#how are there only three chapters left in this oh my god

[ghosttotheparty]

a mess of holy things 14 also on ao3 // prev // next cw: face-slapping (in a kinky romantic way)

Steve’s had a headache for at least three days now.

He hates exams. He’s always hated tests in school, but somehow it’s only worse when he’s in college, when he’s sitting in these vast exam halls, in rows and rows of desks, seats, and students. When he can hear the scratching of everyone’s pencils, when he can hear each and every breath, cough, sigh, scrape of a chair, every bump of a knee against a desk. The buzzing of the lights. The clicking of the monitor’s shoes on the floor. The ticking of someone’s watch, slightly out of sync with the clock on the wall.

He almost doesn’t finish today’s exam. Loses track of time, vision blurred a little as he stares blankly at the paper in front of him. Every choice of the question he’s on looks the same. The text is swimming on the paper, and he winces, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment before he puts his hands over his ears. He can still hear everything, but it’s all muffled, quieter, and his vision clears a little bit, just enough for him to read the choices.

He finishes just a few moments before the monitor calls the end of the exam, and for some reason he wants to burst into tears. He looks around as the monitor starts collecting the exams, and he aches, looking at the other students’ expressions, their postures. They all look so… fine.

He notices it after every exam. How everyone looks fine. They make it look so easy.

His eyes sting as he leaves, and he lets his head fall so his hair hides his face.

His dad always hated that he cries like this, so easily, so often. When Steve was younger, he would scold him, berate him, call him a girl, a pussy. Tell him to be a man, even when Steve was so young his voice hadn’t yet started cracking.

And for a long time, Steve hated himself for crying. He’d get angry when his eyes stung and his throat tightened. He’d snap at his friends to leave him alone, to go away, and when he was fourteen he had a brief reputation of being mean. Scary. Just because he never wanted them to see him cry. Never wanted to be weak.

But Eddie doesn’t mind when he cries. Sometimes he even likes it.

He’s never told Steve to stop crying. Never let him hide his tears or wipe them away so Eddie couldn’t see. Never let him apologize.

Steve is still crying when he gets to Eddie’s apartment, his vision blurred, his cheeks flushed from the cold, and he wipes his cheeks as he unlocks the door and steps inside, kicking his shoes off. His head is pounding, like his brain is pressing to the inside of his skull.

He hangs his jacket, squinting, and then he drops his bag before he goes toward the door of the laundry room. It’s ajar, light shining through the crack around it, and he can hear the gentle shaking of the drier. Eddie is hanging a shirt up on the string that’s stretched over the machines, clipping the fabric up carefully, and he looks at Steve when he pushes the door open.

Steve waits for him to finish hanging the shirt, leaning against the doorframe and wiping his cheek, and Eddie is quiet with him, like he can tell Steve’s head hurts, like he just knows.

He finishes with the shirt and then turns toward Steve, arms already open, and fresh tears fill Steve’s eyes again. He lifts his arms to wrap them around Eddie’s neck, and Eddie’s hands find his hips, pulling to pick him up.

Eddie kisses the side of his neck as he carries him to the living room, and Steve closes his eyes, hiding his face from the sunlight. The dark is nice. Comforting. Soothing. Especially when he can hear Eddie’s heart beating steadily.

Steve clings to him as he sets him down on the sofa, burying his face and stifling a sob, his breath shaking. Eddie lets him stay close, running a hand over his back gently until he finally coaxes him away just enough to kiss his cheek.

“What’s going on?” he asks softly, whispering. Steve shakes his head, his eyes still closed.

“…Tired.”

Eddie caresses his face. Steve melts into his hand a little bit.

“How long was your exam today?”

“Three hours,” Steve whispers. He hears Eddie sigh, feels his lips press to his forehead. Steve lets out a soft noise, leaning into the touch. “Head hurts,” he mumbles.

Eddie hums softly, and then he pulls away, still holding Steve’s face.

“Lemme go get you a painkiller,” he whispers. “Okay?”

Steve nods, sighing when Eddie’s hand disappears. He can hear him go to the kitchen and open a cabinet quietly, but he can’t bring himself to open his eyes more than a tiny squint. He unbuttons his jeans and shoves them down, pushing them to the floor, and then he grabs the blanket that’s draped over the back of the sofa, tugging it to wrap around himself.

Eddie’s weight drops onto the sofa after a few moments, and Steve’s eyes flutter open tiredly. Eddie is smiling softly, holding a glass of water and a white pill.

“Open.”

Steve opens his mouth, sticks his tongue out, waits for the brief moment that Eddie just looks at him, gazing, before he places the pill on his tongue carefully. Steve closes his mouth, tilting his head back as Eddie lifts the glass to his lips.

“Thank you, sir,” he whispers after swallowing the pill. Eddie kisses him softly.

“‘Course, baby.” He sets the glass on the floor and then reaches for Steve’s face again, cradling his cheeks. “What do you need?”

Steve shrugs, falling toward him a little bit.

“Have another test next week.”

“You’re resting today,” Eddie says firmly. “Okay?”

“…Okay.”

Eddie’s thumb brushes Steve’s lower lip, and Steve’s mouth falls open before he can even think about it, about how he wants Eddie inside him.

Eddie smiles softly. He presses his thumb inside Steve’s mouth, pressing down on his tongue, and Steve groans weakly, sighing.

“What do you want?” Eddie whispers softly.

Tears sting Steve’s eyes. He sucks on Eddie’s thumb for a moment.

“Wanna get outta my head.”

Eddie hums again. He touches Steve’s cheek, presses his fingers to it like he’s analysing him, staring intently. His fingers tap gently, carefully, and Steve’s eyes close as he exhales. He nods.

“You want me to smack you around, baby?” Eddie murmurs, and Steve nods. A tear falls down his cheek. Eddie licks it away.

His hand rubs Steve’s cheek gently for a moment before he slaps gently. Steve’s breath catches in his throat, and he whimpers, biting his lip.

“Color?” Eddie checks, holding his face.

“Green.”

“Good boy,” Eddie breathes, kissing the tip of his nose. Steve smiles, scrunching his nose, and he already feels out of it, fuzzy and a little stupid. “My baby…”

Steve hums. Eddie slaps his cheek again, a little harder.

Steve lets out a soft whimper, gasping, and he gasps again when Eddie grabs his jaw tightly and tugs him into a rough kiss that he can hardly reciprocate. He moans weakly, finally letting go of the blanket he’s got wrapped around him so he can reach for Eddie’s face.

Eddie bites his lip hard enough that it hurts, and Steve hums. He can feel Eddie smile against his mouth, can feel the way his cheek is warm from the impact of Eddie’s hand.

“You feel good?” Eddie whispers. Steve nods. “Yeah? Nice and stupid for me?”

Steve lets out a soft noise, nodding again.

“Mhmm.”

Eddie smacks his cheek and then rubs it tenderly, pulling him into another kiss.

“You use up all those brain cells on that exam? Ready to relax now?”

Steve nods.

“Open.”

He does, jaw dropping without hesitation, and two of Eddie’s fingers slide into his mouth, pressing down on his tongue.

“Good boy,” Eddie coos, his voice soft and tender and condescending. “So fucking smart, baby, you’re so perfect.”

He presses down, pushes Steve’s mouth open and hooks his fingers behind his teeth, and he spits. Steve whines, flushing with heat, and Eddie releases him to let him swallow.

“Fuck, thank you,” Steve breathes.

Eddie hums and leans in to kiss him softly, and Steve opens his mouth desperately. Eddie grins, licking inside, nibbling his lip, sucking on his tongue. He holds Steve’s neck, his palm to his throat, and Steve keens, humming weakly.

When Eddie pulls away, Steve leans in with him, mouth still open, and Eddie laughs softly, jostling him fondly. Steve doesn’t close his mouth. Eddie laughs again, releasing his neck to tap his tongue playfully.

“C’mere, sweetheart. Lemme play with your mouth.”

He manhandles Steve carefully, manoeuvring him to lay with his head in his lap, and Steve could fall asleep here, will Eddie’s hand smoothing his hair back, caressing his cheek.

He pats his cheek firmly, not quite slapping him, and Steve opens his mouth again, humming when Eddie presses two fingers inside.

Eddie holds the top of Steve’s head, fingers twisted into his hair, and he’s practically fucking Steve’s mouth, fingers pressing over his tongue and nudging into his throat over and over until Steve is groaning absently. Eddie is murmuring to him, whispering and cooing fondly, and Steve can barely even understand him, but it doesn’t matter.

Eddie tugs his hair gently, pausing with his fingers in Steve’s throat, leaving them there for a few moments and combing through Steve’s hair when he gags a little bit.

“Good boy,” he murmurs, finally pulling his fingers out, and Steve smiles deliriously as Eddie holds his face, his fingers wet on his skin. Eddie pats his cheek firmly a few times, and Steve moans weakly, blinking his eyes open to look up at him.

“I love you,” he mumbles. Eddie’s face brightens with a smile, and he caresses Steve’s face.

“I love you too, baby boy.”

Steve hums and closes his eyes again.

─────────────────

His head hurts again. But he’s still looking intently at his notes, flipping through his flashcards, whispering to himself. The papers are spread out in front of him on Eddie’s bed, the blankets pushed out of the way, against the wall. He’s sitting cross-legged, leaning over to see his handwriting. The overhead light is on, golden and bright, and it’s shining on his papers, almost reflecting in a way that makes his headache worse.

He doesn’t know how long he’s been sitting here, but he isn’t planning on getting up any time soon. The test he has this week is with 70% of his grade, which, in his (and Robin’s) opinion, is bullshit. He hates that this test is worth so much, that the test is going to be hours long, in that stupid exam hall, that he’s going to have to listen to all the little noises that no one else seems to notice.

His face is sore from how his eyebrows are furrowed, and his back hurts from how he’s leaning over, but the aches and pains are only lingering in the back of his mind. They don’t matter right now.

He’s shuffling his flashcards again when Eddie’s voice calls his name from the hallway, quiet and gentle.

“Yeah?”

He doesn’t look up even as he hears the floor creak by the door, as Eddie leans against the doorframe. Eddie sighs.

“Stevie, baby, you ready to take a break?”

“Not yet,” Steve says absently, leaning to turn the page in his textbook. Eddie is quiet for a moment.

“Sweetheart, you’ve been sitting there for almost four hours,” he says calmly, gently. “You should take a break.”

“Not yet,” Steve says again, his voice more firm, and his focus is already drifting, fuzzing a little bit. Frustration balls up in his chest.

“Stevie—”

“If I stop I’ll lose track of what I’m doing,” Steve says, gesturing vaguely with his hand. “I can’t stop right now, I won’t be able to start over, and this test is— is gonna be fucking huge, I need to study as much as I can, I can’t afford anything but a passing grade, it’s gonna be seventy percent of my grade.”

“I know, baby, but—”

“I can’t stop right now, Eddie,” Steve snaps.

And Eddie is quiet.

Too quiet.

Steve’s eyes burn, but he can’t bring himself to lift his head, to look over at him or say anything else. Eddie exhales.

“I’m gonna make lunch,” he says after a moment. “Will you take a break to eat?”

He sounds like he’s pleading, like he’s desperate. Steve just nods.

Eddie leaves silently, the floor creaking under his feet, and Steve blinks the tears out of his eyes, exhaling shakily before he wipes his cheeks and looks back down at his flashcards. He can hear Eddie in the kitchen, can hear the sink running, the pots and pans clanking in the cabinet as Eddie pulls one out, can hear the stove click before it lights. The sounds are welcome, quiet and domestic, but Steve’s stomach twists.

The air feels tight. It gets caught in his chest as he breathes, as he whispers to himself again, flipping through the flashcards and his notes, focussing as best he can.

Until Eddie’s voice calls, “Lunch,” he takes a heavy breath, pushing himself off the bed with a sigh. He wobbles a little bit, wincing as he stretches his legs and his back.

He’s squinting as he goes to the kitchen, the sunlight brighter than it is in the bedroom, and Eddie glances up at him as he’s serving them.

“Painkiller?” he asks lightly, and Steve’s heart aches.

“Yes, please.”

He leans against the counter as Eddie gets the pill bottle and a glass of water, arms crossed, hands tucked away as he watches.

“Open.”

Steve opens his mouth. Waits as Eddie places the pill on his tongue and lifts the glass to his lips.

“Thank you,” he says softly after swallowing, and Eddie smiles, tilting his head a little bit, before he turns away to put the glass down and reach for Steve’s bowl, but Steve catches his arm, pulling at his sleeve. Eddie takes the silent cue and steps closer, standing in front of Steve and reaching for his hip, holding him against the counter. Steve guides his other hand to his waist and reaches up to his neck when Eddie holds him.

“I’m sorry,” Steve says quietly.

“It’s okay, baby.”

“No, Eddie, just…” He sighs heavily, pressing his forehead to Eddie’s shoulder and shaking his head. “I get short when I’m stressed and I… I shouldn’t take it out on you, I just… I get frustrated really easily and I…”

“I know,” Eddie says softly, pushing a hand under Steve’s shirt, sliding his palm across his waist. “I get it, sweetheart.”

Steve sighs again. He wraps his arms around Eddie’s neck, hugging him tightly, and Eddie’s hand slides to the small of his back, pressing him closer before he softens his grip, trailing his fingertips over his skin lightly.

“You push yourself too hard,” Eddie whispers. “Work yourself to the bone and then get tired.”

Steve nods.

He knows.

But it’s all he can do.

“My dad would be so pissed if I failed a class,” he says quietly into Eddie’s neck, and now Eddie sighs heavily, pulling away to look at him, reaching to touch his face.

“I hate your dad so much,” he says. Steve smiles crookedly.

“I know.”

Eddie gazes at him, tracing a line on his cheek for a moment before his expression shifts like he’s thinking. Steve pushes his fingers into his hair.

“Do you… Do you actually want to be in college?” Eddie asks.

Steve’s mouth twists as he hesitates, and then he shakes his head.

“I can’t drop out,” he says quietly. “It’s not… They’d never let me.”

Eddie nods knowingly, caressing his jaw.

“What are you gonna do when you graduate?” he asks, and Steve shrugs, turning his face into Eddie’s hand to kiss his palm.

“Work for my dad, probably,” he says quietly, and the words dangle in the air between them. Neither of them says it, but Steve knows that he’s thinking the same thing.

How fucking miserable it would be to be a Harrington employee. How fucking lonely.

If he and Eddie are on a timeline. If they’ll be able to see each other at all if Steve goes to work for his dad, if they’ll still be able to have each other. If Steve would ever be able to find anyone like Eddie ever again. If he’d even want to.

He pulls Eddie into a kiss before his eyes can start to sting again, and Eddie lets him, already tilting his head and pulling him closer, sighing as he pushes a hand into Steve’s hair. And Steve doesn’t want to pull away, doesn’t want to think about the future when he could feel what he has right now.

Eddie’s hand closes on his throat, holding him in place, licking into his mouth, and Steve’s breath catches as he leans toward him, leans into his hand. Eddie loosens his grip, but Steve reaches to press his fingers into his skin again, guiding Eddie to squeeze. Eddie smiles against his mouth, squeezing for a moment, and Steve hums.

He lifts his hands to touch Eddie’s chest, slipping under the hem of his shirt and sliding up to rest over his heart. His skin is warm. And Steve kind of wants to tuck himself inside of Eddie, to hide away under his skin.

He takes a deep breath when they finally part, inhaling and exhaling slowly, spreading his fingers over Eddie’s chest.

“Let’s eat,” Eddie says, nudging their noses together. Steve nods without opening his eyes, and Eddie kisses his nose. Steve smiles. “You wanna go out after? Get some fresh air?”

“Yeah,” Steve says softly, nodding. “That sounds nice.”

They eat. Eddie wraps a scarf around Steve’s neck after he puts on his jacket, and he uses it to tug Steve into a chaste kiss. Steve blushes in spite of himself, suppressing a smile as he turns away to grab his wallet from where it’s sitting on the kitchen counter. Eddie is grinning as he pulls his jacket on.

Steve’s head doesn't hurt anyone more as they walk outside, bumping into each other playfully, trying to trip each other up and giggling. When Steve stumbles, Eddie catches him with a laugh, wrapping an arm around him tightly, and he leaves it there as they walk down the sidewalk, his arm draped over Steve’s shoulders. Steve wraps his arm around Eddie’s waist, lifting his other hand to twist their fingers together, and he finds that he doesn’t particularly care when a woman’s eyes linger on them as they pass.

They go to a cafe. Eddie gets them coffees while Steve sits and puts their jackets down, unwinds the scarf from his neck. Eddie kicks at his feet under their table, ripping open a packet of sugar and leaning to pour it into Steve’s coffee. Steve rolls his eyes.

“You spilled some.”

“That’s good luck,” Eddie says lightly, smiling absently as he mixes the coffee. “Means you’re gonna pass that test.”

Steve suppresses a smile.

“What do you wanna do when we get back?” Eddie asks, mixing his own coffee. Steve hesitates.

“I really have to study,” he says softly, locking their ankles together. Eddie nods without looking up for a moment before he lifts his gaze, eyebrows raised suggestively.

“You want some help?”

Steve snorts, leaving over the table to grab a napkin and place it on the table where some coffee’s splashed over the side of Eddie’s mug.

“Would you actually help?”

Eddie grins.

“How ‘bout this?” he says, lowering his voice and leaning over the table. “You get something right, I take something off, you get something wrong, you take something off.”

A laugh bursts out of Steve, and he claps a hand over his mouth when a man at another table glances at him. Eddie is grinning, eyes shining brightly.

“That would not be helpful,” Steve says when he quiets himself. “I would be way too fucking distracted.”

Eddie clicks his tongue and looks away, still smiling.

“Ah.”

Steve bites his lip, gazing at him. His hair is tied up out of the way, messy and wild, and he’s beautiful, and Steve wants him. He doesn’t think he’ll ever stop wanting him.

“How about…” He pauses, and Eddie raises his eyebrows as he looks at him again, suppressing a smile like he’s anticipating. “How about I study by myself,” Steve says, raising his eyebrows back at Eddie. “And then you come in later and quiz me.”

Eddie presses his lips together, looking away as he lifts his mug to his lips, humming affirmatively, and Steve beams.

Eddie’s skin happens to be a good incentive, Steve finds.

He doesn’t miss a single question later that day when Eddie quizzes him, flipping through his postcards and intermittently setting them down to pull an article of clothing off, starting with one of his socks to tease Steve, who rolls his eyes. Steve’s cheeks are sore from smiling every time Eddie sighs dramatically and complains that Steve is too smart.

“Unfair that you haven’t gotten anything wrong,” Eddie says dryly after a while, lounging against the post of his bed casually, legs spread. Steve’s eyes rake over his bare body hungrily, lingering at the softness of his belly over the waistband of his boxers, biting his lip.

“I don’t mind.”

“‘Course you don’t mind.”

Steve sticks his tongue out at him.

“Alright, one more,” Eddie sighs, rifling through the flashcards with a cocked eyebrow. “Ready?”

“Mhmm.”

“Alright…” He lifts one and flips it over, hiding it from Steve. “Define relative advantage.”

Steve takes a breath, thinking, hesitating, looking at the ceiling instead of Eddie’s chest.

“The degree to which… the innovation appears… superior to existing products.”

He looks at Eddie expectantly, and Eddie looks back at him blankly before he sighs and looks away, moving to get off the bed, standing and hooking his thumbs under the waistband of his boxers. Steve beams as Eddie tugs them down, moving to sit on the bed in front of him, hands tucked into his lap as Eddie kicks them aside.

Steve beckons for him to come closer, and Eddie scoffs, coming close enough for Steve to reach up and grab his waist, pulling him closer, kissing Dorian’s head, which makes Eddie laugh again.

“Feel like I should be rewarding you,” Eddie says, touching Steve’s head as Steve kisses his belly, his chest, his ribs.

“You are, shush.”

Eddie snorts, tugging his hair, and Steve grins, kissing him one more time before he pushes Eddie away, standing up off the bed and pushing Eddie to sit on the bed.

“Sit.”

Eddie laughs softly, sitting on the edge of the bed and spreading his legs as Steve kneels on the floor. Steve kisses his thighs, reaching for his dick and rubbing as it hardens in his hand. Eddie hums, pushing a hand through Steve’s hair, holding it back.

“You happy down there?” Eddie asks, his voice a little rougher. Steve hums affirmatively, nuzzling against his thigh.

“I love you,” he says lightly.

“I love you too, honey.”

Steve smiles up at him, eyes fluttering shut as Eddie touches his cheek, and then he lowers his head and takes Eddie’s dick into his mouth, exhaling as Eddie sighs.

─────────────────

He doesn’t know how the exam goes, really. He kind of goes blank during it, reading, squinting, covering his ears, filling in circles, repeating. A few questions remind him of Eddie, of how he peeled the fabric of his shirt off his chest, of how he stood to remove his boxers, and Steve has to suppress a smile, his cheeks flushing with warmth.

He goes back to his dorm room after it’s finished, pausing at the grocery store to get a sandwich and a drink because Eddie told him to eat after the exam. He eats on his way back to his room, watching the sun go down, watching the sky dim, and he’s so fucking tired he kind of feels like he could pass out on one of the benches he passes by.

Eddie is working at the Hideout tonight. He said he’d call Steve during his break, and Steve can’t wait, laying in bed and looking at the sky outside, watching the tree sway in the wind, listening to the girls down the hall screaming and laughing loudly. He’s fucking drained, and a part of him wants to celebrate somehow, but he can’t even bring himself to change out of Eddie’s hoodie.

When the phone rings, his eyes fly open and he sits up, startled. His heart is beating faster as he reaches for it, leaning over and pulling toward himself, eyes already drifting shut again.

“Hi.”

“Stephen?”

His eyes open again.

“Mom?”

“Were you expecting someone else?”

She sounds amused, but he can hear the underlying suspicion in her voice, like she’s baiting him into a confession.

“No, sorry, I— I had a big exam today, I’m… I’m tired.”

“How did it go?”

“I think it went well,” he says lightly, sighing softly. “I studied for a long time for it.”

Eddie flashes in his mind. His hand in Steve’s hair, guiding his head up and down, murmuring his name sweetly with vulgar curses and groans. His thighs under Steve’s hands, the taste of him on his tongue, the space he took in Steve’s throat.

“When do you get your results?” Catherine asks, snapping him out of it.

“Uh, a few weeks,” he says. “I’m not sure, I’ll have to check again. I keep mixing dates up.”

“Alright.” She sighs, and Steve hopes she’s about to hang up. “Your father wanted me to talk to you about something.”

Steve squeezes his eyes shut, letting his head fall back to the wall.

“What’s that?”

“You don’t call him enough.”

His eyes open, and he makes a face across the room like Robin is sitting by the door.

“I… don’t understand. Why doesn’t he just call me?”

“Steven, relationships go both ways—”

“No, I know, I just— You call me from the home phone, so even if I— if I called you guys, I would be calling the home phone, so if he wanted me to call him, specifically, he’d need to give me his work phone, and I don’t—”

“Stephen,” she interrupts firmly. “Remember who you’re talking to.”

He snaps his mouth shut.

“I can suggest that he give you his work phone,” she says lightly, her tone shifting smoothly. “But maybe you should call us more often. We’re always calling you.”

“I…” He pauses. If he called his dad’s work phone, he’d get an earful about interrupting him. About calling for no reason. He knows it. “I wouldn’t know when to call, that’s why… I thought that’s why we had this— this system, or whatever. You guys come home late sometimes, I thought it was just easier for you to call me when you’re available to talk.”

She sighs again.

“You could always put a little more effort in, Stephen.”

He glares across the room.

“Okay,” he says as lightly as possible. “I’ll try, I’m sorry.”

“Do you have any other tests coming up?”

“No, that was the last one. I have lectures next week. I might take this weekend to just— rest.”

“You could always get a head start on your next classes,” she says lightly, and he nods tiredly.

“I know. I’m really tired, though.”

“Alright, go on to bed, then,” she says. He shifts to sit up again. “Get your rest.”

“Bye, Mom.”

“Bye, Stephen.”

He hangs the phone up and stares at it. And then he lays back down, looking at the ceiling, and he curls up into a ball like a child, tucking his face under the neckline of the hoodie he’s wearing, inhaling deeply, breathing in the smell of Eddie’s cigarettes and cologne, and he wants him. Longs for him. Waits for the phone to rings.

It rings after a while, but he’s still awake now. He picks it up and leans against the wall.

“Hello?”

“Hey, baby, how’d it go?”

Steve exhales.

“Fine.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Uh… My mom called.”

“What’d she have to say?” Eddie asks, and Steve can hear music in the background, muffled and a little quieter when a door closes.

“That I should put in more effort,” Steve says, almost laughing. “And call my dad.”

Eddie is quiet. He knows the arrangement Steve and his parents have.

“What… bullshit.”

Steve scoffs, nodding even though Eddie can’t see him.

“Yeah. I’m…” His throat tightens suddenly, and his vision blurs. “I want you,” he chokes. His voice breaks.

“You got me, baby,” Eddie says softly, but it’s not enough.

“I want you,” Steve says brokenly. “I want you so bad, sir, I just—”

“Hey,” Eddie interrupts gently, his voice soft and soothing. Steve closes his eyes. “Take a deep breath for me, Stevie.”

He does, inhaling slowly, exhaling shakily.

“Good boy, you’re okay.”

Steve whimpers. Eddie’s voice is low, wrapping around Steve like a blanket, like the dark.

“One more. …There you go. What do you need right now, baby?”

“I don’t know,” Steve whines, wiping his face. “I’m so fucking tired, I just…”

“Breathe,” Eddie murmurs. Steve breathes. “What do you need, Stevie?”

Steve takes another breath, his inhale stuttering as he wipes his cheek again. Eddie’s breath is in his ear, and Steve wishes he was here, wishes he could feel his breath on his skin, wishes he could kiss him.

“Wanna come.”

“Yeah?” Eddie asks sweetly, and Steve nods.

“Please, sir.”

“Gimme just a second, baby.” The door opens again and Steve hears the music get louder, hears Eddie call someone’s name. “I’m gonna need some more time, just letting you know.” Steve hears someone respond gruffly, and Eddie calls a faux-sweet, “Thank you-u-u!”

“I’m right here, baby, you good?” Eddie asks softly after another moment.

“Mhmm.”

“Where are your words?”

Steve flushes with heat.

“I’m good, sir.”

“Good boy. What are you wearing?”

“Mm.” Steve opens his eyes, looks down at himself. “Your hoodie. ‘M still wearing my jeans.”

“You haven’t taken off your jeans?”

“No, sir.”

“Take them off for me, sweet thing. Get nice ‘n comfy.”

“M’kay.”

Steve sets the phone down for a moment, unbuttoning his jeans and pushing them down, kicking them aside.

“They’re off.”

“Good boy, you wearing your underwear?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Go on and touch yourself over them for me.”

Steve hums breathily as he does, dragging his hand over his dick, squeezing his legs together.

“That’s it,” Eddie breathes. “Feel good?”

“Yes, sir. Wish it was you.”

“Oh, I know, baby,” Eddie coos. “You can come over tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Push your underwear down now.”

Steve hums, shoving them down, out of the way, and he’s already so wet in the way Eddie likes.

“Okay,” he says again.

“Spit in your palm.”

He does. Eddie must hear it over the phone.

“Touch yourself, nice and slow.”

“Yes, sir,” Steve says weakly, his breath catching as he rubs himself slowly, squeezing. “Fuck.”

He hasn’t done this, not since the night it didn’t work. Eddie usually does it, reaching to touch him with Steve’s legs over his shoulders, stroking him teasingly and making him beg.

Eddie hums softly, and Steve wonders if he’s hard, if he’s touching himself.

Steve moans, holding the phone tightly, falling forward, gasping for breath.

“Stevie.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Hand off.”

Steve whines, taking his hand away, writhing against the wall, and he hears Eddie laugh softly, meanly.

“Grab your pillow,” Eddie says, and Steve exhales sharply, opening his eyes to find one, grabbing it.

“Okay.”

“Kneel.”

Steve moves, his limbs heavy as he shifts onto his knees, breathing hard, listening as Eddie hums approvingly, like he can see Steve. And it occurs to Steve that he doesn’t have to kneel. That he could lie, could pretend to, or he could tell Eddie he doesn’t want to. But he does anyway, his stomach fluttering, his body flushing with warmth from Eddie’s approval.

“Put the pillow between your legs. Want you to use it like you use my leg.”

“Fuck,” Steve breathes, shifting to straddle the pillow, grinding against it weakly.

“Alright?”

“Yes, sir, it… Fuck, it feels good.”

“I know, baby. You can fold it however you need, alright? Make yourself feel good.”

“Yes, sir,” Steve says softly, reaching down to tuck his hand under the pillow, pulling it up so it folds between his legs, pressing to his dick more firmly. “Oh, God.”

“No, ‘s just me.”

Steve giggles deliriously, grinding against the pillow harder with a groan.

“What do I do?” he asks weakly.

“Just that, honey, you’re doing so good for me,” Eddie says softly, sweetly. “You’re wearing my hoodie?”

“Yes.”

“Slip your hand under there for me. Play with those pretty tits.”

“Jesus.”

Steve exhales sharply, freezing for a moment before he resumes, pressing his hips down against the pillow, sliding his hand under the hoodie, grabbing his own chest the way Eddie would, his grip tight, squeezing. He lets out a weak noise, high in his throat, and Eddie laughs again.

“Fuck, I love the sounds you make,” he says quietly, fondly. “You’re so perfect, Stevie, my good boy.”

“Fuck, I love you so much,” Steve says breathlessly.

“I love you too, sweetheart. Pinch your nipple for me.”

Steve does, letting out a quiet squeaking noise, and his hands are trembling, shaking as Eddie hums softly.

“You’re so noisy.”

“I know, ‘m sorry—”

“Don’t be sorry, you know I love hearing you.”

“Fuck, Eddie.”

“Mm.”

Eddie is breathing harder too, and Steve hears him groan softly, and Steve almost fucking comes right then and there, just knowing Eddie is touching himself too, just from telling Steve what to do, just from listening to him.

“Fuck—”

“Jesus, Steve,” Eddie gasps. “Sound so fucking good, baby boy, sound so pretty.”

“Fuck, thank you,” Steve pants. “Thank you, thank you, th— Fuck—”

“That’s it, honey, come on.”

Steve pinches his nipple harder for a moment before he reaches down to hold the pillow in place, leaning over to fuck it, moving quickly, desperately, groaning Eddie’s name. His eyes are squeezed shut tightly, and he’s enveloped by darkness, by Eddie’s smooth, breathless voice.

“Come for me, baby boy, come on, sweetheart—”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck—”

He groans weakly, falling forward, gripping the pillow tightly and holding it to himself as his hips jump, as he gasps for breath, panting, listening to Eddie. He can vaguely hear the wet sounds of Eddie’s hand on his dick, and Steve bites his lip, moaning again. He wishes he could see him, wishes he could feel him.

“Eddie, please,” he breathes.

“Fuck, I’m…”

“Come for me, sir.”

“Jesus, fuck—”

Steve buries his face in the mattress, grinning broadly as Eddie grunts and swears quietly. He loves how Eddie sounds when he comes. And before he comes. And after he comes.

“God, Steve,” Eddie says breathlessly, panting. “You okay?”

Steve groans.

“‘S come all over my pillow.”

“Shit,” Eddie says with a light laugh. He’s still catching his breath. “Didn’t think about that. Sorry.”

Steve just hums.

“‘S okay,” he mumbles.

“You feel better?” Eddie asks softly.

“Yes, sir,” Steve says softly, sighing. “Lot better.”

“‘S good, baby, you did so good for me.”

Steve hums in response, listening to Eddie murmur, listening to his smooth voice as his breath slow and even out. Steve rolls onto his side, the pillow still between his legs. The fabric of his pillowcase is wet.

“You wanna get cleaned up?” Eddie asks gently. “I— Do not fucking come in here.” Steve bursts into laughter, burying his face in his bed. “Jesus, fuckin’… My dick’s still out.”

Steve hides his face, giggling as he hears Eddie tucking himself away, zipping his jeans up.

“Okay, baby, you good?” Eddie asks, his voice light, amused.

“I’m good,” Steve says softly, still giggling. “I’m gonna clean up. Throw this pillowcase in the hamper.”

“Smart. I’m gonna go wash my hands.”

“Mm. Responsible.”

“Yeah? You think that’s hot?”

Steve snorts.

“Everything you do is hot.”

“You’re so sweet.”

Steve takes a deep breath, smiling into his bed, and he sighs.

“Thank you, Eddie.”

“Love you, baby. I’m right here whenever you need me, okay?”

“Yes, sir,” Steve whispers.

“Go get cleaned up and go to bed. You did so good today, sweetheart, with everything. ‘M so proud of you.”

Warmth floods Steve’s body. He wants to kiss him.

“Thank you, sir.”

“You okay for me to let you go?”

“I’m okay,” Steve says softly. “Just sleepy.”

“Okay, baby. Go to sleep. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Steve doesn’t think it’ll ever get old, hearing those words come from Eddie’s mouth. He’s never heard it much from anyone, but it’s like Eddie says it every chance he gets, every time it even occurs to him. While they’re cleaning the kitchen, as Eddie is slipping behind Steve with a hand on his waist, while Eddie is bringing him coffee and kissing his forehead, while he’s climbing into bed next to him after coming back from work late at night.

Every single time, it gives Steve a little thrill. A little flutter in his stomach like he’s going over a wave in a boat, like he’s falling through the air. He blushes a lot, smiles bashfully in a way that makes Eddie gaze at him fondly.

The words echo in Steve’s head as they hang up, as he goes to the bathroom to clean himself off, as he tugs on another pair of boxers and tosses the other pair and the pillowcase in his hamper. He shoves the naked pillow under the other one, too tired to find another pillowcase, and he tucks himself into a tight ball, sighing heavily. He wraps his arms around himself, shifting so his face is against the fabric of Eddie’s hoodie. And he sleeps, his mind swimming with Eddie’s voice.

I love you

I love you

I love you

I love you

I love you

♡ permanent taglist: @estrellami-1 @theplantscientist @spectrum-spectrum @carlprocastinator1000 @starman-jpg @romantiklen @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme ♡ holy things taglist: @stevesbipanic @pearynice @ao3whore @slowandsteddie @swordsandflowercrowns @dragonmama76 @mikeys-thoughts @sofadofax @cyranyx @kazalohiku @lostonceandneverfound @strangerfreaks @bitchysteveharrington @nailbatanddungeon @newtstabber @finntheehumaneater (comment to be added/removed to/from either list!!)

♡ art of steve and eddie ♡ pinboard // playlist ♡ buy me a coffee

#how are there only three chapters left in this oh my god #heavy sigh #steddie #steddie fanfic #steve harrington #steve harrington fanfic #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things #stranger things fanfic #a mess of holy things

[lxkeee]

HEAVEN AND BACK!

—PART TWO

Pairing: Lucifer Morningstar x Alastor's Mom! Angel! Reader

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Genre: Romance, love at first sight.

Warnings: none.

Notes: this one is comparably shorter than chapter one.

PART ONE | PART THREE

Lucifer was absolutely baffled, so many things happened in one day. First, a very gorgeous and tall seraphim angel decided to come and stay at the hotel to oversee its progress and on top of all that, the said angel is that damn radio demon's mother.

Lucifer watches as the angel, who he learned that goes by the name [y/n] is still currently scolding her son. Him, Charlie, Vaggie, Angel Dust, and Husk are at the bar area just watching it unfold.

Alastor sitting on the couch, head hung low in shame but there's still a smile on his face.

“So... You killed your father and many more? And also ate them....?” [y/n] asked, disappointed in her voice. Alastor's deer ears lay flat as he remained seated as he listened to his mother.

“Oh god, my son is a cannibal!” [y/n] cries, Niffty wiping away her tears as [y/n] carried the smaller girl in her arms—how did it happen? She just somehow was raising her arms for uppies while the taller woman was scolding her boss and the older woman just did so without thinking and carried her and then resumed to scolding Alastor.

“But they deserved it, mother! He deserved it for—” Alastor tried to defend himself, his smile strained.

[Y/n]'s own smile widened, eye twitching, “Who said you could speak? My own son is talking back to me!” she cries, smiling through the tears, her wings puffed up in anger and Alastor shuts up his mouth immediately.

“Where did I go wrong in raising you? I didn't raise you like this.” [y/n] sobs, Niffty handing her a handkerchief where the taller woman accepted and used it to blow her nose.

“Yikes.” Lucifer muttered in amusement as he sipped his dry martini while watching the angelic woman continuing to scold Alastor. Now that's my kind of woman. He thought before almost choking his drink. Hold up. What is wrong with him today? He barely knew the woman and he is already thinking like this.

“You okay there pal? I'm pretty sure you almost choked on your drink.” Angel Dust laughs and Lucifer just glares at him.

Charlie giggles beside him excitedly, “Isn't it amazing? Alastor reunited with his mom! And heaven finally decided to help us!” Charlie squeals and Vaggie hums in agreement.

“Well... It surely isn't a happy one as smile's is getting scolded even more.” Angel Dusts laughs and Husk chuckles behind the counter.

Back to the mother and son, Alastor is finally done with seeing his mother cry. He hugged her in which the older woman was weakly hitting his chest while she sniffled. Niffty being pressed in-between the two. She's just glad to be there.

“I am sorry, mother. I'm still your son.“ Alastor says softly and [y/n] sniffled against her son's embrace.

“I'm still mad at you.” she says, and Alastor's smile widens every slightly, “I know.” he says with a grin before getting his forehead flicked once more by his mother, making him winced in pain. [Y/n] gently lowering Niffty down to the floor. Lucifer and Husk snickering at the bar area.

[Y/n] pouted as she finally left her son's embrace, “And here I was waiting in heaven for so long wondering what's taking you so long and only for you to be here in hell? My goodness...” [y/n] sighs, pinching her own nose, her other hand on her hip.

“My bad.” Alastor says with a grin and [y/n] sighs, wiping the tears away from her eyes then clapping her hands together and a smile is back on her face as she turns around to look at the other hotel crew.

“Well, I suppose that is over. I am sorry for the scene I've caused, this young man right here is to blame.” [y/n] deadpans, pointing her arms towards Alastor who was lounging on the couch, he just gave a thumbs up.

[Y/n] sighs, shaking her head. “Back to business, I myself am not really sure why Sera decided to change her mind but she's my boss so... I don't really have a choice.” [y/n] says with a shrug, smoothly lying to them and the others just look at her with a slight deadpanned expression.

“I will be staying here for the time being, Sera didn't exactly say for how long...” She says before her eyes widened, Sera really didn't tell her how long she'll be here.

“I am starting to wonder if I accidentally got myself kicked out of heaven.” She muttered and Lucifer snickered slightly, looking at her with an amused smile on his face.

“Well if that's the case, there's a space made just for you in hell.” Lucifer says smoothly and [y/n] smirked, “My... Special treatment for lil' ol' me by the king of hell himself? It would be an honor.” she says with a small smirk, approaching the bar area and standing in front of the sitting man, looking down on him.

“I feel like they're each other's types.” Angel Dust whispers to Vaggie in which he gets elbowed to the side by the fallen exorcist.

Alastor's eye twitched in annoyance as he watched the scene unfold, not my mother. Speed walking to the two, Alastor held his mother's shoulders protectively and slid her away from the king of hell.

“Alastor, dear... I can handle myself.” [y/n] chuckles and Alastor just smiled, though his smile strained a little bit. Clearly annoyed how the king of hell is getting smooth with his mother.

“I'll be showing my mother around and show her to her room. Please excuse us.” Alastor says as he gently drags [y/n] with him upstairs with Niffty following the two.

The others just watched in amusement, still hearing the two's slowly muffling voices as they left the room.

“Mama please, he's the king of hell. Why are you already getting so chummy with him?” Alastor's muffled voice can be heard as they walk away.

“Have you seen him, Alastor? Heaven's scrolls didn't do him any justice, he's gorgeous!” [y/n] says with a laugh and a followed groan from Alastor. Their voices can no longer be heard as they were getting farther and farther away.

Angel Dust nudges Lucifer and wiggles his eyebrows at the short king, the arachnid teasing the man as he can really see Lucifer's flustered cheeks.

“You two looked nice together, you better shoot your shot.” Angel Dust says with a smirk which prompted Lucifer to stammer.

“Huh? What? I just met her for God's sake!” Lucifer says, pulling his collar away from his throat as he awkwardly chuckles.

“Please... Everyone can see you were eyeing her like a piece of candy.” Husk says gruffly behind the counter, scoffing.

Lucifer blushed, nervous that he wasn't slicked at all.

“Can't blame him to be honest.” Charlie says with a chuckle as she sipped her wine. Vaggie just rolls her eyes playfully, “Still, she's suspicious.” she says and Angel Dust scoffs, “Please, when are you not? Besides, if you ever end up right, I'm sure short king over here can handle her.” He says with a shrug before smirking at Lucifer, “Just admit you were admiring the sexy angel lady, couldn't blame ya toots!” he giggles.

“I wasn't... You guys are just seeing things.” he deadpans, his ears tinted pink. His daughter, Maggie, Angel Dust, and Husk just gave him a raised eyebrow. Clearly not believing him in the slightest.

“Whatever you say, short king.” Angel Dust says in amusement.

TAGLIST:

@adaizel @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @thedarkkitten @selvyyr @froggybich @brithedemonspawn @kottenox @totallymitya @many-fandoms-lover @dou-dou @mezzyb0nb0n @n1chxyaaenthusiast @cherry-4200 @koirb @galaxyj3lly @crystalplays28 @luleck @scootinonyourmom @rory-cakes @mixplara @crescent-z @bitchyzombienacho @kalisha2004 @altervex @nehy019 @napbatata @kouyoumarryme @sxgacxbe @kooidoom @yukichan67 @apple-pop @akiralovespenguins @storydays @kaurochika @amphiroxx @lil-writer-523 @punching-pentagrams @moonlovers34 @h3110kitty0 @bethleeham @hcneyiced @ashleygryffindor @ghostdoodlen @sleepdeprived-barelyalive @cupidsgift @shilladodo

#lxkeee answers #lxkeee updates #hazbin hotel #lucifer hazbin hotel #lucifer morningstar x reader #lxkeee hazbin hotel masterlist #lucifer #lucifer morningstar #lucifer magne #hazbin hotel x reader

[vivwritesfics]

(Oh My God) They Were Roommates

Chapter Three - Date Night

Lando Norris and Y/N L/N were teammates. Tension had been between from the minute they started driving together and, when it only got worse, McLaren CEO Zac Brown decides there's only one solution: Have them live together.

1.4K

Warnings: Shitty date, alcohol, violence

Series Masterlist

"Where are you going?"

Again, Lando was sitting in front of the television with a bowl of cereal in his lap. Although this time it was the early evening and he had done all he needed to for the day, giving him time to wind down.

Y/N wasn't in her workout gear. On the contrary, she was in a lovely black dress with a white shirt over the top and black tights covering her legs. She had a small bag dangling from her shoulder and a pair of chunky, heeled boots on her feet.

She looked lovely, even Lando could admit it. Actually he'd have the imagine of her burned into his brain for all eternity.

"On a date," answered Y/N, her voice rather snappy. She grabbed her keys from the kitchen counter and headed towards the front door.

But, out of the corner of her eye, she saw as Lando shook his head. Y/N turned on her heel, eyes fierce as she stared at him. "What?" She barked, her hand still against the door knob.

Lando shrugged his shoulders. "I didn't say anything."

"But you shook your head."

He turned to face her over the back of the sofa. "That's not saying anything."

"Just tell me what you mean!" She stamped her foot, her voice growing louder.

Lando let a sigh out of his nose. "Fine," he said and held up his hands. "I'm just saying, what if this guy is using you? You're a world famous Formula One driver - he could be using you for fame."

"What, because it's impossible for somebody to like me otherwise? Is that what you're trying to say, Lando?"

He held up his hands defensively. "All I'm saying is you have to be careful."

But Y/N didn't believe that, not for one minute. "No, you're being an asshole."

"Y/N, I'm not being an asshole. I'm actually trying to look out for you."

"Sure," she scoffed and turned the door handle, ready to leave the apartment.

But Lando cleared his throat. "Are you gonna put out on the first date? That would make a great story for the reporters."

"Fuck off, Lando."

"You're only making yourself look bad," he muttered as he returned to his now soggy cereal.

Y/N left the apartment. She walked out with confidence, although it had been shattered by Lando. She didn't let it show, though, just how terrible she was now feeling.

Because Lando was right, he could just be using her for fame and notoriety.

Dating had been hard ever since she entered the Formula One scene. All of her colleagues seemed to get with models or sporting stars. But Y/N didn't want a model or a sporting star. She wanted someone she could get along with, have a good time with and be herself.

She walked to the restaurant, not driving as she didn't want to "show off" in front of her date. He arrived late, his outfit not nearly as put together as hers was (although she wasn't judging him based on that).

The minute he sat down he immediately ordered the most expensive things on the menu. That wasn't the end of the world - he was paying for his own food.

When he opened his mouth to talk, that was when things really started to go wrong. He was non-stop talking about formula one. At first, Y/N thought it was nice. He was taking an interest in her career. But then it became clear that he was a super fan and he just wanted to talk about her colleagues.

It became evident that he didn't actually care to get to know her. That Lando was right. He only wanted to take her on a second date for a chance at Bahrain tickets.

That was all he kept asking about. Bahrain. At first Y/N thought it was to take interest in her career. Be he kept coming back to it, complaining about the price of tickets and how he would loved to have been her plus one.

The only thing getting her through dinner was the alcohol she was throwing back. And then, when it came to paying, he had conveniently forgotten his wallet.

At least he offered to driver her home. He drove her back to the apartment, stopping outside. "So," he said, hand on her leg. Y/N was quick to move it. "Can I walk you upstairs?"

Y/N let out a huff and held her bag tighter. "Look, Ryan, I don't think that's a good idea. My roommate is trying to sleep and our walls are thin and-"

"I swear I'll just walk you to your door."

She should have said no. She should have left him in the car and made her way up to her apartment alone. But she had also been drinking, and wasn't thinking straight. It was the alcohol that answered for her when she said, "sure."

He walked behind her as Y/N went up to the apartment. When she got to the door of her apartment and pulled out her key, he leaned against the wall and placed a hand on her waist. "So, can I come in?" He asked with what he must have thought was a seductive look.

Y/N shook her head, hesitating to push her key into the lock. What if he pushed his way into the apartment? Would Lando help her? Would he help her to kick this guy out?

"Oh, come on baby," said Ryan as he took her key from her hand.

"Hey!" Y/N shouted, reaching for it. "Give it back! I don't want you in my apartment!"

Her shouts seemed to be enough. Suddenly the apartment door was pulled open and Lando was stood in front of her, his swing fast as he punched her date.

"Lando!" Y/N cried as Ryan dropped her keys and stumbled backwards, holding his bloody nose.

Lando placed himself between Y/N and Ryan, ready to swing again. "She said no, fuck face," he said, his voice calm. But his stance said otherwise. Ryan squared up to him but, when Lando raised his fist once again, he backed down, turning and running away.

As soon as he was gone, Lando reached down to pick up her keys. He placed them in her hand and walked back into the apartment without another word.

On shaky legs Y/N followed him in. She placed her bag down on the sofa and sat herself down, kicking off her boots.

Lando suddenly placed a glass of water on the coffee table in front of her. He looked down at her for just a second as she pulled the white shirt tighter to her body.

But, when she said nothing, Lando turned to walk away.

Y/N was feeling a certain amount of vulnerability. She couldn't stop herself as she grabbed his arm and said, "wait," her voice little more than a whisper.

Saying nothing, Lando turned to face her. She watched as Y/N let go of him and sat back on the sofa, sitting just a little bit straighter.

Somehow, Lando knew exactly what she was asking for. He sat on the sofa beside her and switched on the television.

There was little distance between them already. Y/N shuffled closer to him. Blame it on the alcohol and the frigid February air, but she shuffled closer to him.

"You were right," she muttered and picked up the glass of water. "He was an asshole and he just wanted Bahrain tickets."

Lando looked down at her. "Told you," was all he said as he placed his feet on the coffee table.

Her head fell onto his shoulder. "Thanks for saving me," she mumbled.

The only way Lando could get comfortable was to put his arm around her.

"I was actually getting a little scared out there."

Lando shrugged his shoulders. She'd been drinking, that much was clear. She kept leaning against him as the television played on in the background, neither of them paging much attention to it.

She fell asleep against him. Lando left her there for an hour. When he was sure she wasn't going to stir, he picked her up and carried her to her room, laying her on top of her covers.

Taglist (OPEN): @biancathecool @hollie911 @topguncultleader @annispamz @carlossainzwho @spideybv28 @wherethefuckisthething @fangirl125reader @minkyungseokie @marialovesf1 @kitixie @i-wish-this-was-me @bborra @formula1mount @charlotte1697 @formulaal @eviethetheatrefreak @lordpercivalcharles @venisvendetta @marie0v @tbsloneely @laur20a23 @formulas-bitch @cmleitora @marvelavengers000 @gills-lounge @andydrysdalerogers @demipatterns @holy-macncheese-balls @jule239 @aexitizen-ln4 @landosgirlxoxo @allinestarr @starmanv @st0rmzi3 @random-human02 @nocoolusernamesavailable-blog @happymeal777 @ashy-kit

#lando norris #lando norris imagine #lando norris x reader #lando norris fluff #lando norris smut #lando norris x reader smut #lando norris x you #f1 #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula one #formula one imagine #formula one x reader #formula 1 #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 x reader #ln4 #ln4 imagine #ln4 x reader

[erideights]

Little pieces here and there (2)

Pairing: Buggy x Fem!Reader (One Piece Live Action)

Chapters: one, three, four, five

Word Count: 2K

Warnings: Flirting, suggestive flirting, heavy pinning

A/N: GUYS THIS CHAPTER HAS ME ON THE FLOOR, I HOPE YOU ENJOY, THANKS FOR YOUR PATIENCE and if you like it let me know to start preparing part 3 ♡ (sorry for any grammatical mistake!)

"The One Piece will never be yours!" He shouted angrily, that -now- dwarf with a red nose, giant hands and feet, when he was defeated. Just like in a cartoon for kids.

"You're just a sad, lonely little boy wearing another man's hat!" She could not understand how it was possible that this intimidating, psychopathic, eccentric clown had turn around so quickly into this little thing that was so... dare she say pathetic, but she didn't wanna be too cruel to him.

The moment Luffy declared his intentions again, Buggy began to look around him, desperate for a way to escape, maybe one of his crew members who would miraculously come to the rescue, or an unexpected ally.  Like (Y/N).

"Wo wo wo wo, no no no no, wait wait!"

He opened his mouth and begged, probably to suggest some kind of pact, to promise (Y/N) a place among his crew like he did with Luffy before, but before he could say anything else, the rubber boy already threw him into the sky.

And that was the last time she thought she would see Buggy The Clown. Little did she know, she was wrong.

Oh, so wrong.

Let's say that the days to come were anything but calm. From the Kuro Incident™, at least they won Usopp's friendship and the Going Merry, one of the cutest ships she has ever seen, to be fair.

And then they arrived at the Baratie, where they met the oh, so attentive Sanji, Zoro was about to die, and Nami... Nami left with the fishmen. Although (Y/N) was on Luffy and Sanji's side when they claimed something bad was actually happening, because she wouldn't have chosen to leave with them just like that, without a hidden, ugly reason behind. Didn't fit in with the idea she had of the ginger.

"I know someone who knows where to find her," says her "captain" when they all discuss their next step.

"Hello boys!" Buggy's head coughs and exclaims in the most forced, sarcastic way possible. Imagine threatening to kill those people after kidnapping them less than a week ago, and now your life depends on them. Low blow, if someone asked her. "Sweetheart." He then smirked devilishly when he saw (Y/N) a little further back, resting her side on the kitchen counter. Surprised to see him and the way he calls her, she raises an eyebrow and gives a small, amused smile. "Hello Buggy."

"Arg, Doll! I'm so happy to see a beautiful face like yours around here." The clown shouts when (Y/N) comes out on deck after several hours organizing the pantries with Sanji. She looks at him out of the corner of her eye with a little smile on her lips when she leaves a snack for Usopp and goes towards the bow of the ship or, in fewer words = in the opposite direction to where her mere existence is spiritually needed. The clown is already tired of giving Usopp directions after all morning arguing where to go, so infatuated and hypnotized by the mysterious aura that surrounds the woman, he doesn’t give up, and his head floats in the direction of the girl, following her, resting right by her side as she sits on the ground, legs falling over the ship's railing and out to the sea.

"Pretty sure you didn't hear me back there" because the idea of someone ignoring him was unthinkable. A war crime. An insult to God itself. He was still Buggy The Clown, The Flashy Fool, even without his crew. Or his ship. Or his body. Fucking hell, what did he have left apart from the head? "I was saying I'm glad I'm not only surrounded by idiots. Having your beautiful face around here makes standing them much easier." He flirts, winking an eye, which (Y/N) doesn't fully get but finds kinda interesting. "We had a moment the other day, right? It wasn't just my imagination, I know it."

"Yeah, we totally had a moment" She agrees, clearly being sarcastic to everyone but him.  "You kidnapped us, you called me pretty, you searched me, I threatened you, you liked it..." she lists, lying her back on the deck, arms raised, own head resting on her hands, enjoying the breeze, the sun, and the smell of the salty water. 

"I loved it," he corrects her after emitting a little grunt of satisfaction, vividly remembering that scene. What would he not give to go back and enjoy it a little bit more before the rest of her crew ruined his entire day -week- so blatantly and unnecessarily over the top.

"You're welcome. Any time." She answers after an amused giggle, eyes closed.

"Don't tempt me."

"Now tell me," Buggy resumes the conversation after about 30 seconds of silence. He clearly doesn't know how to enjoy it. He is that type of person for whom silence not only makes him uncomfortable, but also terrifies him. Theatre kid. "What's a woman like you doing with a bunch of insufferable kids like them? I know they're trying to organize their boy band and go on adventures around the world, but you... you should look for someone more suitable to your needs, capable of giving you different stimuli. More mature." He adds in the end with a low, seductive tone of voice, shamelessly feeding on the image of the curve of her body now that she's not paying visual attention to him.

"Hmhm. Maybe I'll look for them." She answers nonchalantly, just because. She finds really entertaining this type of tug-flirting-war. Even if he's the only one that flirts and she just gives him opportunities to do so.

"You don't have to look too far." He was so cliché, how cute.

"You talk too much to be no more than a floating head."

"I could always put my tongue to better use." Snapping her eyes open, (Y/N) holds her breath for a second, taking in what she just heard = what he just offered. That would be, literally, giving head. In all the glorious sense of the expression. Raising both eyebrows, she turns her face on the ground to observe him, nibbling at her lower lip. She seems to consider it for a few seconds, because no, she cannot deny how interesting and, at the same time, weird, degenerate, the idea is. But before he has the opportunity to keep talking his way into convincing her, she breaks into a cruel smile and decides to cut his mood "You mean like guiding us to the Konomi islands instead of talking with me? You're right, you should get back to work."

He looks at her like he was just betrayed by his second in command, hoping she would agree by the expression on her face seconds ago, the way she looked at him and how she was biting her own lip in that tortuous way that pushed him to want -need- to do it by himself.

"Wait, no need to play difficult with me sweetheart, I--" But it's too late, (Y/N) is already standing, grabbing Buggy's head between her hands, and before he could add anything else, she winks at him, kiss one of his cheeks, screams at the top of his lungs "USOPP!! CATCH HIM!" and throws his head like she was playing volleyball, Usopp jumping to be able to reach him, both of them celebrating the pass like children, ignoring Buggy's complaints.

The third time he flirts -tries to- with her, she's back on the deck, helping Zoro and Sanji moving some things around. He begins to scream desperately, and knowing damn well that if no one pays attention to him he won't stop even if that means losing his voice, she approaches, hands on her hips, sighing as she looks at him like someone that is about to regret getting close to a crying, annoying child. "What's wrong with you?" she asks dryly, pressing her lips together. "Ah, my guardian angel. Could you do me the favor of scratching me behind my ear?" Oh. A waaay more harmless request than she expected. Of course, she relents, because she sees nothing wrong with this small favor; she’s quite the empathetic, and in his place she would surely prefer to jump headfirst -ba dum tss- into the sea rather than suffer that itch and not be able to scratch it. After granting his wish, just as she is about to leave, Buggy moves his head much faster than anyone would predict, to catch one of the girl's fingers in his mouth and suck and lick and nibble, in a… God, a sample of what he could do with his tongue somewhere else.

A shiver runs down (Y/N)'s spine, and it reaches a pleasurable end between her legs, causing her to press them together as she inhales deeply.

"Wanna see what else I can do?" He whispers as he releases her. She can hear him over the crash of the waves against the hull of the boat, eyes fixed on his face, will to complain nowhere to be seen. Bold, not in a hundred years she would have expected that. And for a moment, she is tempted. That has been undeniably attractive. And it had a really strong effect on her. "I would gladly show you if you let me, you just have to ask, sugar lips. I bet it's been a damn long time you don't treat yourself--"

"(Y/N)!!" Zoro calls her, instantly exploding the bubble between Buggy and her.

She sighs in relief because only God knows she was close to give up. Then swallows, shakes her head exaggeratedly to shake herself out of his spell, and, licking her lips, gives the clown a mischievous smile, recomposing herself. "Nice try"

"Stop trying to deny the obvious" He tried again for the... 5th time? She /really/ lost count during their journey. Appearing from nowhere, he startled her in the process. He was now in a shelf of the kitchen, at the same height as the girl's face. "The chemistry between us is unbearable, you can see it from miles away." Jumping to approach the edge of the shelf, his eyes look her up and down. "Turns me on how you play hard to get because I don't like easy things either, so I respect your game," he nods, raising an eyebrow "But come on... I know you like me. I've seen how you look at me or bite your lip when I flirt with you, you have nothing to be ashamed of."

This whole thing was really trying her patience. Not because she wanted to fuck him off, but because she knows that all that flirting would end with her giving in and doing something she certainly shouldn't. As of for now, he had gotten her to vaguely consider it, and she had to admit, she was growing some kind of attraction slash fondness slash crush for him, but it wasn't enough to fall to her knees.

He wanted war, tho? He would have it.

"You're right, I like you, but you know, I like my men body and all, capable of grabbing me by the hips and pushing me on theirs, to fuck me and make me scream their name until I lose my voice. To make it difficult for me to walk straight the day after." she whispers, approaching him slowly until they share the same air, her nose touching his red one. (Y/N) closes her eyes, taking a deep breath as her tongue caresses her own lips, almost touching the clown’s ones too. Yes, she likes him, she has some sort of twisted soft spot for men who ranged from intimidating psychopath to the most pathetic human being depending on the day, and Buggy was the perfect example for that. "And you..." she tilts her head to the side, attempting to close the distance between each other and kiss him, but at the last second she withdraws, leaving the poor clown with his eyes closed, waiting for the touch of her dreamy lips. "Unfortunately you're just a head."

"Try again when you get your whole body back!"

#buggy the clown #buggy x reader #buggy one piece #buggy the clown fanfiction #buggy x you #op buggy #one piece x reader #one piece live action #captain buggy

[winterrrnight]

“and so we meet” — new beginnings chapter I

PAIRING: stepdad!soft!rafe x mom!reader

WARNINGS: none!

EDITH SPEAKS: this is just the first chapter, so please please bare with me as it’s certainly not the best, and it’s also very short. the plot will pick up speed as we move along, and there’s so much planned for the three of them!! if you enjoyed reading it, please reblog, and share your thoughts with me 🍂

navigation || join my taglist || requests || series masterlist

next chapter ->

↶ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊˎ-

“Sage! Don’t run off like that!” You yell out, watching the little figure giggling as she rushes in one of the aisles of the grocery stores you're in. No matter how hard you try, you can never try to control your daughter, she’s like a little energy packet.

But you also trust her, knowing she won’t pick something unknown off the shelves and open it up, or bother someone in the store. Letting her have her fun, you direct your attention to the vegetables you initially came to shop for.

As you’re filling up your basket with everything you may need, you hear someone clear their throat behind you.

“Excuse me?”

You hear a masculine voice along with the throat clearing, and you turn around to see a strange man with your daughter next to him, her holding onto his hand.

“Sage what did you do?” You say sternly, picking her up in your arms. “I’m so sorry about that, she’s one little restless child,” you chuckle.

“That’s okay,” the stranger says, and you look up to see the most alluring pair of blue eyes you’ve ever seen. “She was just running around and crashed into me without realizing,”

“Oh- oh Sage you’ve got to control yourself!” You tell her, but your daughter only giggles at your words. “Again, I’m so sorry about her,”

The stranger chuckles. “It really is okay, she’s really cute,”

A moment of silence drapes around you both, as you’re looking at your shoes and the stranger is looking around. There is something so odd about this person, something so oddly attractive that isn’t letting you go of this situation you’re in quicker.

“Well, it was really nice meeting you…” you trail off, not knowing what name to put on this face.

“Oh- Rafe,” he smiles at you.

“Rafe. It was nice meeting you Rafe, I hope we’ll see you again someday,” you smile, as you start to push your cart with one hand, and your daughter on your hip.

“Byeeee!” She says excitedly with a fit of giggles, waving at the man vigorously. You hear him chuckle at her actions, and you can’t help but let a smile grace your face.

↶ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊˎ-

As you’re strapping Sage into her car seat, you feel someone tap on your shoulder. You turn around to see Rafe.

“Rafe?” You ask quizzically, not sure why your next meeting should be this soon.

“I’m so sorry to bother you, but you left these,” he puts out his hand and you see your keys on his palm, “keys while you were packing everything up,”

“Oh my god,” you gasp, realizing those are your house keys. “Thank you so much Rafe, we’ve been bothering you so much today,” you laugh nervously.

“Nonsense, I’ve loved meeting you two,” he smiles at you and looks at Sage through the window, but she’s already asleep.

“Well, thank you again,” You smile as you start to make your way to the driver’s seat.

“I didn’t catch your name!” He says out loud, just as you’re about to close your car door.

“It’s y/n, don’t forget us,” you tease, and you drive away. Rafe watches your car drive away with a smile on his face and a beat in his heart.

“Oh I definitely won’t.”

↶ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊˎ-

TAGLIST: @runningfrom2am @saccharinesammie @maybankslover @totalswag @madelynie @chenslucy @ietss @elle-mp3 @viawritesstuff @wallsdreams @tahliac11 @sadfury @newsies-pape-girl @jamesbuckybarneswify @xxxlaura @thatsthewaythechrissycrumbles @rafeinterlude @rylie-m @zulema222 @karmasloverrr @leixwhite02 @congratsloserr @rubixgsworld

(please let me know if you would like to be added or removed! if you would like to be added to my general taglist, please refer the ‘join my taglist’ post linked on top!)

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron obx #rafe x reader #rafe outer banks #rafe imagine #rafe cameron fanfic #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron fluff #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron oneshot #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x you #soft rafe cameron #rafe obx #stepdad!rafe #soft!rafe cameron #soft!rafe x reader #soft!rafe #stepdad!rafe x mom!reader #mom!reader #new beginnings #written by edith! 🪄

[joekeeryswife]

arranged marriage 2 - f.c

hello angels! oh my goodness thank you all so much for the love in the last chapter, i cannot express how grateful i am to all of you! Felix is 22 and reader is 20.

here is chapter 2 (there may only be 1 or two chapters left 😔) of my short series! here is y/ns ring, if you don’t like it you can change it, there is also going to be a link to a few dresses and again if you don’t like them you can change it!! there will probably be some mistakes so bare with me lol, enjoy reading🩰

taglist🩰 (add yourselves here): @hummusxx @lalademie @kikiandbella @anamiad00msday @saltburntt @livvy256 @gee72sstuff @edogiscool @real-lana-del-rey @cel3stel0v3r

it had been almost three months since your engagement party and a lot had changed. you and Felix were not getting along at all. your parents had thought it was best if the two of you moved in together and it had been the worst decision they had ever made. all you would do was fight and argue.

today, luckily, your mum, Elspeth and Venetia had decided that it was best for you to start trying on wedding dresses which meant you wouldn’t have to see Felix. “how are things with you and Felix going?” Elspeth asked, the three of you were sat in the back of the car almost at the wedding dress shop.

“not good. all we do is fight, i’m seriously considering not following through with this marriage” you rolled your eyes at the mere thought of Felix. “he’s being a dick head. sorry about him y/n, it’s like he’s on his period” Venetia apologised for how her brother was acting.

“oh no y/n don’t think like that, it’s just nerves. the two of you are going to have a very extravagant wedding and he gets nervous with those sorts of things” Elspeth said as she ran a hand through her hair. “it will get better i promise” she finished, showing you a sweet smile.

“surely you’re excited to try some dresses on? you might even find the one today” your mum finally spoke up. she loved the idea of you in a lovely white ballgown, walking up the isle arm linked with your fathers.

she had been dreaming about you getting married for years. “i hope so. how do you know if it’s the right dress for you?” you questioned, both women had been married and been through this exact same experience as you.

“you just have a gut feeling. i mean with me i had two dresses. i had one for the ceremony and then one for the party, god i wish i could relieve my wedding. it was the happiest day of my life” Elspeth said and your mum hummed, agreeing with what she had said.

“you’ll know if it’s the right dress, don’t worry about that sweetheart” your mum grabbed ahold of your hand and squeezed it gently. you nodded, giving her hand a squeeze back. “oh look, we are here” Elspeth said as the driver pulled up outside a fancy wedding boutique. “well, here goes nothing”.

-♡-

“oh that dress is ravishing” you heard Elspeth say as you looked at yourself in the mirror. “it’s elegant, fits your body nicely, you look beautiful. what do you think?” she continued as she looked at the dress. this was the fourth dress you had tried on and you were beginning to think that this bridal shop didn’t have anything for you. “well, it’s a pretty dress. but i think it’s a little too plain” you mum agreed “it is a little too plain. very pretty but you need some sort of design on there” Venetia nodded her head, indicating that it was time to try on yet another dress.

you walked back to the changing room with the stylist and she helped you get into the next dress. this one was beautiful, it looked like a princess dress and that was something you loved. however, the dress was still plain. you walked out and stood in front of the three of them, their gasps were loud. “oh my goodness, this dress looks absolutely perfect on you y/n” Venetia said as her eyes trailed over the dress.

“y/n, you look so beautiful sweetheart” your mum said as she looked at you in awe. “i love it but it’s still plain, i want some sort of pattern on the fabric. i love the way the dress is and i would have picked it if it had a pattern” you said as your hands brushed over the dresses skirt. your bridal stylist Amy spoke up “you do look gorgeous in this dress style but i think i have one similar to this with a pattern. why don’t you go to the dressing room and i’ll bring it through?” you nodded, a smile appearing on your face.

you made your way to the dressing room filled with nerves and excitement. hearing that she had a dress similar to this made your heart beat fast. after a few minutes she came into the dressing room with the most perfect dress you’d ever seen. it was exactly what you wanted.

she helped you put the dress on and your heart fluttered, this was your dress. you walked back out your mums eyes filled with tears and both Elspeth and Venetia gasped, i’m awe of how beautiful you looked. “y/n i seriously have no words. you look so radiant and elegant, i am praying that you have picked this dress” your mum said, the dress was absolutely perfect.

“i can’t see any flaws in this dress, i think if i was to ever design my wedding dress this would be it” you turned to face the three of them, you’d never felt like this before. “that dress is just absolutely gorgeous. you look like a bride” although you were mad at Felix, you were excited to get married. not because you were marrying him but because you could party like no other in the most beautiful dress with your family and friends.

“i think my brother might fall in love with you when he sees you in this dress” Venetia somewhat joked, she knew her brother would at some point fall in love with you and this dress would make it 100x easier. “i think it’s time we buy this dress and go celebrate” Elspeth said which you all agreed too.

-♡-

you had been out all day and it was now 7 at night. you hadn’t heard from Felix at all and you were not looking forward to seeing him. you opened the door to your house. “Felix, are you home?” you called out but got no response. you walked round the house saw him sitting on the sofa watching the tv.

“hey” you spoke as you sat down on the sofa next to him, you put your bag next to you and sighed. it had been a long day and finally sitting down felt amazing. he ignored you, his eyes still fixated on the tv screen. “how’s your day been?” he shrugged at you and you sighed, rubbing your forehead in frustration. “we can’t live like this Felix. this is no life” you looked over at him.

“y/n, have you ever thought that maybe i don’t want to live here with you?” his tone didn’t shock you, he had been in a bad mood for weeks. “i’m sorry but this wasn’t my decision either. do you really think i want to live here when you’re in a bad mood all the time?” he was silent.

“maybe think that i’m trying to work this out for the sake of our parents and whatever this relationship is and you’re just throwing it back in my face” he stood up, his tall frame towering over you.

“y/n. this isn’t a relationship. we are being forced to marry each other” you stood up, you weren’t going to let him intimidate you. there was an uncomfortable distance between you both.

“what is your problem Felix? why is there such an issue with you marrying me. i get we don’t love each other but am i really that bad?” you hated to admit it but even though Felix had been awful to you, there was a part of you that was falling for him.

there was some days where he was okay and the two of you got along, having Felix be nice to you was what made you somewhat fall for him. “don’t try guilt trip me y/n. you hate me just as much as i hate you” he scoffed but you just shook your head.

“what? i have been nice to you since after that talk we had in the bathroom at the party. i’m sick of you blaming me for absolutely everything when i’m reality it’s you who is the problem. i don’t think you realise how you make me feel when you treat me like shit” you could feel yourself getting upset.

“don’t pretend like you really care. you never cared about how it made you feel before so what’s changed now?” you shook your head, embarrassed that you were even about to admit this.

“what do you think Felix?” he looked at your confused. “there has been some days where you’ve been so sweet and it’s hard for me to not catch feelings for you” his eyes widened and you looked down at the ground, way too embarrassed to even look at him.

you could feel your eyes welling up with tears of embarrassment and frustration at the fact you had just admitted to Felix, the one person you’d thought you’d hate for the rest of your life, that you had feelings for him. and you knew that he didn’t feel the same. you could tell by his energy when he was around you.

it was silent, it felt like an eternity waiting for him to say something. when you felt like you’d been standing there long enough you decided it was best for you to leave, you’d embarrassed yourself enough and you just wanted to be alone. you grabbed your bag and started walking away from Felix who was still trying to process everything you had just said.

“y/n wait, don’t leave” he noticed that you were heading for the front door and was quick to follow you. Felix was never good with expressing how he felt and spending this time with you, living with you, made him realise that he was falling for you and that scared him. he’d been in love once before and it ended horribly and he didn’t want the same thing to happen with you.

“i’m going to my parents house don’t follow me. i want to be alone” you continued walking and looked for your car keys in your bag, he could hear the waver in your voice as you tried your hardest to keep your tears at bay until you weee away from him.

Felix continued following you and when he was close enough he grabbed your arm and turned you to face him. in one quick motion Felix pressed his lips against yours. it took you by surprise, it was filled with passion and love.

you quickly kissed him back and dropped your bag on the floor. your arms found their way around his neck, pulling him in closer. you’d been in one relationship and had your fair share of kisses in the past but it was nothing like this.

he pulled away, both of you breathless “please don’t go. i’m sorry i upset you. i am just scared” his eyes looked deeply into yours and you felt your heart flutter. “i’m scared that one day you’re going to find someone better than me because let’s be honest we haven’t gotten along, well, ever” his cheeks flushed a bright shade of red as he confessed his feelings.

“at first i didn’t want to do this marriage but now, it’s all i can think about. i see us getting married, travelling together, having kids together and growing old together and i’ve never felt like this before” you couldn’t believe what you were hearing, Felix Catton the one boy who truly hated was confessing his feelings for you.

“do you think maybe we could start over and try make this work? not like we did the last time in the toilets” you semi-joked which made him smile, you hated to admit it but his smile was beautiful.

“come on, let’s go back inside it’s freezing out here” he said, pulling away from your hold but he grasped your hand and squeezed it softly. “i can’t believe you dropped your birkin bag for me” you picked it up and looked it over. “you’re lucky, it has no marks on it. looks as good as the day i bought it”

the two of you made your way back inside hand in hand, happy that you both finally expressed your feelings for one another. the only thing left was for the two of you to get married.

#fanfiction #imagines #jacob elordi x fem!reader #jacob elordi imagines #jacob elordi imagine #jacob elordi x reader #jacob elordi #felix catton series #felix catton x fem!reader #felix catton imagine #felix catton imagines #felix catton x reader #felix catton #saltburn imagine #saltburn x reader #saltburn

[fictionalgap]

Roommate: Too sick (chapter 1)

Pairing: Hazel Callahan x Reader

Summary: Hazel, you, PJ and Josie got accepted in the same college and were living together. You didn't know that Hazel was such a mother hen till you became roommates. You tried not to get too flustered while she took care of you.

Warning: 18+ Themes

Warning: Swearing. Mentions of vibrators and alcohol. This fic most likely contain smut scenes in later chapters.

Other Chapters: Chapter 2 , Chapter 3 , Chapter 4 , Chapter 5

Song Recommendation: Crush - Tessa Violet

PJ, Josie, Hazel and you all wanted to go to same college and accepted which you all were super excited about. It has been months since you share the same place. Four rooms, living room and kitchen are combined and two bathrooms. Of course only one has a shower. But still thank god It's two bathrooms.

It has been a real experience living with them for you.

It's usually Josie and you who cooks. PJ and Hazel were officially banned from the kitchen. Well, not the fridge. But you know, the stove…

It was decided by Josie and you when Hazel and PJ tried to make Hazel's grandmother's recipe. They were alone at home when it happened. PJ wanted to help Hazel to cook, for the first time in forever and it did not end well. You were the first one who found out this incident. You were going to a friend's to study but you realized you forgot your phone at your guys place so you went back and saw the the huge ass smoke and firefighters and a frantic Hazel and PJ on the street.

Sundays were cleaning days. Everyone cleaned their own room, except PJ. Her room was the messiest and most dust producing room which made the whole place worse. All of you argued with her regularly about this but she swore that she cleaned it regularly.

One time she took Hazel's shirt to wear it for a date which she never asked Hazel If she could take it and of course PJ being PJ, forgot to give her shirt back.

"Ugh, I couldn't find it, okay. Just look into my room."

"What do you mean look into your room? If I go there, I don't know If I will be able to come back! Have you seen your room?"

"It's literally a black hole that is disguised as a pile of stuff." You stated with a smirk.

"It's a PJ hol-" Josie was about to smugly say,

"Okay! That's enough! I got it, okay!" until PJ interrupted Josie.

You told Hazel you would help her looking for her shirt which was an encouragement for her cause God knows, It takes lots of courage to go in that room.

You and Hazel started to look for the shirt in PJ's room.

"Oh…Oh my god! OH MY GOD!" Hazel shouted. Hazel put her hands onto her head and moved backwards with worried eyes.

"What? You found i-, Oh my god! What is this!" Hazel gagged as she sat down on the floor and you looked at the thing for a while, not believing what you see.

You snorted and laughed hysterically. "Josie! Josie, come here!" You screamed and held your stomach as Hazel groaned as she was in pain.

"What? Guys, why are you-, Hazel are you okay?" Josie kneeled down next to Hazel.

"I wish I never came here." Hazel's bottom lip quiverred as her eyes got teary. She layed on the floor in fetal position, color drenched out her skin.

Josie left Hazel's side to see what you were trying to show her and she saw the 'thing' and froze in her place like three minutes then PJ came into the room.

The 'thing' was a vibrator. A baby blue vibrator with a silicone layer which was covered a mild green to a dark green mold. Plus tiny flies were on it. You didn't know how many.

"What's this all fuss about, huh? My room's messy I got i-. Hey, I was looking for this… I guess I have to get a new one." she sighed and got out of the room with a moldy vibrator.

"You guess?" you aand Hazel shouted at the same time.

We all got out of her room. Hazel recovered from this incident once she calmed down. As for Josie, we all knew she would never be the same after this incident. Except PJ, who thinks vibrators getting moldy is only natural so she didin't understand the trauma she caused.

Hazel never found her shirt as PJ never cleaned her room. You thought she wouldn't want it back anyways.

You would still laugh whenever you remembered this.

College was never really boring with your roommates. You thought your friends at college were cool but your roommates were TRULY one in a million.

For you, Hazel was one of a kind.

You knew you needed to wear something more suitable for autumn but you didn't want to look like a buritto, going to the parties. It had a cost.

You coughed and it sounded like as If you were an animal who's in pain and about to die. You sneezed into the poor napkin as you layed down on your bed. 'How It was possible to be tired while you were laying down all day?' you thought as you sneezed again. You got up and opened the window. It was cold but you needed fresh air too.

You were upset that you missed your classes. You mailed your professors and they let you know It's okay. You would take your notes from your friends anyway.

You thought of last night. PJ interrupted Hazel's studying last evening, again. You were glad that you studied at library earlier. It was quiet and PJ-free. You liked your friend but she usually would convince you all to watch a movie, play a board game or go to a party. Or she would simply talk to you not caring If you listen or not.

Flashback

"Come on! Barry is giving a huge ass party. There is booze, there are girls, there are-"

"PJ, you are with Brittany. You remember, right? " Josie interrupted.

"Yeah…but no one says you can't look. I am not gonna eat them. I'll just… observe them. Just a small feast for my eyes since she decided to went to a college far away." PJ crossed her arms with a frown.

"You can always video chat with her." Hazel pouted.

"It's not the same thing, Hazel!" PJ yelled, frustrated.

"Yeah but what would she feel If one of us accidentally told her what you have said about party and girls and observing them…" you said with a playful smirk.

PJ raised her brows. "I'd probably beat the shit out of you."

"Ugh, that's harsh." you scoffed.

"Anyways, we should get ready. Move your asses, now!" PJ said as she walked to her room to get ready for the party.

"Are you going, Y/N?" she looked at you with puppy eyes.

"Yeah… I would try to convince you to come but I don't want to interrupt your studying." you said with sad eyes.

Hazel played with her rings. " I had swimming practice. If I wouldn't, I could study with you earlier."

"Study with me?" You raised brow. How did she knew you studied? Did she saw you?

"Yeah…library is on the way to pool so… a-and you always study on the same corner next to window." She played with her rings nervously.

'She saw me all the times...' you gulped to the thought. You looked at her hands, not being able to face her. She was playing with her rings nervously until she catched you watching them. Three, maybe four seconds passed when you realized she saw that you were looking at her hands. It could be just because you liked her rings.

In a totally straight way, obviously.

You averted your gaze and got up from your seat. "I didn't realize you saw me." you chuckled nervously.

"Yeah…I never told you and you look very focused during studying so…" she nodded her head to herself.

"Hm…we can always study another time If you'd like… Well, not here though, cause-"

"PJ?" she smiled widely.

"Yeah." You answered her smile with yours.

"I am going to change now. Have a good study session." you said and walked to your room to change your clothes.

You walked to your room and after spending five minutes in front of your wardrobe, you wore a white crop top, black baggy jeans, black converse and a black denim jacket. You left your hair down.

"Nice…" PJ said with a smirk.

"Thanks. You too." You checked her clothes.

"Isn't that a little bit thin though? You might get cold." Hazel said pointing your crop top. You blushed at what she said.

She was changed her clothes as well.

Josie pointed at Hazel. "Are you coming?"

"Yep."

PJ smirked coyly." That's the spirit!"

"Weren't you going to study?" you raised a brow.

"I'll study tomorrow. I'm not gonna drink much tonight, anyways." she said, looking at your clothes. "Really, Y/N, you'll get sick. "

"It's fine… We have a ride." you sighed.

"Even I don't worry that much for my girlfriend, Hazel." PJ wiggled her brows playfully with a smirk.

You couldn't help but blushed at what PJ said. You saw Hazel was looking down at her shoes and Josie was smiling at both of you.

Josie's smile ended with her phone ring. "Our ride is here. Let's go."

End of the flashback

You didn't know If this was cold or flu but Hazel was right.

You got sick and everything hurt. Moving hurt. Your head hurt. Your eyes felt like they were pierced. Your ears hurt. You could hardly breathe. Whatever this was, It was draining the shit out of you. You hated that you were wrong but you loved that Hazel was all around you. You also felt guilty about it cause she was interrupting her studying by checking up on you, getting you water, food, making you herbal teas every half an hour…

The thing about Hazel, she turns into a mother hen whenever someone gets sick. Especially when you were sick. You thought it was because you were closer with her than PJ and Josie.

You still rememeber the first week of moving here, you had a migraine attack. She went to the pharmacy without anyone noticing and came back with painkillers and a migraine stick.

And she massaged your temple till you fell aslept. You didn't know If you imagined something touching on your forehead. Preferably her lips. But you thought It was probably a fantasy of yours or a dream.

Of course, you were very pleased with her taking care of you. So you didn't mind getting sick. Maybe even It led you to wear thinner clothes. Not on purpose though.

Subconsciously.

You didn't really wanted to admit it but the idea of someone taking care of you, turned you on a little bit.

The idea of Hazel taking care of you, burned and twisted the parts of you, which you never knew that existed because you had a slight crush on her.

Just a tiny one…

Hazel knocked the door three times.

"Come in." your voice came out shaky.

Hazel came into your room with a smile.

"Hazel you don't have to check up on me every hour." you coughed as you said.

Hazel grabbed a chair with her one hand and placed it next your bed with a smile. She became more musclar and the veins on her arms looked like they were going to pop since she decided to join the college's swimming team. You were very enthusiastic about her decision.

She had a bowl in her hand. You looked up to her and saw her pouting.

"I'm so close thinking you don't want me here, Y/N."

'Well, fuck me!' you cursed to yourself for making her think that. You didn't think she was joking.

"Of course I want you here, Haze. It's just you couldn't study last night and now you can't study because of me." you explained quickly.

She grinned. "I know you do. And I am studying very well and I need breaks too, you know."

She usually took things at face value so It made you shocked to see her saying something without meaning it.

"Well you said it seriously so I thought-"

"I was joking." She took the strand of hair which was front of your nose and placed it behind your ear.

She beamed at you for a half a minute. You felt your heart beating very fast.

"Yeah… What's that?" you pointed to the bowl in her hand.

You noticed a spoon in Hazel's hand and the bowl was smelling really good.

"Chicken soup. I squeezed some lemon in it too."

Your eyes widen at what she has just said.

"No, no, no! I didn't make it! I ordered it. Don't worry. I made a promise to you and Josie and I remember." Her eyes widened as well.

You chuckled. "Okay. Cool. Uhm,… thank you Hazel." You sit up staright in your bed and you were going to took the bowl from Hazel's hand but she didn't give it to you.

"Ugh…?" You have her a confusing look.

"Let me feed you, please. " She made a puppy face.

"Y-you don't have to." you stuttered. Honestly, even your arms hurt when you moved them. And you would definitely not mind her feeding you. It was just you were afraid to make a fool of yourself.

"You seem really tired. Come on. " She pouted again.

"Ugh…okay but stop making that face." you said you averted your gaze.

"What face?" she grinned. Maybe she actually knew what she was doing.

"You know what you're doing, don't you?" She ignored your question and sighed as she blew the soup little to make it colder.

"Open up." she smiled as she held the spoon full of soup to you.

You drinked the soup and It was delicious. You would drink whatever she gave anyway.

"Thank you Hazel. Soup felt really good." you smiled gratefully to her. Your cheeks burned but It was okay that your cheeks were pink because you were sick so she wouldn't think it that way.

"Of course. Least I can do." She smiled at you for a moment as you held eye contact with her. "Oh, I forgot the vitamin!" she said as she got up and left your room.

"What? You ordered vitamin too?" you yelled for her to hear you from the other room.

She came back with a vitamin c supplement in her hand.

"No, I went to the pharmacy."

"Hazel you spent too much time. You go study now!" You scolded her.

"Okay, okay! And It was a ten minute walk. It's not much. Plus walking in fresh air is a good break time."

"Here." She held the vitamin your lips and you felt bold and took it with your lips while keeping eye contact with her.

It was awkward.

In a sexy way.

Her body froze except her eyelids, they blinked a couple of times until she gave you a glass of water to swallow the pill.

She cleared her throat. "So, I'll go study now. If there is anything you need-"

"I'll tell you. I know."

"Okay." she said as she rushed out of the room.

'Fuck.' you told yourself and laid down on your back as you wait for sleep.

#hazel callahan x reader #hazel callahan fanfiction #hazel callahan #bottoms movie #bottoms hazel #bottoms 2023 #lgbtq #sapphic

[trashmouth-richie]

Eddie x fem!reader. [vol I]

Summary: just a bit of Eddie’s shenanigans 😈

TW: no minors, angst, mentions of hard times.

W.C: 4.7k

A/N: hope you are all enjoy this! Thank you for all the love received on the first chapter 🥰

You spent the rest of the night questioning why you ever placed the ad in the paper to begin with. Certainly you could just go to sleep and you’d wake up to all of Eddie’s belongings gone because this was a nightmare.. right? Of course. You’d wake up any minute now and things would go back to the way they used to be.

////

//

-

Oh how you had hoped.

Eddie wearing your robe was just the tip of the iceberg of the stupid shit he would endure for the next 12 hours. After eating 7 slices of pizza, he wiped his greasy hands down the front of it. Settling for that instead of the arms of the couch after you had scolded him. He talked during the entire episode of The Nanny.

“Holy shit, she’s hot, I mean her voice is kinda nasally but woooowwweeeee.. you think she’s into metalheads? I bet she is. I bet she’d love to be wrapped all up in me, it'd be a secret though for her.” He talked with his mouth full, bits of cheese and pizza sauce flying from his lips and landing on his naked chest. His feet were propped up on the coffee table, toes wiggling like he was a child watching cartoons. “Got any chips? I’m hungry.”

He left a mess wherever he went. The chips he begged you for were still sitting open on the couch. Crumbs decorated the upholstery like confetti at a New Year’s Eve party. His pizza plate on the coffee table, holding an impressive amount of beer cans. Instead of hanging your robe back up on its proper hook in the bathroom, he left it on the floor in between the living room and the hallway. You had gone to bed after he insisted on belching “Love Bites” with three beers tucked between his legs. It was at this moment you thought of begging Steve and Robin to move in with you instead.

“For the last time, I refuse to try to out burp you, I will not be duct taping beers to my hands, and for the love of god if you get salsa on the carpet I will skin you alive.”

“It puts the lotion on its skin….”

You stomp to bed, slamming your bedroom door and throwing the covers over your head. You can hear Eddie slurring through your bedroom walls.

“C’mon Tooooty, I thought we were having a slumber party. You didn’t even paint my nails yet!” His small hiccuping giggles turn into a roar of laughter lasting entirely too long.

-

The next morning you wake up to your alarm, it’s peaceful, content. Today is a new day and you have a busy schedule working at the salon. Saturdays are easily the most hectic at Josie’s. It seems it’s the only day off for most people to come in and get their hair done. You dress in a simple black tank top tucked into a black mini skirt, a form fitting denim vest over top, and black chunky slide sandals. Spritzing yourself with your Exclamation perfume you just have to brush your teeth and grab a little breakfast.

Upon opening your bedroom door you are hit with a stench so ungodly, it makes the hair stand up on your arms. Did a fucking tornado crash through your home? How hard were you sleeping? You felt like Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz only in reverse, while she was mystified by the sights around her you were full of rage, disgust, and sheer anger.

Eddie.

For fucks sake it is almost as if he needed a goddamn babysitter.

Beer cans litter the floor. A silver ball made of duct tape was sitting on the couch, the small tv was still on. All your VHS’s were scattered along the floor by the entertainment center. A plate of what looked like hardened shredded cheese was balancing on the edge of the coffee table. Rolling papers, and two joints were piled on top of it, along with various baggies of god knows what. Chips were ground into the carpet, their sharp edges making the carpet glitter with nacho cheese and tortilla shrapnel. And sitting opened and probably now dry, was the blue nail polish you had gotten with Robin. The whole place reeked of the dirty rotten scent of spilled stale beer soaking cotton fabric, the remnants of weed wafting from the furniture baking into the fibers from the sun streaming through the windows in lazy strips of golden yellow.

Homicide is probably what? 10 years? You could manage that.

You make your way into the culprits room, swearing under your breath and feeling the sweat start on the back of your neck. Pushing through the heap of clothes and worn boots, you find the prince of trash laying on his back, soft snores escaping his slack mouth. There aren’t even sheets on his mattress, just mountains of his belongings.

A beer is taped crudely to his left hand, your brand new bottle of jergens lays next to him along with a playboy— flipped open to a brunette with obvious fake tits and her lips placed into an orgasm. He apparently threw some boxers on during his midnight raccoon shenanigans.

This is comparable to bringing home a dog from the humane society, you aren’t sure how they’ll act but once you go to sleep— all hell breaks lose.

“Eddie,” you yell, loud enough that your own ears are ringing. He doesn’t move a muscle, just a loud snore erupting from him. You kick at his legs, push his body around but nothing. If it weren’t for the snoring you probably should have called a coroner.

One last slap against his bare chest and he finally groans, “gimme five more minutes baby and I promise I’ll rock your world.” Jesus Christ.

Fuck it, just go to work, you can deal with him when you get home. Breath in and out. Nope— the fuse that was lit in your brain from Eddie’s mess inches its way slowly towards the dynamite, licking up the wick. Also like a dog from the shelter, they need to be trained, told when they are doing something wrong, and immediately corrected.

Filling a cup with cold water you waltz back into his room a smile plastered to your lips.

The splash of water against Eddie’s face is music to your ears as he gasps for breath. Spluttering and sitting up, spilling the beer taped to his hand, he looks like a cat that was thrown in the tub, long curls soaking wet, his bangs parted and thrown back from the force of the water hitting him.

“Damn sweetheart, I said give me five minutes and I’d give you all ten inches of my co—” the plastic cup bounces off of Eddie’s head. “Okay, ow. Goddamn what was that for?!”

“What was that for?! Look around Eddie!” You motion around the house as he stands up holding his head and pressing the palm of his right hand into his eye, dragging it down his face to wipe the remnants of cold water away, “this place is disgusting!”

You begin to list off everything wrong, as you walk around the house, Eddie following begrudgingly behind you, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. You point out the chips in the carpet, the hardened cheese plate, the vhs mess. Each and everything you show him your voice gets higher and higher and louder and louder. The rage bubbling up in your body as you huff around. A large hand and the odd sensation of a rubbery plastic mass spin you around, holding onto your shoulders.

Eddie’s face is so close to yours, you can see the sun reflecting off the usual darkened browns of his eyes, bringing a goldmine to the muddy surface.

“Tooty— it’s far too early for this shit,” he speaks slowly, the Cheshire Cat like grin on his stupid face spreads across his lips revealing his straight white teeth, “you need to relax a little bit.” He notices the weight of the beer can and tips it back into his mouth, chugging the rest of it and smacking his lips when he’s done. Adding a deafening belch upwards to the ceiling.

You curl your lip in disgust and shove his arm off of you. “What? Hair of the dog baby, gotta keep drinking to avoid a hangover.”

Crossing your arms and taking a step back from him, you take a deep breath, “I don’t know how you lived in the trailer park, and frankly— I don’t give a fuck—but, you will not, make a mess of my house. Either, clean this shit up before I get home from work, or I’ll personally move your crap out to the lawn. Got it?”

His smile fades, and his eyebrows pull together, eyes squinted. The hum of the ceiling fan is the only noise in the house. “Are you threatening me at 7:30 in the morning?” he asks, checking his watch, towering over you. No doubt he is trying to freak you out.

It takes everything in you to not slap him upside the head.

You stand your ground, not letting his carved jaw and mean eyed demeanor get the best of you.

“Damn right I am. I’ll have your shit lying on the lawn like a horrendous Halloween yard sale. Just because the whole town thinks you're some psycho, bastard doesn’t mean I do— you don’t scare me, Munson,” his surname falling from your lips like agent orange, thick and heavy painting the air around you both. Your head held high, eyes glaring back into his. His bravado falters and he also crosses his arms, matching your energy.

“Maybe you should pull the stick out of your ass before it splinters, babe.” Eddie chides back, lips spreading manically across his face.

Neither of you will let the other win, and if you didn’t have to go to work, you would stand here all day arguing with him. You poke a manicured nail into his chest. “You owe me a new bottle of lotion.” With that you push past him and make your way into the bathroom to finish getting ready.

“It was either that or the mayonnaise, sweetheart!”

-

You had always found comfort working at Josie’s. She had taken you on immediately after finishing Cosmetology school at Empire Beauty School in Indianapolis, giving you full time hours and helping you buy your supplies. Nancy had dropped down to part time, working for both the Hawkins Post and cutting hair on the side. Josie was like an older sister to you, and you loved her dearly.

After doing matching perm sets on a mother and daughter, a trim on your regular client, Audrey, and catching up with the latest gossip from Molly about her date that ended with them making out in his car—it was time for your lunch break.

The leftover half of a tuna salad sandwich stared you down from its cellophane wrapper, begging you to ingest the soggy yet stale bread. A stomach ache waiting to happen. Tossing it into the trash, you settle for Marlboro menthols and a Diet Coke. The sun is high in the sky, begging you to enjoy it.

You shed your vest as you sit on the back patio, leaning your head against the neon pink and white striped plastic pool chair lounger, stretching your legs out and kicking off your sandals. You accept the sun’s rays into your skin. Sunglasses poised on your face and a cigarette tucked between your mauve painted lips, you pretend you’re in a movie.

But you’re not— you’re in the middle of Butthole, Indiana. The only exciting thing that happened here was the possibility of hearing the latest town gossip about someone’s cousin, friend, or ex getting knocked up by the high school football star.

You longed for a day off where you and Robin could enjoy the once luxurious but not desolate woods of Lover’s Lake. Nothing but the peaceful breeze to fill your mind and the light rustle of the leaves.

Nancy pulled the blue matching chair up next to you, curling her legs beneath her as you silently pull your lighter from your pocket and hand it to her. A small cloud of smoke dances around your face as she lights her cigarette inhaling deeply.

“Ready for the honeymoon?” You ask her as she inches her way down the seat, a slight squeak to the rubbery plastic as she settles her body in.

Nancy and Jonathan had gotten married two months ago. The wedding was pristine and beautiful in typical Nancy fashion. Her glorious curls in a French twist, soft tendrils framing her youthful face. A pearl colored lace gown billowing behind her and sleeves puffed around her shoulders with dainty lace decorating down her delicate wrists. She looked incredible.

You cried standing beside Holly and El in your peach colored satin gowns, wiping your eyes when they read their nuptials, vowing to be together during sickness and in health. Will, Argyle, and Mike stood beside Jonathan trying like hell to stand upright as the bachelor party spilled into the midnight hours, Mike, paler than usual and Will, drenched with sweat under the beaming lights of the church. Argyle was the only one smiling through the entire ceremony, moving his head to the rhythm of the organ.

Karen had wept and gathered you into a tight hug for helping style the bridal party’s hair that morning, and for being such a wonderful roommate to Nancy. Ted checked his watch every half hour, and kept an eye on the punch which seemingly looked to get darker and darker throughout the night.

Joyce and Hopper held each other close and danced slow to every song played. Their undying love for one another evident on their faces.

A very drunk Murray Bauman hollered obscenities behind the bar, obviously taking advantage of the open bar night as he mixed drinks for the Wheeler and Byer wedding guests, heavy on the liquor. It wasn’t until grandma Wheeler grabbed the mic and started singing Frank Sinatra that someone caught on to Murray’s antics.

You had danced and laughed along with your high school classmates all night, spilling champagne and beer onto the community center floor, the bottom of

Nancy’s dress turned an ugly smoke gray. It was a perfect summer wedding, one that all of Hawkins would be talking about for years to come.

Nancy stretched her back and twisted her neck to look at you, blue eyes peering over round colored lenses, “Yes, I can’t wait to dip my toes in the ocean,” she says beaming, “we’ve been going to the pool pretty often these last few weeks trying to tan Jonathan a little bit so he doesn’t burn like a piece of bread in Cancun.”

A giggle bubbles on her lips as you laugh along with her. “Any luck on finding a roommate?”

You had been dreading this conversation. Originally you had hoped that Erica Sinclair or even Max would maybe want to be your roommate. Sadly they were both either starting college or finishing up their degree this year—Lucas turned down a full ride basketball scholarship to be with Max. Even the boys had places to go. Dustin and Suzy were finishing their summer internships and moving in together—he had plans on proposing after summer’s end. Will lived in Indianapolis, he became a teacher’s aid after finishing his Bachelor’s in Fine Arts, hoping to one day become a professor. Mike and El lived in Hopper’s cabin, tucked deep in the woods. Celebrating being together for almost 10 years. It was quite literally just you— single, and desperate for a roommate.

“Yeah— I uhh— they moved in last night actually,” you said through a wall of smoke nonchalantly. Lighting another cigarette to power through this conversation.

Nancy is picking at her cuticles and flipping through Cosmo as she asks who answered the ad.

A nervous laugh surpasses your lips, “Eddie,” you say in almost a question.

Nancy stops moving entirely. The ash from her cigarette threatening it’s length. She shakes her head and corrects herself, “Sorry, I think I had a stroke… did you say Eddie? As in Eddie Munson?”

You throw your arm over your eyes and slip further into the chair, hoping it would swallow you whole. A groan escapes your lips followed by your confirmation.

“There was no one else! Everyone is off at school, or getting engaged— he was the only one to show up and look at the house! Plus he forked out more cash than I had originally been asking for so obviously he can afford the rent.”

“Probably drug money,” Nancy coughed.

“Honestly I don’t care if he robbed a bank, the money is there and right now—” the threat of what your life could become stings like a wasp in your brain, red ink showing final notice, light switches not working due to the electricity being shut off, before Eddie moved in— you were well on your way to that lifestyle. “that is what matters.”

Nancy huffs in disagreement, taking a breath to settle her nerves. “I don’t know him personally— but just be careful. Wait, wasn’t he friends with—”

“Yup.” You quip, tight lipped and short, “Robin and Steve know him too.”

“That's what I had thought, well at least he’s not like, a total stranger then.”

Nancy listens intently to the horrors of the past 24 hours at the house she once lived in. Twisting her wedding ring around her small fingers, she had never been more thankful to be married.

-

The work day ended later than you had hoped, a last minute client showed up begging for a “quick perm” — as if there were such a thing. You waved goodbye as you reminded her of the strict no washing policy when it came to maintaining her curls in place. You sweep the floor in a rush and place your combs and scissors in the blue barbicide. Putting away the perm rods and wiping down the surfaces. Switching over the laundry so at least the towels would be dry by the time you opened on Monday morning.

You were tired and your back felt a little stiff. You shut off the radio, still humming Material Girl, to yourself as you turned off the lights and locked the door.

The drive home was short, your small Ford escort a blur through the streets of Hawkins. You could hear your bed calling you, maybe you’d make yourself a grilled cheese and do some laundry so you wouldn’t have to do it tomorrow. But when you pulled into your driveway you realized you wouldn’t be relaxing at all tonight.

The garage door was pulled open, a makeshift banner with red and black spray painted letters on it spelled out “Corroded Coffin”, a better glance at it and you could see it was the same pattern as your spare bed sheets that you kept in the linen closet. The garbage cans were moved out of the way and tossed into the front yard. Cords from amps and a microphone were plugged into every outlet your small garage could offer. A drum set was in the back beside the shelf that held old paint cans full of lead. The floppy blond haired idiot slammed a Busch Light as he twirled a drumstick in his hand. Two members of the band were head banging along to the guitar solo that Eddie was plucking away at. His fingers moved fluidly over the fretboard. Years of practice evident in the dexterity of his hands. The muscles in his arms tight and flexed, veins protruding around them. There were beer cans scattered all around them. Another dirty thirty, no doubt. Fries were spilling out of empty fast food bags and greasy burger wrappers were littering the ground. The push mower was laying on its side, in the middle of the driveway. The rake snapped in half.

The slam of your car door goes unheard.

The unhinged quirk of your jaw starts to ache as you clench your teeth, stomping towards the garage band. The guitar solo ends just as you get to the garage. They’re all hollering and cheering as Eddie whips his head back, long sweaty strands of his curls whipping around as he tries to catch his breath. Holding the beer at arms length, he pours it into his mouth, light amber colored lager flowing down his chin and the expanse of his neck.

“Fuckin’ told you Jeff,” Eddie says, throwing the beer to the ground at the other guitarists feet, “don’t matter if its been five or fifteen years— I can still play that Master of Puppets solo.” A smug smile spreads across his mouth as he pulls a joint from his back pocket, and lights it between lips.

Jeff swings his guitar off his neck and places it on one of the amps, “yeah, yeah whatever man— you gonna share that or just keep gloating?”

You are standing on the driveway, hands on your hips, weight balancing on one leg, the other straight out, foot tapping in annoyance, waiting for the band of rejects to notice your throat clearing.

“Tooty!” They all yell in unison.

Your expression doesn’t fade. Jaw unhinged, lips pressed together tightly. The icy cold of your stare burrowing into Eddie’s beer and sweat soaked skin, a hazy film around him as he exhales the joint.

“Aww, sweetheart, what’s the matter?” He says with fake concern, a smirk curled on his lips, “you mad you missed the jam sesh?” Eddie croons, the tip of the joint goes red as he inhales again and passes it to Jeff, “don’t worry we do this every other night I’m sure you’ll catch the next one.”

The garage fills with echoing drunk laughs and the asshole on the drums hits a ba dum tss. Causing Eddie to choke on his exhale and start a coughing fit. He’s doubled over laughing as he forces the smoke from his lungs.

“Not here you’re not.”

He looks from you to the guys, all four dumbstruck by your words.

“Please tell me, Tooty, why I, a paying resident of this house,” he says, gesturing wildly around him, taking long legged steps towards you, head dipping and turning to catch your gaze, “am not ‘allowed’ to practice with my band, in a garage that we share?”

He’s lowering his head down to you, the ends of his sweaty curls licking your cheeks as he closes the gap between you, rubbing a hand across his chin, that same smirk on his face as always.

“Hmm?”

You let out an exhausted sigh. After a long day at work the only thing you had wanted to do was relax— not deal with Eddie’s antics.

“I’m not going to entertain your little half-witted dreams from middle school on being the next Kirk Hammett— find somewhere else to play rockstar, and get this shit out of here.”

You shove past him and the band as you stomp through the door leading into the kitchen, hanging up your keys. A quick look around made your head spin.

The house looked worse now than it did when you left for work. Dishes piled along each surface on the counters and into the sink, the microwave was open with what looked like the remnants of a spaghetti-o explosion, a beer can pyramid was starting in the living room. A burnt aluminum pan of jiffy pop sat on the stove, charred on the bottom. The trash bag suitcases Eddie had packed his belongings with, were now thrown in between his room and the hallway.

You were fed up with this bullshit, it had been 24 hours and he was already on your last nerve. Dragging both hands down your face in sheer fatigue, you grab a roll of trash bags from under the sink. Walking heavy footed back to the door, making as much noise as possible, you fling open the door, four pairs of wide eyes stare you down as you shake open the garbage bag.

“Here, let me help you because apparently you don’t have any common fucking sense.” You stomp over to Eddie and rip another bag free from the roll and toss it to him.

In the best condescending tone you can muster you explain, “This, is a garbage bag. Oooh, ahhh. Cool right? See? When you are done with something and it’s empty,” you educate the gaggle of degenerates, “you pick it up, and throw it away! Wow.” You demonstrate for them, picking up an empty can of beer and placing it in the bag.

“See how easy that is? Now,” you say turning towards Eddie your eyes lost of any endearment, “Do you think you big boys could handle that? Or do you need written instructions?”

A scoff is heard from behind you, as it’s now your turn to smirk, stomping back up the steps and into the kitchen, slamming the door hard behind you.

-

Huffing and puffing, you know that the house will never get clean if you don’t do it yourself. You change into a faded Hawkins High shirt and a pair of old worn cotton shorts with paint smears on the hips from when you and Nancy tackled painting the living room last summer, as you set to work on the kitchen. Pulling on a pair of rubber yellow gloves, you make work on cleaning the mess Eddie had made. The soft hum of your kitchen radio plays as Pearl Jam invades the background. You first fill the sink with the hottest water the faucet allowed, dousing the dishes with dish soap. You’re carrying around the garbage can, picking up empty beer cans, cigarette butts, and the charcoal mess of black popcorn on the the stove.

You don’t hear him enter the kitchen, your mind far away to another time, when Nancy lived with you and the only problem she caused was paying rent a week early. He advances towards you and stops in front of you, nostrils flaring as he takes a deep breath.

“What’s your fuckin’ problem? You can be a bitch to me all you want, but the guys don’t deserve that.”

You set the garbage can down by your feet, a rubber glove shoved into his chest, “If you think I give a fuck about what they deserve, you are sadly mistaken! I deserve to not have my house completely trashed every time I turn my back!”

“I didn’t know I was living in a fucking convent, Sister Tooty.” Eddie argues, proud of his comeback he leans against the counter, arms folded across his chest, “that why you never get laid?”

You roll your eyes, “fucking yourself with a beer can taped to your hand isn’t exactly getting laid, Munson. But keep it up, you won’t be living here for long if you keep acting like a fucking pig!”

“Again, with your empty threats, sweetheart. Isn’t it tiring being so mad all the time— careful, looks Iike you’re already getting wrinkles.” A throaty laugh escapes his mouth and he sweeps his thumb between your eyebrows, trying to joke around and diffuse the tension growing between you both.

You swat your hands at him and pull away, a look of disgust and frustration planted on your face.

“Jesus,” he says irritated, “Harrington told me that your family moved away— didn’t know it was because you’re such a stone-cold bitch.”

Without even thinking, you shove him hard in the chest. He goes crashing backwards, the rest of the cluttered items on the counter cascade to the floor with loud thuds. Your cheeks are heated, and your eyes glisten with tears, but you won’t give him the satisfaction of seeing them fall. You look at your socked feet and back up to him. Your lip quivering, head held high.

His expression is stunned, not angry like you thought he would be. A look of worry washes over his face as he realizes he crossed the line. Anger ran its course as he recognizes that he hurt you.

“Ah fuck,” he breathes, putting his head down and shaking his long mane. He looks back up to your face, still steady, not daring to let those traitorous tears fall.

“Tooty, I’m— I’m sorry.”

You pluck off your rubber gloves and toss them to the counter, making a dash to the bathroom and locking the door. Eddie doesn’t hear your crying, drowned out from the shower head as he starts to clean up his mess.

vol iii

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A/N: thank you for reading! Hope you enjoyed! If your name is crossed out on the Taglist it means your settings are more than likely set to private and you’re not allowed to be tagged!

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#eddie x fem!reader #eddie x y/n #Eddie x you #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x f!reader #roommate!eddie #roommate!eddie munson

[munsons-maiden]

𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐄𝐥𝐬𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬

Here’s a smutty little oneshot while I’m working on the next chapter of Worlds Apart. I hope you enjoy! - Love, Kiki  ♡  

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 |  Eddie Munson x female cheerleader!reader (virgin!Eddie x virgin!reader)

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | It’s been two weeks since you and Eddie decided to stop sneaking around and start behaving like every other couple at Hawkins High. Only that you’re not. And after overhearing a group of cheerleaders’ especially cruel gossip about your relationship, Eddie’s insecurities, nourished by all those years of bullying, hit home despite all of his attempts not to let people’s vile words get to him. This time though...he feels like they might be right. Because why would a girl like you ever fall for a guy like him? And when Eddie realizes he made a mistake...he can only hope it’s not too late to fix what he broke. Based on this request: Maybe one where reader is a cheerleader and popular but only wants to be  with eddie but he is insecure because he's the school freak and  overhears mean gossip? Angst w a happy ending?

𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭 | angst with a happy ending; soft, sweet smut; virgin!Eddie x virgin!reader; insecure Eddie; a Pride-And-Prejudice-style confession in the rain  

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 11k  

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | SMUT (only read if you’re 18+ years old!), unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!), p in v

𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐄𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭, 𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭.  

𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐬, 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 & 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐝, 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐦𝐞𝐚𝐧𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 ♡

Eddie hadn’t wanted to eavesdrop. He truly hadn’t.

But he’d heard your name, and then his own, and now he was standing here, around the corner in the empty hallway, forced to listen to the voices of the three cheerleaders and the ugly things they were saying about you and him. He couldn’t muster the mental strength required to walk past them now and face their scrutiny.

He was a rat in a trap.

“…nearly got a heart attack when I saw her jump out of that rusty old van of his last week,” one of them remarked, “Like, I can’t wrap my head around the thought that they’re dating. Barf me out, that’s disgusting.”

“She’s probably just pitying that freak, anyways, and doesn’t know how to get rid of him. Like one of these flea-infested strays you feed one time and they’ll start following you around. He looks like one of these as well.” Eddie didn’t need to see her face to know she was scrunching her nose in disgust. He was used to that kind of reaction. “Oh god, do you think she’ll bring him if I invite her to my Spring Break party?”

“You probably shouldn’t risk it.”

“Probably. I’m a bit sorry for her, though.”

“Why? It’s on her if she’s screwing around with the scum. I always thought she’d end up with Steve Harrington, to be honest. They would’ve been such a cute couple before he graduated.”

“Don’t they always hang around?”

“I mean, yeah. As far as I know. She says they’re just friends but can you imagine rejecting Steve Harrington to end up with Eddie The Freak Munson?”

There was a beat of affirmative silence, before the second girl said, “I don’t get what she sees in that creep.”

“Maybe she fucks him to get a drug discount.”

“Or maybe he’s got some hidden talents,” the third girl jested.

Eddie could nearly feel how she was grimacing with disgust. It was dripping from her voice like poison.

“A freak in the streets and in the sheets?”

“Urgh, stop it!”, the first one giggled, “Don’t make me imagine it. I wanna scrub my eyes with bleach.”

“He probably always fucks her from behind so she won’t have to see his ugly face.”

There was a fit of giggles mingling with the sound of a locker door being slammed shut, before they finally left. Their footsteps were echoing through the silence that settled over the hallway as they walked away in the other direction, clearing Eddie’s path to the exit – but he was frozen in place.

His back against the wall, he let his head fall so his messy curls would hide the stray tear that was rolling down his cheek, as he squeezed his eyes shut to fight the feeling of nausea in his guts while the cheerleaders’ voices rang in his mind, like a broken record, playing their cruel words on repeat.

She’s probably just pitying that freak, anyways, and doesn’t know how to get rid of him.

I always thought she’d end up with Steve Harrington, to be honest.

He probably always fucks her from behind so she won’t have to see his ugly face.

It had been two weeks. Two weeks since the two of you had decided to stop sneaking around and act like every other couple at Hawkins High.

The news of one of the cheerleaders dating Eddie The Freak had spread like a forest fire when the two of you had walked into the cafeteria together, hand in hand.

Eddie had known it would cause trouble – he just hadn’t anticipated how much the whispers and vile comments would hurt him. He was used to them, had been used to them as long as he could remember.

He was used to being eyed warily, glared at, picked upon and bullied because he was different, and he’d started wearing being different like a shield.

What hurt him was how people had started talking about you.

And the fact that Eddie knew, deep down…that they were right. That you deserved someone better than him.

Someone you could bring to parties and kiss in the hallways without being laughed at or shamed for it. Someone who played basketball instead of D&D, who wouldn’t graduate at his third attempt. Someone who looked like Steve Harrington, not like himself.

Someone who wasn’t a freak.

***

You’d known something was wrong when Eddie hadn’t shown up at your place for movie night as he usually did every Friday evening.

And when you’d sought him in the hallway the following Monday before classes, he hadn’t even looked at you before darting off in the other direction.

But if you were being totally honest with yourself…something had been wrong ever since you’d stopped hiding your relationship from the shark tank that was Hawkins High.

Things with Eddie had started out perfectly, all these months ago. The perfect love story, like the ones found on TV and between the pages of sappy romance novels.

Your craving for a chocolate milkshake and Eddie’s hunger for fries had led to a chance encounter at Benny’s Diner in the middle of a Saturday night a few months ago, and the night had ended with the two of you sharing milkshakes and fries until the good-natured but tired Benny had kicked you out by closing time at three in the morning.

When you’d parted ways in the parking lot with smiles as bright as the full moon in the skies above, the unspoken agreement had been struck to repeat whatever had happened that night. And one week later, when you’d shown up at the diner again, this time in the hopes not for a milkshake but the metalhead you’d always simply known as Eddie The Freak…Eddie had been there already, waiting for you with one of his dazzling grins and the confession that he’d hoped you’d show up again.

Benny’s diner became a sanctuary, and the milk-shake-and-fries-dates with Eddie an unspoken agreement. Away from the halls of Hawkins High where people would have stared, gossiped, about a cheerleader and the Freak talking, laughing together – when talking to Eddie and laughing with him felt like the most natural thing in the world. Like breathing. With Eddie, you realized that the corset you’d strapped yourself in could be loosened. Allowing you, for the first time in years, to actually breathe. To be yourself, just like he was, without saying something wrong, being judged. With Eddie, sharing fries and milkshakes at Benny’s little dinner under the cover of Saturday night when there was no danger of bumping into anyone at school because they were all busy partying, you felt more like yourself than you had in a very long time.

And the Saturday night diner dates had morphed into lunchbreaks spent in the shadow of the bleachers or on the little clearing in the woods behind the sports field, hidden from prying eyes; into movie nights and hikes through the woods until one clear, cold night three months ago, Eddie had finally kissed you underneath the starry night sky outside of The Hideout after one of his gigs, his skin soaked with sweat and his voice hoarse from singing and playing the guitar all night. It had been the picture-perfect first kiss.

And one single kiss had turned into many.

Stolen kisses in empty classrooms, fleeting touches and lingering glances in the hallways whenever the two of you passed by each other, heated make-out sessions on the couch of the trailer he shared with his uncle.

And the crush you’d been harboring for Eddie had turned into so, so much more.

Into love.

Not that giddy kind of infatuation of High School sweethearts, but actual love. The kind of love that had you plan your future together, far away from shallow-minded little Hawkins and its gossips.

But where movies and romance novels ended…real life went on.

It wasn’t enough anymore to share stolen kisses when nobody was looking, to see each other every day in class, the cafeteria, the hallways, so close yet parted by that invisible line neither of you had known how to cross – because as soon as the two of you set foot into Hawkins High, you were still a cheerleader. And Eddie was still The Freak.

Until, two weeks ago, the two of you had decided to end the secrecy and behave like every other couple at Hawkins High did.

You’d been prepared for the havoc the two of you would cause, the stares and whispers and bullying, but…you’d been tired of hiding. And you’d thought Eddie had been, too. That he was secretly scared you were ashamed of being with him, when all you wanted to do was shout it from the rooftops that you were in love with Eddie Munson.

That the reason Eddie had never made a move towards Third Base – and had gallantly thwarted all of your attempts to change that fact – had been rooted not only in his genuinely sweet, gentlemanly manners, but a deeper-rooted hurt about you still keeping your relationship hidden.  

But now, two weeks later, it was obvious that something was wrong.

Eddie was avoiding you. And with every step you tried to take to close this strange new distance between the two of you, it felt like he took three steps backwards. Away from you.

By the time Friday had arrived, the vague sense of doom which had started to grow in your chest over the past two weeks had grown into fully-fledged panic.

And you finally had enough of Eddie’s dancing around you.

It was a game day, the whole of Hawkins High a sea of orange and green as everyone sported the school’s colors in anticipation of the basketball game which would take place that evening. Everyone, except for the members of the Hellfire Club, you noticed with a small smile as you entered the cafeteria for lunch break. They’d donned their matching Hellfire shirts for their own game that night, the ones Eddie had designed a few months ago, on a paper napkin at Benny’s Diner.

With his messy dark curls long enough to brush his shoulders, the ripped jeans, the leather jacket and denim vest and rings, the tattoos decorating his skin, Eddie Munson always stuck out in a crowd – but today, in the sea of green and orange – from shirts to scrunchies, from banners to ribbons – he stuck out like a black swan in a pond full of white ones as he was lounging in his usual place at the head of the Hellfire Club’s table. The smile on your lips widened at the sight of him, gesticulating as he replied to something Mike had said. But the giddy feeling in your chest died and withered as realization crept back in that he’d been avoiding you the whole week. The whole past two weeks.

A group of sophomore girls walked past you, a few of them glancing at your cheerleader uniform with various expressions of timidness and awe, and you gave them a little smile as they passed.

Ever since you’d started dating Eddie, most people had stopped throwing you awning gazes and shy smiles in the hallways. Instead, there were now whispers trailing in your wake; some more hurtful than others, but that’s what you’d expected.

Four more months, and you were out of here. You both would be. Rid of ugly whispers and disgusted glances, of people treating you as if the stain dating Eddie The Freak Munson had left on your reputation was an infectious disease.

It hurt. Not because you cared what people thought about you – but because nobody outside of Hellfire seemed to see Eddie the way you did. They couldn’t look past the tattoos, the ripped denim and leather, the unkempt exterior, to see the heart of gold, all the sweetness and kindness underneath that shone from every single one of his radiant smiles.

The smile, though, was wiped from Eddie’s face as you walked towards the Hellfire Club table, the usual exhilarated mood at the table snuffed out like sunlight covered by rainclouds – the same rain clouds dimming the light in Eddie’s eyes when his gaze met yours.

It felt like a knife being plunged into your chest.

You’d hoped for him to give you one of his dazzling smiles when his eyes landed on you, to jump up and kiss you and whirl you around like he always did, but he stayed frozen in place, still as one of his D&D figurines as he watched you approach with a mix of surprise and…something else. Something you couldn’t quite decipher. It scared you.

The silence which had settled over the Hellfire Club’s table seemed to grow more tense when you came to stand beside Eddie, your weary smile into the group, at Gareth and Jeff and Dustin and Mike, answered by uneasy sideways glances flitting between you and Eddie, whose expression had turned into an unreadable mask so unlike him it hurt.

“Eddie, can we talk?”, you said quietly, fiddling with the hem of your cheerleader skirt just to give your hands something to do.

Eddie didn’t even look at you as you uttered the words. His eyes scanned the assembled crowd in the cafeteria, the sideways glances thrown your way, before he said, “Yeah. Sure. Outside?”

Up until now, there had been this tiny sliver of hope that it had all been a misunderstanding. That all your deep, dark fears of losing Eddie, nourished by these past days of sudden radio silence until the tender saplings of anxiety had grown into weeds threatening to suffocate you from within, were irrational, that Eddie’s sudden distance could be rooted in a harmless, reasonable explanation. A misunderstanding.

That if you called him out on it, it would turn out you’d just been paranoid. But judging by his reaction now, it was obvious that wasn’t the case.

Your heart seemed to cease its beating, to freeze over and plummet to the floor all at the same time as, like caught in a trance, you followed Eddie out of the cafeteria and into the silence of the abandoned hallway outside. He didn’t take your hand like he usually did. Didn’t press a delicate kiss to your cheek or your knuckles, didn’t play with the green satin ribbon in your hair matching the cheerleader uniform. Didn’t pull you into a spontaneous little dance, twirling you until your head was spinning and tears of laughter ran down your face.

The air between the two of you was frozen like Lover’s Lake in December when he came to a halt, the silence of the abandoned corridor around you suffocating as Eddie finally turned to face you. It was strange, so utterly unfamiliar to see that there was not a single spark of the usual humor, the usual gentle warmth in his dark eyes as he looked at you now.

“Shouldn’t you be at cheerleader training rehearsing for the game?”, he asked, his voice as hollow as his gaze.

“There are more important things than cheerleader training,” you began, voice softening as you took a tentative step closer to him and added, “Eddie, talk to me. Please. You’ve been avoiding me for two weeks now. And…and I need to know what’s wrong.”

The way Eddie shrunk back from you when you reached out to grasp his hand hit you like a punch to the gut.

“Did I do something wrong?”, you said quietly, letting your hand fall to your side.

Something in your voice, in your eyes, though, snapped Eddie out of this strange detached state, and with a shaky sigh, he pinched the bridge of his nose, eyes squeezed shut as if he was in pain.

And it dawned on you that you’d already lost him.

“I’m…I’m sorry,” he breathed, his own voice choked with emotions, “But this doesn’t work.”

“What –“

“This,” he exclaimed, waving at the space between the two of you, “It doesn’t work. You’re a cheerleader, and I’m a freak. And I’m tired of playing pretend.”

“Don’t,” you said quietly, voice strained to its breaking point with the lump that was forming in your throat, the tears stinging in your eyes and threatening to spill because you knew, could feel where this conversation was heading. It felt like being strapped to a train hurtling towards a glaring abyss. “Don’t call yourself that, Eddie.”

“But it’s true. I’m a freak. And avoiding to say it doesn’t change it. I’m tired of pretending I could be more than the guy tagging along with you through a little phase of rebellion before you tire of him and settle down with one of the Steve Harringtons of this world.” He drew out Steve’s name into a lilt, his voice dripping with disdain.

You reeled back. “Tell me that’s not what you think.”

“It’s what I know.”

Anger started rising in your chest now, mingling with the panic and pain already churning there like a maelstrom threatening to drag you under.

“What you know,” you echoed, voice trembling. “When did I ever give you a reason to believe that, Eddie? When?”

“You’re a cheerleader.” The way he said it, as if that was all there was to you…it made you sick.

“So, a pair of pompoms and a short skirt determine my personality? You, of all people, should know not to judge a book by its cover. And especially not a book you’ve already read.” It came out as a whisper as you tried to swallow back the tears.

“That’s…that’s not what I’m saying.”

“Then what are you saying, Eddie?”

Don’t. Please don’t do this.

Your tongue couldn’t form the desperate plea your heart was screaming at him.

With his voice so uncharacteristically quiet and detached, Eddie said, “I’m saying good-bye.”

There was a shellshocked daze clouding your senses as your body went numb, the sensation spreading from your chest to your fingertips as you waited to wake up with sweat-soaked sheets tangled around your legs and the relief of knowing this, right now, had just been a horrible dream and that Eddie would be waiting at your front door to pick you up for school with that beautiful smile on his lips.

The shrill sound of the bell piercing the silence of the hallways to announce the end of lunch break was dulled in your ears, a scratch at the edge of your perception.

It was curious, how the shattering of a heart didn’t make a single sound when it could be felt so clearly, caused a pain that ran deeper than any blade could pierce.

There was no time for you to react, to beg him to tell you what had happened in the span of a few days to end things like this.

The hallways flooded with people leaving the cafeteria for their afternoon classes, and Eddie was gone.

Walking away down the hallway, the familiar sight of the DIO patch on his denim vest and dark curls fading into the sea of orange and green as he walked away from you.

Just like that.

***

You didn’t remember how you’d gotten to the bathroom, or how long you’d been cowering in the stall, on the dirty, grimy tiles, hugging your knees as sobs ripped through you, the numbness in your body fading as pain took over.

Real, physical pain in your chest, as if your heart had actually shattered into a million tiny shards that were now scraping at your insides, tearing you open while the damn tears wouldn’t stop falling.

Eddie was your first love, your first everything.

And part of you had always – foolishly – clung to the belief that things would always stay that way. That Eddie Munson wouldn’t be your first heartbreak, too. That the plans you’d made for the future would become reality.

You couldn’t figure out what had happened.

Did it even matter, if something had happened? Was that better than Eddie simply falling out of love?

***

“You’re a fucking idiot.”

Eddie’s head snapped up at the sudden sound, and a sigh escaped him as he saw Dustin, hands on his hips as he was standing in the doorway to the room Hellfire shared with the theatre club. The boy’s expression in the shadow of his cap was a mix of shock and anger.

“You’re not even going to argue?”, Dustin challenged.

“Would you go away if I did?”, Eddie replied. His voice was meek and coarse from crying. He was tired. So fucking tired and miserable.

“I won’t go anyway. I heard what you said to her.”

“You spied on me?”

“A High School hallway isn’t exactly a place for private conversation,” Dustin quipped, locking his hands in front of his chest now. The kid definitely needed to get his ego in check.

“Dustin –“ Eddie began, but the boy was already stalking towards him with a grim determination on his face as he said, “No. Let me speak. I’m pretty sure you already know what I’m about to say. Hear me out. You’re a fucking fool. You know why? The sweetest, prettiest girl of Hawkins High gave you her heart, and you threw it away because you’re so deep in your little bubble of moping and whining…about what? That she obviously loves you?”

“She never said that.”

Dustin threw his hands in the air, clearly exasperated now. “Did you? Did you ever say it to her?”

There was a pause as Eddie stared at Dustin, before the boy went on, “That’s what I thought. Why do you think she loves you, huh? For your popularity? Your good grades? Your flowery smell?”

“I get it Henderson, thank you. No need to rub it in.”

“No, you don’t get it and that’s the problem. Are you a Jason Carver? A Patrick McKinney? A Steve Harrington? No!”

“I’m already literally on the floor already,” Eddie said quietly, lacking the strength to even feel indignant, “Why do you keep kicking me, kid?”

“You’re an Eddie. And that’s your selling point! The girl took a single look at you, in all your weird glory, all revved up and jumping tables and selling drugs –“

“Wait, how do you –“

“You carry that stuff around in your lunchbox. Do you think she didn’t know there would be gossip and bullying? She did, of course she did! Yet she took one look at you, at Eddie The Freak, and decided you were worth all that trouble.”

“You don’t even know what happened,” Eddie muttered, raking a trembling hand through his curls. “You don’t know what people are saying –“

“You’re the one who taught me to not be bullied into giving up what I love and now you’re sitting here, hiding and moping around after doing exactly that. You threw her away like the notes for a failed D&D campaign. Or did you really think you were letting her go because you’re such a hero? You’re not a hero, you’re a coward. You’re running away. And while it’s okay to run away from danger or graduation or whatever, it’s really fucking stupid to run away from someone who loves you.” Dustin paused, letting his words sink in, before he added, “If I were you, I’d be on my knees and begging for her to forgive your utter and devastating stupidity and take you back. So…” Dustin cleared his throat, straightening his spine as he stared down at Eddie, who was still miserably cowering amid the scenery for the theatre club’s next piece, “Eddie The Freak. Get up from the floor, wipe your eyes, blow your nose, and get your girl back.”

With these words still hanging in the air, Dustin turned to leave, but Eddie’s voice rang out to hold him back.

“Henderson. Wait.”

Dustin turned, watching as Eddie slowly climbed back to his feet. Taking a steadying breath, he righted his leather jacket and he raised his chin, before he announced, “You need to tell the others that Hellfire’s cancelled tonight.”

“Wa –“

“There’s a goddamn important balls-and-laundry-baskets game I need to attend.”

Eddie could only hope it wasn’t too late already.

***

You’d never been so miserable in your life like you felt right now, dancing and jumping and smiling that wide fake smile as your muscles went through the movements of the choreography like a sleepwalker.

The cheers and voices in the gym blurred like the faces around you as every second made it harder to fight back the tears threatening to spill all over again.

You didn’t need to be a genius to know you were walking the flimsy tightrope over the abyss of a mental breakdown.

You only needed to get through the next two hours.

And then you could break down and cry your soul out.

Two hours.

“Watch your step!”, the hiss of one of the other cheerleaders tore you from your thoughts as you spun just in time to avoid bumping into her, your mind catching up with the steps of the choreography just in time to correct the little misstep and twirl – and time froze for a few heartbeats as your eyes locked on a pair of umber ones, staring back at you from the entrance to the gym.

He was standing in the shadow of the bleachers, hair tousled and hands shoved into the pockets of his ripped jeans as he watched you, the ghost of a sad little smile tugging at his lips that made him look like a lost puppy.

And despite all the hurt and heartbreak, despite the cruel things he’d said, your stupid little heart leapt in your chest like a bird in the confinements of its cage, ready to burst free and flutter right into his hands.

In the months since the two of you had started dating, Eddie Munson had never, not once, attended one of the “balls-and-laundry-baskets games” since they always took place on Fridays, at the same time as Hellfire Club, and it was sacrilegious to ever postpone Hellfire – but now here he was. And he was watching you the way only Eddie had ever looked at you. Not simply looking at you, but seeing you.

His gaze left that familiar prickling sensation in its wake on your skin you couldn’t get enough of as your surroundings blurred like watercolors because the only thing that mattered right then, the only thing that ever mattered, was that Eddie was here.

It took a few heartbeats for your senses to snap back to reality, for you to realize that the music had stopped and cheers rose all throughout the room as you struck the final pose, applause following as the cheerleaders of Hawkins High left the field to make room for the game which would start any minute now.

But as you walked with the others towards the spot at the edge of the field reserved for the cheerleaders, you couldn’t wait a single second longer.

You needed to know why Eddie was here.

A few of the other cheerleaders threw you dirty glances as you broke formation, pompoms still clutched in your hands, and raced along the bleachers towards the exit, heart racing and mind going a mile a minute.

But the blind spot between the exit and the bleachers was empty when you reached it. Eddie was gone.

The applause rising in the gym at your back rang in your ears in time with your racing heart as you darted out of the building and onto the parking lot.

Night had fallen already, and the soft drizzle from earlier had turned into a full-blown spring storm pelting down on you, biting the bare skin on your arms and legs as you squinted into the rain-soaked darkness, scanning the parking lot for the familiar sight of Eddie’s rusty old van.

It was still there, parked at the edge near the fence separating the premises of Hawkins High from that of the Middle School. Which meant Eddie was still around somewhere.

Not caring about the freezing rain, you raced towards the old van, weaving between the rows and rows of parked cars filling the for now abandoned space as the shrill noise of a whistle seeped out of the gym to fill the night, the noise of cheers, but you couldn’t care less about the game.

Just as you reached Eddie’s van, moving to squint through the driver’s side window to see if he was inside, someone called out your name. The voice was so beautifully familiar, the cadence like a melody you knew by heart, its soft lilt your favorite tune in the world as your heart soared and plummeted to the ground like a stone at the bottom of a well all at the same time.

You whirled around, coming face to face with Eddie.

He was absolutely soaked.

His mess of dark curls was plastered to his pale face in wet tangles, and rain was dripping into his face, running down his cheeks like tears as he held your gaze and stammered, “What are you doing? Shouldn’t you –“

“What are you doing?”, you cut him off. The words came out harsher than you’d intended for them to sound, but…you couldn’t help it.

He looked like a lost puppy as he watched you with those damn doe eyes, wide with a silent plea. “I didn’t want to interrupt, I just…I wanted to see you,” he replied quietly, “And that was stupid because you obviously don’t wanna see me right now, I get that, I really do. So, uh…I decided to just wait here until after the game and…talk to you.”

He’d started fiddling with the rings on his fingers. Like he always did when he was nervous.

“I thought you already said everything you needed to,” you said.

It was getting more difficult to hold back the tears with every second.

“Fuck,” Eddie breathed, rubbing a hand over his face, fingers carding through the rain-soaked curls plastered to his forehead – and it was the familiarity of this nervous little gesture that finally broke the dam.

The tears started falling down your face to mingle with the cold rainwater, and your vision blurred as Eddie cooed, sounding as desperate as you felt, “No, no, no, no, please don’t cry, sweeth- please don’t cry, okay?”

“What else am I supposed to do?!”, you shot back, your voice already breaking like your heart had.

You wiped your eyes with the back of your hands, the stupid pompoms you were still clutching tickling your face, before Eddie gently pried your hands away from your face, taking the pompoms from you so you could swipe at the tears and the rain on your cheeks.

The gesture was so tender, so Eddie, that the tears only started to fall harder.

“I was stupid”, Eddie breathed, eyes on yours, pleading, “Really goddamn fucking stupid. Because I got scared.”

“Of what?”, you whispered.

“Of this.” Eddie waved the pompoms between the two of you. Under different circumstances, it would have been hilarious, seeing Eddie the metalhead absolutely soaked like a cat that got lost in the rain gesture heatedly with a pair of wet pompoms.  

“Of…of not being enough,” he finished, taking a trembling breath that told you he was barely holding back his own tears. His bottom lip was trembling when he added, “I…I’ll wait here. Go back to your game and I’ll wait here and if you decide to hear me out – and I know I don’t deserve a single goddamn second more of your time but I’m begging you to grant it anyways – then I’ll be right here, ‘kay?”

The pouring rain was the only noise filling the deafening silence which settled over the two of you as Eddie waited for your reply.

And while your heart screamed at you to break the silence, to take his hand and tell him to never let you go again…your head told you not to.

He’d hurt you. He’d been the reason why you’d cried your heart out at the floor of the High School bathroom for the past few hours.

“I gave you my heart,” you whispered, “And you took it and smashed it on the floor of that fucking hallway. And then you left me there. Without any explanation. Just like that.”

It was hard to speak through the force of your tears choking you, the pouring rain all around drowning out your frail voice.

“Nothing has changed in the past hours, Eddie. I’m still a cheerleader. I’ve always been a cheerleader, and you’ve always been a freak. It was you who started to reduce us to that. It was you who made clear that I’ll be the one to break your heart while you were just doing the exact same thing with mine. That’s not fair. And I didn’t deserve that.”

And with tears falling down your face in hot rivulets that mingled with the cold rain, you turned to go back inside. You didn’t even have the strength to grab your pompoms back from him. It didn’t matter, you couldn’t go back to the game anyways, to cheering with a smile when you were soaked and freezing and numb and sobbing, with your breaking heart that was still screaming at you to stop and run back into his arms.

“I love you.”

Eddie’s words, spoken with such quiet fervor, froze you in your tracks.

“That night you walked into the diner for milkshakes and we first talked? It wasn’t just a lucky coincidence,” Eddie said, his voice nearly breaking underneath the force of his own emotions. “I…At the start of the school year, last summer, I got the bats tattoo.” You could hear the soft rustle of fabric as he raised his arm, clad in the sleeve of his leather jacket, but you didn’t have the strength to turn around yet, to look into those big brown eyes that would bring you to your knees.

“I doodled these bats on my chemistry homework a few days before that and I decided they looked metal so I got them tattooed and the next day in class – you were sitting beside me that day – you told me the bat tattoo was bitchin’,” Eddie went on. You didn’t need to see his face to know his own tears had started falling. “You told me that you’d seen me doodle them the other day and it was cool I got them tattooed and I was, like, a hundred percent sure you were poking fun of me. I waited for you to say something mean because that’s what people always do and you were a goddamn cheerleader and I was actually kinda scared out of my mind of you. But you didn’t mock me or laugh at me or call me a freak. You smiled. Really, genuinely smiled. And I never recovered from that.” He laughed; a low, disbelieving laugh as you felt your own tear-soaked smile tug at your lips as you remembered that day.

“I thought it was the most beautiful smile I’d ever seen,” Eddie continued, “Like sunshine. I started watching you after that day. At lunchbreak, class, in the hallways…it was so annoying. Because there was no way you’d ever talk to me again. Like, no way. Zero chance. But that grip you had on me ever since that day was insane. Like, you probably could have asked me to join the cheer squad and I wouldn’t have hesitated a single. Goddamn. Second. To put a ribbon in my hair and start cheering for Jason fucking Carver if you’d asked me to.”

His low, incredulous little laugh floated through the air.

Your favorite sound in the world.

And a broken little laugh ripped free from your own in response, mingling with more tears as your heart fluttered in your chest, with love and…hope.

“And when I saw your car in that diner’s parking lot six months ago,” Eddie went on, having a hard time speaking through his own tears, “I knew if I left that goddamn High School without shooting my shot and finally talking to you, I’d be the most stupid fucking dumbass in history. Going in there, walking up to you and saying hi was the one brave thing I ever did.”

Eddie paused, swallowing back his tears before he added, “And leaving you there in that cursed hallway today was the most stupid thing I ever did. So…I guess what I’m trying to say, what I’ve been trying to say for a while now but have been too chicken to actually say is…I love you, Y/N. I love you with all my cynical heart. And I’m sorry.”

In the rain-soaked silence that followed, you finally turned around to face him.

Eddie’s eyes, these beautiful dark eyes, were set on you, blinking against the rainwater running from his soaked hair and down his face, the tears in his eyes. He’d never looked so lost and desperate as he did right now, in the pouring rain, waiting for your reply.

“I was scared as well,” you said softly.

He tilted his head. “Of – of me?”

“You got a reputation as cult leader, satanist, freak and drug dealer. But you were always doodling stuff in your books and on your notes and I spent whole classes just watching you doodle. It always looked so cool. And I remember the day you doodled the Hellfire logo and showed up with the shirt a week later and I was so intrigued by that, the passion you put into the things you were doing. Drawing, D&D. Guitar. I saw you design your band’s logo as well. I felt like a weirdo, staring at you like that during classes,” you added with a soft chuckle, “But honestly, I couldn’t look away. You were sitting right in front of the window in Mrs. O’Donnell’s class, and the lighting always painted your hair in different shades. On rainy days it was ink-black, like the sharpie you used to draw. When it was sunny, it was all shades of chocolate. And you always smile when you’re drawing, that sweet small concentrated smile while you’re poking out your tongue. That was when I knew that the guy beside me in English Lit wasn’t the same menacing freak people made him out to be. And I was drawn in. And when I saw you got those bats tattooed, I shot my shot. You grinned, the most dazzling grin …and you never talked to me again until that night we met at Benny’s diner.”

For a heartbeat, there was only the pitter-patter of rain as you stared at each other, all the unspoken things hanging in the air between you until you finally broke underneath their weight.

“But what if you get scared again?”, you choked out. You weren’t sure Eddie would even hear your frail voice against the downpour of the rain pelting down on the asphalt, the parked cars, but he had.

The sad-looking, rain-soaked pompoms still clutched in his hands like a lifeline, Eddie sank down onto his knees, right in the middle of the parking lot in the pouring spring rain, utterly soaked and lost, and his eyes never left yours as he said, “Please, let me explain. Not rationalize, just…just explain. Five minutes. And then you can…you can leave, slap me, strangle me, whatever is it you wanna do.”

The sight of Eddie, kneeling on the wet asphalt of the parking lot, blinking against the rain that was dripping from the wet mess of his curls plastered to his face as he stared up at you, the plea in his huge dark eyes, the holding the soaked pompoms front of his chest…it was just so Eddie that the wave of affection overwhelmed you, stealing the words right off your tongue.

You gave him a curt nod, locking your arms in front of your chest as you waited for him to explain himself.

“In these two weeks since we stopped sneaking around, people have been horrible,” Eddie began. “It’s painted a target on your back. You never said anything about it but you didn’t need to because I know how most of the other cheerleaders have started treating you. That your friends stopped inviting you to parties…and the reason why you’re on this crashing downfall is me. And the thing is…maybe they’re right. Maybe I don’t deserve to be with you. Maybe I’ll never be good enough. Just…what do I have to give you? It’s my third attempt at goddamn graduation. Shit, I’m selling drugs. I’m a weirdo. And you…you’re beautiful, and kind, and you’re insanely clever. And…what kind of future do I have to give you, other than some tiny, crappy apartment and milkshakes at an even crappier diner for date night? You deserve someone who can give you all the fancy stuff in the world that you deserve. Someone you can kiss in public without people being disgusted. Someone who’s not me. Someone who’s not a freak.” There was so much venom in his voice as he spat that word, so much bitterness and disdain.

And just like that, everything made sense.

Eddie hadn’t left because he didn’t want to endure the bullying and gossip and whispers any longer.

He’d left because he actually believed them.

He believed that he wasn’t enough.

He believed the bullies, with their cruel jabs and their nicknames and their vile gossip, were right.

Because…if you’re being told the same thing over and over again, all your life…of course you start to believe it.

“God, Eddie,”, you breathed. “I’m…first of all, these people talking shit about us are not my friends. They’ve never been. You are. You’re my best friend in the world. And instead of just talking to me about the things bothering you, you just started to shut me out. No explanation, nothing. Because if you’d bothered to tell me about what’s going on with you, I could have told you that…that you’re all I want. That crappy little apartment with you is all I want. Milkshakes at some shitty diner are all I want. Because it’s with you. I don’t care about fancy stuff or gossips as long as the person beside me is you. Nothing else matters, and nothing else will ever matter. I love you, Eddie. And I’m sorry it’s so hard for you to see why.”

You’d crossed the distance between the two of you, standing right beside his van now.

There was a heartbeat of silence as the two of you stared at each other. Beneath the soaked strands of his hair, the dark chocolate brown of his curls turned into midnight black by the rain, Eddie’s dark eyes were brimming with tears as they rested on you.

“You…you love me?”, he breathed, his voice trembling, barely audible over the noise of the downpour.

He sounded incredulous. Bewildered.

It tore your heart to ribbons, to realize Eddie truly didn’t see how anyone could be in love with him when he deserved all the love in the world.

He must have seen the answer in your eyes already – because he didn’t wait for your reply.

Eddies hands came up to cradle your face before his lips crashed on yours in a kiss so desperate and fierce that it made the parking lot, the rain, the whole world around you blur as each and every one of your senses came alive to narrow in on Eddie.

On the feeling of his lips against yours, his thumbs brushing away the droplets of rain and tears streaming down your face as he gently angled your head to deepen the kiss, pressing closer while your fingers buried in the mess of his soaked curls at the nape of his neck to draw the softest of moans from his throat.

“I’m sorry,” Eddie breathed into the kiss, his lips chasing yours, “I’m so fucking sorry, sweetheart. I’m not gonna run again. I promise.”

You knew he meant it. With all his heart.

Your hands buried in his soaked curls, you pulled him closer, and Eddie obliged happily, pressing himself against you while your back thudded against the hood of his van.  

One of his hands roamed down your waist, to your thigh, as he helped you sit on the metal of the hood, not caring for the rain soaking your skirt as you wrapped your legs around his waist to pull him closer, and the sweetest noise tumbled from Eddie’s lips as you bucked your hips against his, your crotch meeting the growing bulge in his pants to make him groan into the kiss as his tongue grazed your bottom lip.

You didn’t care about the pouring rain or the hard metal of the van’s hood beneath you. Nothing else mattered but Eddie’s lips on yours, his arms around you.

The cold of the spring night was melted away by the heat of Eddie’s body pressed against yours, the blissful burning sensation his kisses sent through you.

His arm snaked around you, hand settling on the back of your head to support your weight as the other slipped underneath the soaked shirt of your cheerleader uniform, fingertips drawing small circles on your wet skin as his tongue danced over yours, his intoxicating taste of chocolate and the faintest trace of cigarettes mingling with the rain and the salt of your tears invading your senses and sending your mind spinning like sparkling, frizzing champagne injected straight in your veins – only better. So, so much better.

Intoxicating and dizzying in all the ways only Eddie ever could make you feel.

With each kiss, so ravenous and greedy and gentle and sweet all at the same time, Eddie was placing all the pieces of your heart back together, mending what he’d broken.

Rain and darkness became your guardians, shielding you from the cruel, prying eyes of the rest of the world as you sunk into Eddie’s arms, rolling your hips against his with more vigor this time, and his answering groan, vibrating through your own body to stoke the embers glowing in your core into flames, drifted into the rain-filled dark of the parking lot.

The sodden skirt of your uniform had ridden up with the movement, and Eddie’s hand left your waist to roam down, exploring the side of your thigh, fingertips warm against your cold skin as he started to toy with the waistband of your panties, thumb hooking around the fabric as you pressed closer in a silent plea for him to follow through and remove the damn thing –

“Wait,” Eddie breathed, pulling away to assess you, and concern took over his expression.

“We need to get you somewhere warm before you catch your death out here,” he said softly – and only then did you realize you were, indeed, shivering. Tremors were racing through your body as the freezing spring-rain soaked through the fabric of your cheerleader uniform, running down the bare skin of your arms, your legs, plastering the fabric to your body and settling on your skin with biting intensity.

“Oh,” you replied, mind still caught up in the blissful haze of his kisses.

But when Eddie moved to gently pull you down from the hood of his van, back towards the gym with him, you called out softly, “No. I don’t want to go back in there right now.”

Eddie tilted his head, confusion still written across his features before his eyes lit up with an idea. “Then the van it is. Come on, sweetheart. Gotta warm you up.”

“You did a pretty good job with that already,” you teased as Eddie ripped open the doors at the back of the van, helping you climb inside with a gallant little bow before following you, pulling the doors shut to lock the two of you in the peaceful solitude of the car.

The band equipment which was usually occupying the cargo space was gone, leaving room for the two of you.

Eddie knelt in front of you as you sat, already grabbing one of the scratchy old wool blankets stacked in the back he usually used as padding to keep the band’s equipment safe from his maniacal driving style.

“C’mere,” he said softly, unfolding the blanket as he scooted closer, and your heart fluttered happily in your chest at the tenderness with which he wrapped the blanket around your shoulders, using the edges to gentle swipe at the mix of rain and drying tears on your cheeks, drawing a soft smile from you before you grabbed a second blanket.

“Your turn,” you instructed, gesturing for Eddie to shrug off the sodden combination of denim vest and leather jacket. The shirt beneath was plastered to his chest, and you inched closer to put the blanket around his shoulders, carding your fingertips through the wet strands of his bangs falling into his forehead – and Eddie reached out to gently catch your wrist.

“Are we…”, he began but drifted off timidly, and sadness flooded his umber eyes, as if he were scared to voice the question dangling in the air between the two of you.

He swallowed, gathering his courage underneath your own soft gaze before he said quietly, “Do you still want me?”

Affection washed over you at the anxiety in his gaze, the soft tremble of his bottom lip, and you gently freed your wrist from his grasp to lace your fingers with his.

“You’ve always been the only one I wanted, Eddie Munson.”

The smile on his lips was radiant, dazzling, warming you from within as he slowly pulled you towards him, onto his lap, his hands leaving yours to settle on your hips beneath the blanket wrapped around your shoulders like a cape, the warmth of his palms seeping through the sodden fabric of your shirt.

And with an intensity in his dark eyes that burned right through you in all the best ways, Eddie murmured, “I’m a goddamn dumbass.”

“You are,” you agreed with a soft giggle, “But you’re my goddamn dumbass.”

“Where were we?”, he grinned, nuzzling your nose, that radiant smile still on his lips.

But you bit your lip, scanning his face, before you timidly asked, “Is that why we didn’t…make it to Third Base yet?”

The little wince in reply didn’t escape your notice, but before your heart could sink again, he said, “At first, I wanted to take things slow and do it right and be a gentleman.”

“And then?”

“Then I got scared. Because…I’ve never, you know. I was scared senseless I’d do something wrong. I’m…I’m not confident. I’m just really good at playing pretend. I mean, I’m confident when I play D&D or my guitar but I feel like these are the only two things I’m actually good at so…”

He drifted off again, averting his gaze.

Your hands came up to cup his cheeks, and you gently tilted his head to make him meet your gaze before you murmured, “What happened in those two weeks, Eddie?”

He meekly shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut as he tried to fight his tears, and your heart bled for him – and raged, about all the bullying and the cruelties he must have had to endure for them to lodge as deep as they obviously had.

“You can tell me,” you pleaded softly. “You know you can tell me, right?”

You could tell he was fighting the tears, the shame – and had you been able to set fire to the whole damn town for treating him like this, making sweet, caring, kind Eddie believe the ugly, vile things they were whispering about him, you would have burned this whole Hellhole to the ground.

“You also know you don’t have to tell me,” you added, brushing away a few soaked curls from his cheeks. “You can tell me when you’re ready. Okay?”

He gave you a curt nod, swallowing against the lump in his throat.

And into the silence which followed, filled by the soft pitter-patter of the rain on the van’s roof, you placed the softest, delicate kiss on his cheek before you breathed, “I love you, Eddie Munson. For the way you light up every room with your smiles and your laugh. For seeing people, instead of just looking at them. For choosing kindness when it would be easier to just be rude. For caring about all the lost little sheepies.” Your words coaxed a timid little smile from his as he watched you, your fingertips playing with the sodden dark curls framing his face, “For caring. For being unapologetic and yourself even if you don’t think you’re brave, because sadly, being yourself in a world like ours and a town like Hawkins is the bravest thing one could do. And for giving others the courage to do the same. For giving me the courage to do the same.”

“Chances are,” he quipped, that tender smile playing on his lips, “That no matter how weird you are, I’ll still be the weirdest one in the room.”

You chuckled softly, before your expression grew stern once more. “I mean it. I love you, for more reasons than there are raindrops falling outside. And I’m sorry people don’t care enough to look at you, because if they did, they’d love you just as much as I do, Eddie Munson.”

“I don’t care if people love me,” he breathed, leaning closer, his lips hovering over yours, “I only care that you do. Nothing else matters.”

And his lips captured yours.

The kiss was sweet, slower than the ones you’d shared in the rain, yet it had lost none of its fierceness.

His arms wrapped around you, pulling you closer as you buried your fingertips in his curls once more, relishing the low moan the motion coaxed from Eddie’s lips, the sensation of his soft, soaked strands gliding through your fingers, rainwater running down your palms as you sunk into the kiss.

And with each movement of his lips against yours, you could feel his doubts melting away alongside your own.

Something had changed, in the way he touched you, you realized.

Something you hadn’t consciously realized had been there before.

Where the caress of Eddie’s hands had been restrained by hesitation before, it had grown bold. Where his kisses had been careful, as if he’d always feared to do something wrong, to overstep and scare you away, there was no more holding back now.

It was like a dam had broken, and you happily let the tide sweep you away, immerse you in the way his hands roamed over your sides, slipped beneath your cheerleader uniform to explore every inch of you, painting gentle patterns on your wet skin like he used to draw his little doodles into his books.

You could feel him smile into the kiss as you uttered the softest of moans when he drew his fingernails up your spine, making you arch your back and roll your hips against his, the already soaked spot on your panties rubbing just right against the tent in his pants, and the shudder running through Eddie made the heat in your core blaze just as much as the sensation did.

“I need you,” you whispered, “If – if you want –“

“God, you have noooo idea how much,” Eddie cut you off with a soft chuckle – one that morphed into a sweet groan as you rolled your hips against his again as he eagerly met your movement with a buck of his own hips, his teeth gently grazing your lips as his hands roam down to the outside of your thighs, dragging his nails over your feverish skin to leave trails of sparks in the wake of his touches, nerves flaring like sparklers as your body came alive beneath his hands.

And it felt like your heart would burst out of your chest with nerves and exhilaration and love and arousal as Eddie’s thumb hooked around the waistband of your panties for the second time that night.

“These need to go,” he breathed into the kiss – a question more than a statement, asking for permission – and you replied with an eager nod.

“Then get rid of them,” you crooned, the heat in your core, the need for him, putting a low rasp into your voice you’d never heard there before.

And with the sound of tearing fabric filling the rain-laced silence of the van, the panties were gone, and you pulled away from the kiss to gape at Eddie.

Who looked just as surprised as you did.

“I’m…sorry,” he said, the sudden timidness in his expression not quite matching the way his pupils were blow, the black nearly eclipsing the umber shade of his irises in the half-dark in the van’s back, the dim, murky light of the parking lot’s streetlamps seeping through the windshield shedding just enough light.

“Did you just rip my panties?”, you giggled, and the guilt in his eyes grew as he replied, “Uh. You wanted them gone.”

“That’s hot,” you grinned. “Very metal.”

His relieved exhale filled the air before he kissed you again, one hand coming up to the nape of your neck as his other hand dove underneath the hem of your cheerleader skirt once again, fingertips gently wandering up the inside of your thigh, painting burning trails of pleasure over the sensitive skin, and the filthy sound you made when his thumb gently flicked over that spot at the apex of your thighs where you needed him most made you gasp in surprise. But before you could pull away from the kiss, before you could even think of feeling embarrassed, Eddie crooned into the kiss, “That was hotter. I hope there’s more where that was coming from.”

You smiled against his lips, and another groan bubbled up your throat as he repeated the motion, the pad of his thumb drawing slow circles over your clit, spreading the wetness that was pooling between your legs – one which had nothing to do with the rain and everything with him.

“Is this good?”, he whispered.

Yes, you wanted to reply, so good. But the sensations of burning pleasure the caress of his thumb was sending through you was stealing the words from your tongue and every rational thought from your mind until there was nothing left but the raw, all-consuming need for more, more, more.

Eddie seemed to understand, though – and your hips moving in sync with the caress of his fingertips over your soaked heat, you angled your head to trail kisses along his jaw, down the column of his throat, inhaling his intoxicating scent of leather and cologne and him, of the rainwater soaking his beautiful dark curls while your hands wandered down to slip beneath the hem of his shirt, caressing the soft skin beneath and relishing the sounds your kisses, your touches, conjured from his lips like the sweetest melody in the world.

“God, sweetheart,” Eddie breathed, and the rasp in his voice, darkened by his own arousal, did nothing to quench the need burning in your core, “You’re so fucking perfect.”

“So are you,” you whispered against his neck, feeling him shudder softly with the sensation of your hot breath fanning over his skin as his fingertips worked you into blissful oblivion.

“I need you,” you rasped, fingertips travelling down towards the waistband of his jeans, following the soft line of his happy trail before you stilled above the buckle of his belt, waiting for his permission, and a smile curved your lips as his hands left their previous position to undo the belt and help you free him.

Your gaze locked on his as your hand wrapped around his throbbing length, a barely suppressed groan ripping from his throat…and a sudden fit of nervousness gripped you.

And of course, Eddie – attentive, gentle Eddie – didn’t even take a split second to see the flicker of nerves which must have crossed your gaze, because with overwhelming tenderness in his gaze, his hands came down to grasp yours, lacing your fingers as he whispered, “We don’t have to do this now, sweetheart. We got all the time in the world, ‘kay?”

“I want this,” you said, your voice more vehement than you’d intended for. “I want all of you, Eddie. And I don’t want to wait a second longer, so if it’s what you want, too…”

The smile lighting up Eddie’s face even in the half-dark was the sweetest one you’d ever seen, so filled with love and tenderness and devotion for you that it made your heart sing as he said, “I don’t think there’s ever been anything I wanted more than…not just that. Just…you.”

For a heartbeat, you just smiled at each other.

Perfectly at ease in each other’s presence, just like it was supposed to be, like it had always been before you’d stopped sneaking around those two weeks ago.

“There’s just one more thing I need to do first,” you said softly, climbing to your feet, hunched so you wouldn’t hit your head on the van’s roof as you felt for the little button embedded there, and a triumphant little huff escaped you as you turned on the small ceiling light before you positioned yourself back on Eddie’s lap, straddling him – and froze as you saw the utter terror in his expression.

“Eddie? What’s wrong?”, you inquired softly, tilting your head.

“I – I’d thought we’d be leaving that off,” he replied hollowly.

And for the first time, you felt gnawing, gut-wrenching insecurity.

“Don’t you…want to see me?”, you asked timidly, heat rising in your cheeks, but the terror in Eddie’s gaze grew as he blurted, “NO! I mean, yes! Jesus, yes! I want to see you. It’s…you don’t have to see me.”

The way he spoke the words in a broken whisper, shattered you all over again.

Because it dawned on you what he might have heard in the course of his life to warrant such raging insecurity. In the course of the past two weeks. You could imagine it too vividly.

And your heart bled for him all over again.

“I don’t know how anyone could ever have perceived you as anything else,” you said quietly, taking his face in your hands, a silent plea for him to look at you, “But you’re beautiful, Eddie. Not just handsome, not just hot, but beautiful.”

He opened his mouth to protest, but you cut him off when you fiercely added, “Like, that was the first thing I thought when I saw you for the first time, in Mrs. O’Donnell’s class. The only seat that was free was the one beside you and you looked at me with those stunning dark eyes and I was so, so nervous because I’d never seen you up close before and my heart plummeted three stories into the damn basement when I did because I knew I’d have the hardest time of my life not to ogle you like some creep. I mean, I did,” you snickered, “But very subtle.”

“You did?”

“God, yes. I memorized every detail. I’ll be getting my diploma in four weeks but I already graduated from the Eddie Munson Color Scheme School. I memorized the exact shades of your hair and the exact hue of your eyes before I ever told you the bat tattoo looked amazing. And I’m a little ashamed to tell you that my…my mind went a little bit into the gutter when I watched you draw your doodles, which, by the way, wasn’t about the doodles but your hands.”

There was a timid, bewildered little smile on Eddie’s soft lips as he watched you bite your lip.

“You…you’re not making that up?”, he inquired.

“The exact. Shade. Every little detail. It took me a week to memorize you better than I ever did my own damn reflection in the mirror so it’s safe to say I was crushing on you way before you started crushing on me.” Your expression softened as you placed a kiss on his cheek. “But I’ll turn the light off if you don’t want it. I just wanted you to know that whatever you heard…it was a lie. You’re beautiful, Eddie Munson. And maybe one day, I can help you see that, too.”

You made to rise from his lap and flip off the light, but Eddie’s hands grasped your waist, keeping you in place as he leaned in to kiss you.

And this time, there we no more interruptions. No more insecurities.

Just love.

“I love you, sweetheart” Eddie whispered into the kiss as he aligned himself with your entrance as you lifted your hips, heart racing with giddiness and love and the tiniest flutter of nerves – and with his beautiful umber eyes on yours, brimming with all the love mirrored in his voice, the tenderness of his touch as his free hand settled on your cheek, you slowly sunk onto him, burying him inside you, stretching you inch by tiny inch as you sunk down, breath hitching in your throat at the sensation, the tiny little sting of pain that didn’t escape his notice as he stilled. For a moment, worry took over his expression. “Wait, did – did that hurt?”

His voice was strained with a suppressed moan.

You were quick to shake your head. “No. Just a little sting. Don’t you dare stop,” you whispered with a smile.

You could sense how he wanted to protest, make sure you were okay when you were more than okay, and you met his lips in a kiss that was fierce enough to swallow all of his concerns as you settled in this new position. The sensation of him buried inside you knocked the air from your lungs and the strength from your body, delirious with the feeling of him as close as he could ever be, two pieces of a puzzle falling in place, and your eyes fluttered close with the flood of sensations.

“You good?”, Eddie asked, his fingertips caressing your cheeks, his voice strained with his arousal as he waited for you to adjust to him – and your mind went blank when you rolled your hips, your whole body turning into a live wire with the sensation bolting through your nerves, with Eddie’s blissed-out moan filling the interior of his van as he slowly rolled his hips to match your rhythm, his lips finding yours as his arms wrapped around you, your own hands burying in his mess of sodden curls.

It was better, so much better, than anything you’d ever imagined.

“Don’t stop”, you whispered as he gently thrust up, his hips snapping against yours, grazing that sweet spot deep inside of you to make you throw your head back as currents of pleasure zapped through your body, building this glowing, white-hot pressure in your core with each thrust.

“God, you feel so good,” Eddie murmured between moans. His breath prickled on your lips before he caught them in another kiss, open-mouthed and sloppy and sweet at the same time as you got lost in the moment, the raw, radiant bliss Eddie was making you feel, the sensation of your bodies melting together so perfectly, as if you were made for each other.

The sweet noises tumbling from his soft lips mingled with yours in-between kisses while his free hand began to trail your spine, the side of your neck, gently tilting your head to give him access to your throat. His teeth grazed the sensitive skin over your racing pulse as you cried out in pleasure at the throbbing ache building in your core, driving him deeper into your throbbing heat with each of his thrusts, each roll of your hips to match his pace, your heart pounding as fast as the rain still pelting down onto the van’s roof.

“I love you”, Eddie whispered, “I love you so much.”

The dark, rasping timbre of his voice engulfed your senses as his hand snaked beneath your skirt once more, fingertips dancing over your clit to draw the most sinful sounds from you with the skill you’d watched him play his beloved guitar so many times, building that glowing pressure in your core until you thought you’d burst with it.

With a final cry of pleasure, your climax washed over you, swept you away in a white-hot wave of bliss that made stars explode in your vision, your fingers tightening in his hair as you could feel him come undone alongside you at the feeling of your walls clenching around him, your name tumbling from his lips as he rested his forehead against yours.

There was only Eddie, buried deep inside you, making you feel as if you were flying as his hands found their way to your hips to help you lazily ride out your climaxes together.

And with the softest sigh bubbling from your lips, you collapsed against Eddie, face buried in the crook of his neck while his hands came up to caress the sides of your face, placing the softest kisses on the crown of your head as he murmured, a little timid all of a sudden, “Was…was that good for you?”

You raised your head to give him a blissful little smile, caught up in the daze of your afterglow. “God, this was so much better than good, Eddie.”

“Good,” Eddie grinned. “This…this was amazing. Like…I figured it would be amazing but this was…this was so much better than I even dreamed of and I dreamed of this, with you, more times than I’m comfortable admitting.” He let out a breathless chuckle of his own that mingled with your giggles.

He looked positively blissed. His curls, only just beginning to dry, were a wild mess, his pale cheeks dusted with a soft blush, and his umber eyes were wide, filled with so much joy and love that you felt a lump in your throat as he mirrored your grin with the most radiant, dazzling smile of his own.

“So, uh,” he grinned, nuzzling your nose, “I wanted to ask that over chocolate milkshakes at Benny’s diner but I figured now’s just as good a time as any, so…wanna go to prom with me?”

You reeled back, gaping at him. “Like, prom prom?”

“Um. Is there, like, more than one?”

The alarm in his eyes made you laugh. “No, I mean. You. Eddie Munson. Going to prom?”

“Well, since we’re official and the plan still stands to turn heel and get the Hell outta here together as soon as we get those diplomas, I thought I could just as well do something…weird for one night.”

You laughed, and Eddie joined in, his hand grasping yours to guide it to his lips, placing a delicate kiss on your knuckles.

“Uh, you didn’t reply yet. Getting a little nervous here, sweetheart.”

“Only if you attend in your best leather jacket.”

You could visibly see him deflate with relief at the thought of not having to wear an actual tuxedo, and your smile turned mischievous as you drawled, “And only if you help me pick out the dress you get to rip off of me afterwards.”

“That’s a deal I can live with,” he grinned, before his expression softened once more.

“I love you, sweetheart. And as long as you’ll have me…I’ll stay. Promise.”

-----

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#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #stranger things eddie #eddie munson x fem!reader smut #eddie munson smut #eddie munson angst #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things #stranger things 4 #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things x reader #stranger things x you #stranger things x y/n #Joe Quinn

[julesthequirky]

The Choice: Chapter Eleven

All my work is purely aimed at those 18+ so minors kindly, DNI.

Summary: You find three of your favourite characters in your home. It shouldn’t be possible, but there they are. In the flesh. How the hell did they get there? And surely there’s a way to get them back? But as you get close to each one, the thought of sending them back proves difficult to comprehend.

Characters/Pairings: Fem!Reader x Ben (Soldier Boy)

Warnings: Smut, p in v, doggy style, dirty talk, language, finger sucking, smidge of praise kink, hair pulling, spanking, ass play, typical Soldier Boy behaviour.

W/C: 1,826

“I’m gonna fuck you so hard, sweetcheeks, and I won’t stop. Not until your pussy pops.”

His words whipped around inside your mind, turning you on to no end. Without warning, the walls of your vagina clamped down. You shuddered, unable to stop it.

He had you now. And he would get what he wanted.

You pushed up on your hands, but a hard shove on your back had you faceplanting the mattress.

“I didn’t say you could kneel. Fucking stay there until I say so.”

Yes, sir.

Oh God. Your pussy clenched at nothing, your hands fisting the bedsheets, desperate to control the need raging through you. He dropped his hand from your jaw, body retreating off the mattress. Large hands gripped the band of your lounge pants. With one tug, he had them over your ass, along with your panties. He whipped them right off, and you heard two sets of material pooling on the floor the next moment.

Ben nestled above you again, bed dipping as he retook his position over you. His bare hands gripped your thighs, and he pushed your ass up.

Cool air met your heated core. It could not render the burning intensity of your arousal as your bare pussy was presented before him.

A thick, hot pole brushed against your inner thigh, causing you to jerk. A dark chuckle escaped from Ben’s throat.

“Suck on these.”

He pushed two fingers past your lips. And you did what he asked of you. You sucked the thick digits, swiping them occasionally with your tongue. A deep groan rumbled from Ben.

“Fuck, baby. Would you suck me off as prettily as you suck my fingers? I can imagine your hot little mouth wrapped around my cock.”

Your cunt twitched. Did his filthy mouth turn you on? Yes, it did. Mark had never said anything like that to you. He had never bothered trying.

Ben pulled his fingers free, and the next moment, they were sliding deep into your pussy. You moaned, duvet soaking up the sound. Mark hadn’t made you moan like that. Ever.

Your snug muscles clenched around him.

“Fuck me. You’re tighter than a nun. Jesus, it really has been a while for you.”

You whimpered, white-knuckling the sheets as he stroked. You shuddered through each stroke, cunt pulsing around him. His fingers curled, stroking against a soft pad of tissue. You jerked forward, pussy fluttering as pleasure whipped through you.

Your body trembled. Fire churned in your belly, flaming to your core. Heat lashed, swamping down, as intensity built, tightening in your gut. He had you whimpering through each stroke, pussy fluttering around his fingers.

“Looks like you’re gunna blow.” He chuckled.

Then you did. You exploded, gushing around Ben’s fingers. You cried out his name into the sheets, riding the waves as he stroked you through them.

“Didn’t clock you for a squirter.”

He was observing as you trembled in the aftermath, catching your breath.

His fingers retreated, only to grip your thighs, pulling them apart, leaving a wet, sticky mark on one. Thumbs traced your parted lips. You shook, whining and jerking from his touch. You were much too sensitive.

Your ass stung as a harsh slap landed on your left ass cheek.

“Don’t be a baby.”

He rubbed the hot crest of his cock between your parted lips, using your wetness as a lube. Then he pressed the head to your snug pussy entrance.

“Open that pretty little pussy for me.”

Ben nudged forward. Your cunt gripped him, muscles enveloping him, stretching tender tissue for him. He was so fucking wide. Wider than Mark. You shuddered again as pleasure-pain tore through you. Your heartbeat thundered in your ears. You could tell he was heavy and thick from the crown alone.

His hand fisted your hair, and pinpricks of pain rained over your skull as he yanked your head up.

“You’ve got a greedy little cunt.”

You whimpered. What could you say to that? Thank you?

Ben’s cock suddenly surged forward, punching through nerve endings, only stopping to a natural rest once his balls smacked against your ass.

You cried out, your muscles clamped, sucking and squeezing as they desperately tried to adapt to his size.

Ben was larger in all ways than anyone you’d ever been with.

He groaned.

“Fucking perfect.”

You weren’t ready, but he didn’t care. His thrusts were powerful, smacking into you with full force, taking the breath from your lungs. The metallic bed frame creaked and banged against the wall with each of Ben’s hard drives. Heat swamped your belly. His strokes were like a constant strike of a match.

You’d never come like this. Never penetratively.

They were hard, brutal pumps. His cock forged forward, bottoming out each and every time.

You moaned loudly, unable to control it, unable to keep it in. You didn’t mind the pain along your scalp, the iron grip he had on your ass cheek, and you even liked the rugged, guttural grunts Ben gave with each thrust. It had your pussy slicking, allowing for his cock to surge forward with even more ease. The sloppy sounds coming from your cunt filled the room, mingled along with sweat and the scent of sex.

This was what it was like to be dicked senseless.

Your college girlfriends had gushed about it. You could never join in; sometimes, it had you green with envy. At times, you resented them. And Mark. Especially Mark. Mark hadn’t cared for your pleasure, only his.

Your cunt clamped down hard. Ben growled. You knew what was about to happen. Heat lashed down your body.

Teeth nipped at your shoulder. Then you were hauled up, his fist still gripping your hair. Your back arched, and with the change of angle, your cunt squeezed, gripping him, as you moaned out. You were more than close. Anything could and would send you over the edge.

“Squirt your pretty little pussy all over my cock. Come on, doll.”

His hand travelled up from your plump ass cheek, fingertips skimming over your moist skin, rudely pushing your bra to cup a plentiful breast. He squeezed and tweaked a nipple.

Intense pleasure shattered through your system, racing across your skin. The strength of your orgasm had you screaming his name, had your eyes rolling to the back of your head, and whiting out.

“Don’t you dare pass out on me, now, girly.”

You came to, a palm slapping your cheek. Your eyelids fluttered open, and a slight whine escaped your lips as you felt Ben’s cock stroking lazily inside your oversensitive pussy.

“On your elbows.” He commanded, and you did as he asked.

He smacked your thighs with the back of his hand, pushing them further apart.

“Good girl.”

A different type of pleasure rolled through you. You liked it when he praised you. A sense of satisfaction came over you, and you fought the smile on your lips. Which disappeared as soon as Ben pressed a wet thumb into your puckered starfish.

You whined, bucking. You didn’t like that. The harsh sting of a slap settled on your ass cheek.

“Don’t be a baby. You’re gettin’ my fingers in your ass.”

Ben refixed one fist in your hair and fucked you slowly as his fingers teased your asshole. He squeezed your globes, occasionally alternating as he slid fingers over your hole.

You whined. The angle of his cock had you chasing a second orgasm faster. His playing sent tingles spreading across your ass, settling into your cunt. Your clit throbbed, wanting that release, but you couldn’t have it. Not yet.

Ben pumped faster, managing to slide a finger into your rectum. The penetration of his finger alone made his cock feel tighter in your pussy. He’d taken up all the remaining space.

Ben stroked until you were a shaky mess, on the brink of another orgasm. You clutched the sheets, desperate for it. Ben added another finger in your ass. That familiar pleasure-pain whipped around like a swirling vortex.

“Please, Ben.” You begged.

You wanted to cum. Oh, my God, it was right there, right on the cusp.

Ben slammed back into you, striking that final match and fucking you into oblivion. You cried out, gushing everywhere.

Ben’s thrusts began to stutter. Both hands gripping your hips, grunting with each effort. He roared out as thick, hot ropes of cum lashed your inner walls. He didn’t stop until he had sunk every last drop within you.

You collapsed onto the mattress when he finally released you. You hoped Ben didn’t want another round. You didn’t think you could go again.

Drowsiness settled quickly, and you couldn’t fight as it took over.

*

It was dark when you awoke. The curtains were closed, and everything was quiet except for Ben’s snoring. You were in bed. Ben must have placed you there after passing out. The urge to pee pressed on your bladder. You didn’t want to get out of bed. It was so warm. But needs must.

You slipped out of bed, being careful not to wake Ben. He had left you in your bra and t-shirt, though he hadn’t adjusted your bra back to cover your exposed breast. From the din, you saw the outline of your panties and lounge pants, along with his sweats.

As your eyes adjusted, you spotted your pyjamas from the end of the bed. They were tangled up in the sheets on Ben’s side.

Just great.

You silently headed to the end of the bed and carefully detangled your pyjamas. Ben stirred. You froze. But he snored loudly and rolled over. Relief akin to the incredible orgasm you’d experienced earlier washed through you.

Thank fuck.

You snuck out of your room, picking up your panties along the way, opting out of using the en-suite for fear of waking Ben up. You walk along the hallway, hoping not to get caught by Dean or Beau. You had no idea what the time was.

You made it to the bathroom with no issues. Sitting on the john, relieving yourself, you peered down. Ben’s seed had dried on your thigh. You hadn’t even thought about protection. It hadn’t even occurred to you or Ben in the heat of the moment. You were an adult. It should have.

Idiot.

You could get pregnant.

Shit.

He was a Supe. You were a human. Becca and Ryan came to mind.

Oh God.

What had you done?

You held your head in your hands. Your brain scrambled to remember where you were in your cycle and how long ago it had been since your last period. You’d never been good with remembering. Except the week prior, as your tits would ache like fuck. That’s when you knew you were near.

What if he did? Would you keep it?

Would you? You had no doubt that in your mind, you would. Though with your luck, it probably wouldn’t take.

Tags: @yvonneeeee, @curlycarley, @angelbabyyy99, @sassy-pelican, @eretsupremacy89, @fanfic-n-tabulous, @deans-spinster-witch, @k-slla, @afro-hispwriter, @tiredstrangerr, @zemosdarling228, @justjensenandhisalteregos, @ladysparkles78, @nescavaneck, @winharry, @stellasfictionalworld, @mishkatelwarriorgoddess, @freefallthoughts, @realityshifter111

#The Choice #julesthequirky's fics #spn fanfic #dean winchester #reader insert #soldier boy #soldier boy fanfiction #soldier boy x you #beau arlen #soldier boy x y/n #soldier boy smut #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy x female reader #the boys #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x female!reader #beau arlen x female reader #beau arlen x you #beau arlen x reader #big sky #supernatural fic

[benedictscanvas]

If you’re still taking requests, I have an idea that’s been PLAGUING me in the best way possible: Jamie meets reader and she doesn’t know him at first and then maybe a few dates later she’s like “omg you were on that shitty reality show” like she does not pay attention to football at all idk I just thought it would be cute 🩵🩵 I absolutely adore your writing 😊

i love it when an idea is plaguing. thank you for being so lovely in your request, i appreciate it and you so very much <3 ALSO i ended up playing dnd unexpectedly yesterday, so another drabble tonight and then a new chapter of be still, my foolish heart tomorrow!! | 1.4k words, tw language

You're sat in the Crown and Anchor for what will now be your sixth date. Jamie swears that it's your seventh, and that your first date was actually when the two of you stood on the doorstep of your house for three hours before you finally realised how long you'd been chatting.

You'd been assembling a swing in the garden out front of your house and Jamie happened to be walking by. He stopped to ask if you needed any help and that was it. It was eleven o'clock when he finally went on his way with your number written on a piece of paper that he clutched in his fist.

But it couldn't be a date, you'd say, because he hadn't kissed you when he left. Realistically, you just enjoyed the scrunched up face he made when you playfully argued with him about it, but he didn't need to know that yet.

You were meeting his friends for the first time. It felt early, but Jamie insisted how fun they were and that after you'd met them, the two of you would be able to hang out way more because you could come and visit him at work. You weren't sure why you'd have to meet them here first, but he said it would all make sense.

Nothing about this made sense, because you were currently the only ones in the pub, stuffed into a corner booth. Jamie's thigh brushed yours as he jiggled it, seemingly as full of nervous energy as you.

"Why is no one else here, Jamie?" you whispered, lest the woman behind the bar who looked not to be messed with heard you, "Is something going on?"

"Oh, I jus' booked it out," he says nonchalantly. You gape at him. It had always been clear he had some money, but never this much. Your first thought was the fact that he'd only ever been to your house, never you to his. Granted, it had only been three times so far anyway, but still.

"Are you like...rich-rich?" you ask tentatively, then carry on talking before he can answer, "That sounds terrible, oh god, you don't have to answer that. I don't care either way, you know, I just like-"

"Y/N, babe," he interrupts you, squeezing you into his side, "I know what y' getting at. I'm pretty loaded, I'm not gonna lie, but I didn't want y' to know until I was sure about ya."

Jamie was sure about you? That was news to you. You were a little nervous about how early it was to be sure, but it wasn't as if you weren't sold on him too. You were practically besotted with the man really, even if you were hesitant to tell him.

As if he could read the surprise on your face, he opened his mouth to speak again but was interrupted-

"Hey! We're not late, are we?"

There were a few men congregating at the doorway, and the woman at the bar waved them in, greeting them like they were old friends. There were far more people than you'd expected, around ten men and two women crowding into the pub. There was no way all of you would fit around this corner booth.

You crammed any anxiety to the bottom of your stomach and stood up to greet everyone.

"Hi! I'm Y/N, it's so lovely to meet all of you!"

"What the fuck guys?"

Jamie's interjection cut your introductions short, just as you were about to hug the man closest to you who was beaming until Jamie spoke up and ruined his mood.

"I invited Isaac, Colin and Keeley. What are you all doing here?"

They had the decency to look a little sheepish. So that was why Jamie hadn't warned you that there would be 12 of them.

"We all wanted to come and meet the girl you've been droning on about for weeks, bruv," one man chimed in, "We tried drawing straws but it just turned into a huge fucking argument. So here we are. Trust me, mate, like 30 of us wanted to come, so count yourself lucky."

"I didn't fuckin' invite 30 of ya!" he exclaimed, winding a protective hand around your waist. Rather than being intimidated, you now felt incredibly touched that Jamie had been talking about you enough that his friends wanted to meet you so badly, "Did you lot even think about how overwhelming y' might be? Fuckin' idiots."

"Oi! We're on our best fucking behaviour, Tartt. Stop moping and introduce us, you prick."

Okay, so that was definitely Roy. You'd heard at least a little bit about him, that he was sort of a friend/mentor of Jamie's but quite...harsh. That definitely wasn't the word Jamie had used, but it worked.

"Okay! Fuckin' hell, right then..."

And he went around the group. They all pulled chair up to the few tables surrounding yours but didn't crowd you too much. There was Isaac, the one who'd explained things when they came in, Colin and Keeley, of course, who you fell in love with instantly. One group who sat slightly separately were Rebecca, Roy, Ted and Beard who all seemed significantly older than Jamie to be his mates, but you didn't want to question it when everyone was being so nice.

"So, we haven't seen you, so that must mean you've been watching this one on the telly, right?"

Rebecca gestures to Jamie with a warm smile, but when you turn to him, confused, he looks like a deer in the headlights.

"On the telly? In what?"

Rebecca looks suitably shocked now, staring from Jamie to you and back to Jamie.

"She doesn't...?"

Jamie hangs his head and you're left even more confused. You're left staring at the side of his face until it hits you: you'd never connected the dots before but now Rebecca had mentioned TV and you were looking right at him...

"Oh my god!" you exclaim suddenly, making everyone around the table jump, even though the younger lads weren't paying any attention, "Why didn't you ever say anything?"

He looks thoroughly guilty.

"Look, Y/N, I jus' wanted to get to know y' without-"

You weren't finished though, still babbling away to yourself as you stared at him, imagining him as he was when you'd seen him through the screen.

"I mean, it wouldn't have changed anything! Not once you'd helped me, but I suppose if I'd realised maybe I would have been more wary of you. You were terrible on that show! All my friends hated you, and I guess I did too, although I still had a bit of a crush, I can't lie-"

You trailed off when you saw the expressions on everyone's faces. The silence was only broken when Roy burst into loud laughter, throwing his head back in a way you guessed was rare for him.

"You know me...from reality TV?" Jamie said, enunciating every syllable and looking at you in terror. You smiled at him easily, reaching up to push a stray hair back from his face.

"Can't believe I didn't realise it, but yeah. Changes nothing for me, you know. It was a couple years ago right? No more dating shows on the horizon for you?"

If you'd realised this immediately, yes you would have been more on your guard. But you didn't, he was clearly very ashamed of his time on there and you were already falling for him and how fucking nice he was to you. Like every move he made was deliberate. It actually made a lot of sense now, if he had a past to make up for.

It took him a few moments of processing, but he was able to pull you into a side and plant a long, lingering kiss on your forehead eventually.

"No more dating shows," he said, full of relief, "Also, I'm a Premier League footballer, since you've taken that one so well."

Your eyes nearly bug out of your head.

"You're a what?!"

Roy's laugh echoes long into your night, as do the laughs of the rest of Jamie's friends, or teammates as you quickly come to know them. Jamie's more relaxed than he's ever been with you and yeah, you can get why he was sure about this now.

#jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt #ted lasso x reader #ted lasso #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt fluff #jamie tartt x you #jamie tartt oneshot #busy week drabbles! #like real people queue

[seeingivy]

funeral

actor!eren x f!reader

**part of my method acting fic

content: depictions of grief, talk of addiction/anxiety

an: i am alive (mostly). eat your cake, even though I think it Is bad (this chapter was the hardest to write, right next to the "the third act" chapter

songs mentioned: marjorie by taylor swift

previous part linked here

--

“What are you thinking, Eren?” Hange asks. 

The question is stupid. Eren is thinking of the only logical conclusion that he can draw from the autopsy report. The implication of it, of how Marco really died, is sitting right in front of him.

The patient is a twenty-three year old Caucasian male with no significant medical history. Emergency services responded to the scene of a motor vehicle crash around nine p.m. At the scene, responders found that the patient was trapped in the vehicle, upturned on the side of the road, with no pulse at the time of arrival. Patient was declared dead on scene. Autopsy concluded that primary cause of death was asphyxiation, secondary cause being severe loss of blood due to injuries in the extremities. 

“I’m thinking that the paparazzi killed him, Hange.” Eren spits. 

“Eren.” 

“Hange, don’t. Just-” Levi mutters, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

Levi’s eyes are borderline gaunt. Eren knows the past few days have sat horribly on Levi’s shoulders and perhaps the past year and a half have too. 

The guilt is excruciating. Because all Eren knows how to do is ruin people.

He dragged Levi and Hange into his mess, when he asked them for help. But it had gone too far at that point, the interview, the night on the beach, the fight - he had exhausted all ends and desperately needed someone on his side. 

Levi and Hange all but berated him for it. For letting it get so far, for waiting so long when he should have known that they were always there to help. But this reaction, Levi being the one to side with his outburst is proof enough that he made the wrong choice, that he should have stuck with himself. That them bending backwards and forwards to get him out of his mess has truly taken its toll. 

Levi and Hange always mimicked him and you. Eren and Hange, he knows they both have a tendency to get so lost in the emotion, to feel it so deep that the response is too loud, too much for what’s called for. That’s when you and Levi would come in, to soothe them down and bring them back to Earth. 

In the same vein, you and Levi, you planted your weeds too deep into the ground. Rooted in exactly what he’s not quite sure - perhaps misplaced insecurities, whatever the two of you seemed to hide in those deep inner walls - but it kept you both stagnant, stuck where you were. That’s where Hange and Eren came in, pushing you both to soar a little bit higher than what you imagined for yourself. 

But now Levi’s here, all but exhausted and broken, the same way he’s sure you were. That’s why things got so fucked up. Eren didn’t let you pull him down. He didn’t pull you up. 

“They killed him, Hange.” Levi states, tone void of any emotion. 

“Levi. It’s almost midnight, we’re all feeling emotional right now. We should look at this all with a clear mind tomorrow.” 

“They killed him. There is nothing to look at.” Levi says, enunciating every inflection of his words. 

Eren knows it for a fact. And from the look on Hange’s face, he knows they do too. His train of thought is cut off by the knocking - rapid, loud consecutive knocks slamming against the wood. 

“God, Eren. Go get it now before they run off with our food.” Hange murmurs, gesturing towards the door. 

Eren shuffles past the length of the hallway and swings open the door to find not his UberEats bag, but Lana, out of breath and panting on his doorstep. 

“Ew. You just left two hours ago. Why are you back already?” 

“Eren. Oh my god.” 

Lana wraps her arms around him, squeezing hard, as she cries into his shoulder. Her demeanor settles an immediate panic under his skin. The last time she reacted like this, Eren had to watch the most gut wrenching interview of his life while she held his hand. God knows whatever she’s about to tell him now is going to break him.

Eren brings his hands up and grabs her shoulders, applying pressure to stop her from shaking in his arms. 

“Lana. What’s wrong with you? Why are you-”

“Eren. I’m so sorry, you- I’m here for you, okay? Whatever you need, just-just say it.” she pants, hiccuping in between her tears.

Eren frowns, wrapping his arm around her shoulder and pulling her out of the cold Seattle air into the kitchen where Hange and Levi are cooking by the stove. 

“Hi Lana Bear! How are you, kid?” Hange says, all but bouncing over to wrap their arms around Lana. 

This only upsets Lana more, the discomfort worsening in Eren’s chest as he can’t help but stare at her, at her brown eyes turning almost red from the downpour of her tears and the tension sitting in her shoulders. 

“What is it? Who died?” 

The question, when Eren asks it, is entirely rhetorical. A figure of speech, meant to emphasize that Lana’s reaction was extreme, too obscene for whatever it is she must be talking about. But when she doesn’t respond and swallows hard, the look on her face so crestfallen, Eren’s chest settles into a panic. 

His first thought is you. 

“Lana. Is she dead? What are you-” 

Lana scrambles for the remote on the counter, switching from the Disney Channel to the first news report she can find. The image is of an overturned car, the metal crushed and steaming in the front, accompanied with words that burn Eren’s ears. The first hit is relief - that it’s not you. The second hit is painful, like the air’s been sucked out of his lungs. 

Because it’s Marco. 

“What?” Levi says, taking his eyes off the stove to glance at the screen. 

Eren can feel his phone incessantly buzzing in his pocket and he reaches for it immediately, Lana leaning into his side as she continues to cry into his shoulder. Levi and Hange are moving closer to the television, like that’ll somehow make the sound better, the image clearer, like they’ll be able to find falsity in it. 

jean: the bodt’s said the funeral is going to be near the old house. ask levi and hange if we can all stay in the townhouse together. 

bertholdt: reiner and i are heading over tonight. 

sukuna: Let me know if you need anything. Give the paparazzi hell for this one. 

connie: i’m coming back to seattle. i-i don’t know if i can do this. 

Eren’s quick to respond to that one. 

eren: i’ve got you man. meet us in new york as soon as you can, we’re all going to stay at the townhouse. don’t leave sasha’s side until you get there okay?

connie: alright. okay, thanks. 

eren: phone is on. 

“This is bullshit. How do they know it’s him?” Levi says angrily, hands crossed over his chest. 

“Levi.” Hange says, voice nearly cracking. 

“No, I’m being fucking serious. How do they know that this guy is our Marco? There’s no proof. Call the Bodt’s right now.” Levi says, pacing the kitchen for where he left his phone. 

Eren frowns, his head racing as Levi walks the length of the kitchen and Hange settles into their immediate panic.

“Eren.” Lana says. 

“Hm?” 

“I have to tell you something. You’re going to hate it. I-” 

“Just tell me, Lana. No-no beating around the bush.” 

“The paparazzi…got to him first before the police.” she whispers. 

“What?” Eren says, through gritted teeth as his head all but short circuits. 

“They knew it was his car, he’d been driving it around that part of Nashville for a while. They were probably just following him to get pictures wherever he was going. But then he-he crashed and-” 

“And what? They took pictures of it? Of him?” Eren asks, squeezing Lana’s shoulders too hard. 

“Yeah. They-they only called the police when they were done, Eren. I-” 

The tears fill Eren’s eyes as the implication cuts deep. It all but sears the air in his lungs, the tears welling so fast that it’s already obstructing his vision. All he can feel is Lana’s hands, squeezing his biceps, as he tries to control the heaving in his chest. 

“How long?” 

“Eren.” she says, tone so pitiful it makes his blood boil. 

“How long, Lana?” he asks, voice cracking. 

“It took them forty-five minutes to get there. They would have been there in fifteen.” she whispers. 

And now, the autopsy report tells him enough. With a definitive resolve that the paparazzi killed Marco. Because he died from asphyxiation, from being twisted in the metal, not getting any air. And if the police had gotten there maybe a moment earlier, a second faster, they could have gotten him out, could have at least made sure he was breathing. 

They wanted a picture. Marco died for it. 

The anger surges through Eren, tenfold when he remembers the paparazzi lining up Jean and Mikasa’s engagement party, Falco’s school, his house the day his grandpa died. When you walked into his garage, drenched from the rain with a deep cut on your face and skidded knees, scared to death. 

“I’m done sugarcoating, Hange. Eren is right. They killed Marco.” Levi responds. 

Hange sighs, leaning against the counter as Eren walks up to them, resting his head against their shoulder. They all stand there in silence, not even seventy-two hours after the fact, and it still hasn’t hit Eren. 

In full flesh, that Marco is gone. 

The rapid knocking on the door, real this time, breaks him out of his thoughts. 

“Probably Zeke or Armin. I’ve got it.” he murmurs. 

“Thanks kid.” 

Eren watches as Levi sinks into Hange’s arms, sighing as he shuffles to the door and flicks on the porch light. He swings it open and immediately feels his throat tighten, fully constricted, at the sight of you standing in the lamplight. 

You’re looking up at him, swallowing hard, as you stare into his eyes and all Eren can do is wonder if your brain is short circuiting as much as his is. Surely, it isn’t. Eren has every reason to be embarrassed, to be ashamed. And you don’t. 

For posterity, he fights all instincts, every urge in his body, to reach forward and hold you. To let your sweet flowery smell take over his nose, to settle his face into that crook in your neck, to have your soft, soft touch running over his skin. To let the mountain of emotions he’s been carrying fall, because you’re here. 

But he can’t. 

“Hi Eren.” 

“Y/N.” 

He can’t help but inspect every micro-movement, every gesture you make. Your eyes are nearly glassing over with tears and you’re nervously fidgeting with your fingers. You’ve dropped your gaze to focus on the ground, a habit you always had when you were sad, as your voice breaks into the air. 

“Can I ask you something? Please?” you whisper. 

He reaches forward, hands on your shoulders, squeezing once and praying to god you remember what it means, as he nods. 

That he’s here and he’s got you. 

“Anything. What is it?” 

“Is he dead?” 

Maybe not anything. 

He can’t be the one to tell you. You of all people that Marco died, at the hands of the paparazzi. The same paparazzi who in your very pointed words, gutted your first love like a fish. Who were partly to blame, who drove you out of here alongside him. 

“Y/N.” 

“Is he?” you repeat, voice smaller. 

“Okay. Let’s go inside, you-”

“Is Marco dead, Eren? I’m asking you a question.” 

Your anger in your voice is enough to make him stop in his tracks, the second time your voice is laced with that animosity that it scares him into responding. He hears it, in his worst hours, echoing in his mind. 

How many times are you going to keep breaking shit without any care in the world? The camera, the fucking award you picked over me, Connie’s fucking livelihood, my heart. God, Eren. All you’ve ever cared about is yourself. From the start.

He swallows hard. 

“Yes. Marco’s dead.” 

And you don’t even know the half of it. 

He watches your glass tears, the ones sitting right on the edge of your eyelashes, fall in full force, onto your cheeks as you immediately start hiccuping, hands clasped against your chest. 

“I-I saw it on the news. I-I didn’t believe it but I- They always lie about stuff. I thought it was the same as that and-” 

“Y/N, come ins-” 

Your panic sets in so fast, so quick that Eren doesn’t even register it. Because one second you’re panting and the next Eren’s watching you retch onto the grass Connie mowed this morning. Eren pushes you into the house the second you stop, straight to the kitchen where Levi and Hange are still standing in their spots. 

“Wait, is that-” 

“Do you guys know if we have something like…anti-nausea? Is that what you do when someone throws up or-” Eren asks. 

“Is that Y/N?” Levi asks. 

“Yeah, she-she was on the porch, I-” 

Levi’s quick to walk up, hands on your shoulders as he talks, voice quiet and calm when he speaks near your ear. Hange moves to Eren’s side, her face wearing that concerned look she gives him too much these days, as they both rummage through the cabinets for anything that could help. 

“Y/N. You okay?” Levi asks. 

“I-I threw up on the-the porch. On the g-grass. So-sorry.” 

“It’s just grass. What’s-” 

Eren tries to still it - that pounding in his heart - as he walks over with the glass of water he filled up for you. Your hands must be wobbling too much because Eren doesn’t let the glass go, instead tilting your head up softly with his hands and pouring the water into your mouth. 

“Hey. Drink some more for me.” Eren states, voice soft as he instinctively reaches forward to fix the hairs sticking to the sweat beading your forehead, feeling your skin burning under his touch. 

“We should take her temperature.” Eren says. 

Levi and Hange dart out of the room, to the drawer upstairs where the thermometer is, as Eren takes breaks between helping you drink the water and rubbing circles into your back. 

Eren can feel every muscle in his body tense, his skin burning when you lean forward, forehead resting against his chest as you groan out in pain. 

“Hey. You with me?” Eren asks, murmuring straight into your hair. 

Eren feels your breathing still against him, his hands intuitively wrapping around you this time, cradling the back of your head in his hands. You hum in response to his question, which is a good enough answer for Eren now.  

“Found it.” Levi says, all but speed walking as Eren spins you around, watching as Levi meticulously pushes your sweaty hair out of your face and holds the sensor against your head. You’re all standing there in silence, craning over the little plastic as the two consecutive beeps go off. 

“98.6. You’re okay, Y/N.” Levi mutters, setting the thermometer back on the table. 

“Thank you, Levi.” you respond back, rubbing your arms on your biceps as you stare at the two of them, withdrawn and withholding from you. 

Granted, you’d do the same. You wouldn’t rush to their arms either if they ignored you for two years. 

“You can take this for nausea. If it happens again.” Hange says, placing a bottle in your hands. 

“Sure. Thank you, Hange.” you respond. 

The silence hangs in the air between the four of you as you stand there, each of you racking your heads for the right thing to say. Eren wants to tell Levi and Hange to stop being so rude, that they were the ones who were begging you to come back and now that you’re here they won’t even talk to you. Levi and Hange are debating which one of them should yell at you first, for being withdrawn from them and not asking for help the way Eren did. And you’re figuring out who you should apologize to first, between the three of them. 

None of you break. Because it’s not the right time. Because Marco is dead. 

“Everyone is sleeping together upstairs. There should be an extra air mattress up there, Eren will get it for you….knock if you need something.” Levi says, tone exasperated as he shuffles away. 

“Welcome back, kid.” 

Hange gives you a full smile as they follow him, leaving you and Eren in the kitchen. The distance Levi is putting in between you and him stings, but you swallow the burn and remind yourself that you’re the one who inflicted it on yourself. 

At the time, after the interview, the rationale made more sense. Nonsensically, you decided that you were done with the industry and that, by proxy, meant that you were done with them too. You did your interview and stuck to your word, never looked back. 

It’s humiliating now. Debilitating thinking about how much you must have hurt them. Because each of them, they continually reached out until it stopped. Mikasa made every effort to have you come to her engagement party, that she would even stop the press from coming for Vogue the way they had planned for you. 

And when you didn’t show, all she did was send you pictures, of her and Jean cutting the cake and of the dress she had bought for you to wear. Hange and Levi were so vigilant about it, on making sure that you were okay, that you had security details, that people really were leaving you alone. You didn’t heed any of their efforts, because for all intents and purposes, you were leaving the girl you were behind. 

Her dreams, the love she held, the friends she had. 

It seems stupid now. It seems incredibly and gut-wrenchingly stupid that your last words to Marco were over two years ago because you were punishing him for something that wasn’t his fault. That you can’t go to any of them for comfort because the thing that they need comfort from is you. 

All you know how to do is ruin people. 

“Are you hungry? Or do you want to go to bed?” Eren asks. 

“I can go to bed. Levi said air mattress?” 

“Yeah, we’re all sleeping together in the loft upstairs.” 

“We?” you ask. 

“Mikasa and Jean are here. Ymir and Hisu, Bertholdt and Reiner, Connie and Sash. Everyone else should be getting in tomorrow.” 

Eren pads towards the stairs and you awkwardly follow, crawling up the stairs behind him. You can hear the loud chatter of voices, talking over each other, as you try to catch the ends of their conversation. 

“But where do they go when you pee?” Sasha asks. 

“Fuck do you mean, where do they go?” Reiner says, voice incredulous. 

“Like in the bowl? Because if you’re sitting on the toilet, they have to go somewhere?” Sasha repeats. 

“Sasha. It’s almost one in the morning. Please stop talking about balls.” Ymir groans, earning a good amount of laughs from the group. 

“Eren, tell them all to shut the fuck up.” Jean groans, forearm over his eyes as he and Mikasa roll around on their mattress. 

Eren looks at you, eyes weary, before he turns to respond to them. 

“Y/N’s here.”

They all peek their heads up, curious eyes falling on you, as you give them a halfhearted smile, trying your best to wipe your sweaty palms on the back of your dress. 

“Hi guys.” 

The silence is deafening. You can’t pick what’s worse - Reiner and Bertholdt squinting their eyes at you or Mikasa and Jean refusing to look at you. 

Mikasa and Jean. 

Historia stands up, strutting over from her air mattress, to wrap her arms around you, the pressure of the hug so hard you can barely breathe. You breathe in her smell, spicy and sharp the way it’s always been, as she pulls away. Her warm hand is resting on your cheek, the smile on her face so genuine that it untangles the smallest parts of discomfort on your chest. 

“Hi princess. Missed you.” 

“Thanks, Hisu. I missed you too.” 

That’s always been the thing about Historia. That she’ll pick up, even when you haven’t called her in two years, and run to your aid. 

“How’d you know we were here?” Jean asks, hands resting on his knees. 

“I asked Historia.” you respond. 

“Told you I was her favorite. She reached out to me before you.” Historia mutters, flopping back onto the air mattress she’s sharing with Ymir. 

“You’re so arrogant, Historia. And full of shit.” Jean responds, rolling his eyes.

“You’re so right, Jean-Boy. This is just like what we fought about earlier.” Connie responds. 

The group of them break out into an argument, Historia looking like she’s full on about to wrestle Connie as he only instigates her on. Mikasa’s already resting with her eyes closed as Jean turns pink in the face from his irritations. 

And you can’t help but laugh, warm tingling in your chest at all of them, wholeheartedly the same. You look over at Eren and smile, which he returns. But despite it all, that stillness, that outsider feeling sits in your skin. Because despite them being the same, the striking differences in the room tell you things are wholeheartedly different too. 

“Okay. Where’s the extra air mattress?” Eren asks. 

Connie turns, eyes wide, as he gives the two of you a sheepish smile. 

“Really funny story. Sooooo….” 

“God. What did you do?” Eren groans. 

“Long story short, I was thinking about waterbeds. If you pop a water bed, it should be like a waterfall right? So if it’s an air mattress, it should be like an inflatable air balloon thing. Like the weird noodle guys at the car store? Right? So, I tried to pop it. And succeeded.” Connie responds, rambling. 

“Was it cool?” you ask. 

“Ugh. Not at all, princess.” Connie responds. 

You smile, perhaps bigger than you should at Connie using your old nickname, as Eren starts yelling at him. 

“You should be the one to sleep on the floor since you’re the one who ruined the mattress.” Eren states. 

“She should sleep on the floor. She got here last!” Connie responds. 

“She just threw up. And she wasn’t going to sleep on the floor regardless.” 

“Is she contagious?” Connie responds. 

“Connie!” 

Eren rolls his eyes as Mikasa stands up, shuffling to your side and lightly tugging your arm. You look at her, taking her shorter hair in, as you give her a smile. 

“Hey. Want to go change? Your old clothes should still be here, don’t know how well they’ll fit.” 

Eren breaks out of his conversation, leaning forward to where the two of you are talking, to interject. 

“What’s mine is yours. Take mine if you need to.” he says, before returning in full flesh to the argument he’s having with Connie. You can tell they’re both joking from the way they’re trying not to laugh as you start to walk away. 

The two of you quietly pad down the length to the two doors, directly across from each other, as you take in the scribbled signs switched. Your old room now reads Jean and Mikasa with Connie’s handwriting scribbled underneath inscribing please fuck quietly on the door. And consequently, Eren’s room now reads Eren and Y/N with Sasha’s handwriting scribbled underneath reading yall are fucked UP for this. 

You turn to Mikasa and give her a weird look. 

“Right. We’ve been here for a week, actually. Table reading season four stuff. Jean and I want to share a room so we moved all of his stuff to your room and your stuff to Eren’s room. We’ll put it back.” Mikasa states, pushing open the door to Eren’s room as she starts rummaging through your old drawers in the closet. 

“No, no. It’s okay. I wouldn’t want to impose on you guys when you’re almost about to be newlyweds?” you ask. 

“Yeah. Yeah, next year. And we just moved it because we thought you weren’t going to come back. And Eren didn’t want to toss your stuff and all.” she responds. She pulls out a shirt, most definitely from when you’re fifteen, as you both snicker at the size and she keeps digging. 

You walk around Eren’s room, your room too now, as you eye all the boxes filled with your things, tangled in with Eren’s clothes lying around on every open surface. You take a seat at his desk as you start inspecting his little bulletin board, the pictures underneath the pins. 

One of him, Lana, and Sukuna - the three of them smoldering at the camera. Eren and Connie smiling, Eren and a little kid with short curly hair, and two pictures of you. The first one is of you and him sleeping on set and the other is the two of you with Falco, both of you crouching down to his height and hugging him from behind.

And hanging around both of the pins are your friendship bracelets, which you take off the hooks to inspect. 

So that’s where it went. In all of the fire of moving around so much, jumping from one place to another, you always thought you lost it. But you must have left it here all along.

You run your hands over the beads, yours and Eren’s names, as Mikasa gives you a head shake, indicating she didn’t find anything. 

“S’okay. I’ll look through Eren’s stuff I guess.” you murmur. 

Mikasa nods as she leans against Eren’s desk, hands crossed over her chest, as the silence hangs in between the two of you. She takes one of the bracelets from your hands, twisting the beads in her fingers, as you do the same with yours. 

You find solace in the fact that Mikasa is still wearing her engagement ring - a constant in the sparring mix of changes you just witnessed in the room. 

Connie sober. Ymir and Historia sharing a mattress. Eren and Connie getting along. Mikasa and Jean even tolerating being in the same room as Eren. In the same room as you. And the jarring absence of Marco. 

“How are you?” Mikasa asks. 

“Okay, Mika. How are you?” 

Mikasa sinks down, sitting flat on the floor as she hikes her knees to her chest. You follow suit, dropping from your chair to sit next to her, lacing your arm through hers as you both blankly stare at the floor ahead of you, picking what topic to broach first. 

I missed you. I’m sorry I haven’t talked to  you in two years. Our friend is dead. Eren is here. 

“The engagement party looked beautiful, Mikasa.” 

She smiles, leaning her head against yours. 

“Thank you, Y/N. It was quite nice actually.” 

“I watched it on Vogue. Cried quite a bit.” you respond. 

She laughs, rolling her eyes at you as she lightly shoves you. 

“Should’ve come then. Cried in real time.” 

You swallow hard, cheeks warm, as you squeeze her hand. You know she’s joking, but the guilt runs too deep. 

“I’m sorry for not coming. I-I really wish I was there. And I know there’s no justification for it but-” 

“We aren’t mad at you. Jean and I.” she clarifies. 

“I’d understand if you were. I’m your best friend. I’ve-I’ve been with you guys since the start and-” 

Mikasa’s hands are soft on your shoulders, tears gathering in her eyes, as she looks at you, eyes pinched in pain.

“You had every right to not come. To be done with this. What they did to you, to Eren- Y/N, god.” 

You swallow hard. 

“It didn’t warrant me not coming to you-” 

“It did. You don’t even know the half of it. You-you and Eren. You just-” 

There’s a knocking at the door and Eren pads in, eyes wide as he sees you and Mikasa on the floor, tears gathered in her eyes and your limbs tangled together. 

“Oh, I’m sorry. I can come back.” 

“No, no. It’s okay, Eren. Her clothes are too small. I can go grab mine for her if you two want to talk-” her words pointed, the emphasis on the last words hard. 

“No, don’t bother Mikasa.” he responds, disappearing into his closet to find a pair of clothes for you. 

Mikasa turns back to you, giving your cheek a pinch. 

“I’ll make Jean sleep on the floor if Connie doesn’t give up his mattress. It’ll be like old times.” she responds, shuffling out of the room as you stay on your spot on the floor.

You hike your knees to your chest as you twist the beads in your fingers again, Eren’s name that you used to wear on your wrist almost every day foreign in your fingers. 

“Eren. We’re going to be late.” you groan, impatiently tapping your foot on the ground as you wait for him by the door. 

The two of you are already thirty minutes late to Erwin’s going away party, the last car waiting to take the two of you, Marco, and Annie out to the little soiree that Erwin is throwing for himself - in celebration of him being killed off. 

“Sorry, sorry. Looking for my bracelet.” he responds, darting back and forth from different corners of the room. 

“Well, hurry up. Annie’s getting pissed.” 

“I found yours! But where is mine?” 

You look down at your wrist to find the pink beads on your wrist, spelling out your name against your pulse point in your wrist. 

“Oops, sorry. I’m wearing yours.” you respond. 

Eren’s quick to walk over to where you’re standing on the door - giving you enough time to groan at how haphazardly he got ready for the party. His tie is loose against his neck, hair all messy as you reach up to fix it. 

“God, Eren. At least brush your hair.” 

“Quit moving your hands.” 

Eren takes his hand in yours, quickly sliding the bracelet off your wrist and switching it with the one in his hand. 

“Well, get ready properly. Your tie isn’t even on right.” you respond, irritated as you reach forward to tighten the fabric and smooth down his collar. 

“And if I told you I put it on wrong just so you would fix it, what would you think?” 

“That you’re asking for a death sentence from Annie for wasting time.” 

He rolls his eyes, reaching up to lift the hand he just placed the bracelet on. His thumb is straight against your pulse point, blood pulsating under the spot, as he lifts his hand to leave a kiss right there. 

“And that it’s cute that you did that.” 

He gives you a wide grin, locking your hands together as you both rush out the door. 

Eren shuffles out, sitting across from you as he puts the stack of clothes between you and hikes his knees to his chest. He holds his hand out and you place the bracelet in his hand. 

“You left it in the bathroom.” 

You nod as you try to steady your mind - still running a hundred miles per hour and overstimulated from seeing everyone again. From how familiar it all feels, how easy it all is to fall back into this despite how different things are. 

How you and Eren are miles apart, how you haven’t talked to them all in months, how Marco is dead. That Marco’s death is suspending all of you in a weird state of reality, that every angry word spoken and every bit of harshness seems miniscule now.

“Do you want me to leave?” Eren asks. 

“No.” you shrug. 

“Do you want to talk?” 

“No.”

Eren nods, counting each of the beads on the bracelet, as you both sit there in the silence, letting your eyes float around the room as you let your mind wander. 

Marco and Colt playing chess everyday when he visited you in Canada, Marco falling for every stupid joke that Connie played on him, the way you all cried when Marco died in the show, Marco at the awards show. 

“Eren?” 

“Yes, Y/N?” 

“Do you remember the first time we kissed?” 

The question takes Eren off guard. He debates it then and there - telling you the truth full and whole - on the basis that he can’t handle the way you’re looking at him. At the fact that you even asked that, at the implication that you thought he could ever forget. 

“Of course. On set, in the-” 

“No, no. I mean, for real.” 

“At the awards show.” Eren responds, without a beat. 

“Yeah.” 

Eren leans forward, wrapping his hands around your neck and pressing his lips to yours. You can still feel people moving around you, setting up things for the closing part of the ceremony, but the only thing you’re paying attention to is Eren. And his lips. And the way he’s pulling you closer, like he can’t get enough of you. 

When you pull apart, you’re both panting, smiling at each other. 

“Thank god. If I got cock-blocked from kissing you a third time, I was actually going to commit a murder.” 

“You want me so bad.” you say, sarcastically. 

“Obviously.” 

You both smile and turn to the left, to a very smiley Marco staring at you two. And then you cringe, remembering that you and Eren are literally backstage and there’s like seven people who just watched you suck face. Marco walks up, wrapping his arms around both of you and hugging hard. 

“I love you guys.” 

“Marco. Don’t-” Eren starts.

“I’m not going to tell anyone. You need time to figure whatever is going on, without Connie and and Sasha up your ass the entire time. But I’m really, really happy for you.” 

“Really, Marco?” you ask, leaning into Eren’s touch. 

“It’s always been you guys. You guys better not break up or else I’ll come hunt both of you down. And if I’m dead, I’ll come back to life just to haunt you guys.” 

“Do you think he’s haunting us?” 

Eren frowns, the memory refreshing in his head. One he thought of a few days ago, lingering on the fact that Marco’s probably turning in grave right now. Granted, Marco was very vehement about his stance on you two - your interview and what Eren did, making Marco so agonizingly and uncharacteristically angry that it bothers him now. 

For not listening to him. That if he does ever get to cross that bridge with you, at least be your friend again, that Marco won’t ever know. 

“I just don’t understand why you won’t just go out there and tell her. You know where she lives.” Marco states, irritated. 

“Because I just can’t, Marco! You watched the interview!” 

“The entire song was about how she forgave you. How she isn’t holding a grudge against you. And-and the way she was talking about it, some part of her knows that other people had something to do with this, Eren. She knows deep down.” 

“The interview was fucking horrible. This entire thing, this thing that I did, fucked her up so bad that she isn’t even doing this anymore. This was all she wanted, ever since she was a kid, she-she was so determined and she gave it up because I said all those things, because I did what I did.” 

“Eren. It’s more compl-” 

“No, it’s not. And she fucking hates me. You should have seen how upset she was at the awards show…..I-I ruined it for her. I ruined her entire dream, Marco.” 

“God, Eren. Your tunnel vision is insane. You’re not even giving her a fighting chance when she doesn’t even know the truth!” he says. 

“Maybe haunting is too mean of a word. I think he’d be happy to see us together, right now. Even if the circumstances aren’t the best.” he responds. 

You smile, giving him a nod. 

“He always did like playing cupid, didn’t he?” 

“At the engagement party, he walked around telling everyone that Jean and Mikasa were only dating because of him.” 

“That’s a lie.” you state. 

“No one believed him.” Eren responds. 

The two of you fall into silence again, resting your chins on your knees, as more thoughts swim through your head, pain so palpable it’s sitting in your chest. That if Marco were here, he’d be prancing in and giving you two devious smirks, lovingly teasing both of you. Pulling both of you aside, saying that bygones should be bygones if you still love each other. 

You look up at him, watch his eyes flutter open and close, as he fidgets with his hands. 

You still love him. 

“Can we be civil for the weekend? Like…like you’re not Eren and I’m not Y/N, we’re just-” you sutter.

Your question falls short, hanging in the air as you watch the gears in Eren’s head turn. 

“I just mean. So many things happened between us. And I know there’s hurt there, on your part and maybe mine too, but…..I don’t want us to be mad at each other at the funeral. Or after.” 

You swallow hard. 

“I’d hate for one of us to die being mad at each other. Without having talked in years.” you whisper. 

Eren gets it. The guilt that must be wracking you for not talking to Marco, when you were one of the people who was closest to him. He reaches forward, taking your hand in his, as he fidgets with your fingers. 

“He knows you loved him, Y/N.”

He watches the tears pour down your eyes, face pink and eyes swollen, as you talk. 

“Did he? Because I ignored his texts. For years. He texted me happy birthday, asked how Falco was doing, wanted to know if I watched Halloweentown on October first like I always do, if I was happy, if I wanted to talk and-” 

He squeezes your hand, pulling out his phone, as he scoots to the space next to you. He tries to still the pounding of his heart as you lace your arm through his, leaning your head against his. 

“He knows, Y/N.” 

“You don’t know that.” 

“I was with him. I talked to him quite often after….after everything that happened. I promise you, he knows you loved him.” 

You shake your head, guilt sitting in your head. 

“I have something for you.” he murmurs. 

“What is it?” 

“It’s from a few years ago. I think he was really, really drunk.” 

He hands you his phone, open to a voicemail from Marco, as you wipe the tears on your phone and press play. His voice comes through the speaker booming and giggling and hiccuping as he talks. 

“Eren. Eren! Fuck, I love you so much dude. You’re-you’re such a guy. Like I-I just see you and think hmmmm. That’s a guy. Are you with Y/N? Tell her I love her. She’s my best friend. You’re all my best friends. I’m so happy I got to grow up with all of you. Oh, Connie just threw up on the floor, oh Connie- hey, stop! Okay, love you brother, I have to go.” 

The voice cuts off abruptly, as you laugh. 

“Never could hold his drink, could he?” 

“Not everyone can be alcoholics like Jean and Mikasa.” 

You both laugh, chest aching from how familiar, how soft this feels. That you’re both sitting in this room, where you grew up, fell in love, slept next to each other every night. Eren can see the tears welling in your eyes, thinking of his best efforts to stop it, at whatever is plaguing your mind. 

“So. You said you’re not Y/N and I’m not Eren. So who are we?” he asks. 

“I meant that metaphorically, you’re-” 

You watch Eren’s eyes flit around his room, scanning till he stops around his bookshelf, and turns back to glance at you. 

“Your new name is Margaret.” 

“Ew. And I didn’t mean it like that, Eren.” 

“Who is Eren? My name is….” he responds, giving you a smile as he elongagates the syllables waiting for your response. 

You roll your eyes. 

“Bruce. Your name is Bruce.” 

“Bruce Wayne!” 

“No. Not like Bruce Wayne. Think of someone really boring. Irritating, agitating.” 

“Perfect! I’ll just think of you after five shots of tequila.” 

You both laugh as Eren stands up, holding a hand out to pull you up. He sets the stack of clothes in your hand as he makes a move to walk out of the room. Except he hangs on the door for a second, voice soft when he talks. 

“Does Bruce have permission to say something?” 

“Sure.” 

“I know he technically just met Margaret because she was born a minute ago, but he missed her. A lot.” 

You feel your cheeks burn as you give him a nod, murmuring a quiet me too before sinking into the bathroom to slip his clothes on. 

Connie, does in fact, not give up the mattress. Jean and Eren begrudgingly share as you and Mikasa cuddle into the night. 

--

You wake up first, to find Mikasa sprawled over your entire frame. Her entire body is burning hot and you send a silent prayer to the world's strongest soldier, Jean Kirschtein, for putting up with this for so long. After you all but free yourself from her grasp, you spare a quick glance to see Jean must be smothering Eren more than Mikasa was you and silently muse that the two of them truly are made for each other. 

You pad down to the kitchen, yanking the hood of Eren’s hoodie over your head, to find Connie sitting at the table, scribbling away in a journal, a steaming bowl of oatmeal next to him. 

“Good morning, Con.’” 

He looks up, one of his hands going instinctively to cover what he was writing as you take the seat next to him, crossing your legs up on the chair. He immediately relaxes, giving you a bright smile.

“Good morning, princess. You can have some if you want.” 

“No, no. I don’t want to impose.” 

“What’s mine is yours.” he says, mimicking Eren’s voice. 

You snort, reaching for his spoon, as you take a bite of the warm food, soothing the stiffness in your throat. 

“Sleep well?” he asks. 

“Mikasa basically strangled me all night.” 

“Ew. Of course she has the cuddle bug. I swear, Jean and Mikasa were always goo goo ga ga, but they’re even worse now.” 

“They’re getting married, Connie. It’s sweet.” 

He smiles, sliding the string through the pages, as he turns to you giving you a smile. 

“Yeah. It is sweet.” he responds, voice quiet. 

Connie swallows hard, eyes weary as he turns to you. 

“I want to apologize.” Connie says. 

The elephant in the room. He’s the first one to touch it. 

“Oh. That’s okay, I under-” 

“No, no. It’s not okay.” he responds, tone almost harsh. 

You and Armin share a look the second he breaks the frame, glass shattering over the length of Armin’s apartment. 

“Why the fuck would you guys bring me here?” Connie asks, sweat beading his forehead. 

From the way he’s moving, all erratic and nonsensical, it makes you think that it’s out of his system. That if Connie had a chance, this would be when he would sneak off to the bathroom to get his fix. But he’s nowhere near that, instead settled into Armin’s tiny New York apartment, screaming at the two of you. 

“Connie. You asked us too.” you respond. 

“I was fucking high! Why would you guys even entertain a word I said?” Connie states, voice even more agitated now. 

“Connie. You…you need help. We looked at some rehab places while you were asleep and-” 

“Rehab? I’m not going to rehab. Are you trying to ruin my fucking career, Armin?” 

“No, but we want to make sure you’re okay. They’ll be discrete, we’ll make sure the security detail is good so that you can be better and-” 

“I am fucking fine. Do I look like I need help?” 

You and Armin share a weary glance, before looking back at him. 

“Connie. We love you. We-we just want to help you, okay?” you say. 

“Does it ever embarrass you when you do this, Y/N?” Connie says, voice laced with venom. 

“Sorry?” 

“Does you not think it’s embarrassing to beg like this in front of people who don’t fucking care about you the way you do about them? I figured that Eren putting you in your place like that would set you straight but it seems like you didn’t learn your lesson, did you?” 

You swallow hard, eyes and skin burning as Connie waits for your response. 

“You don’t mean that. You-you’re just mad because you can’t be high right now.” you murmur. 

“Am I, Y/N? Or is it true?” 

“It’s not true. This isn’t you, Connie.” 

“God, Y/N. Wake the fuck up. We aren’t fifteen anymore. No ones sitting here holding your hand telling you that you’ll be the best anymore. I get that you need that ego boost to move forward but I sure as hell am not going to be the one to give it to you.” 

“Connie, that’s enough-” 

Connie swallows hard, eyes focused on his fingers as he talks. 

“I know-I know that I said it wasn’t true. But I really did say all of those things because I was high. Or because I wanted to be high and was in withdrawal and-” 

“I know that, Connie. I’ve never held it against you.” 

He frowns, twisting his pen to his fingers. 

“You always give grace even when you don’t know the whole story. Me, Hisu, Eren.” he murmurs. 

“You deserve it…and I partially knew. I mean, addiction is a disease. It hurt at first but that wasn’t your fault. You just needed to be treated and helped and I’m glad you did.” 

He smiles, resting his cheek against his hand. 

“Thank you, Y/N. Don’t mind me if I spend the rest of my life asking for forgiveness. I won’t ever feel like I deserve it but I’ll keep asking anyway.” he murmurs. 

“I’ll always give it to you.” you respond, squeezing his shoulder. 

You silently wonder that if you ever did come back, sans funeral, if things would be like this. If you and Eren could pretend, if Mikasa and Jean could look past it all. Because some parts of it, they feel earnest, truthful. But you can’t tell if you’re all suspended in some disbelief, clouded by your grief and trying to cling onto one of the things Marco loved most. His time on the show, with you all. 

“Honey when I’m above the trees, I SEE IT FOR WHAT IT IS.” Connie sings, screams. 

“Oh my god, Connie.” you deadpan. 

He’s singing happiness. Like the happiness you sang in your interview, when you forgave Eren. 

“THERE’LL BE HAPPINESS AFTER YOU. BUT THERE WAS HAPPINESS BECAUSE OF YOUUUU. BOTH OF THESE THINGS CAN BE TRUE, THERE IS HAPPINESS.” 

You clamp your hand flat against his mouth, trying not to snicker, as he continues to sing underneath your hand. 

“Are you insane? They’re all sleeping.” you whisper. 

“Not anymore we’re not.” Ymir responds, immediately smacking Connie against the head. 

“You’re going to give Eren a nightmare, Connie.” Historia mutters, dragging her feet into the kitchen as Ymir follows. 

“I’m already living it.” Eren grumbles, leaning against the counter as he splits a PopTart with Jean. 

Slowly but surely, every one of them shuffles down to the room, the deja vu of the situation hitting deep as each person follows suit. Sasha ambles down after a few minutes, finishing off the bowl of oatmeal that you and Connie were sharing while Reiner and Bertholdt murmur quietly over the coffee cup. Eren’s in hushed conversation with Jean and Mikasa, fixing himself breakfast, as Hange and Levi wander into the room, immediately thrown off by all of you in there. 

“Jesus.” Levi says, tone exasperated. 

“Good morning, Levi.” Mikasa says, gesturing to the water boiling on the kettle for his tea. He gives her a grateful smile, taking a seat in his corner as Hange talks to the group of you. Connie’s resorted to cracking all of your knuckles since his are all worn out as they go on. 

“Good morning kiddos!” 

“Don’t….do such a cheery voice, Hange.” Levi says, sighing. 

Hange’s smile falters, before dropping all together, and giving a thoughtful nod. Eren shuffles over to your side, taking the seat next to yours as he places a steaming bowl of ramen in front of you. 

“Oh. Thank you, Eren.” 

“Who?” 

You roll your eyes as Eren smiles, reaching forward to flick your cheek. 

“Bruce.” 

“Bruce, indeed.” he responds. 

Eren knows he’s in treacherous waters. That this line you’ve drawn, that you’re not you and he’s not himself, works almost too well for Eren’s purposes. That he can pretend, in earnest, that none of the things he said happened. That you and him are just as you always were, untouched in the bubble you were always in when you lived here. . 

“The funeral is tomorrow, as we all know. The Bodt’s have requested that we get there ten minutes before the service, so be on time tomorrow. Bertholdt, Sasha, I’m looking at both of you. ” 

You all nod, humming in response, as you start digging into the bowl, switching off with Connie and Sasha who are both trying to monopolize the only real food in a five feet radius. 

“That being said…” Hange says, swallowing hard. 

They’re pacing back and forth almost, teetering on their ankles, when they talk. And when they finish explaining - autopsy report in hand and the gut punch sticking in your chest - you all sit there, blankly staring. 

And wander in silence for the rest of the day. 

It was one thing that Marco died. And an entirely different one that he was killed. 

--

“Someone go get Eren, we only have thirty minutes.” Levi says, everyone lingering in the kitchen and the living room, in a sea of black. 

Almost everyone is here now - Erwin, Armin, even Eren’s parents - all lingering around as you wait to head to the funeral. You give a curt nod to Levi and march out to the pavement, pebbles crunching under your feet as you make your way to set. 

Eren’s been in there since last night, never retreating to the room to change into his pajamas before he settled down on the couch downstairs. Despite your protests, he refuses to sleep in the same room as you. Or let you sleep anywhere else besides Jean’s old bed in his room. 

You let the pebbles crunch under your feet, ignoring the sting as you pass the tandem bike, and slip onto the set. You can see new costumes designs printed against the walls, storyboards with Levi and Hange’s handwriting on them as you make your way to the back towards the piano.

When you see him, that rage, simmering warm in your stomach over the past twenty-four hours, the deep-seated pain of Marco dying alone, crying out for help, comes to a head when you see Eren. Because he’s sitting at the bench, with his book propped up against the stand, and a bottle of pills in his hands. 

You march up to where he’s standing, crossing your hands across your chest as you all but glare at him. 

“Oh. Hey, you look-” 

“Are you serious?” 

You watch his face scrunch up in confusion, that stupid look on his face aggravating you even more. His tie is unkempt, his hair is messy - he’s always so haphazard with these things. 

“You’re doing pills in here before Marco’s funeral. Are you fucking serious?” 

He looks down, at the bottle in his hand and stands up, and swallows hard when he looks at you. 

“Wait-” 

“No. No, for once, you’re going to listen to me. You-you’re sick. Marco’s dead. You can’t even give it to him to be fully there while we say goodbye? This means that much to you?” you spit, watching him shut his eyes. 

“Y/N.” 

“How could you do this? To him? To me?” 

He reaches forward, hands on your shoulders as he squeezes, and your eyes burn like acid. And every feeling, building up over the past few days, comes tumbling out. 

“Why did he have to leave us, Eren? We didn’t get enough time with him. He was only twenty-four, he didn't even get to grow old. He was supposed to die, years from now, so happy, so-so surrounded by people he loved.”

Eren forgoes the rational thought. He reaches forward fully, snaking his arms around you as he cradles your head into his frame, trying his best to stifle your cries into his shoulder. 

“And you. He would hate that you were doing this. I hate that you’re doing this. You-you don’t have to. There are other things that can make you happy or-or fix whatever it is that’s wrong.” 

“Y/N.” 

“What, Eren?” 

He pulls back, reaching for the pill bottle, and placing it in the palm of your hand. You read the label, immediately embarrassed and ashamed of your reaction. 

Eren Jaeger *Lexapro 5 mg  Take one tablet by mouth with the morning meal.

“Oh my god, Eren. I’m so sorry, I-” 

You pull back, sitting down on the bench, as you dig your fingers into your temples, trying to stop that pulsating feeling under your skin. The rage, the feeling, coursing through you so hard that you can’t even pick what you’re mad at. 

You’re breathing panic in and out, chest heaving, as Eren takes a seat next to you, leaning his elbows on his knees. And the feeling, it lands on feeling overwhelmingly embarrassed. Because Eren’s not doing drugs, he’s taking anti-anxiety pills. 

“Eren. I’m so sorry. That was so horrible of me, I thought it was-” 

“You thought it was like Connie.” he finishes

“Yeah. And I’m sorry for assuming, I just-” 

“I’m not mad at you. You were just trying to take care of me. I appreciate it.” 

You groan, embarrassment still coursing through you, as you lean your forehead straight against the piano, the smell of the ink on Eren’s book permeating your nose.  

“Do you remember that birthday party of mine I told you about? When I was ten, at my old house in New York? It was when we were in Australia.” 

You nod. 

“I remember feeling it. A paralyzing block in my chest, like I couldn’t move. And when I was able to move, it was only because it all came rushing to me, so panicked, so fast that I-I didn’t even register what happened.” 

He was barely even ten. You lift your hands to his shoulders, squeezing hard, as he continues. 

You’re here and you’ve got him. 

“I didn’t tell anyone. I thought something was wrong with me. I thought that people feel this way, that it’s normal, but I just felt too much of it. That I just can’t handle things the way normal people do.” 

You frown, reaching up to cup the side of his face. Your fingers brush over his dimples, soft under your fingers, as you talk. 

“Eren. There is nothing wrong with you. That’s just an anxiety attack.” you whisper. 

You’re not sure what it is about what you said but when you look up, there are soft tears flowing down Eren’s cheek, the voice coming out of his mouth so garbled you can barely understand what he’s saying. 

“Hey, Eren.” you whisper, 

“No. No, no. Stop.” 

Eren stands up, retreating to the other side of the piano, where he’s leaning over, his entire frame heaving up and down as you walk to his side. 

“Why are you-” 

“I don’t want you to help me. You shouldn’t be helping me.” he says, his voice shuddering. 

“Why not?” you ask, frowning. 

“I’ve been horrible to you. I don’t deserve your help. You-you should be cussing me out, so mad that you can’t stand me, that you want me to suffer and you’re not. And it’s agonizing for me that you aren’t.” 

You walk up behind him, wrapping your arms around him from the back, as you feel him sigh. You lean your cheek flat against his shoulder, squeezing as hard as you can as Eren continues to cry, fists clenched so tight on the piano that white. 

“You’re not you and I’m not me. We agreed on that.” you murmur. 

“Y/N. We can’t-” 

“Who?” 

He snickers, amidst his tears, as he turns around, and you slot your arms under his. You can feel his heart thumping under your ear, loud and fast, as you place your hand over the spot. The two of you stay that way for some time, Eren's tears falling onto you, as you try your best to remedy whatever it is that's burning inside of him.

“Just calm down and breathe. Falco says it always helps to talk about something else, when he feels like this.” 

He tenses at the mention of Falco, which you realize was a mistake. 

“Why were you in here?” you ask. 

“The Bodt’s asked me to write a song for the service.” 

The perfect distraction.

“Can you sing it for me?” you ask. 

He looks down, green eyes - full and round - as he nods, shuffling towards the piano bench as you take the seat next to him. You can see that the lyrics are scribbled on the book resting against the stand, the paper stiff from blotches of Eren’s tears. He starts playing the piano, his voice echoing on the walls of the set. 

And if I didn't know better I'd think you were talking to me now If I didn't know better I'd think you were still around What died didn't stay dead What died didn't stay dead You're alive, you're alive in my head What died didn't stay dead What died didn't stay dead You're alive, so alive

You rest your hands against the keys next to his, slowly following his pace, as he continues to sing, the hum of his voice filling the air. You can’t help but think it. That he’s beautiful. That this is your Eren, miles away from whoever he was when you saw him last. 

I should've asked you questions I should've asked you how to be Asked you to write it down for me Should've kept every grocery store receipt 'Cause every scrap of you would be taken from me

You can feel the tears flowing down your cheeks now, straight onto the piano keys and your hands, as you cry. 

And if I didn't know better I'd think you were singing to me now If I didn't know better I'd think you were still around I know better But I still feel you all around I know better But you're still around

When you and Eren get to the service, you walk hand in hand to the piano. And play the song together, for Marco and Marco only. 

--

You knock on the door, padding into the room to find Levi, hunched over his computer and leaning his hand on his cheek. You take the seat next to him, crossing your legs against the chair, as he looks over at you, expressionless. 

“I’m leaving tomorrow.” you say. 

Four days after the funeral and all of them have cleared out. Forced to go back to wherever they were before, to push down the beating pain and move forward. The grief, perhaps it did suspend reality for the rest of you. Leave you to pretend that nothing that happened was real, that you were still teenagers running around on this set together. 

That wasn’t how it was for Levi. Because in almost a week of being there, he had yet to talk to you with a straight face. 

“What are you working on, Levi?” you ask, cracking your knuckles. 

He turns the laptop towards you, one of the old hard drives from the earlier seasons pulled up on his computer. He plays the video, one of Jean sitting in a chair behind the green backdrop. 

“Okay, Jean. Tell me your goal for the end of the show.” Levi asks. 

The video, Jean must be barely sixteen, wearing one of the old costumes from season one. You remember now, that Hange was insistent on documenting everything - that you all were going to grow up so fast that they should keep videos. Obviously, Hange is too disorganized to do it themselves, so Levi bit the bullet and did it for them. 

“I don’t know. That’s so far away, Levi.” he groans, scrunching up his forehead. 

“Just answer, Jean. Where do you see yourself at the end of the show, when you’re in your twenties?” 

“With Mikasa.” he responds. 

You both smile as Levi switches to the next videos, the two of you watching all of them in silence. 

“I want to be myself. That’s all I want to be, not embarrassed or ashamed, I-I just want to be me.” Historia says, smiling into the camera. 

“I don’t know. That’s a weird question, Levi.” Mikasa grumbles, glaring at him. 

“You’re horrible, Mikasa. Jean said he wants to be with you.” Levi responds. 

“Well, that’s a given. Of course, I’m going to be with Jean.” she responds, giving one last eye roll to the camera. 

“Doing something important. That means something to people.” Connie responds. 

You swallow hard, as you see Eren, fifteen and so smiley, as he crawlsl onto the little stool.

“My turn?” Eren asks, giving Levi a bright smile. 

“Yes, kid. Your turn. Why else would you be sitting here?” 

“Okay. This is a secret so don’t tell anyone.” he says. 

“I’m not broadcasting to a news channel, Eren. Just hurry up, I still have to get through half of you.” 

Eren nods, reaching up to fix his hair, before he talks - his voice filled with that confident resolve, that one he always sported when he was fifteen.

“I want to get the Best Actor in a Lead role award. And on the same night, I want Y/N to become a triple threat. And then I want us to tell her that I told her so. Me and her, at the top.” he says, giving the camera a bright smile, before jumping off. 

The next one is of you, what you said being entirely lost to you in your memories. 

“What do I want to do when I'm in my twenties? Hm.” you echo. 

“Today would be nice.” Levi deadpans. 

“Well, I don’t know! That’s so broad. I want to be doing stuff like this. Acting, making music, To have people enjoy the work I make, and making it with my friends, like Eren and Mikasa and Armin. I want to be here, more than anything. It feels so right to me, that I get to do this. It’s special, it’s a privilege and I’m really thankful I get to do it.” 

“Note to anyone watching. This is one of our only kids with manners.” Levi says, setting the camera down to give you a hug. 

You bite down on your cheek, looking over at Levi, as he plays the last one. Of Marco. 

“Okay, Marco. What do you want to do when you’re in your twenties?” 

“Well. I know what I’m going to be doing.” Marco says, crossing his arms against his chest. 

“Oh, yeah? What’s that?” 

“See. Spoiler alert, but Hange and Levi just killed me off this show. But we made a deal. That I get to be in each season, even if its a super minor role like a flashback or whatever. So in my twenties, I’ll be here. Surrounded by all my childhood best friends, making this show that’s always meant so much to us.” 

You swallow hard as Levi wraps his arms around you, the two of you watching Marco’s smiley face disappear from the screen. 

“So I’ll see you in four months? For season four?” 

“Damn right you will.” you respond. 

And for the first time in a week, Levi breaks a smile. 

“Good.”

--

next part linked here

an, again: SEASON FOUR ERA (this shit abt to be so awkward when they're not all sad/grieving )

taglist: @k0z3me @kayleegomez @yihona-san06 @bsenpai @sweetenertea @mykyoon @violetmatcha  @rebeccawinters @cutiejg @bokutosthings @bookwrmm @mblrrr @wheredidmycrowngo @somethinginyoureyes7 @chilichopsticks @okaystopwhore @you-always-made-me-blush @itzmeme @firelordazulaaaa @whoami-72 @g-ghostly-y-blog @intimacywithceline @erensmoodygf @cocomellxn @princess-ackerman @jaegerfiles @cacapeepee @squirrelspoetry @rui-0836 @moonmalice @invisible-mori @sofiasber @bbybeeb @timetobegone @tee4str @ttokki2 @leave-rae-alone @ec3lipsy @officialsimpp @gojojang @yookayyo @lordbugs @multiplefandomthings @iobeyfandoms @camilo-uwu @justanotherkpopstanlol @mel-star636 @fvckingeetar @ttalgi

#seeingivywrites! #method acting #eren #eren x you #eren x reader #eren x y/n #eren jaeger #eren jaeger x you #eren jaeger x reader #eren jaeger x y/n #eren yeager #eren yeager x you #eren yeager x reader #eren yeager x y/n #attack on titan #attack on titan x reader #attack on titan x you #attack on titan x y/n #aot #aot x you #aot x reader #aot x y/n #snk #snk x you #snk x reader #snk x y/n #aot actor au #actor eren #actor eren x reader #actor eren x you

[bonthefuckjourx]

Lucifer x Sinner!reader (Hazbin Hotel)

   SUMMARY: You wake up in Hell and realize you didn't make the cut into Heaven. You never did anything evil, but never believed in God. You wanted to live life by your own morals. Little did you know a group of hazbins would take you in and show you more kindness than anyone on Earth ever did. Then you met someone you never thought you would, Lucifer, the King of Hell. Then you did something you never thought you would, make a deal with the devil.

Word Count: 3300k+

WARNINGS: smut

A/N: I am so excited to give you guys this chapter! I feel like we are actually moving now. I've been wanting to write this non-stop, so hoping another update will be out tomorrow. In the meantime, happy reading!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

CHAPTER THREE: I Did Something Bad

“I can’t believe he just kicked us out like that! I mean who the fuck does he think he is?”

Charlie was pacing back and forth in her office back at the hotel. The meeting went less than ideal as Heaven wasn’t forthcoming on her idea. Not only did they rudely kick us out and fling her papers everywhere, but they also increased the Extermination date. It put you on edge how much the angels enjoyed it. You spent the last extermination boarded up in a crate for the entire day. The screams of sinners and the laughter of the angels haunted you in your sleep.

            “I mean it makes sense that the first man alive was this egotistical asshole. “

You mentioned that quite a few men on Earth were like that as well. Of course, you were brushed off as Charlie wasn’t paying attention to anything but her own mumbling. After a few minutes Vaggie came into the office and you decided Charlie didn’t need you anymore for moral support. You closed the door behind you as you made your way up to your room. It had been a long day and all you wanted was to wrap up in your warm comforter. As you walked into your room you noticed a certain friend, Angel Dust, sitting on your bed waiting for you. His head perked up as you walked towards him.

            “Y/n you are not going to believe this. He sang to me, and of course I was upset, but he sang to me. No one has cared even to ever do that for me. Afterwards he was so understanding, and we took a walk together. I mean it’s like we’re practically dating.”

            Angel Dust wrung his hands has he watched you sit next to him on your bed.

            “Did you guys’ kiss at all?”

            “Well, no, but y/n I was so nervous, and for once this is something I want to work out. I can’t afford to mess it up.” He was nervous as he looked to you for support.

            “That’s a good thing. It means you really care. I’m glad you want to take things slow for once, it’ll be good for the both of you.” Your hand gripped his shoulder as you tried to comfort him.

            “Thanks y/n. I guess I just wanted confirmation that I’m doing the right thing. I really like him.”

            “I know you do. It’ll all work out I promise.” You laid back on your bed, closing your eyes briefly. It wasn’t long before he spoke up.

            “So how was your date with the King of Hell?” You opened your eyes, glaring daggers at him. In turn he was smirking at you expecting a response.

            “It wasn’t a date, and you know it. “

            “Well practically, right? You went over to his house, that’s close enough. Did ya do anything? Tell me how big the King’s cock-“

            “Angel Dust! Nothing even happened! We had some snacks and something to drink and we talked.”

            “You. Talked?” He looked at you as if he didn’t believe you. Perhaps he knew you too well by now. You caved in.

            “Well, we did talk, but he also touched my face again and when he looked into my eyes I just couldn’t look away and then next thing I know he’s leaning me over the couch and he’s kissing me and oh my god he just touched me, Angel. Something like that has never happened to me before. It left so different, so alive. It was like his magic was all around, intoxicating me.” You spoke with your hands as well trying to have him understand just how much everything was. You dropped your hands to your sides as you stared at the ceiling, waiting for a response.

            “That’s amazing y/n, but if you ever tell the story to someone else, I advise you to leave out the part where you mention his rival. I’m pretty sure he would be less than happy to hear God’s name coming off your lips rather than his.” A blush overcame your face as you thought of saying his name repeatedly in desperation. It’s horrible just how much he ended up in your thoughts. It’s even worse most of those thoughts are less than clean.

            “Angel, I don’t even know what to do. It’s like he’s a drug to me. Something about it feels so wrong, but so very right. I mean he’s Charlie’s dad, and Charlie also has a mom. Not to mention Lucifer is how many centuries old? I was only 21 when I died. I feel like we could never actually work out. We have so many differences, but there is the trouble between Heaven and Hell. Not to mention we are trying to rehabilitate into Heaven, right? I don’t know if I even want to at this point.” Tears welled up in your eyes at all the impossibilities.

            “Maybe you should take it slow then, like me and Husk. Just be friends.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After Angel left you sat in your bed for a long while. Tears came and they went and eventually you even wrote a bit in your journal. Being friends made sense even though every part of you wanted more. It would be best to be friends until this whole thing with Heaven blew over. If you could convince yourself that you were just friends with him, then maybe you could convince Charlie this was a one-time thing. Speaking of which, you needed to stand up and actually go see her. Ten minutes later you found yourself in front of her bedroom door. You knocked waiting for her to open. Almost immediately it opened, making you wonder if the Morningstars had some more magic up their sleeves than you knew about.

            “Y/n. Hey come in.”

            “Sorry for not coming to you after we came back. I was emotionally tapped out.” You walked inside as she ushered you over to a sitting area she had. A small couch was on one side as a cushioned hair was on the other.

            “It’s okay I understand. However, you might want to explain what exactly is happening between you and my father.” She sat down on the chair leaving the small couch to you. As you set down you rubbed your sweaty hands on your thighs. Charlie looked at you expectantly.

            “Well as you know I really can’t go outside. It’s one of my fears after my death and I just go into panic mode. A couple of weeks ago when he visited the hotel, he found me near a balcony. I admitted to my fear, and he offered to help me overcome it. He brought me to his study. It has these huge windows that look over the city and in a way it helped. I asked him if he would help me with going outside in the future and he said he would. That’s how we ended up traveling together to the embassy today.”

            “That much I gathered but thank you for confiding in me. I understand it takes courage to bring up fears. You still didn’t explain to me, how do I put it, how my father became disheveled.” You looked away from her, baring an awkward smile, hugging your sides. She waited when you were ready.

            “Yes that… He teleported me to his mansion first. There was time so we talked, and one thing led to another. I don’t plan to continue these actions. I do want to become friends with him, but right now it’s too messy. Not to mention he’s your father and had a wife at some point I gather?...” You looked at her with a grimace hoping to not bring up hard feelings. Charlie didn’t seem to mind.

            “Oh that? They haven’t been together for most of my life. I do think it is a great idea you visit these feelings later. I’m all for following your heart, but for one we’re talking about rehabilitant you to Heaven! Not to mention he is my father and if anything does happen in the future, please encourage him to leave me out of it.”

You both ended up laughing together, satisfied with your talk. Your conversation turned to other things and before you knew it you two were chatting about anything and everything. Just like it used to be. There was a reason she chooses you to help her around the hotel. You shared very similar aspirations as her. The only difference was you were not hell born, although sometimes you wished you were. Sinners could not leave the ring of pride, not to mention hell born often thought less of sinners. They could be powerful yes, but sinners could only reproduce if they had a hell born. Many of them didn’t want to touch sinners. It was an afterlife, but it was apparently meant to be a punishment. Many things in the city weren’t there to make sinner’s lives easier.

Eventually you left to retire to your room as you both were becoming tired. You changed into your pajamas and plaited your hair for bed. Your cell phone rang then and as you glanced at it on your vanity you realized it was from Luci. You nearly fell out of your chair. The rings continued as you thought of what to say. You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding and answered the call.

“Hi Luci.”

“Hey y/n. I know it’s late, but I just wanted to hear your voice. I’m sure you know; the nights are the longest.” He sounded tired and sadness tinged his words. You picked up your phone and ventured over to your bed. Laying down you set your phone on your chest as you stared at the ceiling listening to his voice.

“Yea I know about that all too well.”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure, Luci.”

“Do you ever feel like no matter how hard you try you make everything worse?”

“Sometimes.”

“Do I really make everything worse?”

“You helped make me feel better. Didn’t you?”

“I suppose.”

“Then no, you don’t make everything worse.” He let out a small sigh. There was silence for a long time. The only thing you could hear was his breathing trying to keep it together.

“It just feels like it. For centuries I’ve been stuck down here because I tried to give humanity free will. I tried to give them this gift to create and invent and live their lives in amazing, beautiful ways. But it backfired. They snatched what I gave them and threw it down the gutter.” He was speaking behind broken words at this point. The emotion in his voice threatening to break it.

“Luci that’s not your fault. You were doing something good. It’s not your fault the others didn’t agree.”

“Then there’s also Lilith. I thought we had something good. We had Charlie, a real family y/n, and then she left.” His voice wavered with every word. It was heartbreaking.

“I’m sorry she left, but you have Charlie and look at all the good she is doing. You made her for the better. “

“Yea I guess my daughter is pretty amazing.”

“I don’t know much about you and Lilith splitting, but anyone would be wrong to leave you. You deserve happiness even at your worst.”

“Thank you, y/n.”

“You’re welcome.”

You both sat there listening to each other’s breaths. Waiting for the other to break the silence once again. He spoke up first.

“Can I ask you something else?”

“Anything.”

“Can I give you a nickname? Like you gave me mine, Luci.” Your heart pounded in your chest. Friends can give each other nicknames, right?

“Seems only fair,” you spoke softly with a smile on your face.

“Duckling. Just like my best creation.”

“I love it.” Your heart was full, but ached at what you knew you needed to explain.

“Luci, can I ask you something?”

“Of course, my Duckling.” He sounded suave, confidence now in his voice.

“I need us to be just friends.” He sucked in a breath holding it across the line. There was silence for quite a while.

“I understand.” His voice was low now and cut off. The emotion gone. Had he become accustomed to shutting people out?

“Luci it’s not like that. I like you and I loved the time we spent together it’s just too fast. We barely know each other and there is turmoil between Hell and Heaven. I know it must be more than the extermination and I’m worried it’s going to be worse before it is better. Plus, the whole thing with Charlie, it’s a mess. But you’re my mess, together we’re this horrible pile of sin and lost hope. Just wait for me Luci, that’s all I ask of you.”

“Then I’ll be here waiting. Friends can still use nicknames, right?”

“Yes.”

“And talk over the phone late at night?”

“Sure.”

“Then tell me, what was Earth like?”

With that you and Luci talked for hours about anything and everything. From your music preferences to politics to even how high school was for you. He loved learning anything about humans. Thanks to him you all now could choose and oh how many choices did you have. You’re pretty sure any hobby you could think of you tried at least once. You told him about the instruments you played and art pieces you made. People you dated and people you hated. History was always so very interesting to you, and you relayed it to him in detail. Eventually it landed on the topic of religion and how Christianity seems more like a cult now then anything. He told you it had always been that way.

As the hours of the night ticked on, it became a good amount past midnight. You both were tired, but reeling on the energy you both gave each other. It was so nice to have someone to talk to again and bullshit with. He made you laugh, and he listened so very well. You would also ask him questions and you loved listening to his voice. This late at night it was a bit hoarse and husky as he spoke in a lower tone. He was tired that much was evident in his voice, but he also gave off other emotions. Those of adoration and love and home. Eventually his questions made an interesting turn towards your creative writing.

“So let me get this straight. People would write stories about fictional characters and then people like you would write completely different stories based on those characters?”

“Pretty much.”

“What did you write about?”

“Well of course it was mainly romance. I was such a sucker for fantasy romance. I wish I could get my hands on some here in Hell.”

“Romance. Interesting maybe I could give you some pointers here and there for another story. Totally platonic though.” You laughed out loud at the mischievous devil.

“That’s just like no homo.” You couldn’t stop laughing it was that bad.

“Just like what now.”

“I’ll tell you the story another time.”

“Alright Duckling. Let’s hear more about these stories. Come on I’m so interested!”

“Quite honestly these stories would be romance, and a good romance story needs to feel real. A.K.A most of them had sex. There’s something so carnal and intimate to it.”

“You know one of these days you’ll have to write me a story for me to read. I really want to see the genius at work.”

“Well, what do you want the story to be about?”

“I could just show you.”

“Now, now Luci. We’re friends, remember? You could just tell me.” He chuckled across the line and a blush crossed your face at your boldness. You are just friends! Friends can talk about these things, right? If you stay away from being physical with him it all should work out. You hoped.

“My story would start with a certain fallen angel and a beautiful sinner from his land.”

“That’s a good start. What else?”

“Well, he’d take her out to dinner, buy them an expensive bottle of wine to share, and chat about their daily happenings. As dinner would continue, he would stare into her beautiful eyes as he would knead her thigh under the table. She’d laugh and play it off with a blush crossing her face. At one point he would bring her hand up to his lips, kiss it, and tell her to slip off her panties. Hesitantly she would take them off, handing it to him under the table where he would hide them in his pocket.” His voice was laced with lust and made you tremble deep inside. Your deepest fantasies were coming to life with the sound of his words.

“And maybe on the way home this fallen angel would spread his wings and fly her across the city. She would hold onto him and whisper sweet nothings into his ears. When he would land, she would run her hands along his wings, daring him to keep them open.”

You could hear him struggling to keep it together on the other line. A small whimper left his mouth, and you wondered what he was doing. Wondered if you should do the same.

“He’d bring her inside, throwing her on his bed, taking in her beautiful form. His fingers would snap, burning off her clothing in angelic light. He’d use his tongue and lick over her neck and her breasts. Paying close attention to her nipples rolling them in his mouth. He’d kiss her deeply, running his tongue against her lips and nipping at her. His hands would run along her thighs, leaving little marks as his claws dug at her skin. She would be marked as his.”

Your breaths were matching his as you moved your own fingers to his imaginations. Soft moans rolled from both of your lips as you continued the story.

“She would wrap her arms around his neck, biting at the soft flesh there. She’d let him do whatever he wanted to her, and she left her legs open for his taking. She’d whimper and moan as he moved down towards her warmth gasping as he delved in. His tongue would roll between her folds, flicking up and down. Two of his fingers would explore and find the perfect spot and she would melt underneath his touch.”

“He’d take control then lifting her up from the bed. They’d find the nearest wall, pushing her up against it. He’d kiss her deeply as he lined up his shaft to her entrance. They would find a rhythm as she would wrap her legs around him. He would become undone. He would slow down and ease up, then increase speed and deepen the intimacy. At the end he would kiss her, mumbling intoxicating words as he wrapped his arms around her. She would hold onto him as if he was the air she needed to breathe. They would come together then, breathes slowing down as they listened to each other’s heart beating.”

In the end there was very little for you two to say. You were just friends but committed a dangerous sin. Neither of you cared but didn’t dare admit to it.

“Are we finished?” The man on the phone asked not wanting to face their consequences.

“I am, Luci.” You could swear you heard him let out a sigh of relief.

“Then that’s all that matters.” You rolled your eyes. This man never thought about himself.

“Are you as well?”

“When it comes to you, I don’t think I could ever have a different answer.”

Shortly after you two said your goodbyes, finally sated. An unspoken truth held in the air; you both knew nothing would ever be the same. You were spiraling down a fate you were afraid to face. You made a deal with the devil how could you think you would ever make it out alive.

For he was your Savior.

And you had a lot to repent.

#hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin hotel #fanfic #lucifer x reader #lucifer x you #lucifer smut #lucifer magne #lucifer morningstar #charlie morningstar #angel dust #huskerdust #hazbin hotel husk

[alexfromjersey]

A SCHOOL TAINTED WITH BULLET HOLES

Vada Cavell x G!P OC

Word Count: 2.0k

warnings: school shooting, mature language, gun violence

A/N: I’m trying to write as much as possible before I visit my dad for three weeks so pray that I can at least finish half this book and at least three chapters for my other book.

Next Chapter | Series Masterlist

Poke. Poke. Poke.

You were being awoken by the feeling of someone poking you in your side, face, and thigh. You peel one eye open and are met with wide eyes and yellow rotten teeth. You jump fully awake, frightened, and scoot to your wall.

The sickly-looking man let out a laugh at your reaction, “Oops didn’t mean to scare ya.” The man was wearing nothing a dirty stained white t-shirt, no bottoms on.

“Rip! I told you, this room is off limits” The familiar voice of your mother enters your room. She was in a red silky robe that was loosely tied and her hair was disheveled. 

“My bad. I was just trying to look for the bathroom” Rip snorted and moved away from you.

“Last door on the right” Your mom answered. 

Rip nodded and turned back to you. “Sorry kid” He shrugged and left your room. 

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding in. Your mother comes to stand in front of you. 

“I’m sorry baby but I told you to always make sure your door is locked every night so things like this can never happen” She spoke softly. She tries to push some hair out your face but you flinch away from her. A hurt look appears on her face. 

“Get ready for school or you’re going to be late” She sniffled and left your room. 

You sat on your bed for a good extra five minutes before getting yourself ready for the day. You got dressed in a black pullover hoodie, black t-shirt, faded blue jean shorts, and beat-up black and white Cortez. You grab your bag, skateboard, and essentials before leaving your room. You make sure to lock your room up before heading downstairs. Thankfully, Rip was still in the bathroom so you didn’t have to see him in the kitchen. You brushed your teeth and washed your face in the kitchen sink. 

After you finished, you leave your house without a goodbye from your mother. As usual, you’re met with the sight of your two friends, Quinton and Devyn Hasland. 

“Sleeping Beauty has finally awoken from her slumber” Devyn joked in a broken English accent. 

A smile appeared on your face and you dap the brothers up. The three of you start your journey to school.

“You know Principal Adams is coming for you for missing like a whole week of school. He’s been hounding me and Q for the last week about your whereabouts” Devyn said.

“I don’t care. School is a fucking joke” You shrugged.

“School helps you get a job” Quinton commented.

“No, school helps you become a dumbass corporate zombie. It doesn’t teach you any life skills. Not how to do taxes. Not how to save money to get a house or car. Or basic life shit that you need to survive. How is a2 + b2 = c2 gonna help me in life? When am I gonna need to know that shit? Fuck school til the day I die” You smiled and stuck your middle finger up.

The three of you continue your journey to school. As you approach the school, you see a rail that you always practice on.

"Watch this" You smirked and throw your board down.

"Nice" The brothers compliment as you skate back towards them. You felt a pair of eyes on you so you turned around and they lock on to dark brown ones.

Vada Cavell.

You knew her from your Chemistry class with Mrs. Victor. The two of you never spoke but always catch each other staring. Quinton and Devyn follow your eyeline.

“Oh my god, I wish you would just let your balls drop and go talk to her. The longing gaze from across the room is so Twilight” Devyn groaned. 

You pull your eyes away from her, “You watched Twilight?”

“I only watched it with Jazmine” Devyn defended. 

“Lie. Mom and Pops caught you last week, without Jazmine, watching it in the basement. According to Mom, you look very engrossed in it” Quinton laughed. 

“There was nothing else on TV” Devyn sighed. 

You and Quinton let out a laugh as the three of you walk inside the school. The brothers make their way to their lockers while you head to breakfast. You were starving and didn’t realize it until you got inside the building. By the grace of God, you managed to get to the café before they closed. 

You grab your food and head to pay for it. But when you pulled your wallet out, you realized a $5 bill you had was missing. You sighed out in frustration.

“Fucking dickhead” You mumbled. You put the food back and turned around but you ran into someone. 

“Miss Vaughn, nice to know you’re alive and well. Follow me” Principal Adams demanded. 

You sigh and begin to follow the principal to his office. But another body runs into you. 

I can’t catch a break today. 

“Sorry,” A sweet voice apologized. You looked down and saw Vada. You open your mouth to respond but Adams interrupts you. 

“Ms. Cavell the bell is about to ring. Head to class now” Adams ordered. 

“Sir yes sir” Vada mocked and saluted him before turning on her heels, and walking to class. You chuckled lightly and continued following Adams. 

The two of you made it to his office which smelled like straight black coffee and boiled eggs. You already knew what the talk was going to be about so you just relaxed in the chair. 

“Jordan Vaughn…failing every single one of your classes and racking up a whopping 37 days absent. It’s not even spring break yet” Adams read from your file. 

You grab a red and black sharpie off his desk. 

“What is your goal Jordan? What is it that you wanna do with your life?” Adams asked. 

You continue to draw all over the underside of your board, not even paying attention to the man in front of you. 

Principal Adams sighed, “Miss Vaughn.”

At the call of your name, you look up at him, "Hm?”

“Listen I get it, school sucks and you don’t have a care in the world about your diploma. But you know who does... the world out there. Jobs won't even give you a second thought if you don't graduate. You need to start taking this seriously or you will be left behind while everyone around you is making it" Adams lectured.

"My goal is to become a pro skateboarder, last time I checked you don't need a diploma for it"' You shrugged.

"But you need money. You need money for the fees. You need money for sponsors. What if your board breaks? A diploma leads to jobs that lead to money which can help you become a pro skater.” Adams explained.

He had a point but you weren’t going to give him the satisfaction of being right. Adams grabbed a pamphlet labeled, Summer School. 

“You complete this program for one month this summer, you’ll be graduating with your friends next year,” Adams said and slid it toward you. 

You reluctantly take it and leave the office before he could say another word. 

The hallways were now empty due to everyone being in class now. You walk to your locker and open it. You are stunned to see an apple juice, strawberry Pop Tart, and an orange inside. 

“What the fuck?” You questioned. You remembered putting this stuff back. You looked down the halls and saw you were alone. You shrugged and started chowing down on the food. After you finished you placed your board and the pamphlet inside. 

SMACK! 

You jumped at the noise beside you. It was then followed by laughter. 

“I hate the both of you” You mumbled, mouth full of food as you looked at Quinton and Devyn. “Aren’t you two supposed to be in class?”

“Yeah, but Q saw you with Principal Adams so he texted me to come and wait for you in the hall. Why are you inhaling your food in front of your locker?” Devyn questioned. 

“I was hungry. But I didn’t buy this though. It was in my locker when I opened it” You answered. 

“Oh, food from Mother Theresa. I need one of those. Tell her to bring me some Burger King” Devyn joked. You rolled your eyes at the boy. 

“Boys and Miss Vaughn, the three of you need to get to class before I-”

A loud bang is suddenly heard. Everything starts to go in slow motion for you as you see blood splatter against the school walls. Two more bangs are heard and a girl lets out a blood-curdling scream. 

More bangs are heard, now in rapid succession. You barely process the fact Devyn is now on the ground in a pool of his own blood. You look up to see a kid from one of your classes standing there emotionless with an automatic rifle pointed toward Quinton. 

“DEVYN!” You hear Quinton scream. It brought you back to reality as you looked down and saw Quinton holding his brother’s body getting blood on himself. 

“Quinton! We have to go! Come on Quinton!” You shout as you pull him away from Devyn’s lifeless body. You push him to run down the hall. Another gunshot rings through the hall and you feel a searing pain in your hip area. You push through the pain, you quickly open the door to the girl’s bathroom and push Quinton inside before locking the door behind you. The two of you cram into a stall out of breath. Sweat was dripping down your face and tears were falling freely down Quinton’s. 

Suddenly, the sound of metal hitting the floor made the both of you freeze. 

“Who’s in there?” Quinton questioned. 

No response. 

“We’re not the shooter. It’s Matt Corgan, we saw him” Quinton added. As your adrenaline begins to fade, the pain comes back in full force. 

More rapid gunfire outside the door makes everyone clench in fear. 

“Do you know where he is now?” A fragile voice asked. You can hear another girl’s quiet cries in the stall next to you. But you were too focused on the pain. 

“I don’t know. I don’t know, my brother” Quinton cried. Tears start to gather in your eyes from the pain and the current predicament. 

“Come, come under” The girl ushered. You let Quinton crawl under first. You bend down to follow but a torturous pain shoots through your body.

“Ahh” You cried out. You lift up your hoodie and shirt to see a gaping wound pouring out blood. 

“Jordan? What happened, you okay?” Quinton questioned. 

You start to feel lightheaded and the world starts to spin and before you know it, you fall onto the tile floor with a loud thud. Quinton quickly unlocks the stall door to see you trying to keep your eyes open. 

“No, no, no, no Jordan” Quinton cried and bent down to the floor. He lifted your tops and saw the wound. 

“Shit, help me please” Quinton called out to the two girls. His voice was quiet enough for only the people in the bathroom to hear. He puts pressure on your wound which makes you groan and squirm. The two girls exit the stall but retreat when they see you on the ground. 

“Please help me,” Quinton sobbed. The blonde-haired girl runs and grabs as many paper towels as she could. She hands some to Quinton and they put pressure on your wound to stop the bleeding. 

“Hang on, Jordan” Quinton cried. 

Meanwhile, your eyes start to flutter close but a warm soft hand brings you back. 

“Hey, you have to keep your eyes open. Don’t close them. Don’t close your eyes” Vada’s voice echoes throughout your head. 

Her eyes were bloodshot red and puffy with more tears falling freely down her face. She squeezes your hand tight to keep you from closing your eyes. The sound of police sirens and heavy footsteps can be heard. 

“Oh thank God,” Quinton said. 

You tried your hardest to keep your eyes open but they were getting extremely difficult. They were getting heavier and heavier until your eyes closed and your hand went limp in Vada’s.

#jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x oc #jenna marie ortega #g!p reader #jenna ortega #the fallout #vada cavell #vada cavell x reader