” he says, and you chuckle silently. 

You don’t miss Joel’s unmoving face. Though he looks unbothered. You have to admit — you’re a bit disappointed by that. 

“His number’s on the fridge. Wrote it down the first time he called and forgot to ring you ‘bout it,” he gestured to the note. 

“Geez. Thanks dad,” you move to pick the note off the fridge and put it in your pocket. No use in leaving it up there for the whole world to see. 

Joel’s eyes follow you, and trail to the note being shoved into your pocket. 

“I should go. Gotta pick up somethin’ from the office,” he says as he breaks his gaze to look at his watch.

“Yeah, yeah sure. She’ll walk you out. I’m beat,” your dad gestures in your direction while making his way towards the couch in the living room. Joel waves ‘bye’ and your dad follows suit —  holding his hand up with his back still turned towards you. He disappears out of sight. You can hear the TV click on, and some FBI drama series begins to echo loudly through the house. 

You make your way to the door, Joel follows suit. When you reach the foyer, you bend down to pick his jacket up from the bench. You hold it out to him, he takes it — and when your hands brush against each other — you gasp. A loud gasp. Loud enough for Joel to definitely hear it, but not loud enough for your dad to hear over the sounds of gunshots and some yelling.

Your eyes snap up to look at his, to find them already staring back at you. You drop his gaze quickly and let go of his jacket. 

“I’m actually gonna head out too. I’ll walk you to your truck,” you say, trying to be polite. You shake your head at the embarrassment you feel because he definitely just heard you gasp like a teenager over your hands brushing. 

You step out, certain your dad is already drifting to sleep on the couch. 

The sunset hits your face and you squint under its rays. Joel follows you out the door, shutting it behind him. 

You see his truck sitting a house down from yours and begin to walk with Joel settling next to you. 

“You goin’ to see him?” he asks, not meeting your eye. 

“Who?” you reply —  teasing. 

“Don’t play dumb. That boy botherin’ you?” he asks, while approaching his truck. You both settle into some slow steps until you’re leaning against the side of his black flatbed and he’s standing in front of you. 

“What’s it to you?” you ask, teasing again. 

“Nothin’—” he replies, shaking his head and looking past the truck, to his house across the street. “Didn’t know you had a boyfriend.” 

“Wasn’t really my boyfriend. Just easier to explain that to my dad than what it really was,” you reply, trying to meet his eye. Trying to get an indication of — anything. 

A beat. 

He doesn’t meet your eye. 

Another beat. 

“‘N what was it really?” he asks, shoving his hands into his front pockets. 

“Thought it was nothin’ to you,” you bite back with a smirk.

“Yeah, well maybe it’s somethin’ —” he catches your gaze for a moment before looking down at the concrete. You cross your arms. “— if he’s botherin’ you.” 

“He’s not bothering me. Just an old…friend,” you say with a smirk playing on your lips. 

“Friend? Got any other ‘friends’ I gotta worry about?” He quips back. It's playful. 

“Didn’t know you worried about me,” you say with a small smile.

“Only when your ‘friend’ calls the house twice a week sayin’ you don’t pick up his calls.” 

“Yeah well I've had other things on my mind.” You look at him. Really look at him. It forces his gaze to meet yours. 

He drops it quickly. 

Some silence. 

Fuck, what is happening? 

“Y’wanna ride?” His head gestures to the truck behind you. You find yourself nodding, and moving towards the passenger seat door. Joel opens it for you, you flush and almost lose balance while hoisting yourself in. You mumble a small thank you and tell him you were actually planning to just go to the library near your house to pick up a couple books.

He starts the engine and begins to pull out onto the street.

“Books?” He follows up. 

“Gonna continue some research while I look for a job,” you say, and pick at your fingers in your lap. 

“Could always babysit Sarah,” he teases.

“16’s a little old for a babysitter? Don’t you think?” you quip.

You settle into a soft silence after your laughter dies down. He turns down some streets and settles on the main road. The radio is off. You wonder if he drives in silence when he’s alone. You know Sarah liked it when the radio was blasting in the car. 

“So, there’s no other…” he starts, a lazy hand placed over the top of the steering wheel. “no one else?” he finishes, awkwardly. 

His hand comes down the center console to rest on the gear stick.

“You’re asking me if I'm dating?” you chuckle a bit, peaking over at him. He keeps his eyes on the road. “God, you’re worse than my dad.” 

“Wouldn’t say that, angel.” 

Fuck. 

The nickname rolls right off his tongue and hits you between your legs. You shuffle in your seat. You don’t know how much longer you can do this before you soak through your shorts. 

You continue to sneak glances at him. 

“No. I’m not,” you answer his question from before. 

“Hm,” is all he says, rounding the corner. 

“Hm?” you reply — teasing him. “You got something to say?” 

 “Just surprised is all,” he says, more serious. 

“Yeah?” You reply, mostly because you want to hear him talk more but partially because you have no idea what to say.

“Mhm —” he throws a glance in your direction “—unless you’re gonna finally give that poor boy a chance.” 

“Probably not. He’s…boring,” you answer like you’re thinking about it.

“Boring? That it?” He says. 

“Yeah. Or maybe I’m just looking for something else,” you try to meet his gaze but he focuses on the road. 

“Sure —” he replies “— just didn’t think a pretty girl like you would be single after college.”

Pretty. Pretty. 

Joel Miller just called you pretty and didn’t even bat an eye. You can feel the wet spot in your panties begin to grow and you shuffle again, rearranging in the passenger. 

Is this real? 

Or is it years of built up sexual frustrations about your dad’s best friend building up and threatening to spill over at the sound of him calling you pretty? 

It seemed innocent enough. 

But you can’t help but feel something between you. 

Something different. 

Like maybe he doesn’t think of you as an innocent little girl anymore. 

You don’t know what’s gotten into you. Maybe it’s the heat. Or maybe it's the enormous wet spot growing in your panties from a few words thrown carelessly your way. But you want him. Really want him. And you know he would never make the first move. So you do it for him. 

You reach out — tentatively — to the center console to grab his hand on the gear shift. He looks at you, and you meet his eye. There’s a sort of darkness behind his pupils — like his irises have gone a shade darker and you didn’t notice. You lead his hand over to your lap, bringing it down so his fingertips rest on the inside of your thigh. 

You can hear both of your uncontrolled breathing. Yours sounds more like a gasp at his touch, while he lets out a sharp breath when his hand ventures into your space. 

After a couple seconds, he squeezes your thigh in his palm and you sigh. The truck drives over an especially rough patch of road and it jostles your body. His fingers threaten to make their way higher. You squirm in anticipation. 

“Quit moving,” is all he says with a deep voice, his eyes still on the road. 

You stop squirming, despite your wanting anticipation and a nervous cloud that blankets your mind. 

But his words only spur you on further — only makes you want more. 

His pinky finger toys with the hem of your shorts, you part your legs for him, and he scoffs. 

“What I say?” He grabs your thigh roughly. Splits them apart, and slips his hand under your shorts, finding the soft fabric of your panties. He slowly runs his finger over your clit, teasing downward. 

“Fuck,” he mumbles. You squeak quietly in response. 

“You wet?” Your eyes shut, “Huh angel?” 

You nod, but that makes him let out a small tsk sound. 

“Words,” he demands. 

“Y-yes. Yes,” you let out. 

He ventures lower, and you suddenly worry about his reaction to how wet you are, but he lets out a growl from deep in his throat and pulls your panties to the side. 

“Fuck. Used to be such a good girl.” his thumb nudges your clit as his middle finger touches your aching entrance, gathering your slick. “Now look at you. Fuckin' soaked. Clenching around nothin',"

“F-fuck—Joel—p-please.”  

He only scoffs in response. 

How can he be so focused on the road while he’s got his hand down your pants? 

His finger still toys at your clit, making you moan and whimper. You feel close just from that. You might come, embarrassingly fast — with no penetration — and you don’t want this to end so you put a light hand on his wrist and he stops his movements. 

“P-pull over. Please pull over.” 

He does, he pulls over to some side street. It's late now, the sun just barely peaks over the horizon and you’re both met in a dark dusky light. 

He puts the car in park with the same hand that was just toying with you, that still has your wetness all over it — you flush. 

You expect him to continue, to put his hand back down your pants. But he looks down at his fingers. Inspecting his hand under the soft light. 

“You tryin’ to get us killed?” 

“No,” you reply softly. 

“Your dad would have my neck,” he says, bringing his fingers to his lips. Oh my god. 

“I know,” you whisper, entranced by his movements, “But I'm all grown up.” 

He lets out a puff. 

He sits there for a long time. He doesn’t meet your eye. You’re on the edge of your seat waiting for something to be said. Anything. Your orgasm is long forgotten under all the uncertainty. 

“Take your shorts off," he says, waving a hand in your direction. 

“What?” You ask, surprised. 

"Shorts," he leans over to grab your face, "Now."

He lets your face go, and you slip your shorts off, face flushing in embarrassment. He watches you the whole time, seeing you bare for him makes him groan a bit — you like the sound of it.

He grabs you then, lifting you off your seat, so you bring one leg over his body, straddling him. The steering wheel digs into your back. When you’re fully seated, you can feel his length, hard and wanting, press into your core. It makes your head tilt back as you grind down on instinct. 

He grabs your hips to stop your movement. 

“Please Joel—I-please f—” he slides a finger through your folds and cups your core with his hand. 

You moan loudly, and whimper at the feeling of his breath so close to your face. 

“Quiet.” You grind down in his hand, he lets you. “‘Less you want someone on the street hearin’ you.” 

“Joel…” you let out in a pathetic whine. 

He sinks a finger into you. You gasp at the sudden intrusion. He meets your eye. His brows furrow almost like he feels sorry for you.

When he feels how wet you are, he sinks in a second. He lets out a god as you grind down against his thrusts, the palm of his hand hitting your clit just right —like you’re close already. 

“Fuck baby.” He groans when he feels your walls tighten around his thick fingers. “Already?” 

“Joel—I—fuck-p-please—ah—” 

His fingers sink deeper. You throw your head back, your back hitting the steering wheel. 

You both know you’re close, just a bit more and you’re gonna come, embarrassingly quick.

"That's it—c'mon angel. Know you want it," he pants, you whimper in response.

But his phone rings. And he looks down to the center console where it’s buzzing, and sees your dad’s name pop up. 

His hand stops, and you whine in protest, but he throws you a knowing look, your eyes meeting him then down to the phone. 

You go rigid. 

You look back at him, panic in your eyes, as everything kinda floods back. Like the fact that your dad’s best friend almost made you come in his truck. 

He picks up the phone, and holds it to his ear. He gives you a ‘be quiet’ motion and you sink back into his lap. 

“What’s up?” He answers. 

You seen my daughter? I woke up and she was gone. 

Your eyes widen. 

“Uh—yeah. I drove her to the library. Figure she’s still there,” he says, coolly, like he wasn’t seconds from making you come all over his hand. In his lap. 

Oh. 

Some silence. You can tell Joel is waiting with bated breath. 

Okay. Thanks. 

“Yeah no problem,” Joel responds. 

Alright. See you later.

“Yup,” he says, and hangs up quickly. 

He looks back at you, and down to your cunt, bare for him, in his truck.

Fuck. 

_

part ii

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[ambrossart]

Out of the Loop

summary: eddie went home with someone after prom, and gareth is determined to figure out who it was.

pairing: eddie munson x dwm!reader word count: 11k warnings: language, new relationship, eddie's girlfriend is gareth's arch nemesis, silly childhood rivalries, eddie being happy and stupidly in love, jason being an overprotective ass, chrissy being an adorable little cupcake, the reader is chrissy's best friend, the unnamed freak is named grant in this series

series masterpost | series playlist | fanfiction masterlist

On Monday morning, Gareth peddled to school like a man on a mission.

Nothing was getting in his way today, not his mother, who had accidentally washed his Hellfire Club shirt with all his little sister’s dance clothes,

“You know what, honey, I think it looks better this way…”

not his sister, who had been hogging the bathroom all morning because she couldn’t get her hair right,

“Look, you don’t understand the pressure I’m under right now. Becca Singer is finalizing her birthday party guest list today. I have to look my best if I wanna make the cut.”

not the weatherman, who was painfully misinformed when he called for clear, sunny skies today…

and certainly not the piece of crap Chevy that just cut him off in the middle of the crosswalk.

Gareth swerved out of the way and kept on peddling. The rain pelted his face in a spray of ice-cold bullets.

Behind him, the driver yelled, “Hey, watch where you’re going, you little shit!”  

It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. Because Gareth was sitting on a goldmine of information right now. It was truly the scoop of the century. Eddie Munson—that’s right, Eddie “the Freak” Munson—had gone home with somebody after the senior prom.

Who was this mysterious (not to mention incredibly lucky) woman? A curious cheerleader desperate to defy her clique? A rich girl trying to piss off her dad? A shy bookworm who wanted to act out the plot of her favorite romance novel? Who? Who? Gareth’s head was spinning! The question hungrily devoured the rest of his weekend (something Gareth wasn’t too proud to admit, of course, but hey, Sundays were always uneventful days for him). He had to get to school quickly and consult his most trusted sources.

He found Jeff and Grant sitting at their usual table in the cafeteria. Grant was eating the school’s hot breakfast while Jeff sat with his head in his hands, lamenting the sorry state of his love life.

“Tara’s still not talking to me. I’m pretty sure she’s gonna dump me for Patrick McKinney.”

Grant put down his fork. “Wait, you two were dating?”

“No…” Jeff heaved a quiet sigh. “But if we were, she’d definitely dump me for Patrick.”

Grant frowned, sympathetic yet envious of his friend’s plight. “Man, I wish Meg would stop talking to me. She had me on the phone all night yesterday. I think she wants me to be her boyfriend or something.” Grant cringed at the thought. He didn’t have the strength to put up with her. He’d barely survived prom. 

“You don’t like her?” Jeff asked.

“Not really,” Grant answered. “I mean, yeah, she’s pretty and all, but as soon as she starts talking—”

Gareth slammed a wrinkled piece of notebook paper onto the table. The loud bang echoed through the entire cafeteria, making a few students gasp and flinch in their chairs. Jeff and Grant didn’t move in the slightest. This was typical Monday morning behavior for Gareth.

“What’s with the pink shirt?” Grant asked, unfazed. 

“Doesn’t matter,” Gareth said. They had more pressing matters to discuss. He sat down and folded his hands in front of him, his blue eyes clear and focused. He wasted no time getting straight to the point: “Who’d Eddie go home with after prom?”

Jeff and Grant exchanged a subtle, secret glance.

“How do you know Eddie went home with someone after prom?” Jeff asked.

“Because I called him that night.”

“Why’d you call him?”

“Because I’m a good friend, unlike some people.” Nobody had called him asking how his night went. Gareth sat home alone on Saturday night, eating popcorn and watching old sci-fi movies in his basement, while the rest of his friends had a blast at prom. It wasn’t fair. “I wanted to check in on him because I figured he might be a little depressed after getting rejected by Chrissy. Because let’s be honest here, there was no way that Chrissy was ever gonna dance with him. You all agree with me, right? I’m not just being a dick here. Like, yeah, I know Eddie’s riding high right now because he thinks this year is his year and everything, but… yeah, he was aiming a bit too high with that goal.” 

“Can you get to the point, please?” Grant said. “My breakfast is getting cold.” 

“Well, multitask, man!” Gareth grabbed Grant’s fork and threw it back onto his tray. “What, you can’t listen and eat at the same time?”

Grant rolled his eyes and went back to his breakfast. Gareth carried on with his story:

“So anyway, when I called him on Saturday, I expected him to sound all mopey and depressed, but he wasn’t. Yeah, Eddie wasn’t depressed at all. In fact, he sounded oddly… happy, but also a little bit distracted. You guys see where I’m going with this, right?”

“I hate that I do,” Grant said, struggling to enjoy his food.

“Well, that’s when I started getting suspicious. See, I could tell I didn’t have his full attention, and that’s just so unlike Eddie because he’s normally really good at maintaining proper phone etiquette. Weird, right? So then I got curious and I started listening, and… and I can’t be sure, but I think I heard a girl talking in the background.”

“Maybe it was just the TV,” Grant said.

Gareth shook his head. “No way… I know the difference between a TV voice and a live human voice. Someone was definitely with him.”

“Well, did you recognize the voice?” Jeff asked.

“No, I couldn’t hear well enough.”

Grant’s eyes narrowed. “And yet you’re sure it wasn’t the TV…”

“Oh come on, it wasn’t the TV, you guys. Wake up and smell the coffee! Eddie brought a girl to his house. He brought a girl to his house. She was with him in the room while he was on the phone with me. I could hear her talking. Then Eddie started acting really weird, said he had to go, and rushed me off the phone.”

“Gross,” Grant muttered, sickened. “Yeah, these are details I did not need.” 

Gareth’s mouth fell open in a silent gasp. “Wait, do you guys think he slept with her?” and that was more than Jeff could handle.

He buried his face in his hands and said, “Please stop. I don’t wanna go to class with these images in my head.”

Grant shrugged. “Maybe it was just a one-night stand.”

Jeff threw him a sharp, side-eyed glare. 

“Just saying,” Grant finished, smirking.

“No, I seriously doubt it,” Gareth went on, completely unaware. “Eddie’s not really a one-night stand kinda guy… not by choice, anyway. No, I think this might be the real deal, you guys, ‘cause listen to this: I went to go see him yesterday. Eddie wasn’t home.”

“So?”

“So I think he was with her. I called him last night and asked him where he was all day. He said he was out running errands.” Gareth scrunched up his face at that, doubtful. “Since when does Eddie run errands? So I said, ‘What sort of errands were you running?’ He said he had to swing by the drugstore. I said, ‘Well, what did you need at the drugstore?’ but he wouldn’t answer that. Yeah, he was being awfully mum.”

“Mum?” Jeff repeated to himself, mystified by his friend’s bizarre word choice.

Grant said, “He was probably annoyed that you were digging around in his business. I know I would be.”

“Oh yeah, he was definitely getting annoyed,” Gareth said. “Then he cut the conversation short and told me he was stepping out for the night. That’s when I knew this was serious. Eddie doesn’t just ‘step out’ on a Sunday night. He hardly goes out any night. If he’s not with us, he’s sitting at home and playing songs on his guitar. Yeah, he was definitely with her last night.”

Grant sighed, hoping they’d finally reached the end of this long-winded story. “Well, I guess you cracked the case then, Gareth.”

“But that’s just it, I haven’t!” Gareth said. Grant let out an exhausted moan. “I still don’t know who this girl is. You guys swear you didn’t see Eddie go home with anybody after prom?”

Another secret glance.

“Nope,” Jeff said. “I didn’t see him go home with anyone that night.”

Gareth nodded, disappointed but not yet defeated. “Yeah, I thought you might say that. That’s why I made this.”

He gestured toward the piece of paper on the table. Jeff picked it up and read it over. Then he passed it to Grant so he could do the same.

“Okay, what exactly am I looking at here?” Grant asked.

“It’s a list of suspects,” Gareth said, a proud smile on his face. “Yeah, last night I compiled a list of every girl I’ve ever seen Eddie interact with at school, and then this morning I whittled that list down to what I think are the most likely suspects.”

“Not a very long list,” Jeff said.

“Really?” said Grant. “I was gonna say it’s too long.” 

They shared a little chuckle over that. Gareth glowered at them, unamused. He didn’t appreciate them making little jabs about their Dungeon Master’s love life, stagnant as it was.

“You know,” Grant began with ominous deliberation, “I can’t help but notice there’s a name missing from this list.”

Gareth's head snapped back in surprise. “Who?”

“You know who,” Grant said. Beside him, Jeff was holding in a grin.

A disturbing chill crept up Gareth's spine. Then—

BAM!

Your name cracked down from above like a fiendish lightning bolt, striking Gareth and making all the little hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. For a second, he could see your name so clearly. It loomed before him, ugly and terrible, festering with puss and crawling with maggots, getting pecked savagely by vultures and other scavengers. It made him retch with disgust.

“Oh, very funny…”

“Hey, I’m just saying,” Grant said, “there’s no denying that she’s a likely suspect.” 

“In fact,” Jeff continued, “some might say she’s the most likely suspect.” 

“Yeah, maybe back in middle school,” Gareth said, “but Eddie hasn’t so much as looked at her in years.”

Except for that one time, he thought, remembering the mournful look on his friend’s face that day.

They were all eating lunch when your laughter suddenly sprang up from the other side of the cafeteria, obnoxious and shrill. Eddie glanced your way and his eyes darkened with such hollow sadness. It was as if someone had died.

But that didn’t mean anything, Gareth decided, so he shoved the memory away.

“All right, look, I’ll admit we lost him briefly for that one summer. I dunno how she did it, but somehow she got her claws in him real deep and he was completely under her spell. I won’t deny that. But then Eddie woke up and saw her for what she really is—an ugly green hag! At first, she appears as this beautiful, enchanting woman, but underneath that guise, she’s a wretched old witch who thrives on torment. Yeah, Eddie got over her a long time ago,” and Gareth refused to waste another thought on it.

He snatched the paper from Grant and laid it out in front of him. “Now, here’s what I’m thinking: if we split this up among the three of us, we can get through this list by lunch and then confront Eddie with our findings.”

“Yeah, we’re not doing that,” Grant said.

Gareth frowned. “Why not?”

“Because we already know who it is.”

Gareth’s eyes widened in surprised anger. “I KNEW IT! I FUCKING KNEW IT! I knew you two were messing with me this whole time. Sitting there with your smug little faces. Making your little jokes. You know what, screw you guys, I don’t even want your help anymore.”

He stuffed the paper back into his bag, climbed to his feet, and stomped off.

Over his shoulder, Jeff said, “Shoulda gone to prom, man.”

Gareth paused, dejected. “Well, no one would go with me…” He pushed through the double doors and was gone.

Afterward, Grant picked up his milk carton and took a few slow slips.

“You know what,” he said thoughtfully, “Gareth should’ve asked Y/N to prom.”

Jeff chuckled to himself. “Well, she did need a date… Shit, should we have just told him?”

“No,” Grant said. “No, this is something Gareth needs to see with his own eyes.”

Now Gareth, his resolve reignited and burning brighter than ever, was prowling the senior locker area with his suspect list in hand. 

Let them keep their secrets, he thought. I don’t need their help. A lot of help they would’ve been, anyway. Yeah, I can solve this mystery all on my own.

And he would. 

Gareth was a fantastic investigator, you see. He could win a game of Guess Who? in less than five turns and had a lifetime record of fifty-three wins and only fifteen losses (such losses were unavoidable when you drew an easily guessable character like Anita. Ugh, Anita… with those rosy cheeks and annoying blonde pigtails. His little sister beat him in only two moves after that unlucky draw). Now Gareth would apply those same deductive reasoning skills to this. Ask careful, complex questions. Gather information. Cross those ladies off one by one.

There was only one problem: the girls at Hawkins High weren’t exactly forthcoming about their personal lives, especially when it involved Eddie Munson. In fact, most girls denied ever having spoken to the guy. 

Claire Dunnock, the most recent inductee into the popular clique, was being especially difficult.

Her blue eyes shifted back and forth anxiously. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, and then leaned forward to make sure none of her new friends were eavesdropping. Claire had to be very careful. One misstep and she would slide all the way back down the social ladder. She couldn’t afford to let that happen.

Gareth sensed her unease. “Hey, relax,” he told her, “I’m not here to ruin your reputation, okay? This conversation stays between us. You have my word.”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” Claire said. “I wouldn’t be caught dead with that freak.”

“Hey, that freak is my best friend,” Gareth said. “And you and I both know that’s not true, Claire. I saw you get into his van that one—”    

Claire seized him by the arm and hissed, “Shut up!” Her eyes blazed with fearful, self-protective rage. “Look, that was a year ago, okay? I was a stupid junior who didn’t know any better. Eddie and I had a class together. I guess I got a little curious, but that’s it. We hung out once and I never spoke to him again.” Loosening her grip, she said, “Besides, he was nothing but a big disappointment, anyway.”

Anger flared in Gareth’s chest. “All right, that's it. I’m not gonna stand here and listen to you slander my friend.” 

“It’s not slander if it’s true,” Claire said. 

Gareth didn’t know how to respond to that.

“Look, just answer my question, okay? Did you go home with Eddie after prom or not?”

“Of course not,” Claire answered, practically cackling at the thought. 

(Why were high school girls so needlessly cruel?)

“I went to prom with my boyfriend. I was with him all night. Ask anyone.” Claire swung her locker door closed, put her hand on her hip, and raised her eyebrows impatiently. “Are we done now?” She walked off to join the rest of her friends. 

Gareth glared at her back, his insides boiling with indignation and righteous fury.

You got curious and Eddie got his heart broken. Again. 

He crossed out Claire’s name with his pen. 

Two suspects down. Eight more to go. 

He tucked his pen behind his ear, turned, and suddenly the hallway froze over! Okay, that didn’t actually happen, but a bitter wind did blow. Gareth felt it on his face as soon as he saw you step out from around the corner. 

Coincidence? 

Doubtful.

You were wearing blue jeans and a Fleetwood Mac shirt. Yeah, you would like Fleetwood Mac, Gareth thought, scoffing. As usual, you were walking side by side with Chrissy Cunningham, your best friend since elementary school. She was smiling and laughing at one of your jokes. Laughing out of politeness, probably. Why you two were friends, Gareth would never know. Chrissy was sweet like cotton candy and you were so… so…

(evil, pure evil)

rotten to the core, like moldy fruit.

“I swear,” you said with a groan, “it’ll be weeks before your mom lets me into the house again. God, she’s such a prude. How was I supposed to know she was gonna invite the whole family over for Sunday brunch? At least I was dressed up for the occasion.”

Chrissy looked at you in baffled amusement. “You were still wearing your prom dress.”

“And it was a very nice prom dress. Your grandma even complimented it. She said it made me look like Madonna.” You weren’t too thrilled about that comparison, but who were you to pass up a free compliment? “Now your mom, on the other hand… man, if looks could kill… I probably would’ve choked on one of those blueberry scones she was serving, which were a tad overbaked if I’m being honest.”

Chrissy went to her locker and fiddled with the padlock for a second before opening it. You stood patiently beside her, the wall clock barely within view. 

It was a quarter past eight, you noted with a frown. Was Eddie here already or…? 

While hanging up her pink backpack, Chrissy said, “Yeah, she definitely had some colorful words to describe you last night.” 

You turned your attention back to her. “Your mom called me a slut, didn’t she?”

Chrissy didn’t answer at first. She was busy unloading her homework. While she was doing that, one of her fellow cheerleaders snuck up behind her, tapped her on the shoulder, and gave a cheerful, heartfelt hello. Chrissy hugged her and asked how her weekend was. The two chatted casually for a minute and then the girl went on her way. Never so much as glanced at you. 

“Umm, I believe she used the word harlot,” Chrissy said to you afterward. 

“Oh, she got biblical, huh?” Great, you thought, as if that woman didn’t despise you enough already. “You know, I don’t understand your mom. First I’m too fat to be your friend. Now I’m too much of a slut. That lady needs to pick a lane and stay in it… and then drive herself right off a cliff.”  

Chrissy threw you a friendly glare.

“Just kidding,” you said. “You know I love your mom. She keeps me grounded. Without her, I might develop a healthy self-esteem, and we all know how dangerous that is. Yeah, that might lead to confidence and success… perhaps even lifelong happiness.” 

Ignoring you (or pretending to), Chrissy started digging through her backpack again. “Dammit,” she said under her breath, “I think I left my pencil case at home.” 

“Don’t worry, I’m sure Jason has a pencil for you.” You smiled inwardly—a willful, wicked smile. “Then again…”  

Chrissy pushed her locker closed, grabbed both your hands, backed you up against the lockers, and brought her face really close to yours. “Shut up,” she whispered in half-hearted anger, a rosy blush blooming on the apples of her cheeks. 

You took one look at her and busted out laughing. Chrissy started laughing, too. 

“I hate you so much,” she said, and released you. 

“I know,” you replied affectionately. “But see, this is why the whole situation with your mom is so funny to me. I’m the one who’s still a virgin, yet somehow it’s me who gets labeled the…” 

You spotted a familiar face down the hall. 

“Gareth?” You leaned toward him, squinting. “What are you doing in the senior locker area?”

The sound of your voice made him flinch. “Nothing,” he said, acting strangely defensive for some reason.

That’s when you noticed the piece of paper in his hand. You gestured toward it with your chin and said, “What’s that you got there? Is that a love letter? You finally asking someone out on a date? Will you go out with me? Check yes or no. Who’s the lucky lady? Wait, aren’t you a little young to be dating?”

Gareth hid the paper behind his back and glared at you. “We’re the same age.” 

“And yet I’m a senior and you’re a junior. Hmm, how did that happen?” You tipped your head and smiled at him. “You’ve got company, by the way.” 

“Huh?” Gareth stepped back and—

A hand landed on his shoulder, closed around his flannel shirt, and spun him around. Gareth jumped back, swallowing a scream. He was now standing nose to chest with Ben Jabruski, outside linebacker and two-time defensive player of the year. Eric Kordell stood beside him, smaller but no less intimidating. His brown eyes gleamed with feral, territorial aggression. 

“Get outta here, freak,” Eric said. 

Gareth squared up to him, unafraid. “Last time I checked this was a free country.” He wrenched his shirt out of Ben’s grip, careful not to tear his favorite flannel. It was a Christmas gift from his mother. 

While he was distracted, Eric reached out and ripped the paper out of Gareth’s hand. 

“Hey, give that back!” 

“What’s this?” Eric asked. He opened the paper and studied it for a minute. His expression went from amused to curious to downright furious. He crushed the list in his fist. “Why’s my girlfriend on here?” 

“Oh…” Panic shot up Gareth’s spine. He took a step back and let loose a nervous chuckle. “Oh… you must be Claire’s boyfriend. You know, I heard you two had a lovely time at prom.” 

He turned on his heel and took off running down the hallway. 

“Bye, Gareth!” you said, fluttering your fingers as he passed. Then you looked back at Chrissy with a smile. “God, I love that kid…”

You went to your locker after that, ignoring all the busy little voices, the occasional odd glance and stifled giggle you received from the other students. Chrissy followed with her first-period textbook cradled in her arms. 

“Just ignore them,” she told you. 

“I already am,” you said… but then you saw Sarah, Sally, and Stacy huddled around Stacy’s locker. Talking about their hair. Talking about their clothes. Stirring their black cauldron of boiling bones and animal guts. Sarah looked at you, whispered something to Sally, who passed the same message on to Stacy, and all three of them tittered gleefully at your expense. 

“Just ignore them,” Chrissy said.   

“I will,” you said, but first—

You whipped around and burst out: “So which one of you got knocked up after prom? My money’s on you, Stacy.” 

Chrissy, dismayed but secretly delighted, tugged gently on your right elbow. Before going with her, you tossed Satan’s mistress (AKA Stacy Raab) a snide little wink. Stacy rolled her eyes in disgust. 

“Stop it,” Chrissy said. 

“They started it.” 

“I know… but stop it. You’re better than that.” 

At the end of the hallway, you spotted Chance Gallagher standing in front of his open locker, wearing the same green letterman jacket that he wore when he asked you to prom six weeks ago. Chance closed his locker and caught your eye for a moment. Then he gave you a small, apologetic smile. 

What was he apologizing for? For asking you to prom, getting your hopes up, and then humiliating you in front of the entire senior class? You weren’t sorry he did it. In fact, you were glad he did it. Yeah, you wanted to go up to him, shake his hand, and thank him for being such a spineless little worm. If he were a decent guy, your night might have gone differently, and you were quite pleased with how your night went. So thank you, Chance. Thank you for being a complete scumbag. Maybe I should write him a thank-you note. 

Smiling, you turned back around. As you did, you stole another quick glance at the clock on the wall. 

Eight-nineteen… 

You sighed. 

… and now eight-twenty. 

“He’s running late, huh?” Chrissy said. You looked her way and she flashed you a sweet, teasing smile. “I know you’re waiting for him.”

A small flush of heat tickled your cheeks, threatening to set your whole face on fire. Resisting it, you grabbed your padlock and started spinning the dial: three turns to the right, one full turn to the left, another quick turn to the right, and

“Are you nervous about seeing him?”

you missed the last number and had to start all over again. 

“Kind of,” you admitted. “Is that weird?”

Chrissy shook her head, her smile growing brighter and brighter. “Nope, it’s totally normal and absolutely adorable.” Giggling, she hugged her book tightly to her chest. If her hands were free, she probably would have hugged you instead. “I’m so happy for you. I really, really am. I swear, I feel like my heart’s about to burst right now.” 

“Well, you should probably see a doctor about that.” 

Chrissy stuck her tongue out at you. You did it right back, popped off your lock, and pulled on the handle. The locker door swung outward, squeaking on its hinges, and almost smacked Chrissy in the face. “Hey!” she said, laughing. She stepped back, skipped around you, and planted herself comfortably on your left side.

“So did you see him last night?” she asked, practically beaming. 

“Nope.” You slipped off your messenger bag and hung it on the hook. 

Chrissy squinted at you suspiciously. “Why do I feel like you’re lying right now?” 

“I’m not lying,” you told her, only to be betrayed by your blushing face. “I didn’t see him last night… technically it was this morning.” 

Twelve-o-two, to be exact. That’s when you saw the headlights flashing through your bedroom window blinds.

“Oh my god,” Chrissy said.  

“What? He just stopped by to say goodnight.” You smiled softly to yourself. “It was kind of romantic, actually.” 

“Uh-huh,” Chrissy said, laughing at you. “And how long did you two say goodnight?”

“Only for an hour… and a half.”

It was raining last night. You couldn’t invite Eddie into the house, so you two hung out in his van for a while. A very long while. W.A.S.P. was playing on the stereo. Eddie had found the cassette tape while cleaning out his van that afternoon. He was very proud of this accomplishment. It was adorable. He had you listen to a few of his favorite songs, asked you about your day, told you about his, and during “Cries In the Night,” he leaned over the center console and kissed you. Everything after that was a bit of a blur. The last thing you remembered was the horn blaring. You had accidentally pressed it with your elbow.  

“Oh my god,” Chrissy said.

“Stop saying, ‘Oh my god.’ You sound like my mom.”  

She had said the exact same thing after confronting you about it in the kitchen this morning. Turns out, the car horn had woken her up. Then she caught you creeping back inside through the front door. It was an awkward breakfast, to say the least. 

Chrissy poked your shoulder playfully. “That’s how it starts, you know. Late-night visits. Long, drawn-out goodbyes. You two are gonna be inseparable this summer.” She breathed a long, lovesick sigh. “Jason and I used to be like that.” 

“You’re still like that.” 

“Yeah,” she said, smiling. 

“Speaking of…” You saw Jason Carver coming down the hallway, his pants ironed and creased, white collared shirt tucked in, a brand new Rolex glinting on his left wrist (an early graduation present from his father, apparently). He looked like a Ralph Lauren catalog model. “Is it weird that I’m picturing him naked right now?”   

Chrissy hid her face in embarrassment. “I swear to God, if you say anything…” 

“What am I gonna say to him? ‘Thank you for deflowering my best friend’? ‘I heard your penis is rather pleasing’? I don’t wanna talk to him about that. I don’t even wanna think about that.”

Prior to this weekend, you couldn’t even imagine Jason Carver having genitals. You always figured he was like a Ken doll down there. Nothing but smooth plastic.

Chrissy looked at you, mortified. “Why do I tell you anything?”  

“I have no idea,” you said. Then you checked the clock again. 

Eight twenty-three. 

Where the hell’s Eddie? you wondered, starting to get a little worried.

Jason’s arrival reclaimed your attention. 

“Hey, guys,” he said in that smooth drawl that made all the girls swoon. 

You expected to find him standing with his million-dollar smile, but he wasn’t. No, today Jason seemed different—humble, approachable, perhaps even a little shy. It was as if he’d reverted back to his ten-year-old self. Little Jason Carver, who could barely dribble a basketball. The boy who stammered when he introduced himself to the rest of the class. The boy who sat down next to you, smiled, and said he liked the character on your favorite shirt. The boy who talked to you every day. Encouraged you. Defended you. The boy you caught staring at your best friend way too many times to be a coincidence. 

Then you looked at Chrissy and she seemed younger, too. A blushing, fidgeting ten-year-old who always forgot to stand up straight. She got so excited when Jason offered to walk her home from school. He even carried my books!

Back then, your happiness for them had been counterfeit, complicated, but not anymore. Yeah, now you could say you were genuinely happy for both of them. 

This was still awkward as hell, though.

“Hey, Chrissy needs to borrow a pencil,” you blurted out, breaking their amorous trance.

A soft pink flush rose to Jason’s cheeks. “What?”

“Just ignore her,” Chrissy said, struggling to keep a straight face. 

Meanwhile, you punched Jason on the shoulder. “Hey, don’t forget about our deal, buddy.” 

“I haven’t,” he told you. “I’ll buy your lunch, as promised. It’s the least I can do.” 

“What if I want two lunches? And a whole plate of cookies?”

“Then I guess I’m buying you two lunches and a whole plate of cookies.” 

Jason smiled at you… but then his demeanor changed, hardening like armor. 

“Are you okay?” he asked.

You blinked at him. “Am I okay?” you repeated slowly, a little taken aback. “Well, I did wake up with a strange tattoo on my wrist. It’s like a crucifix, except it’s upside down. Weird… Also, I can’t be sure, but I think I might be dealing with a Rosemary’s Baby scenario. Yeah, I’m definitely gonna be giving birth to the Antichrist in about nine months. Buy something black.” 

Jason’s eyes widened in confused horror. 

“Oh my god, I’m kidding!” you said. “Eddie was a complete gentleman. He even asked for permission before he impregnated me with his hellseed. Naturally, I gave him the green light because… well, have you seen his face? It’s kinda perfect.” 

Chrissy put her hand over her mouth and giggled. Jason didn’t appreciate your joke. 

“Come on, be serious.” 

“I am being serious. Believe it or not, I actually find him insanely attractive. He’s like a discount version of Eddie Van Halen, and I can’t afford the real thing, so…” 

“So you actually slept with him?” Jason sounded disappointed and ashamed. He reminded you of your father. 

No, worse than your father.

“Well, no, I was kidding about that. I mean, I did sleep with him, but not in the way you’re assuming. And are you seriously gonna judge me for having sex? It’s been a while since I’ve been to church, but I’m pretty sure the bible condemns hypocrisy. You might wanna reread those sections. I think you’ll find them very enlightening.”

Jason ground his jaw in irritation. “Stop making jokes!” 

“I don’t want to,” you said finally, your voice breaking, “because then I’m just gonna get really, really mad like I’m doing right now, and I don’t wanna be mad at you, Jason. I was having a really good morning until you showed up.” 

By now, Chrissy had stopped laughing. Her shoulders drooped and she looked at you with a sick, sorry expression. 

Jason said, “Look, I just think you’re undervaluing yourself, okay? You can do so much better than that—”

“Oh, please don’t do that. Don’t try to talk to me like you’re my friend.” 

“I am your friend.” 

“Then be my friend, Jason. Stop trying to ruin my happiness!”

The school bell dinged and students began making their way to class. Jason went, too. Didn’t even bother saying goodbye. Chrissy told you not to worry about him. “Jason’ll come around eventually.” Then she smiled, waved goodbye, and ran to catch up with him. 

You weren’t half as optimistic as she was. 

This is gonna be a huge problem, isn’t it? 

You groaned, dreading it. 

Behind you, another wave of students came rushing down the hallway. Brittany Wirth was among them. You knew because you could hear her shrill voice piercing through the dull chatter around her. She was ranting about prom, complaining about the flowers, complaining about the food, about the music, about—

“YOU!” 

You flinched and turned around, thinking she was talking to you. 

What you saw made your eyes light up with glee. Brittany Wirth had Eddie Munson pinned up against the lockers, and she was jabbing him in the chest with her index finger. 

“You, sir, are a total asshole! Do you have any idea how hard I worked on that event? I was planning it for months, planning it to perfection, and then YOU had to go and make it all about yourself, as usual.” She stepped back and huffed, exhausted. “I hope you’re proud of yourself.” 

“I’m a little proud of myself,” Eddie replied candidly. 

Brittany shot him a deadly glare. “Oh, shut up!” She swept her hair off her shoulder and walked away.

You stopped her as she passed. “You know what, Brittany, all things considered, I thought it was a very successful night.” 

Brittany’s jaw dropped and got stuck like that, locked in befuddled rage. Not a single sound came out, but you could tell she was trying to speak. Was this it? Had it finally happened? Did Brittany Wirth actually crack? She worked her lips unsuccessfully for a minute and then closed them again, steaming in her hatred, screaming internally like a boiling teapot. She brushed past you and continued on her way. 

Then you heard Eddie approach you.  

“Did I really make the night all about me?” 

His question made you giggle. “A little bit.” You turned around with a smile, glad to see him, relieved to see him. “I still had a good time, though.” 

“Well, that’s all that matters,” Eddie said, but there was something in your eyes that made him frown with concern. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, everything’s fine,” you said, and blinked that silly little worry away. “Jason’s just being… well, Jason.” 

“I take it he doesn’t approve of me.” 

“Yeah, you’ve really got him clutching his bible. He thinks you’re gonna drain my blood and sacrifice me to the devil.” 

“Really?” Eddie said, his eyes widening in false astonishment. “Well, he just spoiled our next date.” 

“Oh, really?” you replied, giggling. “Well, I guess that explains why I’m still a virgin.” 

Eddie winced, looked down at his shoes, and grinned bashfully. “Okay, I walked right into that one.”

“Yeah, you did,” you said; and God, it drove you crazy seeing him get so flustered.

Kinda like last night, you thought, startling yourself, and immediately shooed that dangerous thought away. Now was not the time for that, young lady. You still had a full day of school to get through. Somehow.

“You’re late,” you said.   

“Yeah, I uh…” Eddie brought his hand to his face and started rubbing it. “I got pulled over for speeding.”

You gasped. “No, you didn’t.” 

“Yeah, I did.” 

“Prove it.”

Eddie pulled a folded-up piece of paper out of his back pocket and handed it to you. You opened it and immediately busted out laughing. 

“Oh, wow… going fifty-five in a forty-five.” 

“Eh, they went easy on me… I was going at least sixty.” 

“Wow…” 

“Yeah…” Eddie said, tilting his head. “The one time I’m in a rush to get to school.” 

His brown eyes sought yours and settled there for a moment, his lips curling into a tender, captivated smile. You smiled back helplessly, feeling girly, feeling giddy, feeling like you were probably grinning like an idiot right now. Embarrassed, you pressed the paper to your mouth in a vain attempt to hide it. When that didn’t work, you thrust the ticket back into Eddie’s hand and turned away, pretending to pull books from your locker. 

You felt along the spines like someone fumbling around in the dark. What class were you going to again? History? English? French? 

No, you weren’t even taking French.

You spoke to Eddie in a frazzled voice: “Well, since you’re not in handcuffs right now, I’m assuming they didn’t find anything when they searched your van, huh?” 

“Luckily, no…” 

“Good thing you cleaned out your van yesterday.”

“Mhm…” Eddie said, his voice seeming much closer than before.

Your roaming fingers slowed, then stopped, sliding all the way down the stack of books. With one more step, his presence had consumed you, making you blind and deaf to everything else, everything except Eddie. You could feel him standing next to you, leaning into you, his left hand outstretched and resting against the locker beside you. His voice sent a pleasant shiver down your spine.

“Find what you’re looking for yet?”

You gazed into his eyes and got lost in them. “… I can’t remember what class I’m going to.”

You laughed at yourself sheepishly, senselessly, and saw Eddie crack a small smile: half amused and half… something else, something that brought you back to last night—that quiet, rainy night. Sitting in the dark and listening to music. Eddie humming softly beside you, drumming his right hand on the steering wheel, watching the tiny droplets race down his windshield. You sitting in your seat nervously. Fidgeting restlessly. Running your fingers over the plastic cassette case on your lap. Pretending to take interest in it while secretly watching Eddie out of the corner of your eye. Waiting for him to kiss you. Hoping he’d kiss you. Catching him staring at you with that smile… the same smile he was giving you now… right before he leaned in and…

“Ahem.” 

Another student appeared behind you, tapping her foot impatiently. “Uhh, can I get to my locker, please?”

Eddie drew away from you, embarrassed and a little frustrated, and took two giant steps back.

The girl assumed his place without a word, opened her locker, hung up her backpack, her jacket, grabbed her textbook and notebook, snatched a few pens from her bag, and closed her locker again. Before leaving, she motioned between you and Eddie and said, “So is this like a thing now?”

You caught Eddie’s eye for a second. “Uhh, yes,” you said while he fought back a huge smile.

The girl shook her head as if dizzy. “Weird,” she said, and left. 

Afterward, you turned to Eddie with a puzzled frown. “Wait, is it weird that I’m dating you or that you’re dating me? I need to know where I rank in this relationship.”

“Maybe you should ask her.” 

“Maybe I will…” 

Giggling, you stepped past him, spotted your locker neighbor at the end of the hallway, cupped your hands over your mouth, and shouted, “Hey, Carmen!” but you never got a chance to finish. Eddie had grabbed your hand and dragged you back to him, pulling you into his arms, putting you right where he wanted you, intending to pick up exactly where he left off.

The second bell rang before you could even feel his breath on your lips. Eddie closed his eyes tightly, as if pained. 

“I really hate that I have to be in school right now.” 

“Me too,” you said, staring up at him, your heart still pounding in your chest. “We should probably get to class.”  

Eddie wrapped his arms around your waist and held you tighter against him. “Or we could just, y’know, skip first period altogether… since you don’t know where you’re supposed to be anyway.” 

He swooped down and placed a few chaste kisses along the side of your head. Blushing, you buried your face into his chest. 

“Are you trying to get me to cut class, sir?”

“No, just giving you options.” 

“Mhm,” you said, giggling. 

While you contemplated his offer, you traced your hand over the button pocket of his denim vest, feeling the fabric, flicking each of his treasured pins one by one: Judas Priest, Accept, Mercyful Fate. You found the W.A.S.P. pin last and focused on it, teasing it with your finger. 

“And then what?” you asked, lifting your head to look at him. “We go back to your van and finish what you started last night?” 

Eddie’s eyes brightened in surprise. “Finish what you started, if I remember correctly.”  

“Was I the one who started it?” You frowned, pretending not to remember. 

Meanwhile, your hand had drifted up to the collar of his leather jacket. You nudged it out of the way and started tugging along the neckline of his shirt, revealing a faint pink bruise on the base of his collarbone. Eddie winced as your finger brushed over it. You smiled softly, remembering how his breath hitched when your lips made the first budding mark, how he cursed and moaned while you planted all the others, his hands slipping underneath your shirt and sliding across your skin. 

“I may have gotten a little carried away…”   

“Yeah, you definitely did,” Eddie said, smiling at you.  

“I just really like W.A.S.P.”

“Do you?” 

“Mhm…”

Eddie’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he laughed. “Well, I still have the tape in my van. We can go listen to it right now if you want.” 

You bit your lip hard, unable to answer right away. God dammit, what had you gotten yourself into? You weren’t seriously considering his proposition before, but now…

“Go to class, please.” 

Now Ms. Kelley had come out of her office and was sweeping away the last few stragglers, you and Eddie included.

“I know we’re all a little sluggish this morning, but let’s start this week off strong, okay? There’s still another month before graduation. Don’t lose your focus now.” She looked at you and Eddie tiredly. “You two. Class. Now.”   

You sighed as you saw your window of opportunity close. Eddie peeled himself away from you and started down the hallway.  

“See ya later,” he said over his shoulder. 

“Bye,” you said back, hiding your disappointment behind a smile. 

Upon returning to your locker, you grabbed your textbook—the right textbook—and wedged it in the crook of your left elbow. While hunting around for the matching notebook and folder, you heard Eddie’s voice behind you again, catching you completely by surprise.

“Oh, wait,” he said hurriedly, “I forgot to tell you something.” 

“Hmm?”

You turned around and felt Eddie’s hands cup the sides of your face, drawing you in for a soft, sweet kiss. You closed your eyes, savoring it. A moment later, he broke the kiss and pulled away.   

“See you in third period,” he said, departing with a smile. 

It took you a second to recover from that. When you finally did, you clutched your textbook to your chest and smiled uncontrollably, tears brimming in your eyes, your heart racing, stomach fluttering, face glowing with pure, radiant joy. 

Under your breath, you whispered, “I hate so much that I have to be in school right now.”

Gareth, on the other hand, was glad to be in school today. Admittedly, his morning had gotten off to a rough start, but things were finally starting to look up for him, and now he felt like he was on the verge of a major breakthrough. 

Maybe. 

Hopefully.

But he didn’t wanna jinx it. 

In first period, Gareth snuck into the library and talked to Matilda Gunn: salutatorian, captain of the debate team, and the third name on Gareth’s list (his new list, of course; the original list was long gone, probably lying in a trashcan somewhere).

Matilda, anyway, was sitting at the back table and studying for her upcoming physics test. Matilda preferred studying in the library over her study hall class because she couldn’t stand the sound of her neighbor chewing and slurping his nails. She wasn’t too happy when Gareth pulled out the chair across from her and sat down. She was even less happy when he brought up Eddie Munson. 

“First of all, I’m offended that you would even think I would associate with that moron. I hate the guy. He ruined my GPA. Stupid group projects… God, I hate them!” Enraged, Matilda tore a random leaf out of her notebook and ripped the poor thing to shreds. Gareth watched her do it, horrified, and hoped there was nothing important written on that page. “You know, if I’d known he was gonna slack off like he did, I would’ve just done the whole thing myself. But no… I gave him the benefit of the doubt. I gave him the easiest task and he couldn’t even do that. He said he forgot about it. Said he was busy working on a campaign or something.”

“Yeah, he gets like that sometimes,” Gareth said. “Like last month, he spent the whole weekend learning ‘Master of Puppets.’ Have you heard that song?” 

Matilda shook her head, her eyes glazed with boredom. 

“Well, doesn’t matter. It’s a very hard song to play. That’s all you need to know. And Eddie became obsessed with it. He locked himself in his room all weekend and practiced over and over and—” 

Matilda pressed her hand to her temple and hissed, “Listen, junior freak, I don’t give a shit about Eddie Munson and his fucking guitar. Okay? Second of all, I didn’t even go to prom on Saturday. I was studying all weekend, studying for this test, and if I don’t get an A, I’m gonna hold you personally responsible. Now get lost.”

Gareth lurched back in his seat and felt his mouth go dry. 

(Once again, why were high school girls so needlessly cruel?)   

“Okay,” he said in a small voice. “I’m, uhh, sorry for bothering you.” 

He got up to leave. 

“Wait,” Matilda said with a sigh; then after a moment of careful, painful deliberation, she put out her hand. “Gimme your stupid list.”

Gareth held the list against his chest, protecting it. “You’re not gonna rip it up, are you?” he asked, observing the tattered remains of her last victim. “Because I’m getting kinda tired of writing all these names out.”

And some of those girls had really long names.  

“I’m not gonna rip it up.” Matilda’s voice was strained with frustration and fatigue, but there was still some warmth hiding in there, dimly glowing beneath the cold black coals of her heart. “I’m gonna help you narrow it down, okay? Otherwise, you’ll never figure it out.” She motioned impatiently with her hand. “Come on, hurry up.” 

Gareth handed her the list and she looked it over for a minute, vaguely amused.  

“Not a very long list,” she said while uncapping her highlighter with her teeth. 

“Well, Eddie’s very picky.” 

As he should be, Gareth thought. That man deserved the best.

(much better than you) 

Matilda snorted under her breath. “Yeah, I’m sure that’s it.” She rolled her eyes, bent her head, and began marking up the list with her highlighter. Her hand was calm and controlled, each movement deliberate, precise, as to be expected of an advanced test taker. “Okay, she has a boyfriend… she, I’m pretty sure, has a girlfriend… boyfriend… boyfriend… boyfriend… she’s been out of town for a funeral… and she… doesn’t even live in this state anymore.”

She crossed off the last name and slid the paper across the table. 

Gareth gaped at it, speechless. “You just eliminated everyone.” 

Matilda shrugged. “Like I said, not a long list.” 

It was a major setback, the kind of setback that made you want to tear the whole thing to pieces, cut your losses, and give up. Gareth seriously considered it. He almost did it while sitting in his second-period class. 

But then an angel appeared. A blonde-haired, blue-eyed angel named Olivia Kent.

She peered over his shoulder during class. “Whatcha doin’?” she asked, sitting with her chin on her palm. 

Gareth considered lying, saying he was working on his assignment or something, but in his current state, he didn’t have the heart to deceive anyone, especially not Olivia, who was so innocent and kind.

“I’m trying to figure out who my friend went home with after prom.” 

“Oh? Who’s your friend?”

“Eddie Munson.” 

“Oh...” Olivia giggled a silly, unaffected giggle. “Yeah, he had quite the night.” 

Gareth turned around in his seat. “You were at prom, Livvy?” 

“Mhm! It was a lotta fun.” 

“And you saw Eddie there?”

“Sure. I saw him lots of times.” 

“Did you see him leave with anybody?”

“Sure did… I saw everything.” 

“You saw everything?” Gareth sat back, awestruck, and felt tears come to his eyes. This was it. This was finally it. This was the breakthrough that Gareth had been waiting for. An eye witness—a star witness—had emerged at last, willing and eager to cooperate. “Oh, Livvy, you beautiful, beautiful, heavenly creature, tell me everything.” 

“About what?”

“About prom, Livvy.” 

“Oh, you wanna hear about prom?” Olivia shrugged, smiled, and said, “Okay! Philip Cuthbert asked me. I didn’t think he was going to, but then he totally surprised me! I wore a frilly pink dress and matching pink heels. Phillip wore a dark blue tux and a black bowtie. I think it was black, but it might’ve been blue, too. Then Philip got me one of those really pretty flower bracelets… What are those called again? Oh, right, corsages! Anyway, we took pictures on the front lawn of my house, then we took pictures at his house, and then we took more pictures in front of City Hall. I don’t normally like taking so many pictures, but I didn’t mind so much in this case. It was a special occasion. Phillip said I looked very pretty. He was really nice to me all night. He held my hand. He bought me dinner. He got me some cake. I actually ate two slices of cake that night, but don’t tell anybody, okay? I was only supposed to have one. And then we danced and drank punch and we danced again—”

Gareth put his hand on top of hers, making Olivia blush and look at him in doe-eyed wonderment. “Livvy, I’m glad you had such a fun time at prom, but since class is gonna be ending soon, do you think you could speed things up and get to the part where you saw Eddie? Is that okay?”

“Sure,” Olivia said, smiling. “I saw him talking to Chrissy.” 

“Yeah, he went there to ask her to dance. I told him it was a terrible idea, but he refused to listen to me.” 

“Yeah, that was a bad idea. Why would he do that?” 

“Because Eddie’s a hopeless romantic.” 

“Really?" Olivia frowned, considering it. “He doesn’t seem like one.” 

“He hides it behind a mask of cynicism, and he hides it very well.” 

“Oh,” Livvy said, mystified by the concept. “Well, I guess that explains why he got up on stage then.”

“Wait, Eddie got up on stage?” 

Damn, Gareth thought, that’s actually really impressive. 

“Mhm! He gave this long speech and everything. My friends said it was really weird and embarrassing, but honestly, I thought it was kinda sweet. Super embarrassing, but sweet. It was kind of like a… hmm… well, I guess you could call it a love confession. I don’t remember what he said exactly, but it was really adorable, and normally I wouldn’t use that word to describe Eddie—you know, ‘cause he’s so mean and scary-looking—but at that moment, he really was adorable. Kinda like a puppy. And then he played Journey and—” 

Gareth’s head rocked back. “He played Journey? Eddie played Journey? Eddie doesn’t like Journey. Nobody likes Journey. Nobody except…” 

(you)

Gareth’s eyes widened. His stomach plummeted to the floor. Then he shook his head and the thought was gone. 

“Okay, maybe it’s just a coincidence,” he said. “Maybe the DJ suggested Journey. Do you remember what song it was, Livvy?” 

“No, I don’t. Sorry, I’m not very good with song titles.” 

“Was it ‘Separate Ways’? ‘Any Way You Want It’? ‘Don’t Stop Believin’’? ‘Faithfully’? ‘Open Arms’?” 

“You know, for someone who doesn’t like Journey, you sure know a lot of Journey songs.” 

And for someone who seemed like such an airhead, Olivia Kent was shockingly observant. Gareth was rather impressed. He couldn’t help but tip his head to her. Touché, fair lady. 

“I think it was the last one,” Olivia said. 

“‘Open Arms’?” 

“I think so.” 

“So Eddie played a sappy love song,” Gareth concluded while rubbing his chin. “Makes sense.” 

“Mhm… and it must’ve worked ‘cause she left with him right after.” 

“You saw the girl who left with him?”  

“Yep.” 

“You saw her face?”

“Of course I did. She walked right past me.” 

“And did you recognize her?”

“Uh-huh!” 

“YES!” Gareth pumped his fists excitedly. He almost leaped out of his chair and kissed her, he was so happy. “Who was it, Livvy? Tell me who it was!”

Olivia sighed. “I don’t remember.” 

“What?” Gareth’s heart shattered. “But you just said you recognized her.”

“I did recognize her face, but I don’t remember her name… Sorry, Gareth, I’m not very good with names.” 

“You’re not good with names,” Gareth repeated softly, beside himself. “She’s not good with names. She’s not good with names. My star witness isn’t good with names.” 

He laughed madly to himself, feeling dizzy and delirious, feeling like the whole room was spinning like a turntable. A turntable playing Journey. Journey! Of all the bands in the world, Eddie, why Journey? Why? Why?

Meanwhile, Olivia rested her cheek against her palm and smiled at him. “You have really pretty eyes. Do you want my number?”  

Gareth paused, considering it. His face turned bright red. 

“Yes, Livvy. Yes, I’d love to get your number.” 

“Cool!” She scribbled it on a piece of notebook paper and handed it to him. “Call me sometime, okay?” 

So now Gareth was strolling away from his third-period class with a laminated hall pass in hand, Olivia Kent’s phone number in his pocket, a massive pit in his stomach, and Steve Perry’s annoying voice in his head. 

Journey. 

Eddie had requested Journey.  

It wasn’t a coincidence, was it? 

Gareth walked past Mr. Prichard’s math class, stopped, and backpedaled a few paces. He pressed his face against the glass and peered inside. 

Eddie was sitting at his desk with his assignment out and textbook open in front of him. He had his pencil in his hand, but he had yet to write a single answer. He was just tapping it against his notebook while he stared absently at the chalkboard, stared with a faraway look in his eyes. Gareth knew that look. It meant Eddie was lost in thought, usually about D&D or whatever new song he was learning, but today Gareth had a sneaking suspicion that Eddie was thinking about something else—or rather someone else. 

But not you. Please, God, not you. 

You were sitting behind him and quietly working on your assignment, just working on your assignment, and that caught Gareth a little off guard. If you had gone home with Eddie (as Gareth begrudgingly suspected now), shouldn’t you have been acting a little… happy? excited? Shouldn’t you have been staring at the back of his head with a dumb, lovesick expression? Daydreaming and doodling about him in your notebook? Naming your future children and planning your destination wedding?

Gareth expected to feel something when he peeked into that classroom. A change in energy. A shift in the natural balance of the universe. Call it whatever you want, but there should have been a noticeable difference in the air, right? Right?  

But there wasn’t.  

Everything was totally normal. 

You and Eddie were acting totally normal. 

And that filled Gareth with an exhilarating sense of relief. 

It wasn’t you. Thank God, it wasn’t you. 

Gareth backed away with a smile. If he had stayed a minute longer, he would have seen the exact change in energy he had been waiting for. If he had stayed a minute longer, he would have seen Eddie turn around and start talking to you. He would have seen you smile and blush and tell him to go back to his assignment (even though you didn’t really want him to go back to his assignment). Then he would have seen Eddie turn back to the front, try to do his work, give up, and turn around again five minutes later. 

But Gareth didn’t stay. Instead, he continued down the hallway in blissful ignorance, pulled out his list, ripped it up, and tossed the pieces into the trash. 

If it wasn’t any of them and it wasn’t you, there was only one logical conclusion. 

“She doesn’t go to school here, does she?”

Gareth forced this treasonous charge onto Eddie as soon as he arrived at the cafeteria. He had found his target sitting at his usual place at the head of the table. The seat of high honor. Eddie’s chair. The king’s chair. Gareth, a once-honorable and faithful soldier, slammed down his tray, leaned forward, pressed his palms into the table, and looked Eddie Munson square in the eye. Unblinking. Unflinching. Unyielding against his Dungeon Master’s powerful, intimidating aura.  

A moment of tense silence passed. Jeff and Grant looked at each other and immediately stopped eating. Jeff put down his peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Grant screwed on the lid of his soup thermos and set the container aside. There was no telling how long this would take. Gareth had a talent for prolonging his inevitable demise. It was like watching a slow hanging. 

Oh, but what a show it would be. 

“Who is she, Eddie?” Gareth thrust out his finger accusingly. “Huh? Is she a teacher? A townie? Some drunk chick you picked up at the bar while drowning your pathetic sorrows away?” 

“Yikes,” Jeff said, cringing. 

And Grant said, “That is quite the allegation.”  

Indeed it was, and Eddie didn’t seem to appreciate the open assault on his character. His brown eyes sharpened into a steely glare. They reflected Gareth’s destruction like a black crystal ball. Doom. Doom. Doom. 

“Get your finger outta my face,” Eddie said, and that was all he needed to say.  

“I’m so sorry,” Gareth said, and fell back into his chair with a thump. His heart thudded in his chest while the color slowly returned to his face. That was as close to death as Gareth had ever come. It was a miracle he’d survived. He bent his head and capitulated: “I sincerely apologize for my previous statement. It was malicious and rude, completely unbecoming of my position.”

Grant squinted his eyes curiously. “And what is your position, exactly?” 

“I’m Eddie’s best friend, obviously.” 

“Obviously,” Jeff echoed, snickering. 

Grant, wryly amused, said, “Uhh, I’m pretty sure Scottie’s his best friend.” 

Eddie, having dropped his tyrannous facade, was pretending to listen while absentmindedly picking through his snack bag, his thoughts elsewhere, eyes elsewhere. But where, Gareth couldn’t say. He had strained his neck to see who Eddie was looking at, but it was impossible to tell with so many people in the cafeteria. He could have been looking at anyone, anyone, anyone except you.

“He’s right,” Eddie murmured. “Scottie’s my best friend.” 

Gareth shrugged, unconcerned with such trivial technicalities. “Well, then I’m your second best friend, Eddie, and since Scottie’s in prison right now, I have to step in and assume the role in his stead.” 

“Ah, the interim best friend. So that’s the imaginary position you gave yourself.” 

“Oh, shut up and eat your soup, Grant.” 

“I will eat my soup,” Grant said, “and I’ll enjoy it while you continue to embarrass yourself.” 

“You’re embarrassing yourself,” Gareth grumbled nonsensically. He stabbed a piece of broccoli with his fork, stuffed it into his mouth, chewed, and swallowed. It tasted like dirt. “I’m having a really horrible day.”   

“Well, that’s too bad,” Eddie said, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Mine’s actually going pretty well.”

Another cryptic response. Gareth simply couldn’t take it anymore.

“You know,” Jeff began, “speaking of Scottie—” 

Gareth flung down his fork angrily, sending a spear of broccoli whizzing past Grant’s left shoulder. 

“Oh, come on, just tell me who it is already! Enough with the hints and the coded language. I swear to God, you’re driving me crazy, Eddie! You’ve been torturing me for days with this mystery. I can’t eat. I can’t sleep. I can’t think about anything else. As your friend, I’m begging you to stop. Please, for my sanity, stop.” 

Eddie popped a pretzel into his mouth and chewed. “I’ve been torturing you?”

Grant said, “He’s been torturing himself, honestly.” 

Jeff nodded, seeming on the verge of laughter. “Yeah, he made a list and everything.”

Eddie grimaced. “Wait, there’s a list? Why is there a list?” 

“Because you’ve driven me to madness, Eddie!” Gareth blurted out in blind white rage. “I hope you’re happy because you’ve driven me to complete madness! Who were you with on Saturday? Don’t even try to deny it because I heard a girl talking in the background. It wasn’t the TV. It was a girl. A living, breathing girl. I know you were with her that night, and I know you were with her yesterday.” 

“I wasn’t with her yesterday,” Eddie replied, his eyelids heavy with annoyance. “I already told you, I was out running errands.” 

“Oh, you’re sticking with that story, huh? Okay, Eddie, let’s assume you were out running errands. Let’s assume you spent your whole Sunday exactly as you said. You got up bright and early, stopped by the drugstore for God knows what, and then spent the rest of the day by yourself at home, cleaning out your van.” 

“I did clean out my van yesterday. That’s how I found my lost W.A.S.P. tape.”  

“Oh, which album?” Grant asked. 

“The Last Command,” Eddie answered, a soft smile touching his face. 

Wait, was that another clue?

“Nice,” Grant said. “That’s a solid album.” 

Eddie nodded, agreeing, but now there was a distant glimmer in his eyes that wasn’t there before. Gareth couldn’t take his eyes off it. It was as if his friend was lost in a cherished memory. 

What significance did this W.A.S.P. tape hold?

Was there any significance? 

These questions twisted Gareth’s mind into a pretzel. 

And speaking of pretzels, Eddie had set down his snack bag and stopped eating. Weird. He now sat with his arms folded over his chest, fingers drumming impatiently against his right bicep. His wandering eyes kept going back to the clock. Counting down the minutes. What had him so restless all of a sudden? What was he waiting for? His next class? English? Was that significant? Eddie hated English. He dreaded English. He complained about it every day because it meant he had to see— 

Eddie pushed off the table and stood up. Gareth climbed up from his chair, too. 

“Where are you going, Eddie?” 

“Dude,” Jeff said, looking up at him. “You need to calm down.” 

“Otherwise,” Grant went on, “you might get demoted to third best friend.”

The two of them dissolved into laughter. Gareth didn’t even hear them.  

“It’s happening,” he muttered. “Something’s happening.”

“Yeah, you annoyed Eddie so much that he had to leave to get away from you.” 

But that wasn’t it. Eddie wasn’t fleeing for the exit like a coward. No, he was marching straight through the middle of the cafeteria like a lone soldier charging through the battlefield. Charging to victory or to death. He was infiltrating the enemy’s stronghold, impervious to their hostile glares and raised eyebrows. Even Jason Carver himself, who had begun to get out of his chair, could not stop him today. Eddie was a man determined, a man determined to get to

(of course)

you. 

He wedged himself between two basketball players, pushed his palms into the table, and greeted you with a charming smile. You gazed up at him in sweet surprise. 

“Hi,” you said. 

“Hi,” he said back. “You wanna skip next period?”

Chrissy’s jaw dropped. “Oh my god,” she said while you blushed, buried your face in your hands, and giggled. 

Gareth, dumbstruck, slumped back into his chair with the bitter taste of defeat in his mouth. 

That bitch, he thought. That Journey-loving bitch, she actually did it. 

Grant regarded him with an impressed frown. “You know, you’re handling this a lot better than I thought you would. When did you figure it out?” 

Gareth sighed. “Second period.” 

Eddie just had to play Journey.

There was a moment of solemn silence after that. Then Grant unscrewed his soup thermos and lunch resumed as usual. Jeff took a bite of his sandwich. Gareth, now resigned to his grim fate, stuck his fork into his meatloaf and cut himself a modest slice. The meat looked dry and grey. What a horrible new world he lived in. 

But, he supposed, there was something to look forward to. 

“I got Olivia Kent’s number today. I think I’m gonna ask her out this weekend.” 

SERIES MASTERPOST

FANFICTION MASTERLIST

unfortunately, i no longer do taglists. if you want to stay updated on my fics, you can follow me and/or subscribe to my posts. thank you!

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x fem!reader #stranger things #stranger things 4 #hellfire club #gareth stranger things #jeff stranger things #jason carver #chrissy cunningham #chrissy x jason #eddie munson x dwm!reader #dancing with myself #dwm #dwm short #ambrossart

[holdinbacksecrets]

how do you think svt would subtly let you know they have feelings for you? 🥺🫣 or how they’d confess?

first of all, my sincere apologies for taking a year to answer this… but a couple nights ago i woke up at 2am, scrolled through my requests, and yours ended up inspiring these voicemails. thank you for requesting! i hope you enjoy 🖤

thank you @un-love for helping me assign these🫶🫶🫶🫶

voicemails seventeen leave you, hinting feelings

seungcheol: “hey…a lot was said last night…it’s important that you know how proud of you i am for opening up to me. it’s just…you have to know that… my home is yours for however long you need. there are clean sheets on the guest bed, but i know you prefer my mattress…we can switch- i just want you to be comfortable, not to worry about anything, ok? i hope i see you when i get home tonight. or if you want me to meet you at his—yours, i’d be happy to.”

jeonghan: “hey, are you ok? you looked upset last night, and i tried to show i noticed without… showing i noticed. you left earlier than i expected with lia, so i didn’t get a chance to ask. then hoshi was fucking wasted, so i was trying to get him home in one piece. let me know, please.”

joshua: “morning, let me know what time you’d like to leave tonight. the party starts at 8, but i don’t think it’s really going to start until 8:30. we could get dinner before if you want? and it’s ok if you forget a cardigan. now i keep one in my car in case we end up on a balcony.”

jun: “you’re probably freaking out, but your laptop is here. it’s fully charged. i can bring it to you. i know you have classes friday afternoon… if you use your ipad instead, come over after. i’ll make you dinner.”

soonyoung: “at this point, i need to keep your grocery store list on my notes app or something. it doesn’t matter where i am or what grocery store i find myself inside, i’m immediately wondering what you need. i end up getting things i know you’ll like… tampons too and those pads with the wings. i started keeping them in different bags i use because i never know which one i’ll have when i see you. i know it’s silly because you always have something with you just in case, but… i don’t know. i don’t want to be completely helpless. now i feel bad for my sister. is that weird? i never did this for her. i should have. i hope her boyfriend does.”

wonwoo: “i think you’re asleep, but i wanted to remind you to take another dosage of pain medicine when you wake up. it’s been twelve hours, and i know how forgetful you can get in that post-sleep haze.”

jihoon: “it’s so sunny here. i’m sending some to you for your birthday. missing your birthday… how the hell did that end up happening? i’m definitely not incredibly upset about it either… happy birthday. tell me all about your day when you get this. if i don’t answer, leave a detail in your voicemail” *whisper sings happy birthday*.

seokmin: “hey you. so i’m at the cafe, and i ordered a chai latte for you before realizing i didn’t know how much longer you’ll be. if it’s cold by the time you get here, i’ll order you another or see if they have a microwave. i think some customers are staring me down because i’m a single man occupying a table. please hurry. kindly. i say that so kindly.”

mingyu: “is it absolutely ridiculous to believe you… some part of you manifests in willow trees? i think of you, and i see one. it’s happened too many times to be a coincidence, even in other countries. i’ve taken pictures, so you have to believe me.”

minghao: “—you have to come with me next time.”

seungkwan: “do you want to be my date to my sister’s wedding? it’s not a big deal. i mean, it is, but i know how anxious you can get about things like this, so i want you to know it’s not a big deal… did you believe that for a second?”

hansol: “there’s going to be an indoor pop-up market two blocks from your apartment on saturday. i took a picture of the flyer through the car window, but it came out all blurry, and i’m running late for a schedule. this is a reminder for myself to make sure the details reach you. i also want to go with you if you decide to go… if you can go.”

chan: “can we change our friday night plans to saturday? i’m so sorry. my mom has an appointment, and i offered to drive her before my brain caught up and realized the day and time she’s scheduled. i don’t think i’ll make it back early enough, and i don’t want to leave her either, you know? she’s having a little procedure done. i want to be around just in case… because i’m worried about it. i didn’t think i’d be this worried. call me when you get this.”

bonus: “i’m around the corner from your place, and i have the tokyo hoodie with me. it’s your week, it’s freshly washed, so let me know if you’re home. i’ll drop it off.”

#seventeen scenarios #seventeen reactions #seventeen imagines #seventeen fluff #seventeen blurbs #seventeen drabbles #seungcheol scenarios #jeonghan scenarios #joshua scenarios #jun scenarios #soonyoung scenarios #wonwoo scenarios #jihoon scenarios #seokmin scenarios #mingyu scenarios #minghao scenarios #seungkwan scenarios #hansol scenarios #chan scenarios

[spdrwdw]

Art by peachypie

Pairing: Miguel x f!Reader

Warnings: None, just fluff

Summary: You and Miguel attend a Christmas party at work where you receive the best Christmas gift you could ever hope for.

Word Count: 3k

A/N: Decided to whip up a quick little Christmas fic. Sorry for it being posted last minute lmao. Hope everyone has a happy holiday!

Masterlist

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It was the week before Christmas and the bakery where you worked was just bustling with people. Nonstop orders were coming in as you continued baking various breads and pastries. 

Your face and apron were just covered in flour and frosting and who knows what else. You just looked a hot mess, honestly. But, on the positive side, you being busy with orders made the time just breeze through, and you were thankful, because everything was hurting by the end of your shift. Arms, legs, neck, back. Everything ached. 

“I could really use a massage right about now,” you sighed as you began your clean up routine after the doors closed. 

Miguel, your coworker and best friend, was up front counting the till for the night. 

“Yeah? Hmm, well, I happen to be pretty good at giving massages, you know. If you want some relief,” he replied, shooting a smirk and a wink your way as you walked past him. 

You rose a brow at him, feeling your cheeks heating up at his words before finally shaking your head at him. 

“Why do I feel like you mean something completely different by that?” You questioned. 

“Maybe you should get that mind of yours out of the gutter,” Miguel shot back at you, causing you to flinch. 

“Rude,” you muttered under your breath as you headed back into the kitchen. 

Once Miguel had finished counting the funds made that day and finished cleaning up at the front of the store, he made his way to the back to help you with whatever else you needed. 

“Don’t we have that Christmas party going on in two days?” You then asked, trying to remember when the shop’s Christmas party was going to be held. 

Miguel nodded his head as he cleaned up the mixers. “Yeah. It’s gonna be on Saturday. We’ll be closing shop early for it. We’re also doing Secret Santa during the party, too.”

“Oh, crap! I honestly forgot about that! Crap crap crap!” You hissed, shaking your head as you swept the floor. You definitely had to drop by the mall and buy something for Jess. You really forgot all about the Secret Santa thing. You were so preoccupied with school and finals that it had just slipped your mind.

“Well, you’re welcome for the reminder,” Miguel snickered.

You rolled your eyes at him, however, grateful for the reminder. You didn’t want to attend the Christmas party without your secret Santa gift. 

Once everything was cleaned and checked off, Miguel closed up shop for the night. 

“You’ll be okay getting home?” Miguel asked as he locked the front doors. 

“Yeah, I should be alright. I can catch the last bus home,” you assured him as you zipped up your jacket and stuffed your hands into the jacket’s pockets. 

“Alright. Keep your phone on you and text me when you get home.”

Miguel may be a pain in the ass at times. But, he was still your best friend and he always looked out for you.

“I will. Promise. Have a good night, Miguel,” you smiled up at him, nodding your head.

It also didn’t help that he made your heart skip a beat sometimes when he acted so sweet towards you. Just fueling the silly little crush you had for him since you both met during your freshman year of college, 

“Good night,” he smiled back at you as you turned at your heel and began to walk the opposite way.

Miguel watched you for a moment before you turned the corner, waiting a couple of minutes before he walked the opposite  direction to head home. 

As promised, you texted him once you got to your apartment, even sent him a selfie of you at the front door, sticking your tongue out and giving him a peace sign before you opened the door and stepped inside. 

The next couple of days were a blur. You did not remember the events that happened during those days that had led you to the day of the Christmas party. 

All your coworkers were there. Including Miguel. Of course, he would be there. 

Everyone was dressed up, either wearing ugly sweaters or Christmas themed clothes. You settled for a cute Santa dress. 

People brought in food, either store bought or homemade. You decided to bake some gingerbread cookies to bring in. You did work at a bakery, after all, and everyone seemed to enjoy them despite constantly being around baked goods. 

The party was going well. Everyone was mingling, eating, drinking, and even dancing around in the shop. You were talking to Jess and MJ, sitting down on a booth over at a corner of the shop. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Miguel staring at you, or possibly at the table. 

Since he was your best friend, he sometimes acted like a sad puppy when he wasn’t allowed to be part of the ‘girl group’ that was you, Jess, and MJ. 

You couldn’t help but smile in his direction. He caught your expression and smiled back at you before moving his attention back to the conversation he was having with Peter and Ben. 

While things continued to go great, something else had caught your eye. Ben. 

He was staring at you. You noticed he had been staring at you the entire time. You didn’t think anything of it at first. While he wasn’t a close friend of yours, you did talk to him from time to time. Either during work or if you ran into him on campus. 

But, it had gotten to a point that it made you feel a little uncomfortable. You were aware of his crush on you. And you did even go on a date with him one time a while ago, but it just didn’t click. You didn’t like him like that. And him staring at you at that moment, made you cringe a little.

Miguel seemed to notice it, too. And he didn’t like it. Not one bit. He knew why Ben was staring at you. It was your outfit. While there was nothing wrong with what you were wearing, you looked absolutely cute in it. 

You were wearing the red santa dress, and you had put on some makeup to match the outfit. While you did wear makeup every now and then when you were up to it, you usually didn’t wear it as you did today. It made you look..different. In a way in which Miguel just couldn’t describe. It made his heart skip a beat every time you caught his gaze and smiled at him. 

However, your outfit had caught Ben’s attention as well. And while Miguel was good friends with Ben, he wasn’t going to have him staring at you, either. 

“What are you looking at, Ben?” Miguel asked, trying to divert the blonde’s attention. 

“Hmm? What?” Ben hummed, still looking your way. 

“What are you staring at?” Miguel repeated, with a tiny hint of aggression in his voice. 

Ben raised a brow as he finally looked over at Miguel before shaking his head. “Nothing.” 

“Nothing?”

Ben shrugged. “Okay, maybe I have been staring at the girls over there, but I mean, dude, can you blame me?” Ben slightly nudged over in your direction.

“She looks really good in that outfit. Don’t you think? Like..damn,” Ben chuckled a little. 

Miguel simply grunted in response. However, he didn’t like how Ben kept staring at you. It made him feel some type of way. He wasn’t possessive of you. He had no right to be. But, it did irk him a bit when other guys stared at you. And he lowkey wanted to punch Ben at that moment. His hands were already clenched into tight fits, getting ready to strike.

“Yo, Miguel. Helllooooo. Earth to Miguel!” Peter waved his hand in front of Miguel, trying to catch his attention. 

“W-what?” Miguel blinked as he was snapped out of his thoughts, looking back over at Peter. 

“Sorry. What was that?”

Peter rolled his eyes. “I asked if you were gonna want another beer? I was gonna grab some more from the cooler,” Peter repeated. 

“Oh. y-yeah yeah. Sure. Thanks,” Miguel nodded his head as Peter and Ben both went into the kitchen to grab more beers. 

He then looked back over to the table and noticed that you were no longer there. Where did you go?

“Miguel? You okay?” You asked, appearing beside him, causing him to jump a bit in surprise before looking over at you. You simply looked up at him, head tilted slightly in curiosity. 

“I noticed you’ve been a little out of it today. You alright?” 

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine,” Miguel assured you, giving you a gentle smile. 

“You sure?” You asked, not really believing him.

“Promise,” he nodded just at Peter and Ben made his way back out. 

You then nodded your head and took a step back before making your way over to your other coworkers to talk to them for a bit. Miguel could hear everyone complimenting your outfit. He realized that he hadn’t said anything about it yet. He should bring it up before the night ends. 

About another hour or so had gone by, people were a little more loose, a little more rowdy. The music was louder, the conversations produced more laughter, and people were just a little more bold and daring. 

You had gone into the kitchen to grab yourself some more food, feeling your stomach growling. You grabbed a plate and began to load it with food, humming softly to yourself along to the music that was playing on the other side. You didn’t notice someone entering the kitchen, approaching you. 

“Still stuffing your face with food?” Miguel smirked as he appeared beside you, causing you to flinch slightly in surprise. You pouted and glared up at him before rolling your eyes. 

“This is nothing compared to your sixth helping of this entire table you had a couple minutes ago!” You pointed out. 

“I can’t help it. I’m a growing boy,” Miguel joked, shrugging his shoulders. 

You rolled your eyes again before going back to serving your food. “You want me to get you anything?” 

Miguel shook his head. “Nah. I can grab my own food. I appreciate it, though.”

The kitchen fell silent for a moment. The only thing that could be heard was everything going on on the other side. People were still chattering and laughing, music still booming. Yet, it was dead silent in the kitchen. A sort of tension then filled between the two of you. You could feel your heart beating against your eardrums. 

You were about to open your mouth to say something before you felt Miguel pressing himself against you from behind , but not hard enough to hurt you. You still had some wiggle room to turn around. And you did just as Miguel leaned down closer to you. 

“I hate what you do to me sometimes,” MIguel practically growled as he grabbed you by the arm, squeezing just a bit, but not hard enough to hurt you. 

You looked up at him with wide eyes, caught completely by surprise as you gave him a confused expression. 

“What? What are you talking about?” 

Miguel’s nostrils flared as he exhaled, looking at you with darkened eyes. 

“You make me feel these feelings that I feel like I should not be having.”

“Miguel..I really don’t understand what it is that you’re trying to tell me,” you stated. Which was true. You had no idea what he was talking about or why he was looking at you like that. Yet, you could feel your heart racing a bit. Was it excitement?

Miguel let out a frustrated sigh. He knew he wasn’t making any sense at that moment, but he really did hope you caught on to what he was attempting to spew out. 

He was terrible at explaining things anyway. However, this was the one thing that he didn’t want to be terrible with. 

“Just..come here for a moment,” he said as he pulled you away from the table, pulling you deeper into the kitchen over to a more secluded area. 

He then took your hand and placed it over his heart. Your eyes widened when you felt his heart racing against your palm. 

You then looked back up at him, meeting his eyes. He had those puppy eyes that made your knees buckle. 

“Miguel I-”

“You don’t have to say anything,” he interrupted, shaking his head. “I just..wanted to let you know.Or..let you feel, rather.”

He let go of your hand and took a step back, biting his lower lip. It made your heart skip a beat. 

“Look. I know you may not feel the same. But, I just wanted to let you know. I’ve..been feeling this way for a while. And..I don’t know why I waited this long to tell you. But, seeing how Riley was looking at you the entire time made me feel some type of way. I know you two were somewhat of a thing before and it kinda made me feel a little jealous..” he rambled. He was honestly really cute when he did that. 

He then awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck when you didn’t answer. What were you supposed to say after that? You were completely stunned that you just couldn’t find your voice. 

But, as he began to take a step back, your hand shot forward and you grabbed hold of his wrist, pulling him back closer to you. You were like a robot. You had no control of your limbs or movements. 

Stretching up on your toes, you hooked your arms around his neck, pulling him down closer to you until your lips touched. Again, you had no control of your movements. It was as if your mind had stepped into another room in your brain. 

Miguel’s eyes widened in surprise, obviously stunned by your sudden reaction. However, he quickly shook it off and wrapped his arms around you, pressing you closer to him.

You two kissed for what felt like hours. At one point, he had picked you up and placed you on top of a stack of boxes so neither of you would strain your bodies. 

Eventually, you had to pull away for air. Your cheeks were warm, and your body felt jittery. You couldn’t help but to look away shyly. Yet, Miguel caught your chin with his fingers and had you look up at him. His lips were swollen from your heated kisses. There was also a twinkle in his eye. 

Before you could get a word out, his lips were on your once again. This time, just a little softer. A little sweeter. Gentler. It made you melt into his arms. 

He pecked your lips a couple more times before taking a step back, but never let go of you. 

“Had I known you felt the same I would’ve done that a lot sooner,” he chuckled, giving you a shy smile. 

Your cheeks warmed again and you nodded your head in agreement. “Yeah. Same here.”

He helped you back down, taking your hand in his. 

“Also. Ben and I were never a ‘thing’. I only went out on one date with him. He’s..not really my type,” you shrugged your shoulders, looking up at him with a slight smirk. 

“I like them a little more rugged. Like more..jackass,” you teased. 

Miguel’s jaw dropped for a second before letting out a laugh, shaking his head a little bit. 

“Not sure if that’s something to be proud of,” he pointed out. 

“Didn’t say I was,” you countered with a shrug before grinning up at him. You felt butterflies in your stomach, and you couldn’t help but to feel excited. Stretching back up on your toes, you gave him another peck on the lips. 

Remove his hand from yours, he wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you close before grabbing your plate of food from the table. 

“Come on, let’s go sit down so you can eat,” he said as you two made your way out of the kitchen. 

“Oh, by the way. You look great in that outfit,” Miguel complimented. 

“Yeah?” You beamed up at him. You’ve been getting compliments all night. But, you didn’t think you’d get one from Miguel. 

His cheeks turned a little red as he nodded his head. “Yeah. I couldn’t stop staring at you. You’re like a Christmas present. Mind if I unwrap you later?” He then smirked. 

You gasped and lightly smacked him, causing him to burst out laughing. 

“Absolutely not! Pervert!”

Miguel continued to laugh. “I’m just messing with you, muñeca. I’ll wait until Christmas Eve to unwrap you.”

“Miguel!” 

“What are you guys talking about?” Peter suddenly appeared in front of the two of you as you exited the kitchen. His mouth was stuffed with food and was a little red in the cheeks. He may have been just a bit drunk. 

“Nothing.” You and Miguel both said in unison before passing by Peter. 

Still. You couldn’t have asked for a better Christmas gift. Miguel had confessed his feelings to you. And shared a set of kisses with you in the kitchen. It was all surreal. It felt like a dream. 

“Look! It’s snowing!” MJ called out excitedly as she stood by the window. Everyone gathered around the windows to look outside as the snow fell. Including you and Miguel. Your food was now forgotten on the table as he kept his arm wrapped around your waist, the two of you looking outside for a moment as if neither of you had seen snow before. 

“Merry Christmas,” Miguel whispered softly to you. 

“Merry Christmas, Miguel,” you whispered back, leaning against him as you continued to watch the snow fall and coat the streets in white. 

Yeah, this was definitely a Christmas you were never going to forget. 

“Also, if Riley stares at you like that again, I’m going to punch him,” Miguel muttered. 

“Miguel!” 

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#miguel o'hara #spiderman 2099 #miguel ohara #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel ohara fanart #miguel x reader #miguel ohara fanfiction #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel ohara x reader #miguel spiderman #atsv miguel

[elioslover]

Friday Nights - Harry Styles x reader. (Dadrry Oneshot).

[The polls revealed that you sweetpeas wanted more dadrry and my ovaries agreed. Hope you guys find it as cute as I do! 💞]

Premise: Harry can't wait to get home to see his favourite girls.

More dadrry / Other writing

Word count: 1.9k / Warnings

🧸

Harry has the entire weekend off- not just a lucky Saturday afternoon- the entire weekend. And he has spent the first 18 hours without empty hands, but the fullest of hearts.

His baby girl- who has long surpassed gaining the skill of walking- has been carried and coddled from the second Harry’s boots hit the hardwood of the entrance hall early Friday evening. The sun has yet to fully set and his whole body is whisked away with excitement at what awaits on the other side of the front door.

At the familiar sound of keys dangling from their slotting in the keyhole, his little petal has dismissed her activity of creating a colourful artwork, crayon still squished between her chubby fingers as her wobbly feet bound over to the front door in pursuit of the mysterious person attempting access.

With the patience she has surely learned from yourself- not Harry- his little 3-year-old is standing in wait, eyes wide with curiosity, her posture still shy and weary of who might enter in a moment.

And when the door becomes ajar, a familiar worn-down leather Gucci boot comes into vision, and then she can see the other boot too- her features prettily framing a painting of the unconditional love she has for her daddy. Those silly boots older than herself are the surest sign of one of her favourite humans stepping into the house.

Giddily, she beams up at him, her chubby ankles balancing her soft feet as she bounces up and down, her body swaying with enthusiasm, her eyes shining with pure excitement.

Harry isn't even halfway through the door when he is confronted by his cute, cheery, tiny toddler, and he feels his shoulders soothingly shrug at the mere sight- unaware of just how happy he is at the blessing of ending his stressful days in the comfort of a home life he never considered a possibility.

Taking a full step into the hallway, Harry is reminded of your existence whenever his babygirl wistfully looks at him. She is the combination of he and your love, and so much more.

Her hair is a little damp, presumably from just having had a bath and some supper. Harry thinks he must have caught her amid playtime, and he hopes tomorrow might offer the opportunity for him to partake in these activities.

And he will, sternly telling you that he hopes you'll take the opportunity to make the weekend your own; tending to tasks, catching up with both friends and binging series, even just using the time to extend your naps, meals, and self-care.

But right now, the bag slung across his shoulder is dropped to the floor, he brushes the edge of the door in an attempt to shut it but cares not if it shuts completely, because a three-year-old- dressed in a pale blue set of jammies decorated in her favourite dinosaurs- is exclaiming, "Daddy" through a burst of enthusiastic giggles.

He takes a step forward, but she is more than willing to meet him in the middle, her tiny toes coming into contact with his boots before he can blink and she tightly wraps her arms around his leg- she only measures up to below his knee- adorably squeezing as tight as she can.

Harry's heart swells so big, he fears he is a balloon filled with so much helium it's begging to burst- but if it bursts, he knows his entire body will become a firework exhibition centred around the theme of how much he unconditionally loves his baby girl.

He does his best to bow closer, wrapping his arms around her, and in true tradition, Harry then lifts her little-ness, helping her balance her feet on the tops of his boots- Harry would have thrown these scuffed, barely stylish boots away if it weren't for the undeniably heart-warming reaction he receives when arriving home.

She now stands atop his shoes, her arms extending up so her hands can be clasped by his, and they are swallowed like a small petal in his palm- so small, he has never seen something-someone- so dainty. Harry slowly takes dance-like steps around the hallway, enthused and cheered on by the cheeky giggles of his daughter enjoying their little 'dance' along the hardwood.

Still humouring and guiding her around, Harry calls out, "'M home, Lovie," seeking out the location of his gift-giver, yourself.

"Hi, Bubs!" You call, and by the distance in your voice, Harry knows you're probably in the kitchen- which is confirmed mere seconds later, "'m in the kitchen", you coo, "felt like making spring rolls…", you pause, "It's still undecided if I'm succeeding or not."

Harry chuckles softly, eager to enter the kitchen and see exactly what you're on about, and by now, the easily distracted toddler has released him, bumbling on about wanting to show her daddy the latest masterpiece she will soon add to her collection.

He certainly will, "How 'bout you show me, and then we can draw another one together?"

She sillily but seriously considers it, her hand stroking her chin as if the fate of the world is balancing atop her ten fingers. Harry thinks he sees himself in her, he thinks he sees himself in you, and loving you has surely rubbed off on him.

Eventually, his sassy three-year-old tells him- with humorously, adorable certainty- "Yes."

Harry's chest lulls with love as he tells her, "Need to say hi to mummy first, okay?"

She nods avidly, "I'll start without you." To which Harry laughs aloud and begins the task of removing his boots.

Harry trails down the hallway, his sock sliding along the hardwood, his eyes glancing over the array of framed photographs- ones of himself and you, of the baby, pets, family and friends.

As he rounds the corner, the aroma of freshly chopped cabbage and carrots invades his senses, and said senses go into overdrive as his eyes land on the loveliest of things; his partner, partially hidden as you stand behind the kitchen island, slicing an avocado, humming along to soft sound of 'Hand Me Downs'.

He finds himself behind you so fast, like a fugue of neediness had taken over and he had to tend to it. You hum in contentment, body sinking back into his chest, still chopping with nonchalance as his arms carefully, but desperately, wrap around your waist, his hands mindlessly shifting the material of your clothes to ensure skin-on-skin contact.

He wants to be near- just for a moment- softly peppering kisses along the nape of your neck, and when you shudder, he huffs out with an overload of admiration. His little pecks seem successful as you finally discard your dinner prep, placing the knife on the counter before twirling your body around to face Harry.

His smile is bright and matches his eyes, unintentionally encouraging your features to mirror his as you tilt up onto your toes in favour of giving him a good smooch,

"Hello, my Darling." You address, pressing your lips to the corner of his own.

"Missed you, Lovie." He says before going in for a proper kiss; pecking you one, two, three times before he is smiling so much that it becomes hard to call this kissing.

You giggle against his lips, giving him one last kiss before tilting back less than an inch to let him know, "Missed you more."

"Liar." He chuckles, tilting his neck to the ceiling, giving you the opportunity for a cheeky nip of his chin. Harry's body jolts with pleasant surprise, hand sliding down your lower back to give your denim-clad bum a good squeeze.

And then perhaps the sassiest and cutest demand comes echoing down from the room over, "Excuse me!" which only has the pair of you a soft chuckling mess.

You gently stroke the nape of Harry's neck, nails scraping the nearest tufts of his hair, "Y' better get going." a final kiss to both cheeks and his lips before you remind him, "Your Highness awaits."

Harry nods along with a swift tap to your bum cheek and a kiss to your forehead as he leaves the kitchen in pursuit of the art gallery that is guaranteed to be covering the walls of the games room.

She is already seated at her little yellow table, her collection of colourful markers, pencils, and glitter pens are all neatly lined up on the right, and she has a pile of complete artworks stacked on the left. In the centre is an A4 pink piece of cardboard already covered in streaks of black marker.

Continuing to scribble, she makes a small gesture for Harry to pull up a seat next to her. He does so, untucking the chair he knows will do a useless job at holding his height, nevertheless, he settles in easily- a product of this being a recurring event- turning his body to signal his attention is entirely hers.

For the next twenty minutes or so, Harry enthusiastically reacts and admires his little one's creations, and then he follows her to the puppy's bed, letting her show off the new toy she chose for their golden retriever to sleep with this evening, then Harry helps her up the stairs, gently hoisting her up, her legs wrapping around his hips, her head curling into his chest.

She instructs him to go to her bedroom, only loosening her grip as he slowly dips to place both her and himself upon her bed. Out of his hold, her little legs crossed, feet wiggling with excitement, patting the spot next to her for her daddy to occupy.

Harry could never say no to that- for starters, it was challenging enough saying it to you- his body shuffling closer, shifting to suit her wishes until she is happily cradled across his chest, his hip awkwardly pressed into the mattress, shoulder twisted unpleasantly, but he has no cares to give.

She wants him to tell her a story. Sometimes she wants to hear about him having fun with his friends, or how he and mommy met and fell in love, other days she wants him to make one up tonight, she wants to hear about his singing.

She asks simple, scattered questions, mostly unrelated to the one before and after. Slowly they delay and his answers add an extra drone, she is getting rather comfy, cuddling up into the crook of Harry, sharing this contentedness with such sleepiness that he knows he is sure to follow.

Downstairs, admiring your dinner, you are quite proud of the final results of your spring rolls. Patience and persistence certainly has its perks. If your phone were nearby, you would be tempted to take a picture, but you have something better; a handsome husband who will soon praise you in wonderment as he scarfs down your proud work.

After a brief stroll through the living room and the games room, you patter your way up the staircase and make a beeline for her bedroom. As expected, you find your favourite duo, but what wasn't expected was the sigh of Harry cradling a sleeping toddler.

She is sleeping soundly, her little wrists and ankles scrunched, her face with a naturally concentrated brow furrow- just like her father. Harry has one arm wrapped around her, his head tucked behind her own, laying obscurely but looking cosier than ever.

#im so stoned #need to edit #lmao #elioslover #harry styles x reader #harry styles fic #harry styles one shot #harry x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #harry styles blurb #harry styles imagine #harry styles #dadrry #dad!harry #harry styles fluff

[wikiangela]

I can finally breathe

7x04 coda, Buck's pov, 756 words

posted the beginning of it for fif, but I wrote more so here's the whole thing lol

[also on Ao3]

___

Oh. Oh. Oooh. So that’s- that’s what it was. Huh.

That’s the first thing going through his mind as Tommy kisses him. It’s like- it’s like a piece of the puzzle finally sliding into place, after years and years of searching, looking for something to fill that space with, that feeling of something being missing. It’s almost weird, really, how easy it feels, how he’s more relieved than freaked out. Because this- oh, this makes so much sense. He’s into guys. He’s been into guys. And right now, at this moment, he’s into Tommy. 

Holy shit, he’s into Tommy.

Buck’s mind has been a whirlwind of chaos and confusion and frustration for days, but now, when Tommy kisses him, it all silences. Just to start anew as they part, butterflies in his stomach so intense he feels like he might float, as a slow smile spreads across his face when Tommy pulls away. 

This is the part of himself he’s been looking for, he’s been denying himself, he’s been silencing for so long. He doesn’t know why now, why Tommy, what it all means and where it’s leading. But he knows that now he feels almost… complete, feels like himself, feels at ease. Feels like Buck.

He feels giddy with excitement when Tommy asks him out, and finds that as soon as the door closes behind him, Buck already can’t wait to see him again. Jesus, he has a crush. He’s a grown man in his thirties, just now finding out he’s into guys, and he has a goddamn crush on a guy, and that’s why he’s been acting like a teenager. It makes so much sense now, and Buck feels- well, he’s embarrassed because of his idiotic behavior, and guilty for maiming his best friend, but most of all he just feels relieved. Because he knows now, knows why he’s been so bent out of shape about this whole situation, and can put a name to those feelings. It’s like a huge weight has been lifted off his chest, that he didn’t even know was there.

He’s going on a first date on Saturday. With a guy. With Tommy. The thought makes a happy and a little dazed chuckle bubble out of his chest as he stands there in his kitchen, thinking about that kiss, his stomach doing flips. It was a nice kiss. A very nice kiss. He really wants to kiss him again. He wants to go on a date and kiss and hold hands, and do it all with a man he’s attracted to, and, god, he can’t wait. He’s also very grateful no one can see him or read his thoughts, because this crush deal is, frankly, embarrassing. He feels so silly, but he doesn’t even care, because he also feels over the fucking moon right now.

His face is burning and he can’t stop smiling as he goes about the rest of his evening, feeling weirdly light and relieved, like never before. He knows he doesn’t have it all figured out just yet, but at least he found out this one thing about himself, and it feels… it feels life-changing, in a way. It kind of is. This realization he just had, it’s- it’s huge, but instead of throwing him into more confusion, it settles him, tilts his askew world upright. Things are finally starting to make sense.

He’s into dudes. But he knows for a fact he’s into girls, too. So, what does that make him? Bisexual? Maybe? He already knows he’s going to overthink that and have to do some research to figure out what fits, what it all means, and reevaluate some of his past behavior in this new light. But for now- for now he’s just going on a date. He can take it one step at a time, both his sexuality and this new thing with Tommy, and figure it out at his own pace, and he hopes Tommy will be patient with him while he does that. Because- because he really likes the guy, and he wants the date to go well, and maybe, hopefully, it’ll lead to something more. He thinks he’d really, really like that.

Whatever the future brings, as of right now Buck just feels like something finally clicked and things started making sense for once in his life. He’s not as lost anymore. He feels like he can finally breathe. He found the missing piece of him, and he’s honestly excited, if just a little anxious, to explore that further.

#911 spoilers #7x04 coda #evan buckley #bi buck #bucktommy #<- kinda? it's supposed to be more about buck and his realization but tommy is a big part of that lol #wikiangela writes #911 fic #ficlet #bi buck fic #my writing #911 abc #the title took me longer than writing this and i don't like it but also can't come up with anything else and i don't care anymore lol

[haerin1]

This is like suuuppeerrrr silly but i just thought about it >.<

Scara with reader thats on her period

her randomly approaching scara and cupping his cheeks, then proceeded to sob about how pretty he is!!

Just wanna know how he would react and how he would calm her down 🥰

Could be modern or canon au‼️‼️

꒰ఎ ♡ ໒꒱ MY LOVE, MINE ALL MINE.

note: ty for the req !! i hope its ok that i did afab reader, pls enjoy !! :3

[modern au!scara x afab!reader] super fluffy and cute, scara teases a lot, period is mentioned !!

It's a peaceful Saturday night in Scara's shared dorm with his friend, Heizou. You practically live in their dorm at this point because your clingy boyfriend makes you stay so he can see you all the time.

Heizou and Scara are casually playing video games together in their beds when he picks up a sound coming from the bathroom. Scara puts his phone down and sits up from where he was previously laying down.

He remembers you mentioning you were going to go pee but it's been, what, seven minutes now?

Heizou, not looking up from his phone as Scara starts walking to the washroom, mutters, "Need to take a piss again?" Scara rolls his eyes in response. He runs a hand through his soft but messy, dark indigo hair as his other hand lifts up to knock on the bathroom door.

"Open up, it's been a year already," Scara grumbles.

He leans against the door, pressing his ear to the wood as he waits for a response. Scara hears you approaching the door and he steps away. You open it and his brows raise in surprise at the sight of your teary face and the pout on your lips.

"Scara..."

You cry out and throw yourself against him, tightly clinging onto your bewildered boyfriend as you whine, "Why are you so pretty!? It's so unfair!" You sob out, "You have perfect, soft and clear skin and the most gorgeous eyes ever!" You continue sniffling, your tears staining Scara's sweatshirt.

Scara pauses before chuckling a bit, still visibly confused. "What's up with you, idiot," he mumbles, looking to the side as an embarrassed gesture before looking back at you, where you're now hiding your face in his sweatshirt as you cry.

"You're so perfect... whyyy!?"

You cup Scara's face, bringing him up/down (height neutral) to meet your gaze as you frown, "Promise me you won't ever get plastic surgery or... or, or a buzzcut," you sternly say, furrowing your brows together to show Scara you were dead serious.

Scara scoffs, deadpanning at you as he says, "You know I'll never get a buzzcu-" You pinch his cheeks and grumble, "Just promise me!"

Scara winces in pain and sighs, "Okay, okay... I promise I won't get plastic surgery or a buzzcut. Are you happy now?" You pause, squinting your eyes as you look him up and down before nodding. "Mhm..." You wrap your arms around him, hugging him tightly.

"You can let go now..." The faintest of pink dusts his fair complexion as he glances elsewhere. Scara hovers his hand over your head before patting your hair as an awkward attempt of comforting you.

"You're on your period, aren't you?"

You just nod against his sweatshirt, sniveling softly. Scara rolls his eyes, before he smirks slightly. "What would you do without me? C'mon," He gently wipes the tears from your cheeks with his thumb, mumbling, "You're ugly when you cry."

You huff, "Shut up." Scara chuckles, "Just for the time being. Let's go to my car, I'll bring you with me to buy you some things from the grocery store." At that, you smile in content and cling to Scara like a puppy to its owner as he leads you to the front door of the dorm.

Heizou sits up in his bed, complaining, "Hey, you better get me buldak noodles!" Scara snarls, "This is not an invitation for free things; Only my (s/o) gets that luxury." And he shuts the front door, bringing you along and leaving Heizou in a ticked off mood.

As Scara drives, he keeps one of his hands on the steering wheel and the other one on your lap as you look out the window. He lent you his favourite Artic Monkeys sweatshirt that he was wearing earlier to warm up your stomach and ease down the cramps. He subtly glances at you every so often.

Scara parks into the lot of the grocery store and unbuckles his seatbelt. Before you know it, he's already at your side, opening the car door for you. Shortly after, Scara's pushing the shopping cart, grabbing random snacks he knows you like and puts them in.

"You like this flavor, right?" Scara mumbles, holding a ice cream tub in his hands and inspecting it. You nod, smiling. As Scara places it in the cart and starts pushing it again, you giggle, "My boyfriend's so cute, I might as well cry again."

Scara hisses, "Not in public. I won't hesitate to act like I don't know you." You know he's joking, but you pout and give him pleading puppy eyes as he brings the cart towards the self checkout area. Scara grimaces before sighing as he starts scanning the items, "Whatever..."

You hum in satisfaction and enjoy the sweet warmth of his sweatshirt as he pays for the things and carries the bag, holding your hand with his free one as the both of you leave the store.

You both stay in the car instead of going back to the dorm, snacking on the food Scara bought for the two of you (mainly you) to enjoy together.

"Feeling any better?"

Mitski's new album plays on the car's speakers as you and him eat Pocky sticks. You nod with a smile, "Mhm. I can't thank you enough, cutie." You give him a quick, but meaningful, kiss on the cheek before continuing to chew on your Pocky stick.

Scara lets his Pocky stick rest in between his teeth as he looks at you for a few moments before asking, "Wanna do the Pocky challenge?" You perk up in surprise from his sudden proposal, but you'd never turn down a bold game like that.

You laugh, "Is this just an excuse to kiss me?"

Scara rolls his eyes, "Even if it was, would it matter?" He places his hand on your cheek and starts biting on his end of the stick. You bite the other end, and this process repeats until finally...

His soft lips gently press against yours, his hands on the back of your neck to close the distance completely.

Mitski's My Love Mine All Mine gets to the chorus at the most perfect timing possible.

You felt like the most loved and treasured person on Earth during this very moment as your (somewhat) sweet boyfriend kissed you in his car without a care in the world. Scara loves you so dearly, even if you cry over the littlest things during your period...

🐾🍫🍮 : © haerin1 (do not translate, steal or take too much inspo from my works)

#✮+ cyvie's web library ! #afab reader #scaramouche #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche x you #scaramouche x y/n #scaramouche modern au #genshin modern au #scaramouche fanfic #scaramouche headcanons #scaramouche fanfics #scaramouche fanfiction #scaramouche fluff #scaramouche drabble #genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin x you #scaramouche imagines #kunikuzushi #wanderer

[its-time-to-write]

This may be a bit of a strange idea (Feel free to ignore this request)

But since your about Jaime Tartt baby fic. I had the thought of Jaime trying to give reader a break takes the baby in a stroller to training with Roy and Roy is just kind of like WTF and other hijinks ensue like maybe someone flirts with Jamie with the baby or roy gets left with the baby at somepoint or Reader is freaken out cause the baby is gone. IDK just an idea that has been stuck in my head since I read your baby fic

Dude this request was not strange AT ALL. It was actually nice because it was similar to something I wanted to write, and I haven’t been able to do that because I’ve been doing requests. THANK YOU.

i’ll still be right next to you my dear

Your daughter Bea is five months old. You’re still sleep-deprived, but less than you were a month ago. Jamie does his absolute best as her dad and your husband, but the weight of it still falls to you. Things have gotten considerably less tense, too, since you moved out of the flat and back into your house. It was weird at first, both you and Jamie walking on little eggshells around each other. 

The tension was broken with an all-hands-on-deck moment at 1am, when Bea had a stomach bug or something, and you two had no choice but to just laugh in resignation at the sheer enormity of the mess she made. There go the beginnings of sleep training. 

Bea had her own schedule, one that involved being an early bird like her dad. She would wake up five to ten minutes before his 3:30 alarm went off, and it got to the point where he barely even set it anymore. 

Jamie would get out of bed, throw on some pants, change her, and then zip through his morning routine. He’d put her back to bed, give you a half-awake kiss, then be out the door before Roy could knock. 

(Roy made that mistake early on, waking Bea. You thoroughly chewed him out in an exhausted rage. Jamie says it’s the closest thing he’s ever seen to Roy crying).

Anyway, at 3:55 this Saturday morning, Jamie kisses you, says, “I’ve got Bea, so sleep in,” and is gone before you even know what’s happening. 

You flop back on the pillow and are out in seconds. 

—

“The fuck is this?” Roy says the moment Jamie steps out the door, pushing a happy Bea in her jogging stroller.

“The fuck does it look like?” Jamie replies. “Her mum needed sleep, so Bea’s joining us for training.” He leans over the stroller to look at his daughter and coos, “Isn’t that right, angel?”

Bea makes a delighted gurgle and Roy grunts.

“Oh come on, don’t tell me the great Uncle Roy is daunted by a silly wee baby?” Jamie says, grinning. “You are Bea’s favorite.”

Roy glares at Jamie. “Don’t fucking lie to me, everyone knows Sam’s her fucking favorite. She even likes fucking Isaac better than me.”

Jamie pouts. “Don’t listen to him, Bea. We know you love Uncle Roy, even though he’s being a twat.”

Roy just grunts and looks at Bea. “You know how I feel about you, kid,” he says. She babbles. She knows. 

“Alright, come on. Suppose the stroller gives your dad some extra weight while he runs.”

Jamie grins, and starts jogging down the street.

—

You wake up to the sound of silence. No Bea, no Jamie. Just birds chirping and the sun shining. You squint at the clock. 8:37am. You reach for your phone and see a selfie from Jamie of him, Bea, and Roy marked 7:02am with the caption, headed to breakfast! 

You now have a hazy recollection of Jamie saying something about taking Bea when he left, but it felt like a dream at the time. The silence makes more sense now. 

You smile and send heart emojis. I love you! you type. 

love u 2, Jamie replies. Then: I hope that was for me not Roy?

You shake your head. That boy. He thinks he’s a comedian.

You roll out of bed and stretch. Time for a nice, long shower, then a good coffee from Jamie’s complementary espresso machine. You’re not gonna lie, there are certain perks to being married to a footballer.

—

Meanwhile, Jamie and Roy have stopped for breakfast at a café that Roy says fits in with Jamie’s diet. He says no coffee and Jamie makes a disgusted face and replies you’re not the boss of me, which is why they’re letting Bea decide if Jamie gets coffee or not by seeing who will get her to smile first. 

Jamie wins, of course. It’s part of being a dad. 

They’re sitting at a table outside till 9am, Bea out of her stroller and in Jamie’s arms. They’re on their third cups of coffee and Bea’s draining her bottle of formula like there’s no tomorrow. Jamie is in the middle of stroking Bea’s nose (a miniature version of yours) and watching her eyes blink slow, when two girls walk up to their table. 

“Ohmygod, no way, is that your baby?” one girl asks. 

Jamie looks up and gives a polite, perfunctory, “yeah,” and turns back to Bea. Roy’s sitting back in his seat, ready to watch this unfold. 

“It is like, so totally adorable. There’s something so sweet about a baby, don’t you think?” the other girl says, putting her hand on Jamie’s shoulder. He shifts away as politely as he can. 

“I just think that like, men with babies are so much hotter than men without babies,” girl 1 continues, oblivious to Jamie, who has shifted Bea onto his chest and is displaying his left hand as conspicuously as possible. He taps Bea’s back with his ring finger in what he hopes is an absentminded manner. 

Roy holds back a snort.

“Especially single dads,” says girl 2. “Soo hot. I’ll give you my number if you ever need a babysitter.”

She’s barely done speaking when Jamie blurts out, “I’m married.” He looks so harried that this time Roy can’t hold back a laugh. The girls turn to him with a glare, then back to Jamie. 

“She doesn’t have to know,” says one of them. 

“Pretty sure she does,” Jamie replies. “And anyway, I ain’t interested. Have a good morning.”

Bea, the angel that she is chooses that exact moment to start burping. 

The girls give her a disgusted look and turn away. 

Roy looks at Jamie, eyebrows raised and a ghost of a smile on his face. “Nice fucking move with the ring finger,” he says. “If it were me, I’d’ve fucking given them a different fucking finger.”

“That’s where you and me differ, granddad,” Jamie replies, wiping spit up off his vest (waterproof, thank god), “I’m a gentleman.”

Roy rolls his eyes and shakes his head. 

— 

The windows are open, the laundry is spinning, and you’re dancing around the house. You love Bea, but god you also love good rest. And a clean house. And Jamie Tartt. Man, you love him. You can’t believe he took Bea out for the whole morning and knowing him and Roy, they’ll be out until at least 11am. You smile. That gives you time to head to the shops and pick up some flowers, which will make you feel like a civilized human being, one who has her life together and can take care of her child and her husband and maybe, just maybe, one who is in the mood to get laid tonight. 

—

Jamie and Roy are strolling through Richmond, passing by shops and enjoying what feels like the first lovely day in ages. Jamie hasn’t heard from you since you asked is this shirt clean or dirty? with a picture near the washing machine. He knows Saturday cleaning is like a ritual to you, one you picked up in high school and carried on through college. You have a system and you take your time, windows open and music playing. He can picture you spinning around the house putting things away, and that mental image is enough to make his face split into a smile. He remembers the Saturdays you spent before Bea, you cleaning and dancing, and him, well, not helping but certainly dancing with you and promising that he’ll give you more dirty sheets to wash if you’d just take a tiny little break? In the bedroom? With no clothes on because they need to be washed, wink wink?

It usually worked. 

You’d lay in bed for precisely ten minutes afterward, take a no-nonsense shower, then kick him out of the house. He’d be gone for an hour, buying you that chocolate you liked and whatever flowers he thought suited the day. There’s a good thought. He should get you flowers, a reminder of their early days of romance. And maybe, just maybe, Bea can sleep soundly enough that they can revive other traditions, too. 

“Roy,” Jamie begins.

“No.”

“Oi, you didn’t even let me finish!” he says indignantly.

“Fine. What do you fucking want.”

“It ain’t for me,” Jamie says, “it’s for Bea. And my wife. I want to get her flowers, but it ain’t easy to push the stroller and look. Can you take Bea around the green? I’ll come find ya when I’m done.”

Roy stares at Jamie, and Jamie is sure he’s going to say no. But then Roy walks around to the front of the stroller and crouches down in front of Bea. 

“If your dad fucking goes and gets flowers for your mum, do you promise to be alright for twenty minutes? I know I’m not fucking Sam or Isaac, but Phoebe thinks I’m a good uncle. She’s a proper fucking dweeb, but a good judge of character.”

Bea just stares at him. Roy slaps his thighs and stands up. “Alright,” he says. “Let’s go.”

Jamie grins and says, “Bye, Beatrice. Be good for Uncle Roy.” He gives her a kiss on her forehead, a boop on the nose, and is gone, weaving through Richmond, man on a mission. 

“Your mum’s a fucking saint for putting up with him,” Roy says to Bea. Bea says nothing. She’s fallen asleep. Roy shrugs and starts pushing her in the direction of the green. Better asleep than crying. 

—

You’re showered, dressed, with just a touch of makeup, and you’re on your way to the flower shop. There’s this little one you and Jamie used to go to. You know the owner a little, but you suppose Jamie knows her better because he’s been in more. She’s about the age of his mum, and has a soft spot for him. He overpays and always leaves one flower for her. He hasn’t had the time to be over since Bea, so you say hello and show her some baby pictures, and then some of Bea and Jamie. You both laugh over your favorite, Jamie passed out on the couch, mouth open, wearing gray sweatpants and a single sock, with Bea on his stomach in a gray onesie and a single sock. She’s drooling on him and his hair’s a mess, but you think it’s adorably hilarious. Like father, like daughter. 

Now, you’re perusing the flowers. It smells wonderful, the warm weather diffusing the fragrances through the shop. You turn a corner and bonk straight into a man with his back turned to you. You open your mouth to apologize and he turns, and out comes, “Jamie?”

He smiles and you peer behind him. “Where’s Bea? Oh my god Jamie, did you lose our daughter? She had better be close by, I swear to god, Jamie Tartt, how do you lose an entire baby, especially one as noisy as Bea?!” 

You’re oblivious to Jamie’s attempts to interrupt your rant, so when you pause for a breath he says, “love.”

You turn to face him, from where you were trying to stand on your tiptoes hoping for a glimpse of Bea’s stroller. 

“I didn’t lose her. She’s with Roy. D’you really think I’m that irresponsible?” 

He looks so hurt that you realize what you’ve been saying. Your hands fly up to your mouth. Of course Jamie wouldn’t lose Bea. He loves her. He looks at her as though she makes the stars shine. 

“Babe. I’m so sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking. I just wasn’t expecting to see you, and then I wasn’t expecting to see you without Bea, and I thought I’d surprise you by getting flowers before you both got back, and-” you stop. Jamie is gently holding your face and smiling, no longer hurt. 

“Babe,” he says, “love of me life and best mum around, it’s ok. I know whatcha mean.” He tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “Bit funny we had the same idea, innit?”

You smile. You’d been so caught up in your split-second worry about Bea, you didn’t even realize what was happening. 

“Guess some things don’t change,” you reply. “You pick out any good ones?”

Jamie places his hand over his heart. “Love. I only pick out good ones. I picked you, didn’t I?” You laugh at his sparkling eyes, and put your hands on his waist, pulling him close. 

“Pretty sure I picked you,” you reply. 

Jamie hums. “That’s a fuckin lie, and you know it.”

Your feeble retort is cut off by his lips on yours. 

—

You and Jamie walk toward the green, hand in hand. He’s holding bright yellow daffodils in the other. 

Jamie spots Roy first. “Oi!” he yells, “look who I found!”

You wave, jog over to Bea, and crouch down. “Hi baby! I missed you! Did you have fun with Uncle Roy?” Bea babbles at the sound of your voice. 

“Oh good,” you reply, “he is your third-favorite uncle, after all.”

Roy nods. “You fucking get it. Jamie tried to feed me this fucking bullshit that I was fucking number one.”

“Jamie!” you say. “Everyone knows it goes Sam, then Isaac, then Roy.”

Jamie puts his hands up defensively. 

“Honesty,” Roy says, “Such an admirable quality. Remind me again why you’re with this fucking prick?”

You pretend to think for a moment then say, “For his money.”

Jamie says “Oi!” so you quickly amend, “And his smokin’ hot body.”

Jamie nods, satisfied. “That’s better.”

Roy is looking at Jamie in disgust. “You two are so fucking adorable, it’s fucking disgusting. C’mon Bea. I see Sam over by that bench. Let’s give these fucking idiots some time alone.”

You and Jamie turn to each other. 

“He said we’re adorable,” you say, grinning. 

“He said we get alone time,” Jamie says, grinning back. 

“Roy!” you call, “how much time do we have?”

“Three hours!” Sam yells back. “I want to walk Bea to my restaurant!”

You and Jamie turn back to each other, giddy. 

“You know what that means,” you say. 

“Sex,” he replies immediately. 

You laugh and grab his hand. “C’mon, babe. Let’s enjoy our alone time.”

As you walk away, Jamie says, “Oi, need to tell you about these girls who were trying to flirt with me. But don’t worry, I gave them the finger.” He holds up his ring finger and you slap his arm. 

“This is why I love you.”

“Really? And here I only thought you were with me for my money,” he replies. 

“And your hot body. Don’t forget that one,” you say. 

“How could I forget?” he says. “When we get home, let’s put it to some good use.

#jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt x y/n #jamie tartt x you #jamie tartt #ted lasso

[loserdiaz]

inspiration saturday! 💻

tagged by the lovelies and ever so talented @honestlydarkprincess @tizniz @diazsdimples @bidisasterbuckdiaz @rainbow-nerdss @theotherbuckley

i promised @monsterrae1 and @hoodie-buck this fic on a silly date night when we talked about how funny eddie would be on reddit..... and finally i have some inspiration for it ig.

have this moodboard that im actually really proud of:

r/AmItheAsshole

u/hatemyparentsinlaw • 23mins ago

AITA for refusing my future MIL to stay at our house and wanting to uninvite her to our wedding?

I (m36) and fiance (m34) have been together for a year now but we've know each other for 8. It's been a long road for us and I've been excited that we're finally in a happy, settled place.

His relationships with his parents is.... complicated, to say the least. I won't get into detail here because it's not my story to tell and strabgers online have no business knowing this anyway. But they were negletful emotionally in so many ways that only thinking avout it makes my blood boil.

Two years ago they tried mending their relationship and trying to let go of the past. I have my own opinions about that... but that's not relevant right now.

Things escalated this wedding when they came into town. Especially when future MIL started getting in the way of all of our wedding plans and taking over the whole thing, basically.

tagging (no pressure): @underwater-ninja-13 @father-salmon @spotsandsocks @the-likesofus @eddiebabygirldiaz @exhuastedpigeon @excuseme-greentea @giddyupbuck @devirnis @bigfootsmom @bi-buckrights @bekkachaos @hippolotamus @spaceprincessem @rogerzsteven @saybiwithme @thewolvesof1998 @maygrantgf @loveyouanyway @wildlife4life @fortheloveofbuddie @sunshinediaz @spagheddiediaz @athenagranted @wikiangela @jesuisici33 @daffi-990 @actualalligator and anyone else who wants to do it <33

#april rambles #my writing #evan buckley #eddie diaz #buddie #buck x eddie #911 abc #911 on abc #911 fic #911 wip #buddie fic #buddie wip #my wips #evan buck buckley

[xximperioxx]

Call It What You Want

Phantom Ghoul x GN! Reader

Word count: 2k

Warnings: a lil spicy (I couldn’t help myself)

Note: ITS BEEN SO LONG IM SO SORRY. Seeing ghost on Saturday really got me in the mood to write again. For my man phantom. I listened to Call It What You Want by Taylor Swift while writing this. I’m a bit rusty since it’s been a bit so I apologize in advance but please enjoy 🖤🖤

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You sat by yourself in the cafeteria with a book in your hand and a coffee in the other. It was one of those cheesy smutty-romance novels you couldn’t help but love. Maybe it was because you are in a desperate need of some romance yourself after your last relationship went downhill or maybe it was a great distraction. All of your so-called friends took his side of the breakup and left you in the dust. You couldn’t help but feel lonely sometimes but books were a saving grace.

Your face remained stoic as you read, getting lost in the words in front of you.

His fingers trace the shape of her body as her breath hitches. Stopping at the edge of her panties and gives her a smirk before he brings his mouth close and brings the fabric down with his teeth. She lets out a breathy moan as she feels his teeth grazing against her ski-

“Whatcha reading?”

A shriek escapes your lips and the book falls into your lap. You quickly cover your mouth at the noise you made. Heat radiates off your cheeks as you look up and see a ghoul. Your reflection staring back at you in the goggles of his mask.

You gape at him for a minute and remember he said something. He stares back in an almost giddy manner Slowly bringing your hand down from your mouth, “W-what?”

He grins sheepishly, “Your book,” he nods to your lap, “I was wondering what you were reading.”

Your blush returns and you wave it off, “oh, just some silly little romance novel.”

His grin turns into a teasing smile, “Sureee, that’s why you dropped it so fast.”

“You scared me!” You try to defend yourself but fail as a small smile fights through. His grin grows bigger and so does yours.

“I’m (Y/N),”

He stares at your hand in front of him. He places his in yours and shakes it slowly.

“Phantom.”

Your eyes glance behind him to see his tail waving in excitement. “You’re the new ghoul Papa summoned for the band, right?”

He grows shy, “Y-yeah.”

You sense his uneasiness and give him a gentle smile, “Well, I’m excited to see you play.”

His face lights up, “Really?” You nod and he grows excited, “I have been practicing with Sodo and I’m getting really good!”

You check the time and your eyes widen as you realize you're late for a meeting with Primo. You stand up and grab your book and coffee. “I’m really sorry, I have a meeting wit-”

Phantom grabs your wrist to stop you, “Do you think maybe I can play for you sometime?”

You’re surprised. An invitation to hang out with someone? It’s been so long. You give him a happy nod.

He jumps up, “Great!”

You begin to walk away before you turn around and give the ghoul one last smile, “It was nice to meet you, Phantom!”

His tail begins to wave back and forth in excitement as he gives you a wave goodbye.

Sodo stands next to him, getting hit with Phantom’s tail. He gives a shove to his side, “Cut it out.”

“Sorry.” Phantom gives him a sheepish grin.

“We got to work on that.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You and Phantom continued to see each other after the first guitar session. He showed you tricks he was learning to play on tour, his solos, and even offered to show you how to play to which you politely declined.

He would meet you at the library when he wanted to see you. He would find a book to read and the two of you would curl up in chairs next to each other in the back of the library. Your heart fluttered the first time you had glanced over and saw him entranced by the book in his hand. His mask laying on the arm rest next to him, you got to study his features. How his hair slightly covers his face or how he bites his lip when he reads. You smiled to yourself and continued to read.

The following library visits turned to him picking out cheesy romance novels for you to read, purely judging by the covers, and you picking out some books for him. You both share a couch now and end up with his head in your lap.

You run your fingers through his hair, reading the page. Bringing your hand up, you turn the page and Phantom lets out a whine at the loss of contact.

You don’t notice, too busy with the words in front of you. Your fingernails gently scrape against his scalp. He lets out a choked moan. Yet again you don’t notice.

After a while you put your book down and glance down at the ghoul. You sigh, “You have such pretty hair. I hope you know that.”

A blush grows on his face but looks up at you steady eyes, “Yeah, well, you have such a pretty face. I hope you know that.”

Your laugh fills the quiet back section of the library.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You were having a rough night. You had seen your ex and ex friends hanging out together and it triggered a panic attack.

You sat, hidden away in a back aisle of the library, with your knees to your chest. Keeping your head down, you count your breaths.

Footsteps approach you. They stop and the person sits down next to you.

Peaking, you see Phantom looking at you with a tilted head. You shake your head before hiding in your arms.

You hear him take off his mask and feel him nudge you.

Not getting anything from you, he pulls you into his side. He didn’t need to know what was wrong, he just wanted to be there. He began to trace shapes on your back.

After you have calmed down, you place your head on his shoulder. “Panic attacks suck.”

Phantom hums in agreement.

The two of you sat in silence for a while before you spoke up slowly, “Would you run away with me?”

It was quiet again. “Hypothetically,” you add.

He turns his head, “I would go to heaven and back with you.”

You stare at him with glistening eyes. You never wanted anyone more. You send Papa a quick ‘thank you’ in your mind for summoning this ghoul. You wanted nothing more than to lean in. Phantom smiles at you, “Hypothetically,” he adds.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You and Phantom were the only ones in the practice room. You both sat on the couch as he practiced. He seemed off today but didn’t know how. He seemed extra twitchy. He brought up teaching you how to play again.

“Come on, (Y/N)!” He pleaded. He slid off the couch and onto his knees. He’s in front of you on his knees. You’re definitely mentally freaking out.

You rolled your eyes. “I’m not good with my fingers,” You pretend to play as a joke, “See?”

He grabs your hands, “Yeah, but I am!” Your heartbeat quickens. Your mouth goes dry and you pray he doesn’t hear the thumping of your heart. He pleads again, “I can show you.”

You don’t even know what to say. Does he know what he’s doing to you right now? “I-..”

He slowly gets up, hovering over you. He licks his lips and whispers, “Please, (Y/N).”

He nuzzles his head against yours before your neck.

“You’re not talking about the guitar anymore, are you?” you breathed out shakily.

You feel him shake his head, “Please let me touch you,” he whines into your neck.

You’re so close to hyperventilating, you can barely hear what he said. He slides back down on his knees, his hands gripping your thighs as he looks back up with you with needy eyes.

You grab his face and lean down to kiss him. Another whine leaves his lips as you touch him. His skin almost burning to the touch.

The door suddenly opens and in comes Swiss and Sodo. You jump back embarrassed.

Phantom whips his head around to the other ghouls and growls. Your eyes widen at the sound.

“Well well well. What do we have here?” Swiss grins.

Sodo elbows Swiss hard in the stomach, “Calm down Phan, it’s okay.”

Quickly getting up, you apologize. You’re too embarrassed. You’re not sure what you’re apologizing for but it’s the only thing coming out of your mouth.

Grabbing your stuff, you head to the door, “I’m sorry,” you look at Phantom, “I’ll see you later, okay?”

He nods. Realization of what happened hits him and he feels just as embarrassed and guilty.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Papa announced they would be performing at the Abbey, you were unsure if you wanted to go. It had been a week since the practice room incident and you hadn’t seen Phantom since.

Your thoughts have been too loud since. Maybe you offended him somehow or maybe he didn’t like you anymore. You’d gone to the library everyday in hopes he’d show up. Maybe you’ve read too many romance novels to still have your hopes up.

It was the night of the ritual and Siblings around you were buzzing with excitement. It had been a while since Papa performed for the Abbey and would be the first time the two new ghouls were to be performing on stage. Primo had essentially threatened you to come after you mentioned you were unsure. Needless to say, the old man can be intimidating.

The room is crowded and you make your way to the back of the room. You keep your head low, not particularly in the mood to see your ex and ex friends.

You felt anxious enough. Not only for seeing Phantom but you were nervous for him performing. He’s practiced so hard the past few months. You only hoped the siblings loved him on stage as much as you do.

The lights dim and screams erupt as Papa and his ghouls emerge on stage. You see him. Your anxiety disappearing as he begins to play Kaisarion.

You cover your mouth to hide your smile. He’s doing amazing. He displays such confidence you haven’t seen in him yet. He looks like a daydream. Your daydream.

Throughout the concert, he has become a favorite with the siblings as he blows kisses to the crowd and shows off his tricks like playing the guitar under his leg. Copying Sodo as he performs to the crowd.

You were unsure if he had seen you as the ritual nears its end. But Phantom had seen you as soon as he came out on stage. A light shined on you and he nearly tripped over himself. He knew if he stared at you, he’d get distracted and mess up the song.

The ritual ends with Square Hammer. The crowd singing loudly, nearing screaming the lyrics. With the final note, Papa thanks everyone for joining them. You cheer loudly with your heart full of pride. You need to tell him.

Phantom puts his guitar down before jumping off the stage. He has his head down as he makes his way through the crowd. He didn’t want to waste another moment without you.

He lifts his head up seeing you, you give him a small smile and little wave. He reaches you, pulling down his balaclava that was covering his mouth.

“I’m sorr-” he shuts you up by pulling you into a kiss.

You’re in shock for a moment before placing your hands on his and kissing his back.

Slowly pulling away with a smile, you both catch your breath. Your hands find the bottom of his mask, taking it off before pulling him into another kiss.

For the first time in your life, you didn’t care what anyone thought of you.

He pulls away first and looks down at you, “Hi.”

You grin, still holding his hands, “Hi.”

Giving his hand a squeeze, “You were amazing. I’m so proud of you,” you emphasized.

His hands caress your face, “I’m so in love with you,” he confesses.

You beam, “I’m so in love with you.”

The two of you walk out, his calloused hand in yours.

“So was that like a scene in one of your romance books?” He teases.

“Even better.” You cuddle into him.

“We can recreate the other scenes later.”

Your laugh echoes in the hall.

#ghost #ghost the band #sodo ghoul #swiss ghoul #phantom ghoul x reader #phantom ghoul #the band ghost #nameless ghouls #ghost band #dewdrop ghoul #papa emeritus iv #aurora ghoulette #cumulus ghoulette #cirrus ghoulette #ghost imagine #rain ghoul #mountain ghoul #copia #ghost band smut #sodo ghoul smut #phantom ghoul smut #ghost fox

[traveler-at-heart]

What we were

Summary: After losing Clint, your marriage and family begins to fall apart. Will Natasha be able to go back to what you once were?

A/N: This is going to be four chapters, but most of it is written. It’s a mix of angst, hurt and comfort. Obvious warning, there’s a major character death. Natasha and R have a daughter.

Time was unforgiving.

It had been six months since you lost Clint. Two since you asked Natasha to move out.

Four hours of sleep was the most you could get each night. 

Time heals everything, people say.

Then, how come, the more time passed, the worse you felt?

Thoughts like these invade your mind, even when doing the most mundane of tasks. Like now, when you’re waiting for your daughter’s school day to be over. Leaning over your black Mercedes, you wish that your injured leg could be less of a bother and instead of driving, you could walk to pick up Anya and get distracted by the sights of the city.

The school bell rings and the quiet classrooms are full of murmurs, books stored away and steps walking -some rushing eagerly- to the exit.

Impossible to miss, Anya’s red waves are the first thing you spot. Raising a hand, she says goodbye to her friends and walks your way. 

“Hi, darling” you sigh against her head. 

She’s getting taller and maybe next year she won’t let you hug her. Maybe she’ll even want to take the bus while you anxiously wait for her return home. But now, she’s still a sweet child and she still lets you run your hands through her hair. 

“How was Debate Club?” it’s the first thing you ask, because she’d been preparing relentlessly to beat the other team. 

“We won, obviously”

“We should celebrate” a voice joins the conversation. You’re so startled that you drop the car keys.

“Mom!” Anya says, wrapping her arms around Natasha.

It makes you happy that she’s not resentful even after everything that happened. That she can love so unconditionally.

She didn’t get that from you.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt” Natasha apologizes, finally looking at you. There’s a weak smile on your face, what else can you do? “I was thinking we could go shopping for that new game you wanted?”

“Can we please, Momma?” Anya turns to you.

“Sure. Have fun. But don’t spoil your appetite. We’re having lasagna” 

“Mom, our favorite” Anya nudges the Russian and you look away.

“I’ll have her home by 6” Natasha saves you the embarrassment of being forced to invite her.

“Have fun” you wave goodbye, heart beating fast.

Breaking the speed limit, you rush home. But the tears start running long before you’re parked.

You look at your sad reflection in the rearview mirror.

Natasha looks better than the last time you saw each other.

Maybe all she needed was to be away from you, to be happy again.

--

Two glasses of wine later, you’re curled up on the sofa watching your favorite comfort show and feeling better. 

“What’s up, Buck?” you answer at the second ring of your phone. 

“Are you ok?”

You look at the half empty glass of wine and decide that no, you’re most definitely not ok.

“Sure, why you ask?”

“I just saw her driving with Anya” 

“Mhm” you look at the clock. 5:55 PM. She’s trying to be a responsible parent, at least. “Yeah, she showed up at school today. It’s good that they spent time together”

“Want me to come over?”

“No, I don’t want you two fighting in my front yard. Thanks, though”

“I’ll stop by tomorrow, ok? And if you feel like it, we can go to that Broadway show on Saturday. I got us tickets”

“Thanks, Buck” 

“Ok, she’s parking outside now”

“You followed them all the way here?” you jump out of the couch, looking out the window.

“What? I was worried!” 

“Sometimes I think it’s not so great that you live a few blocks away, you weirdo”

“But then I bring coffee and scones and you change your mind” 

“Yeap”

“See ya, doll”

“Bye, creep”

“Oh, come on!”

You let out a laugh at his protest. Wanda and Yelena have been texting you, so you scroll, smiling at the silly pictures of Fanny or the videos of Tommy and Billy doing their crazy science experiments. 

“Hi, Ma” Anya rushes past you. “Gonna change for dinner”

“Mmkay” you nod, texting Bucky to make sure he’s actually back home, and not slashing Natasha’s tires. 

“So…” 

“Nat, jeez” you drop the phone, not even aware that she is still here. She looks at you across the kitchen island. 

Don’t think how sad it is that she looks out of place here, where it used to be home.

Don’t cry in front of her.

Don’t.

“Sorry, I’ll say goodbye and leave” 

“Anya, your mom’s leaving” you busy yourself in the kitchen, looking away.

“So soon?” the girl peeks around, pouting. “We haven’t even played the game yet”

“Would you like to stay for dinner?” you give up, unable to say no to your daughter. 

“You sure?”

“Yeah, I’m always making extra anyways”

Because you were used to cooking dinner for three. 

Anya is happy to set the table, but you sit next to your daughter, leaving Natasha in front of her. You try to stay focused on Anya and school: the debate club, sports activities, a month in Europe for the best students. 

“Mom, do you think I can reach out to aunt Carol? I have some Astronomy questions”

Natasha immediately looks at you, but you’re hyper focused on the bottle of wine and pouring the last of it until your glass is filled to the rim.

“Uh, she’s not... I’m not sure where Danvers is, sweetheart. She left Earth a while back” 

“Oh, ok” the girl nods, looking at you with a frown. “Mom, what’s wrong? Is your leg hurting? What did Doctor Cho say?”

Crap.

“What’s wrong, det…?” Natasha asks, looking at you. The pet name almost rolled off her tongue.

Everything. Everything is wrong, Natasha. 

“That old injury from our outlaw days. Doctor Cho gave me some pain killers. But I don’t think I’ll take them, they make me too sleepy”

“We’ll do the dishes” Natasha jumps in. “Don’t worry about it” 

“Thanks”

The dishes are the least of your worries, but it’s still a nice gesture.

Maybe when she’s finally ready to ask you to divorce her, you’ll be able to coparent. 

“Here, let me” she asks as you approach with the empty glass of wine. “Did Doctor Cho say anything else?”

You sigh, leaning against the counter, watching as she washes the dishes.

“She said surgery might make the pain go away. Actually, there’s a 90% chance it will work. But Anya’s got school and I’d have to do bed rest for at least five weeks. Maybe during winter break” 

“I can take care of her. Drive her to school or cook dinner or…”

“You’re a terrible cook” you remind her. It’s meant to be a joke, but also a way to make her stop.

You don’t want to be a burden for someone who doesn’t want you anymore.

“Wanda could teach me” 

“She’s too busy making sure the twins aren’t building a nuclear weapon in the garage” 

“Is there anything I can do to help?” she asks, almost afraid of your answer.

“Can you take her to school tomorrow?” you finally say, without providing further details.

The truth is, you’ll probably cry until you fall asleep, because you miss Natasha and this is the first time you’ve seen her in two months. 

And it would be better if you could sleep in, make an appointment with your therapist and then find a way to look composed by the time you have to pick your daughter from school. 

“Absolutely” 

“Thank you” 

“You don’t have to thank me, Y/N” 

The way she says your name makes you want to scream. 

--

Natasha’s long gone, Anya sleeping peacefully back in her room.

You’re looking at the ceiling, tears rolling down your face and soaking your pillow.

You miss her so damn much. You love her so much.

And you also hate her. And you hate yourself for loving her.

There’s a soft knock at your door. You know it’s not Anya because she would have turned on the hallway light.

“Hey, weirdo” you look at Bucky from across the room, smiling sadly. He approaches you and wraps you in his arms. You sob against his chest, feeling like the sadness will last forever.

“I’m sorry”

“It’s ok. Let it all out. I’m here”

You don’t know when you fall asleep.

--

A lot has changed in such a short time, but by now, Anya is used to the sight of her uncle Bucky, rotating between the few breakfast foods he can make without burning everything.

“You read my mind” Anya watches as he makes blueberry pancakes.

“Has no one ever told you it’s rude to sneak up on people?” he mumbles, impressed at how silent she was.

“No, because my moms are spies and so is my uncle and my other aunt and basically half my family”

“Smart ass,” he chuckles. “Come on, eat your food before it gets cold”

“Did mom eat anything yet?” Anya sits on a stool, eating on the kitchen counter.

“Your mom’s asleep” Bucky says. In fact, you cried, had a panic attack, a couple of nightmares, woke up to drink some water and then fell asleep at 4 AM. 

Basically, the usual for the past two months.

He’s so caught in his thoughts that he forgets to flip the last pancake. A knock on the front door snaps him back to reality.

“Can you turn off the stove? And pack your bag, we’re leaving in five…” Bucky yells over, opening the door without looking through the peephole first. He’s surprised to find Natasha on the other side “Can I help you?”

“I’m here to pick up my daughter” 

“Does Y/N know?” He's holding on to the door so hard that the wood cracks.

“She asked me to drive Anya to school”

“Ok, I’m ready” Anya announces, aware that her mother and uncle aren’t on the best terms. She walks between them to make sure they won’t punch each other. “Bye, uncle, thanks for breakfast” 

“Have a good day, sweetheart. See you Saturday”

“Right, for that musical, Beaglejuice”

“Shut up” he chuckles, kissing her forehead. Anya leans forward and hugs him goodbye.

Natasha is silent for most of the ride. Anya is looking out the window, uncertain of her mother’s mood. Maybe not saying anything is safer.

Three blocks away from school and Natasha hears herself blurting out what’s been on her mind this whole time.

“Does Barnes stay over a lot?”

“I guess” Anya mutters, still looking out the window.

“Well, do you know…”

The girl has enough, turning around to face her mother. There’s nothing but resentment in her eyes as she tells Natasha everything.

“Mom cries herself to sleep every night. Ever since you moved out, it's been hard for her to get up in the morning and act normal, let alone cook breakfast. So yeah, uncle Bucky is around all the time, just to make sure she’s at the very least alive. You’d know if you still cared about us” 

“Anya…”

“I’ll walk the rest of the way, thanks for the ride” she mumbles, opening the door and rushing away. Natasha is stuck in traffic, so all she can do is watch her daughter from the car.

Just when she was starting to make things right, she fucks up again.

--

“Thanks for breakfast” you say, mouth full of pancakes.

“More like lunch” Bucky corrects.

You nod, reaching for the maple syrup. 

“So, why’d you ask Natasha to drive Anya to school?” 

“Is that why my door is almost broken in half?” 

“I’ll fix it”

“You better” you mumble. He is still staring and you shrug your shoulders. “Just experimenting how co-parenting is gonna be when we officially divorce”

“So, you are asking her to divorce you?” 

“She’s gonna ask me. Sooner or later” you keep your head down, playing with your food. You’re not hungry anymore.

“All things considered, the ball is in your court”

“Buck” you plead, dropping the fork.

“I’m just saying” he approaches your side. “You’ll only be able to heal once you know what you both want. But running away won’t help”

“You sound like my therapist”

“But does she cook you breakfast?”

“For what she’s charging me, she should, actually” both of you laugh. And damn it, you know he’s right. “Thank you, for worrying about me. And for taking care of us these past few months. I’m sorry I’m such a mess”

As if on cue, tears start streaming down your face. Bucky hugs you, kissing your head.

“It’s ok”

“I know you hate it when people cry, I’m sorry” 

“Yeah, but I hate it a little bit more when you’re the one crying”

--

Luckily for your therapist, you’re all cried out by the time you reach her office. Instead, you discuss how it would be better to approach Natasha, who has always struggled with communication around difficult topics.

“I’m very happy with this session. We’ve made great progress” Doctor Thompson says and you put your fist forward.

“Fist bump” you encourage her.

“I’ll get my license taken away if we ever do this again” 

For the first time in months, you leave her office feeling a little bit lighter. 

Until you check your phone. 10 missed calls from Natasha.

“Nat?” you answer as she calls again.

“Is Anya with you?”

“I was about to pick her up from school” there’s a pause. “You did drive her to school, right?”

“Of course, I’m not an idiot” she shoots back.

“Well, I’m very confused because she’s only about to end her last class. Why would she be anywhere else, then?” you retort.

“Just meet me back home, ok?” she pleads.

“Fine”

She’s pacing on the sidewalk as you park.

“Care to explain?”

“The school called me an hour ago. She sneaked out after recess” 

“Let’s just track her phone” 

“It’s off”

“Well, fuck” you run your hand through your hair. “Did she say anything to you this morning? Did she seem upset?”

Natasha looks away, chewing on her bottom lip.

“I asked her if Barnes was staying over often”

“Natasha, for fuck’s sake” you sigh, turning away from her. 

Don’t shout. You won’t solve anything by screaming at Natasha.

Your daughter is missing because your wife can’t keep her jealousy to herself. So fuck it.

“If you want to know anything, you ask me, Natasha, do you understand? You don’t go questioning our 13 year old daughter, who, by the way, has been through enough shit lately. I’m trying to protect her and you’re here implying I’m sleeping with the only friend who isn’t tired of me being a mess. Which, for the record, I’m not. And would never. Unlike you, I’m not going around fucking people outside my marriage because I’m having a hard time”

“I don’t know how to get close to you, Y/N. You pushed me out ever since…”

“No! You don’t get to put this on me. I tried for months. I tried everything. And you scoffed and ignored and stood me up. I gave up the moment I found you in bed with Carol” 

Your voice breaks at the last part. That memory has been buried for so long; you want it to stay hidden, forever. 

It doesn’t matter. You need to find Anya.

“What are you doing?”

“Calling Buck” 

“I’m here. I’ll help you find her” 

“I’ll find my daughter alone, thank you” you walk past her, waiting impatiently for your friend to pick up.

“She’s my daughter too”

“You sure as hell haven’t acted like her mother in a long time, Natalia” 

You walk away, your back turned to her. 

“Buck” you say, voice trembling.

“I know. She’s at the Met. Hasn’t left. I’m outside, just in case”

“How did you…?” 

“I’m sorry. I was hoping I could convince her to come back before you found out she sneaked out of class”

“I’ll be there as soon as I can” 

--

Again, those soft waves of red are the first thing you spot in the room. Her blue eyes are fixed on Degas and his Dance Class.

“Hey, kiddo” you stand next to her, understanding immediately why she’s looking at this painting. “We still have your ballerina shoes somewhere in a box. Your mom loved going to your recitals” 

“I’m sorry for leaving school” 

“I played hooky a couple of times. It’s part of life. I just want to make sure you’re ok” 

“She doesn’t care if you’re able to get up in the morning but gets jealous because someone is taking care of us” 

You sigh. Anya has Natasha’s heart, after all. She loves and protects fiercely.

“That’s not exactly true. Come with me” your daughter takes your hand as you leave the museum. 

Central Park is still looking beautiful, even as fall approaches. Anya plops down on a bench and you take a seat next to her. A small groan leaves your lips. This damn leg.

“You know your mother was raised to be an assassin. The Red Room taught her that love was a weakness. And that she was incapable of having a family or people that cared about her. Even after all these years, insecurity can get the best of Nat sometimes”

“Why can’t we just… go back to what we used to be?” she mumbles, a tear rolling down her face.

“Oh, sweetheart” you hold her against your chest. “I want nothing more in this world” 

“I miss her”

“Me too, Anya”

“It’s like we lost her the day uncle Clint died” she sobs.

“But she’s still here. And she still needs you, my sweet girl. I’m not saying you should forgive her right this second. But don’t build a wall around yourself, please”

“Ok” 

“You know I lost my mom when I was 15. And a lot of that time I spent it angry at her for staying with a man that wasn’t good to us. But once she was gone, all I wished was that I had made her life a little easier”

“I’m sorry” 

“It’s ok. I’m glad I’m here, to make sure you don’t make the same mistake I did. We’re gonna be alright, I promise” 

“I love you”

“Love you too, kiddo” you keep her in your arms for as long as you can, but a light rain begins to fall. “Come on, now. Bucky’s been waiting for us”

“I know. I saw him following me on the bus here”

“My God, I don’t know which one of you is scarier” 

Anya giggles, and you take her hand. 

Even between all of this mess, she’s the one thing that makes everything worth it. 

--

Anya was the one that texted her mother, apologizing and letting her know she was ok.

You didn’t reply to Natasha’s text. “I’m sorry” isn’t enough sometimes.

After pizza and an intense game of Jenga with Anya and Bucky, you call it a night.

You know what you’ll dream of tonight, but you’re too tired to care.

#Natasha Romanoff x Reader #Natasha Romanoff x y/N #Natasha Romanoff x You

[familyvideostevie]

august: a no good at waiting one-shot

Almost a year has gone by since you arrived in Hawkins. You and your enemy-turned-friend-turned-love-of-your-life Steve Harrington are feeling a little restless as summer passes. Your anxieties will not leave you alone: Are you going to move in together? Does Steve want to leave Hawkins? What will you do if he goes somewhere else? It all comes to a head on a day spent at Lover's Lake.

fluff, angst, miscommunication, musings about making choices, and lots of love! [5.4k]

this is a one-shot set after the events of no good at waiting, a farmer's market au, so it's best if you read that first! | au masterlist

__

Everything is perfect.

Well, not exactly. But you're happy.

Okay, again, not the whole truth. You're mostly happy. You love living in Hawkins, you love working at New-Bee's and the library, and you love Steve. Your boyfriend, your short-lived enemy, your favorite person. Who is kind of pissing you off right now.

Almost a year has gone by since you arrived in Hawkins not knowing what you wanted or who you were or how things were going to go. This summer has been fantastic -- dates with Steve and nights with your friends, drives to amusement parks and county fairs and visiting Robin's campus. It feels right to be here and you're glad that you decided to stay. You think that maybe you've finally figured out how life is supposed to feel: like this. Like love.

But at the moment, Steve has you in a bit of a rut. A few months ago he told you he really wanted to go on a trip this summer. Something just the two of you, a week or two, exploring a new place. You loved the idea because you love doing anything with Steve, but for some reason he's hardly mentioned it since then. And with the end of summer fast approaching, you know your chances at getting away are running out. As far as you can tell, he hasn't planned anything secret. Sure, things have been busy: El broke her arm last month so Steve took on extra shifts, there was a huge storm that flooded some of the fields, you got a promotion and the library and thus more hours, his car needed new breaks. The stars haven't aligned but there also hasn't been any...effort.

And that's just one thing.

The other thing, which is maybe bigger and actually makes you a bit mad, is you've been focused on figuring out how to move in together. You live at Bob's still and while you spend a lot of time at Steve's loft you've talked about finding a place of your own and your loose goal was to have it sorted by the fall. But he talks about both the move and the trip like they're just dreams, far away things that will never actually happen. He's vague whenever you bring up the new apartments going up on the old mall property, about the for sale signs you sometimes see around town. He tells you that it'll work out, that he wants to be sure you guys have enough money to be comfortable.

Does he not want to move in with you? It's a silly thought, sure, but what else are you supposed to think? He's spending every minute he's not with you at the farm or on errands he's been calling "Hopper Missions" on some property just outside of town. It's like he's filling the time so there's no room to discuss the future, like he wants to pretend it'll be summer forever.

Being in an adult relationship is hard. It's lots of decisions and compromise and learning how to talk to each other even when you don't want to and you wouldn't trade it for the world. You know it'll all work out, you just wish that it was worked out already, so you could enjoy the end of the summer and stop worrying that your boyfriend doesn't want to live with you. You know that you should just tell him how you're feeling, but that's easier said than done. Every time you try you wonder if you're being oversensitive or ungrateful or reading into things too much and you back out. Feelings are hard, okay?

You're mulling over the weight of all of these thoughts at the market on one warm Saturday morning in August. Market day is routine by now. It was fun to be here for the start of the season back in May, but you prefer the high summer days when there are endless fruits and veggies to buy and everyone is full of energy and excitement at another day. By now you run the stand practically alone -- local kids free for the summer help you stock in the morning and unload and cover when you're otherwise occupied. You've expanded to four standard candle scents and try out a seasonal one every month or so and the soaps were a very popular graduation gift. You've just tried your hand at chapsticks and they're doing really well.

Most people in town call you by your name when they come say hi. It's a little slow this month, with seasonal allergy honey sticks being less and less popular as the season winds down. So you feel okay retreating into your thoughts until someone clears their throat. You snap out of it and find El standing in front of you with a paper bag. There's a crease between her brows as she watches you.

"Hi," you say. "Is that for me?"

She nods. "I said that you looked sad so Steve told me to bring you something because he's 'up to his ears in husk'. He said you didn't eat breakfast." She uses air quotes. You soften.

"Thank you," you tell her. She keeps looking at you for a few moments before giving you a smile and trotting back to the Sara's tent. Inside the bag is one of her newer experiments -- peach scones. It's fantastic. You munch on it and keep smiling at anyone who comes by, though it's maybe not as effusive as you'd like. You really want to talk to someone about how you're feeling (a voice in your head says that person should be your boyfriend but you ignore it) but you're not sure who to go to. Robin is in Boston visiting Nancy at her hot-shot job at the paper, Eddie and Wayne are on a fishing trip somewhere in Michigan, and you're not about to chat to high schoolers about your love life, no matter how much you like them. You're not sure anyone around here notices your mood like your friends do.

"Why do you look like you swallowed a lemon?"

Well, anyone but your friends and...Murray, it seems. The guy is a little weird, sure, but he's friends with Hopper and Joyce and he really buys "a fuck ton" from the market every week, as Steve once said.

"Hi Mr. Bauman," you say. He frowns.

"Cut that Mr. shit out," he says, though it's not harsh. You do this dance every time he comes to buy an alarming amount of honey. "Your mood is going to ruin the honey."

"I...don't think that's how it works," you say. He levels you with a stare that you think must have served him well when he was a journalist in Chicago, as you've learned he was. "I'm thinking about a place to live?"

"You sure?" he says, poking fun at your uncertainty. "You can live anywhere. Trust me. Cars aren't great, but they'll do. I'd avoid tents. Very damp."

"I guess I was thinking a house," you admit, looking at your fingers. You've never put this into words before and you're not sure why you're doing it now. "Somewhere not too big, maybe with some land so I could get a dog. Not in town but not too far from town." You sigh. "It's a dumb dream."

Murray doesn't say anything. You look up at him and he looks confused. His gaze darts between you and the Sara's stand where you can see the back of Steve's head. "Not the dumbest I've heard."

He slaps down a bill and picks up his usual jar and walks away without another word. Whatever, he's a weird guy.

The day winds down and you're a little too warm to be comfortable and you're just sweaty enough that you want to take a shower and you've stewed in your feelings for too long. Of course this is when Steve comes over. Handsome as ever in his work jeans despite the heat and a Sara's t-shirt he's cut the arms off of, he looks like the lead in a teen movie.

You're loading up the crates to take back to the truck. He squeezes your hip in hello before he starts to help. "How did New-Bee's do today?" he asks.

You shrug. "Average. You?"

"Every damn person in this town wanted corn," he says. "I swear it felt like we sold more than we did for the fourth!"

You hum. It's unfair that your mood has plummeted just as he's shown up and you don't want to take it out on him, even if you consider it a little bit his fault. Steve, for his part, is being a typical boy and doesn't notice. "Hey, listen," he says.

"Listening," you mutter.

"Let's go to the lake tomorrow." That gets you to look at him. He wipes his forehead with his pocket bandana.

"The lake? Why?"

"Everyone says it'll be hotter than today and I think we deserve a day to relax, don't you think?" He squints at the sky, shading his eyes. His arms look lovely like this. "I know we haven't gone on that trip so this is like, a mini trip! Staycation? I think that's what it's called."

"I don't know if a day at the lake in town counts as a vacation, Steve," you say. But even as the words come out you find yourself wanting to go because its something to do. You haven't been swimming in the lake despite Steve's summer bucket list item of skinny dipping. You've actually only been to the lake in general a few times, which is a bit strange since it's such a big place in your relationship. You kissed for the first time at the bonfire on the shore, you told him you loved him in the cab of your truck on a cold night.

"So, is that a no?" He's looking at you with a confused expression.

"It's a yes. Is anyone else coming?"

"No, just us. We can have a picnic or some cute shit, yeah?" He rests his hand on your lower back and maybe it's a combination of the heat and your mood and the universe but you don't want him to touch you right then so you pull away from it. You don't look at him.

"Are you sure you don't have super secret Hopper shit to do?" Silence behind you.

"No," Steve says, dragging the word out. "Hey, are you alright? Did I do something?"

You ignore his question. "Are you going to come get me in the morning?" Usually, you'd go home, shower, and then stay over at Steve's place. This is a clear line in the sand that you're not sure is fair to draw.

"Sure," he says. "But, seriously, what's going on?" You do look at him then. He's got a frustrated set to his shoulders and his brows are drawn like he's trying to solve a puzzle.

You chew on your lip, hands in fists at your sides. "Nothing," you say. He gives you an incredulous look. "Okay, I just don't want to talk about it right now." The last thing you need is to not talk about it but you can feel that you're getting actually bothered about this and you don't want to have a discussion that gets taken over by your mood.

"Okaaaaay," he says. It annoys you even more. Your own shoulders creep up to your ears. "I'll help you pack up and then --"

"No," you say sharply. "I can do it myself."

"Woah, woah, woah," he says. "Okay, alright!" He holds his hands up in the air and the fight wooshes out of you.

"I don't want to fight with you, Steve."

"Who said we were fighting? Do we have something to fight about?"

You close your eyes and tip your head back. It all comes out in a rush. "Steve, I love you and we spend so much time together and I keep trying to get you to talk about looking for a place and you just won't and you want to go on a trip but you won't actually plan it and you want to go to the fucking lake tomorrow and it's like you want to do anything except talk about this stuff and I don't really want to be around you right now."

You don't feel any better for having said all of it. In fact, your chest aches and your nose stings. You don't know if you can look at him.

"I didn't know you were that upset about it," he says finally. It sounds frosty.

"I didn't tell you."

"I can see that," he says. You still don't look at him.

The market is really closing up around you, fewer voices and commotion. You wonder if anyone heard this argument. "I can pack the rest. I'll see you tomorrow." You could have told him you don't want to go but maybe the lake is where you can squash this once and for all.

Steve seems to take the dismissal at face value because you hear him sigh. Part of you wants him to fight you on it right here right now, to sort it out so you can stop feeling so worried all the time. But he doesn't. Instead, you hear his steps and then feel the heat of him as he gently kisses you on the cheek.

"Okay," he says. "See you tomorrow."

And then he's gone.

"Fuck," you say to yourself. You shake yourself out of it and try to pack away the rest of the stall with as much speed as you can muster without breaking anything. The scar across your palm is faint by now but you aren't eager to get another one.

You're almost done bringing the crates to the truck when you hear your name. Will stands in front of your stall, a hesitant smile on his face. He's a sweet kid -- 18, soon, you think, so hardly a kid at all -- and you've gotten to know him a little more since you asked if he wanted to draw the labels for the chapsticks.

"Hi, Will," you say. "Sorry I didn't see you."

He's holding a single sunflower. "Sorry to bother you," he says. "This guy is the only one left today and El said you looked a little down earlier so I thought maybe you'd like it?"

You blink a few times. "Did you, uh, hear all of...that?" You vaguely gesture behind you as if the ghost of Steve is standing there with his arms crossed.

Will looks at you for a second, considering something. Then he holds the flower out and says, "Hear what?" Tactful kid.

"Thanks, Will." He tells you to have a good day and goes back to the flower stand. The sunflower stem is velvet-soft in your hand and the petals are a brilliant yellow. It's a bit lonely on it's own but you will put it in a wine bottle and keep it on your windowsill.

Imagining it there, the only stem, standing as tall as it can in the sunshine in your bedroom, makes you want to cry.

--

The thing you're most scared of is Steve wanting to leave Hawkins after all. You knew it was a genuine possibility when you started dating, knew that he wanted to explore the world just as you started to make yours here. You told him you'd go with him anywhere he wanted and you meant it then. But now you're not so sure. You love Hawkins and you love Steve. You don't know what you're going to do if one of them demands you leave the other.

Your mind churns as you go to bed and as soon as you wake up. Maybe he doesn't want to plan a trip because he's afraid he won't want to come back. Maybe he's afraid to move in together because he doesn't want to invest time and money into something he'll leave behind. Maybe he's already got plans and he's trying to figure out how to tell you.

"Stop it," you tell yourself in the bathroom mirror. You're prone to this kind of overthinking; it's why you made the huge mistake of running from him last fall. And while you know him so much better, know yourself so much better, sometimes it's hard to believe that you not only deserve nice things and a nice life full of love but that you already have them. And that's why you don't know if you can leave even if you told him you could.

You sit at the kitchen table in your swimsuit under shorts and a wax-stained New-Bee's t-shirt and feel a bit sick about yesterday. You know that Steve will come get you -- he would have called if he didn't want to go anymore. You don't leave each other in a lurch like that, even if you've fought. But you're worried that you've ruined the chance of a fun day that hasn't even happened yet.

The frustration with Steve still simmers under your skin. But you want to table it to have a bit of fun, if you can. You hear the crunch of his tires in the driveway and you grab your stuffed bag and head for the door. You're greeted with the sight of Steve getting out of the car and smiling at you a little hesitantly. He's in bright red swim trunks and a ratty Hawkins High t-shirt and sunglasses.

"What is this, Baywatch?" you ask him, breaking the tension. He laughs and meets you on the porch stairs to give you a quick kiss. You chase his lips a little but he doesn't call you on it.

"Well, I was a lifeguard," he says.

"Which I bet you did just so you could look hot in the chair."

"Obviously," Steve says. He takes your bag from you. "Actually, I taught kids to swim, too. Jesus, what's in here, a watermelon?"

You roll your eyes. "Just the essentials. Sunscreen, a book, some sandwiches, grapes, a water bottle, spare clothes, a towel, a hat --"

"Okay, okay, damn," he laughs, putting it in the back seat. You get in the car and he heads for the lake, windows down. He was right about the weather -- it's much hotter than yesterday already. It could be a nice day. You want it to be a nice day. But the churning your gut demands you address the elephant in the room.

When Steve reaches for the radio you catch his hand in yours.

"Steve," you say. "I do want to talk about yesterday." He doesn't look at you, chewing on his cheek and tapping the wheel in what you know is a nervous habit.

"Yeah," he says. "We probably should. But I also want today to be nice, okay?" He kisses the back of your hand.

"I do, too."

It's not much but it's enough for now. It doesn't take long to get to the lake. Steve takes you to a different part than where you had the bonfire and where you told him you love him. This area has a dock and some grass and a shore of sand and rocks that you can see from where he parks the car.

"There's no one here," you say, unloading the backseat. "Are we even allowed to swim?"

Steve grabs the blanket from his trunk and you spread it out on the grass. "Yeah," he says. "Five years ago or something they finished a project with some scientists or some shit to make sure the lake was good for swimming. They built this but honestly I don't think a ton of people come here." He shrugs. "Or they knew we were coming and left it to us."

"Lucky us," you smirk. You spread out your items on the grass before shimmying out of your shorts and t-shirt. Steve wolf whistles. "Gross!" you tell him.

"Sorry," he says, not looking sorry at all. "That's a nice color on you. Have I seen this before?" His eyes rake over you and you plant your hands on your hips instead of crossing your arms.

"Have we been swimming before?" you ask him.

He grins. "Good point." He pulls off his shirt in one motion from the collar like boys do and without another word sprints down the small hill and onto the dock, jumping off the end and into the water with a yelp and a splash.

"Such a child," you mutter, but you're endeared. He surfaces and shakes out his head like a dog.

"Okay," he says. "It's kind of really fucking cold."

You stop in your tracks, feet just on the edge of the dock. "Really?"

"No," he says. "It's only a little cold. Nice, though." You look skeptical.

"Did you put on sunscreen?" you ask, stalling.

"Yeah." Steve swims in slow circle. "Did you? I'll do your back," he says with an eyebrow wiggle.

"I did it already," you say primly. You knew that if you ended up touching too much on this date, you'd never get to talk about the stuff you need to talk about. "So no back rub necessary." Steve shoots a stream of water at you with his mouth. It gets your knees.

"It is cold!" you squeal. Steve looks too pleased with himself. "It's on, Harrington." You take a few running steps and cannonball into the water.

Honestly, once you've been under for a few seconds it's not so bad. You surface and find Steve grinning at you. "That was cute," he says. You splash him.

After acting like children for a little you both float on your backs, hands clasped, watching the sky. Your conversation and teasing fades and in its place returns your anxiety and frustration from yesterday.

Steve seems to think you're hungry. "Let's eat something," he says. "And put on some more sunscreen."

He gets up on the dock first and runs to get your towels. He wraps yours around your dripping shoulders and you stand in his arms for a second, hand pressed to his heart to feel it beat. You love him. You will work this out. You wonder if it's possible for something to go wrong not because you don't love each other enough but because you love each other too much.

"I made you a great sandwich," you say, pulling away. "And you need more sunscreen, too. Your nose is getting red."

"Wait, really?"

You settle on the blanket and lay out your lunch. Steve pulls berries from his own bag and you eat in a silence that is only a little tense until he tosses a strawberry top into the grass and sighs.

"So, I'm guessing now is the time to talk about it?" he asks.

"Do you not want to?" You don't want this to be a fight but you don't know what else it's going to be.

"No, of course I do," he says. "We need to, clearly." He crosses his legs, his tanned stomach rolling in the way you adore over the waistband of his swim trunks. God, you love him. That's why you have to figure this out.

"We do," you say, squaring your shoulders. "I'll start." The frustration returns full force. "What the hell have you been up to, Steve? You're busy all the time and I don't need to know what you're doing because I do trust you. I just don't get why you can't tell me what you're doing on these weird errands and you won't talk to me about going on a trip or moving and I thought those were both things we wanted."

"I do want those things --"

"I've been looking into what we can afford in Hawkins and thinking about places we could go and I'm busy busting my ass at the library when I'm not at New-bee's so that we can live somewhere nice. And it just seems like you don't actually care that much about moving in together because --"

"I do, care," he says over you. "I just don't want to live in Hawkins."

Time slows down. Your heart thunders in your ears. "What did you say?"

Steve looks stressed. He reaches for you but you don't want to touch him so you cross your arms. A look of hurt crosses his face but it fades quickly.

"Let me explain," he says. "I can explain it all. If I had known you were feeling this way I would have much earlier. Why didn't you tell me?"

You shake your head to clear it. He doesn't want to live in Hawkins? Well, what does he want? Does he want you, still? "Because I didn't think you'd make me feel this way," you say hoarsely.

He takes a deep breath. "I wanted to go on a trip this summer, yeah. I thought it would be fun. And then, like, two months ago, I started thinking about how I didn't actually want to leave Hawkins, but I also don't want to keep living the same life in Hawkins, if that makes sense."

Two months? Two months? The timeline rolls around in your mind. He's been thinking about this for two months and he didn't tell you?

Steve is still talking, apparantly not noticing your distress. "And we talked about looking for a place so I realized that maybe a trip wasn't a good use of our money even though I know we both work hard and are doing fine. And then I was on a drive the weekend you went to visit your family, remember?"

You nod. You'd gone home for a weekend and missed him terribly the entire time. Steve taps your ankle and you realize he wants you to reply. His eyes are wide like he's scared and he runs a hand through his hair. What is he scared of? "Yeah," you say hollowly. "I called you every night."

"You did," he says. "The first night you left I went for a drive all around the county, basically. Just to get out of town but not go too far. To do anything other than mope at my place after we hung up. And that's when I found it."

You aren't following. He leans forward and taps your cheek with his knuckle. "The most perfect damn place in the world."

"Don't tell me you bought a piece of land, Steve," you say. It doesn't seem like a thing he'd do and wouldn't make sense if he's just going to leave.

Your boyfriend just smiles at you. "No," he says. "I didn't buy it. Well, not really."

"Not really?" you say, incredulous. What the fuck is going on?

"I'm almost done explaining, I swear, honey." He runs a hand through his damp hair again. "It's maybe half an hour out of Hawkins proper. It's a real nice little farmhouse with lots of open space around it and I saw it and it felt like I'd been struck by lightning, or something."

The pieces start to fall into place but you don't dare hope. "Dramatic," you say.

"Hey, don't make fun of me!" Your joke seems to encourage him. "It looked like no one lived there so I figured out what the address was and turns out that weird guy Murray owns it."

Murray? Who you say yesterday at the farmer's market and who listened to you tell him about your dream property? That he, apparently, happens to own?

"He's not that weird," you mumble.

"He is weird but I don't give a shit because he doesn't use it and after talked to me he agreed to rent it to us for barely anything if I fixed it up a little first. So that's what I've been doing."

Steve looks at you, eyes wide and waiting. You blink a few times and try to take it all in.

"So let me get this right," you say. "When you haven't been working at Sara's or spending time with me, you've been fixing up a house that you're going to rent from Murray? And you told me none of this? For two months?"

Steve frowns. "When you say it like that I sound like the bad guy. Also, we're going to rent it." He seems to realize you haven't agreed to anything by the way his face falls and okay, maybe you're being a little unfair. Yes, he lied, a little bit, but it wasn't anything harmful. You just got in your head about it.

"I just don't get why you didn't tell me," you say, feeling small. "I was starting to think that you didn't..."

"Didn't what?" Steve reaches for you and you let him take your hands this time.

"Didn't actually want to live together. Didn't want to go on a trip. I don't know." You sigh.

Steve looks genuinely upset at that you've thought this. "Honey," he says, voice rough. "All I want is to live with you. This house is for us. Now that I'm saying it out loud I'm realizing I probably should have told you that at the start."

A whole house. You've imagined your first place together to be a dinky apartment on the edge of town. But a house? It's a dream come true. You bring Steve's palm to your cheek and lean into it.

"I thought we were good at communicating," you say softly.

"Apparantly not," he says wryly. "I'm sorry for not telling you. I just...wanted to make it nice and official first, I guess." His thumb strokes your cheek. "But you should have told me how you were feeling a long time ago."

"Yeah," you agree. "I'm sorry. Would have saved me some heartache and you some hard work. I could have helped!"

"You still can," he says, eyes lighting up. "It's not quite done. I still need to paint the outside."

You scoot forward so you're almost in his lap. "Where did you learn to fix up a house, Steve?"

"Hopper," he says. He fiddles with the strap of your bathing suit. "He's been helping. So I really was doing Hopper stuff, kind of?" He licks his lips. Another nervous tell. "So, what do you think?"

"What do you mean?"

"About the house. I know it's a lot and we're still kind of young but renting means we can change our minds and --"

You put your head in your hands. "Steve," you say, voice thick. "I'm still getting over the fact that I thought you didn't want to move win with me and finding out that instead you've found us a house."

His hands circle your wrists. "Only to rent!" he says a little desperately. "I mean, you might not even like it!" You allow him to pull your palms away. Your nose starts to sting.

"I will," you say.

"Oh no," Steve says. "You look like you're going to cry." He pulls you fully into his arms and flops onto his back on the blanket, taking you with him. You land on his chest with an oof.

"I've been really scared," you say into his bare chest. "That you were going to leave and I don't know if I can follow you because I love it here even though I love you, too."

"I know," he says. "But I think this is perfect. It's close but not the place we've been. It's ours until we want something different. And I don't think I want to leave because I want to be wherever you are."

"It's so grown up." You sniffle and he rubs your back.

"I know," he sighs. You can feel his heartbeat under your cheek. "What the fuck."

"What the fuck," you echo and laugh wetly. "Is the yard big enough for a dog?"

"Sure is," he says. "Do you want to drive by when we head home?"

"I do." He hums.

You sit in silence for a few breaths. "Steve?"

"Yeah?"

"I love you, but please tell me things next time, okay?" He looks down at you through long lashes.

"Deal," he says. "I love you back, but please tell me how you're feeling, okay?"

"Deal." You roll off of him and sit up. "Can we go see our house now?"

He grins toothily. "Hell yes we can," he says. "Well, it's not ours yet. Seriously, we have to work that out with Murray. I think we need a lawyer to draw something up? I don't really know how all that works --"

You kiss him in the middle of his sentence. "We'll figure it out."

"You're right," he says. He kisses you again. "We will."

thank you for reading <3 reblog, send feedback, masterlist here!

#no good at waiting #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington angst #steve harrington au

[ohbabydollie]

Idk what happens I just need more mutual break up smuts

i have gotten sm requests but i LOVE writing mutual break up n im workin on a playlist for them :(

breedin’ yer ex gf ain’t for the weak

You never knew schlatt wanted kids until now, when you had begrudgingly agreed to take care of your sister’s spawn causing your weekly “friend date” with Schlatt to get postponed to Sunday. Well, that’s what was supposed to happen, and what most men would prefer to happen.

Y’know, not take care of a snot nosed 5 year old on a Saturday when you could be calling other women, probably fucking.

But no, not Schlatt, instead Schlatt says he’ll help you out since his day was entirely free and he babysits with you!

Not to mention, he great with babysitting your niece/nephew, they love him, absolutely adore him and aren’t willing to let go of him, even for a second, unless its to use the bathroom or to get more snacks with you.

This is the most loving you’ve seen the kid act towards any man, especially a tall and scary one like Schlatt.

Schlatt is the sweetest you’ve ever seen him, tickling the kid, playing with the kid, watching movies with them, all around having a ball.

All three of you decide to go to the park, hopefully for your niece/nephew to burn off some energy so pick up time isn’t too hard.

Schlatt is having a ball chasing after the kid, making the kid giggle and squeal with joy. It was precious and with you in the mix, it looked like a happy family enjoying their saturday together.

Suddenly the kid asks Schlatt “when are you gonna give me a cousin, my mom said something about y/n being sick for babies or something” tugging on his shirt while pointing to you getting their water bottle from a backpack.

You call them over to give them some water and seeing you smile, sitting besides them, it makes Schlatt think

maybe having a kid or two would be nice…

You would make an amazing mother…

Schlatt would make a great father…

That silly train of thought is what led you here, once your niece/nephew had been picked up, underneath Schlatt in a mating press while you’re writhing and squirming underneath him as he pounds deeply into your wet and sloppy cunt.

“You wan’ me to make you a momma?” Schlatt asked you between sloppy kisses

“Yes! Yes please Schlatt!” you whine “make me a mommy!” you cry, making him smile while he continues to ruthlessly fuck into you.

Your legs are thrown over his shoulders like it’s nothing as he continues to pound harshly in and out of you without a care in the world.

He truly doesn’t care if the neighbors can hear, if the entire block can hear, he doesn’t care who can hear you. He’s just so focused on getting you pregnant, all cute and round with his baby.

his baby

No one else’s

Schlatt can’t resist thrusting harshly into you, feeling you tighten around him for the upteenth time that night.

“cum for me doll, cum for me pretty girl” he says purposefully looking for the spongy spot inside you, making you cum the second his fat tip presses into it.

Hearing the cry you let out for him has him cumming on the spot, making sure to get as deep as he possibly can inside you. Schlatt’s grinning, watching your eyes roll back as your face fills with bliss.

fuck, he’s gonna have fun breeding a baby into his ex girlfriend

#jschlatt x reader #schlatt x reader #jschlatt x you #jschlatt x y/n #schlatt x y/n #schlatt x you #jschlatt x reader smut #schlatt x reader smut #jschlatt smut #schlatt smut #jschlatt headcanons #jschlatt hcs #mbu!jschlatt

[harlowcomehome]

Lies and football games:

Based off @velvetstreets anon.

Jack covered your eyes with his large hands, as he guided you to his jeep.

“Do you trust me?”

“Eyelashes babe! Be careful!” You tried prying his hands off of you, but there was no budge.

“That's why I’m not using a blindfold” he laughed. “Promise to keep your eyes closed until we get there?”

“Mmm, how long is the drive?”

“Baby!” He groaned with a hint of laughter in his voice. “Twenty minutes!”

“I’m going to fall asleep!” You continued to complain the entire way there, Jack didn’t mind it, he found it funny and cute.

“We are here, but don’t open your eyes yet” he leaned over to kiss your cheek, startling you slightly as he got out of the car to meet you on your side.

“Don’t you dare let me fall Jackman!” You said half joking but nervous.

“Never” he smiled as he held you tight, guiding you to the hot air balloon.

You felt the warmth of the fire and started to get nervous wondering what he was up to.

“Can I open my eyes now?”

“Oh yeah! Sorry!” He laughed to himself realizing he had never told you to open them.

You backed up a little, looking up at the balloon itself. “We get to go inside the basket?”

“Yup!” He smiled as the instructor helped the two of you inside, Jack let you go first so he could help hoist you up if you needed it.

As the sound of the fire filling the balloon was behind you, you couldn’t help but smile ear to ear.

“You always go all out” You leaned into him as the two of you took in the scenery around you. He was pressed against your back, holding you as the breeze made you shiver.

“You’re not afraid of heights, are you? This would probably be the worst time to ask” Jack laughed and you felt his chest and stomach bounce against your back.

“I’ve never been in a situation to find out. I guess I just won’t look down” you giggled.

As the ride was coming to a close, Jack whispered in your ear “Happy six-month anniversary baby.”

You turned to him, wide-eyed as the look of shock overcame you.

“You remembered?”

“I was waiting for you to say something all day! I knew you had it written in your planner” he teased, poking your side and making you laugh.

“You’re very sneaky Harlow” You leaned in to kiss him, thanking the hot air balloon pilot before walking back to the jeep.

*****

Today marked your seven-month anniversary with Jack, you knew that wasn’t really a thing and the reason why he went all out for six months was because it was half of a year but you couldn’t help yourself.

Jack's schedule was a lot harder to work around than your own so the element of surprise was harder and near impossible to do.

“Hey, baby?” You approached him as he sat at one of the many workstations he set up in your apartment.

“Mhm?” He was barely listening trying to figure out something in his head.

“So on Saturday don’t make any plans okay?”

“I won’t” he mumbled, scribbling something down and giving you a small smile. The vein in his neck was protruding so you knew he was overwhelmed with work. You gave him a quick kiss to calm him down.

“You staying here this weekend?”

“Of course” he smiled as you shut the door.

Friday night, you overheard Jack and Urban discussing a football game, you had only assumed they were talking about Monday night football. You weren’t into football much but you were trying to keep up with the days it was on TV.

“I can’t wait for tomorrow babe” You kissed Jack's nose while the two of you were getting into bed.

“Yeah, same!” Jack had no idea what you were referring to and was hoping he’d get some sort of clarity soon.

“I told her to be here at like four, that way we can start the private class in the evening and then have dinner after!”

Jack realized now that he had agreed to something blindly the other night, regretting his decision knowing he wanted nothing more than to go to the game.

“What kind of class is it again? I forgot babe.”

“Art silly! We’re making clay sculptures!” You giggled, as you shut the lights off.

He was internally screaming, he had forgot about this plan and wasn’t sure how to break the news.

It was five in the morning when you were awoken by the sound of Jack coughing in the bathroom.

He had a nightmare and used it as an opportunity to wake up and set the scene.

You woke up, shuffling to the bathroom as you lightly knocked on the door.

“Baby? You okay?”

Jack sniffled “Yeah baby, I woke up feeling super congested.” He tried to disguise his voice as he spoke to you through the door.

“Do you need to sleep it off?”

“I don’t want to get you sick sweetheart. I should probably go stay at my place.”

“It’s that bad? Baby! Stay here! Let me take care of you today.” You hated knowing he didn’t feel well and hoped he’d let you take care of him.

“Maybe I should just sleep some more” he came out of the bathroom, his curls a mess as his pajama pants hung loosely off his hips.

You checked his forehead with your hand. “You’re not warm. Maybe it’s just the weather.” You guided him back to bed, being the big spoon for once.

When you woke up for the day you realized the bed was empty. You called out his name, but the house was silent in return.

You checked your phone and saw a message from Jack.

Baby 💙: I’m going to go home. I’m starting to feel worse and don’t want you to catch my cold.

You text him back letting him know you were awake and going to get some things done around the house.

Meanwhile, Jack was at Urbans house talking to the guys.

“You should’ve just been honest about it” Urban laughed knowing damn well that this wasn’t going to play out how Jack hoped.

“Just block her from watching your stories and I’ll keep it low key!”

“You are aware you’re a celebrity right? You’re going to be all over the TV.” Copelan laughed.

“Just make sure she can’t see your stories! She doesn’t even watch football!” Jack rolled his eyes.

As the night went on, you decided to go to the grocery store. You wanted to make Jack soup, the last few times he had been sick he raved about it and you wanted to surprise him.

It wasn’t until you were at the store that you realized there were fans decked out in football jerseys and face paint.

You walked the aisles, curious about the football game tonight. You quickly googled and realized that Louisville was playing Notre Dame tonight.

Your gut now told you Jack was lying about being sick so he could go but you tried to give him the benefit of the doubt knowing he did actually sound sick this morning.

You went home, starting the soup and calling Jack in the process.

“Hello?” Jack sniffled, followed by a weak cough.

“Baby, were you sleeping?”

“Yeah, babe. I’m sorry, is everything okay?”

“Yeah baby, I was just checking on you. Go back to sleep, I love you.”

“I love you too.”

The phone call ended and you felt guilty for thinking he’d lie, continuing to make the soup before turning on the TV for background noise.

Jack on the other hand released the breath he was holding as his friends laughed and shook their heads at him.

While the soup boiled you sat on the couch, flipping through channels until you landed on the football game.

“I guess I’ll watch this” you giggled, knowing Jack would be so proud. You had been trying to get into football for him.

It wasn’t until the third quarter when the soup was done that you saw Jack in the background of a crowd. He was trying to blend in, but Copelans' tattoos made it kind of hard to miss them.

“Oh fuck no” you groaned, having the sudden urge to pack the soup up and go to Jack's place. You had a key, so it wouldn’t be like you were just showing up.

You snapped a photo of the TV screen for proof.

You then put the soup in a container, got dressed, and drove to his apartment. Hiding your car in his parking garage, you slammed the door shut and made your way to his place.

You set the soup down on the coffee table in front of you and turned the TV on, noticing that the game was ending and he’d be home within the next hour or so. You waited in his living room, thinking of everything you wanted to say to him.

When Jack got home, his friends came with him. The group laughed and cheered about the win.

You could hear them coming and turned off all the lights. When the door unlocked you were sat in the middle of the living room with the soup in your lap and a death stare that could intimidate anyone.

Jack turned on the lights and immediately saw you standing there. He knew you were upset by the look on your face.

“Fuck” Jack whispered and the group grew silent as the door shut behind them.

“Are you feeling much better baby?” You said in a condescending tone. “Are you still sick? I spent the evening making you this.” You hurled the container into his stomach, storming out of the apartment.

Jack handed his nearest friend the container, chasing you down the hall.

“Baby” he whispered trying not to disturb any of his neighbors. You couldn’t hear him over your anger.

“Baby! Please!” He whispered, almost in a yell.

You turned around, stopping in the middle of the hallway.

“You have me fucked up! You knew that I had something planned for us! Why wouldn’t you just tell me the truth?”

“Baby, I can explain. Just come back to the apartment” he looked around, worried a neighbor was watching.

“No, have fun with your buddies. I’m going home.” You stomped down the hallway, livid and unable to find the words.

“I’m sorry!”

You couldn’t hear him over your thoughts and frustration.

Jack watched as you walked away knowing he had a lot of making up to do, and not exactly sure where to start.

#Jack Harlow #Jack Harlow x reader #jack harlow concepts #Jack Harlow blurb #jack harlow imagines

[hopelesslyromanticshark]

Hello! I love your writing a lot and was wondering if at some point you’d consider writing a Frank Zhang x mortal!gf headcanon set? I loved the ones you did for Percy and Jason and just really love the concept. And Frank’s my favorite silly little crush. 💘 Thank you if you do and if you don’t thank you for reading this!! And thank you for everything you write!!

⋆⭒˚.⋆ frank zhang x mortal! reader hcs

content: frank zhang x mortal! reader hcs warning: not any that i can think of??? very mushy gushy author's note: MORE MORTAL READER HCS???? WHO AM I???? i need to make my precious boy leo some and then he and frank can be a matching pair like jason and percy...which means leo gets the angst one first bc frank got the happy ending lmao- someone request it before saturday so i don't have to delete it pls pls love ya

"w-what do you mean, my cards been declined?" you managed to warble out, tears rapidly filling your eyes as you squeezed your hands around the counter of the little cafe

you see, you were supposed to be getting a little sweet treat because you've had a rough day, and goddamn it, you deserve it!!

you stumbled into the cafe, getting of the streets of san francisco with a beaming smile

but now, all that joy was rapidly crumbling and all the troubles of the day seemed to come back again at full force and you were sure you were about to crumple into a puddle of tears on the ground until they gave you a free coffee because you were just so pathetic-

"im sorry, miss, but there's not much more i can do for you. we've got other customers, so if you could..." the poor guy replied, subtly gesturing towards the door.

"but- but-" you tried, the words getting stuck in your throat, " i really need this...please."

"miss, don't make me ask again. please, leave-"

"i got it," a voice cut in from behind you, awkwardly clearing his throat.

you turned to him, eyes wide and teary

and frank was all that much more confident in his decision to help the pretty girl in front of him

"really?" you asked, your voice cracking just the slightest

frank offered you a soft and sweet smile, nodding his head before turning to the cashier

"just a plain black coffee for me. you want anything from here?" frank asked, tapping his finger against the glass that separated you from the baked goods of the cafe

while your eyes caught on some of the macaroons, you shook your head at the cute guy buying your drink, feeling like you were overstepping

"some of those, please," stated frank, pointing towards the macaroons and you began to wonder if he had the ability to read your mind.

the cashier slide over the pastries as frank paid and you took the plate into your hands, looking up at frank as though he just saved your life

"thank you, truly. from the bottom of my heart," you mused before clearing your throat lightly, "are- are you waiting for friends or- or could i sit with you?? i feel like i owe it to you to get to know you."

"yeah- yeah, no, i'd like that," frank beamed, taking a seat across from you

and when you weren't looking, he was typing a text under the table to percy and jason telling them NOT to come to the cafe if they loved him bc he met the love of his life and did not need those two idiots ruining it for him

and, so, naturally, those two showed up anyways but took up seats in the corner, pretending to not spy on frank even though they were totally spying on frank

you talked to frank about random stuff, what brought you to the city, family gossip, your favorite color and what not

and frank listened, basically staring at you with heart eyes.

"what about you, what brings a guy like you to a city like this?" you joked, looking up at him through your lashes with a tiny smirk

"oh! ummmmm camp- uh, military camp!" he lied, quickly swallowing down his shame at doing so.

"oh, really? didn't peg you as the military type," you frowned, quickly shaking it off as to not offend him.

"well, it's my dad's thing and im...uh, just keeping up tradition," frank added and you nodded in understanding, taking a sip from your drink

but of course, good things were never built to last for demigods

hey, what do you get when you put a son of poseidon, jupiter, and mars in a cafe??

a fury-ious cafe owner, obvi

(pls laugh or ill cry)

bc they are about to wreck the place

i mean not a single chair or table is upright when they are done

and you were so confused, now covered in water and your hair is all knotted from jason's wind and you were prettyyyyyyy sure at some point frank's arm was a bears arm

which is crazy

oh, and the guy that you thought was just a big softie and that you thought was cute and that bought you coffee?? yeah he stabbed somebody- something????

you weren't entirely sure what he stabbed, but stabbing definitely happened

"hey, are they alright?" percy asked, nodding his head towards you, who was still standing in one spot in shock

"y/n...let's go talk, yeah? i've got some explaining to do," frank whispered, gently, leading you through the mess of chairs and tables and out in the cold air of san francisco

and so the two of you walked aimlessly and now it was frank's turn to talk and your turn to listen

you asked strange questions, that always managed to catch frank off guard and lighten the whole situation

"so...half your dna is like...not real??"

"realistically, no one should be dating anyone in those camps. yall are related, that's disgusting."

"frank...you do understand that it's not normal to train your whole life just in case, maybe, a war comes?? dude, im going to be honest with you, i could not survive ten minutes if a war started, which is normal."

he couldn't help but admire how easily you were to accept this, how quick you were to comfort him about his life

it felt like he'd known you years instead of hours

months instead of minutes

lifetimes instead of seconds

and when you smiled up at him and asked another stupidly strange question, he couldn't help but think that maybe he had known you for lifetimes

that your souls kept playing a fun game of hide and seek

and that he finally found you in this one, his heart thudding and soul giggling as it pulled you from your hiding spot and held you tight in its arms

#postcards from covey ౨ৎ #all my love ౨ৎ #pjo #hoo #heroes of olympus x reader #frank zhang #frank zhang x reader

[allysunny]

imagine miguel x fem!reader who absolutely LOVES disney, and she’s able to convince miguel to watch snow white and the seven dwarfs (1937) with her. At first miguel thinks it’s just a boring cartoon, but ends up enjoying it. More importantly, he enjoys watching it with you

Watching Snow White with Miguel O'Hara

Words: 2.1k words

Warnings: None! Just pure fluff! Miguel is very skeptical and a somewhat bore but he's OUR skeptical and a smowhat bore! Please do correct me on the spanish if it's incorrect! No beta, we die like Uncle Ben.

A/N: Hey everyone!!! Here's another one of your requests! This one is short - I've been experimenting with that bullet point headcanon sort of format I told you guys about. I'm not sure how I feel about it, but I loved writing this nevertheless! It had been a while since I had watched the movie, so I got to rewatch it and have a fun time :)

It's been a while since I've written for Miggy - please go easy on me!

I hope you all enjoy this!

You’d suggested watching Snow White after jokingly calling him “Grumpy”. He’d come home one day sulking because of some Spider Society affairs (apparently, he did not like the way that new Miles Morales kid handled thing – “too emotional”, he said), and you’d taken one good look at him and called him “Grumpy”. He clearly didn’t understand what you were referring to, so you thought it’d be a fun way for you to spend an afternoon.

Miguel didn’t get the appeal of animated movies. He thought they were for children and hadn’t watched many. They weren’t his style either – Miguel liked biopics, historical drama, not silly little animated musicals with talking animals and, in his humble opinion, “very impossible happy endings” – when you told him you believed in happy endings because you’d found yours with him, he blushed and turned away, pouting and mumbling something about “you clearly being the exception because you were special and perfect in every way”

One Saturday afternoon, you were feeling particularly lazy, so after cleaning the apartment with him, you decided to celebrate. It was time for a much-deserved rest. You prepared some popcorn, grabbed a few blankets (for yourself of course – Miguel thought you were an undiagnosed psychopath because of the number of blankets you loved to cuddle under), and sat on the couch.

When Miguel looked at you, he raised an eyebrow.

“What are you doing?” he asked, noticing the popcorn on your lap.

“I think it’s about time you get schooled on the art of animation.” You smiled and patted the seat on the couch next to you.

Miguel made a soft “tch” sound but sat nevertheless, wrapping an arm around you, as he always did. He could be grumpy and pout all he wanted, but you had him wrapped around your finger.

“So, what are you making me watch, huh muñeca?”

“We’re watching Snow White and the Seven Dwarves,” you quickly searched for the movie on your TV, and grinned once the bright Disney logo shone.

“Really? A kid’s movie? That’s why you’re wasting my time?” Miguel quirked one eyebrow and crossed his arms.

You scoffed, clearly offended. Sure, you could see his muscles through the fabric of the shirt when he crossed his arms like that, but it was beside the point and you would not let it deter you.

“It’s not just a kid’s movie! In fact, it was the first ever animated movie! It was a trendsetter! This movie walked so all animated movies could run! It’s a landmark in cinema history, it’s - “

“Vale, vale,” Miguel interrupted you, “I get it. It’s a big deal. Very important. Can you just press play?”

And so, you did!

At first, Miguel didn’t get it. It was silly. The plot was silly. Very silly, actually. Why would a Queen be worried about not being the prettiest? It sounded like a very weak reason to hate someone. It’s not like this Snow White girl wanted to steal her throne or her kingdom. And why dress her in rags?  Clothes wouldn’t be able to hide her physical appearance. Sure, they could make her look dirty and unkempt, but they wouldn’t necessarily make her ugly. And what’s the deal with that Magic Mirror anyway? How can it talk? Why is it magic? Does magic exist in this world? How? It’s not really established, it just sort of exists. And the animation – it wasn’t at all that good. It was rather rudimentary, and not at all like the great landmark you mentioned.

“Miguel, it’s a movie. Don’t think about it too much,” you’d mumbled when you saw his expression, the one he always had, with the furrowed brows and tightened lips, the one that signalled he was deep in thought. “Just go with it, okay?”

He did.

Once the Prince and Snow White shared their first duet, he was kind of sceptical, but after taking one good look at you and your content expression, he relaxed, holding you tighter. You curled into his side and smiled.

And to be honest, he started getting into it.

After the Queen made her request to have the Huntsman hunt down Snow White, he shook his head. “What a hateful woman,” he said. “Hunting down a poor innocent girl just because of her beauty. Maybe the reason she’s not ‘the fairest of them all’ is because she’s actually hideous on the inside”. You beamed at that. Miguel seemed to be getting in the spirit.

Once Snow White found out from the Huntsman about the Queen’s order and ran away into the forest, you could sense Miguel was nervous. The dark shadows and hidden figures that so scared the young Princess had him tense up. You nearly chuckled out loud. He was scared. “Everything alright, my love?” you asked him. “Pobrecita….” Was all he said, shaking his head.

When Snow White started singing and gathering the animals around her, Miguel snorted. You looked up at him, confused. What seemed to be so funny?

“That’s you,” he said, pointing at the screen.

“Excuse me?”

“That’s you, alright. Always surrounded by people, bringing them together. Everyone in Spider Society loves you. Watching you interact with those idiots is like watching this movie.” He looked at you and you melted before those chestnut eyes. Bringing your hand up, you pressed a soft kiss on his jaw and turned to the movie once again.

How sweet he was.

He could try all he wanted. He could be tall, bulky, mean, scary Miguel all he wanted at HQ – around you, he was as needy as a lost puppy.

“Pft – look at her! Breaking into a random house in the woods. I wouldn’t be surprised if this is how she got herself killed.” “Miguel, shhh –“ “It’s the truth! What if this is a trap set by the Queen, huh? Snow White is not as careful as she should be.” You chuckled at Miguel’s comments, most of them which funny rather than annoying. His scepticism and aloofness in life provided him with a different, more realistic view on the movies. You had to admit though – he was right. What if it was a trap?

“Hah – that’s us,” Miguel said as Snow White began to clean up the house. “Although I wouldn’t want a weasel cleaning my plates – is that deer licking them?!” “It’s a –“ “Yeah, yeah, I know. ‘It’s a movie Miggy, don’t think too hard about it’. I know, I’ve heard it. I’m just stating a fact – it’s disgusting.” You hummed, “I’ll be sure to keep that in mind next time you feel like licking me –“ “That’s different cariño, I just can’t help –“, “You’re not watching, Miguel!”

“That’s grumpy?!” Miguel’s eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. You laughed, shrugging your shoulders. “I think you look exactly like him. And look at his scowl!” Miguel shook his head and pouted, and while you should’ve stopped teasing him, you just couldn’t stop with the laughter. He looked exactly like the character, with his sulking expression and crossed arms. You had to pause the movie for a while because tears were streaming down your face. Miguel sulked even further, and only relaxed once you’d kissed him plenty and told him he was “a very handsome grumpy” and “the grumpy of your heart”.

“Tch, if I’m Grumpy, then you’re Dopey.” “WHAT?!”

It’s important to note it was only now that Miguel even realised you were clutching a bowl of popcorn, so he accused you of “hoarding” and placed in on his lap so the both of you could share. Or, well, share whatever was left of it.

You two watched the rest of the movie, Miguel still throwing in small quips about the characters here and there. He smiled as the dwarves danced with Snow White, foot actually tapping to the rhythm of the song. When Grumpy seemed to melt after the princess had kissed his head, he almost melted. “Maybe I am your Grumpy after all”, he said, to which you giggled and took a popcorn from the bowl.

 As soon as the Evil Queen appeared once again, he scowled cursing her name in Spanish.

“Snow’s far too kind for her own good. Who’d take an apple from a stranger? The dwarves told her not to let anyone in. She’s far too trusting for her own good.” He mumbled, shoving handful of popcorn into his mouth (you’d had to go get a new pack). “Well, she’s kind and good. She saw someone in need and wanted to help. It’s not necessarily a bad thing.” You replied. “Yes, but people take advantage of her. The Evil Queen is preying on her kindness. Qué pendeja…”

It was eerily quiet once Snow was inside the coffin, and the dwarves were mourning her loss. You tried to say something about it, but he quickly shushed you. The tables had turned – this was it; he was interested in the movie.

But that sadness did not last long. The Prince came along and kissed Snow White, waking her up. Of course, Miguel being Miguel, he made some sort of comment about how “how creepy it was he’d just kissed a corpse out of nowhere”, but there was a smile in his face when they rode off to his kingdom, so you paid it no mind.

After the movie had ended, you looked at him. It was hard to decipher what was going on inside that beautiful head of his, but you tried, nevertheless.

“So?”

“So what?”

“Did you like it?”

Miguel stared at the television some more, his eyebrows slightly furrowed.

“You’re telling me this was the first ever animated movie?” he asked, still looking at the screen.

“The very first.”

“I see. Well, the animation was quite rudimentary,” he began, “And the plot had some flaws. Snow was far too trusting.”

You bit the inside of your cheek. Of course, it had all been in your head. Why would he have liked an animated movie? It wasn’t his style and all. He probably thought it was girly and stupid, and you’d just wasted his time.

You were beginning to utter an apology when he kept speaking.

“But it was fun. I liked it.” His eyes were soft, finally holding your gaze. Sure, the movie wasn’t particularly his type. He wasn’t a big fan of princesses, and there were far too many musical numbers for his taste. But he got to spend one whole afternoon with you in his arms, watching as you smiled and giggled and gushed over this movie that you clearly held so dear in your heart, and he would do it all again in a heartbeat, just for the privilege of seeing you happy.

And if that wasn’t love, then what was it?

“It reminded me of how selfless and kind you are.”

You blushed under his praise, and hid your face in the crook of his neck. Miguel brought his hand up and caressed your cheek absentmindedly.

“I’m serious, cariño. Sure, I may be Grumpy all you want, but you’re just as good and altruistic as she is.”

You looked up into his eyes, cheeks aflame and heart all fuzzy.

“You think so?”

Miguel smiled and placed a chaste kiss on your forehead.

“No, I’m joking. You’re Dopey.”

He laughed loudly and you huffed, throwing the now empty popcorn bowl aside to all but jump on him, attempting to tackle him doing and tickle him. He let you do whatever you wanted for a while, pretending you could compete with him, falling on the couch and feigning defeat. But he quickly got bored, and held both of your arms with one hand, flipping the two of you so you were laying on your back, and he hovered over you.

When he kissed your neck repeatedly, you laughed out loud, willing to surrender. Miguel knew all your secret spots – he nosed the one you were most ticklish in, and you yelped, feet kicking up. He merely smirked at this reaction and kept placing kiss after kiss after kiss on the column of your neck.

“As I was saying,” he said, matter-of-factly, lifting his head to kiss you gently on the lips. You were so beautiful; he wondered what the shock he must’ve done to have the privilege to be with such an amazing woman.

“I enjoyed our time together. If you’re happy, then I’m happy. ¿Mañana vemos otra?”

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara scenarios #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara fanfiction #spiderman 2099 #spiderman 2099 x you #spiderman 2099 x reader #miguel ohara #atsv x reader #atsv x you #across the spiderverse #miguel spiderman #spiderverse fanfiction #spiderverse x reader #miguel o'hara x fem!reader