#i just want him to be okay and come home and nothing will console that otherwise.

[tojipie]

˚ ✧ content: first-time parent toji, doctor reader, fluff, brief mentions of injury

“oh— hey! found one more for you down the hall.” a dreaded patient chart is thrust into your arms before you can tell the cheery nurse that your shift is already over. 

“great,” you mutter, tiredly scanning the stack of paperwork as you make your way down the hall. it was way too late for this. 

2-year-old male, already triaged and x-rayed. drove in by his dad about 2 hours ago. nothing too extensive, wouldn’t take more than an hour to get him sent home. 

soft cries greet you at the door to the examination room, a hushed voice— his father— attempting to console the child.

“megs, c'mon. you’re gonna be okay! these are good people.” the older man whispers, sighing as the toddler’s sobs only grow louder.

your knock silences them both, the little boy trying to put on a strong face for you despite the little sniffles wracking his chest. 

the kid is a carbon copy of his dad, donning the same shaggy black hair and big green eyes. the toddler looks up at you hesitantly, long lashes slick with tears.

“see? doctor’s here,” his dad coos, feigning fake excitement as you shut the door behind you. you can hear the quiver in his voice as he says it, anxiety eating away at his composure.

first-time parent you think, cute. always more terrified than the child. always.

“how’s our little trooper doing?” you smile, sympathetic to both their states. the younger boy says nothing, wiping the wetness from his face with his good arm. poor baby.

“fell off his trike in the driveway,” the father explains, shaking his head. he was charming, soft-spoken yet commanding respect. gnarled edges of a scar gracing the side of his mouth.

“can i see? just want to have a better look at the injury site,” you say calmly, snapping on a pair of blue gloves.

“show her where it hurts kiddo,” he asks tenderly, wincing as you take the ice pack off to expose the child’s swollen wrist.  

megumi looks up at you curiously as you examine the injury, exhausted from a mix of pain and sleep deprivation.

 “mama?” he mumbles, idly kicking his feet in his father’s lap.

“no bud not mama.” the older man laughs, clearly embarrassed. you feel your heart twinge just a bit at the adorable show of confusion.  

“no broken skin, the joint is still aligned too.” you say confidently, placing the ice pack back. “likely not a break or a dislocation but i’ll look at the x-rays just so we’re positive, sound good?”

the father nods quietly, hugging his son to his chest.

“his mom was never in the picture, s’ hard handling him alone,” the older man doesn’t follow up on his comment, leaving it at that.

you nod. “i’m sorry.”

“toji,” he mumbles.

“i’m sorry, toji.”

it doesn’t take long for you to go over the blue images. an intact bone stands out against the illuminated wall, not a break thankfully. the stranger catches on soon enough, tension leaving his body at the good news. 

“looks like it’s just a sprain,” you say, pointing to the image. 

“see that kiddo?” he whispers, turning the little boy’s head toward you. “s’ nothing.”

“nofing?” megumi mumbles, clearly too tired to pay attention anymore. shy as a bunny.

“you’re gonna want to ice and elevate for at least the next two days, you should see a full recovery by then but if not i want you to come right back, okay?” you explain.

the father nods, propping his little boy down on the floor as you type out your post-visit instructions.

“say thank you to the pretty doctor megs,” he encourages, chuckling as the little boy waddles over to hug your leg with his good arm. so incredibly tiny. 

pretty huh? you could get used to that.

“fank you.” his sweet voice latches onto your tired heart and melts you from the inside. megumi slumps down against your shoe as sleep takes over, caught under the arms and swept into his dad’s arms in an instant. 

#fushiguro toji x reader #toji fluff #toji x reader fluff #toji x reader #fushiguro toji #jjk toji #toji headcanons #jujutsu kaisen toji #toji zenin #toji imagine #toji fushiguro #zenin toji #dilf toji #jujutsu toji #toji #toji drabbles #jujutsu kaisen #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen headcanons

[eddiernunson]

I Can Do It With A Broken Heart | Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader | 18+

Summary: You and Eddie have both had crap luck on dates lately, nothing that can't be fixed with a strawberry milkshake. However, he gets asked out on a date and it goes well...until it turns your life on its head and he forgets how to pick up the phone. You don't even care that he's dating someone else you just want your best friend back.

Warnings: idiots in love, best friends to lovers, ANGST, brief EddiexChrissy, ooc Chrissy, attempted SA, bestfriend!Steve, and needy, desperate smut that makes it all worth it.

Thanks to @forget-you-morelike-fuck-you for editing bestie

I’m astounded at the response to the preview I posted last week. Thank you so much for the love, I hope you enjoy all 40k (20k wtf did my brain go)

-

As you pull up to the little house at the end of the street, you look over to the sweet boy with blonde hair and green eyes nervously, curtaining a strand of hair behind one ear. He shoots you a smirk, white pearly teeth peeking from behind pretty pink lips. The date has gone phenomenally well, the conversation over dinner was easy and your date even easier on the eyes. You smooth your hands over the dress you’re wearing, picking at imaginary lint as you’re entirely unsure of what to say next.

Daniel, your date, leans onto the center console, the scent of his minty breath roping you in. “So, dinner was like, forty dollars.”

Your brows pinch together, the topic of conversation coming from left field.

“And the flowers were about twenty.” He says, his voice hinting at a subtext lost on you.

You think back to the flowers, a cascade of spring colours that drenched you in their floral scent. They sit on your dresser in a vase, waiting eagerly for you to come home.

“Okay…?” You ask, unsure of what he’s getting at.

Daniel sighs, suddenly the frustration you didn’t see before is clear on his face. “Well, I think I deserve some compensation for the princess treatment, don’t you think?”

He’s raising his brow suggestively, and the atmosphere in the car turns thick as you realize what he’s referring to. You feel so stupid. Suddenly the smirk on his face isn’t sweet, it’s sleazy. The cologne he’s wearing isn’t earthy, it’s gross. He’s not a good guy, and you feel foolish for thinking otherwise.

You think fast, lowering your eyelashes in a feigned blush. “Actually, I think it deserves just a little more than that. Be right back, I’m going to grab a condom.” You wink as you get out, the cherry on top.

Daniel lights right up, apparently not expecting his ridiculous method to work. The sound of him undoing his belt makes you nearly gag as you run in the front door.

Your dad, the sweetheart of a single father he is, welcomes you with a kind smile until he sees your crestfallen face. “You okay?”

“No,” you choke back, tears threatening to fall down your cheeks. “He’s demanding I repay him for dinner.”

“Repay?” You tilt your head, inferring what it means. “Oh. Fucking twerp. You need me to–”

“Can I have 60 bucks?” You interrupt him, avoiding his angry eyes.

He melts. “Sure.”

You walk back out the door, head held high right to the little corvette that sits at the end with the cheeky asshole sitting contently, waiting for his treat. The window is still open from earlier in the night, which works right in your favor.

“Here,” you toss the bills at him, allowing a small smile to grace your face at his confusion. “Since you’re so worried about being paid.”

As soon as he understands what you’re telling him, his face curves into a scowl, embarrassed, but too proud to say so. “Like I wanted to do it with Eddie Munson’s slut anyway!”

Halfway back up to the house, you turn back to the car as the engine growls into the night. How does that make sense? you wonder. Why am I being called a slut when I refused to put out?

The front door to your house slams shut again, and your dad receives the message that you would not like to talk about it. “Ed called just now, by the way,” he mentions as you reach the top of the stairs. Your pause in gait tells him you heard him, but you don’t respond because you can hear the smirk he wears, as much as you repeatedly tell him that Eddie is just a friend.

The flowers you thought so fondly of now have a looming presence in your room, like a dark shadow menacingly waiting in the corner. You ignore them as you lift the pastel phone to your ear, dialing the number you know by heart.

He picks up on the first ring. “Hi, sweetheart.” Relief washes over you, instant and comforting.

“Hey, Eds. How was your date?” You and he had the same plans tonight, you just hope it turned out better for him.

“It sucked,” he sighs, sounding like he’s rummaging through his messy chest of drawers. “She didn’t want a date, I guess.”

“Well what did she want?” You ask, going through your own drawers for something comfier to wear.

“Uh, to be shown a good time,” he answers dryly, the sound of rummaging coming to a sudden stop. “Heard the rumors of Munson’s magic fingers and apparently only wanted that.”

Yikes, you think. Eddie’s had many hook ups in the back of his van, but as of late he’s finding himself defeated when they don’t want him, just what he can do for them. Your heart hurt for him last week when he admitted they rarely, if ever, reciprocated.

You didn’t think it’d be an appropriate moment to tell him you would happily reciprocate for him.

“That’s extremely shitty. Guess it’s not all that different from my date though, who expected payback from spending a lousy sixty bucks.”

“Payback?”

“Asked me to suck his dick and pointed to it,” you say, a million times more bluntly than you could to your dad.

“I knew that Daniel guy was an asshole,” he mutters, mostly to himself. “I think our shitty dates deserve each other.”

You laugh, holding the PJs you plan on wearing as you sit cross legged on your bed. “To be honest, I don’t think Daniel would’ve been all that great in bed anyway.”

“I could’ve told you that. He looks like he would call thirty seconds a long time,” Eddie laughs. “Sit tight, princess, I think we’ve earned pancake night at Benny’s.”

“C’mon, I was just about to get comfy!” You whine.

“Nah, wear the pretty dress. It deserves to see a strawberry milkshake, don’t you agree?”

Honestly, a milkshake night with your best friend is exactly what you need. “Sure. See you in twenty?”

“Eh, ten.”

You throw out the flowers, tossing the vase full of water into the kitchen sink, shrugging when your dad gives you an apologetic look. You certainly are already over it, just another asshole in Hawkins, who would’ve thought? When the loud music from Eddie’s stereo pulls up, your dad nods in understanding, telling you to have fun as you leave through the front door.

The date night dress you wear is a summer dress that sits just above your knees, held together by spaghetti straps decorated with pretty blue florals. It's a dress you go to for formal events, and even saw a dance or two back in high school. Of course, you had to dust it off for the cute boy in your Psych class who ended up being a complete dickwad.

The fabric of Eddie’s beat up van is familiar. So familiar that you could argue his passenger seat has a permanent indent from your ass. Eddie has, in fact, pointed it out from one night stoned in the back with him, giggling as you vehemently denied it. At your sudden quiet shut down stature, he patted your ass gently, claiming that he didn’t want any other person’s ass planted on his seat except yours.

That conversation, as hazy as it was, stayed in your mind for days after the fact.

Eddie’s dressed in his own version of a date night outfit, tight jeans exposing his knees with jagged rips under a leather jacket and plain black t-shirt. He’s gorgeous, tauntingly so. It’s not much different from an ordinary outfit, but the faint smell of fresh laundry detergent and his best cologne is the best evidence he’s all dressed up.

The loud music speaks for him, loudly, pulling off before your seatbelt is even clicked into place.

The path from your house to Benny’s is well trekked by you and Eddie on late nights when you should’ve been doing homework but ended up goofing off instead. Martha, a waitress that’s been working there well over twenty years, smiles with smeared red lipstick and too much blue eyeshadow.

You walk in stride with each other, straight to the corner booth as the husk of 20 years of chain smoking barks over the gentle music, “Hey, you two! Eddie, are you finally taking this girl of yours on a date?”

Shut up, you silently beg her, avoiding either of their eyes as you stare at your lap, seemingly fixated on a loose thread at the hem of your dress.

“Oh, I’m not that lucky,” Eddie winks, throwing his arm behind you on the back of the booth. “We’re just recovering after shitty dates.”

“One day, you two,” she muses, tapping her pen rhythmically on her little notepad. It’s never been the same notepad twice, always decorated with a little cartoon sticker on the front. You’re tempted to run to the dollar store and grab her a larger one, but a part of you thinks she thrives on her many little notepads. “Alright, a large strawberry milkshake with two straws, pancakes with extra strawberry sauce and fresh strawberries on top, and waffles loaded with whipped cream and sprinkles. Correct?”

You nod in unison, both aware that she insists you will collectively rot the teeth out from your gums if you insist on overdosing with sugar every damn time you waltz in late at night. She’s given up offering other menu items, having ordered extra strawberries just to make up for your love of the fruit.

Less than five minutes later, following the blissful sound of a blender, the milkshake is wordlessly dropped off at the table, closer to you as even Martha knows you will be drinking 75% of it. The sweet, pinky taste flows easily down your throat, humming softly as you dip into the whipped cream with a finger. “Best milkshake in town,” You assert.

“I wouldn’t know,” Eddie answers, smirking, “you never let us get a milkshake from anywhere else!”

You giggle, licking some of the whipped cream that found a home in the corner of your mouth. “I could never! It would be like cheating! This milkshake would just know,” you drop your voice to a whisper, “it would smell the other milkshakes on me!”

“We couldn’t have that,” Eddie grins, grabbing the large glass to take a sip. “Sorry your date was such a jerk.”

You shrug, already having gotten over it. You’ll just need to sit on the other side of the lecture hall from now on. “He seemed so nice.”

“No offense, sweetheart, but I could’ve told you that Daniel Moore was a shitty person,” Eddie finishes another sip of the milkshake, making a large dip in the glass as the pink slush is pulled up the straw. “He likes to instigate.”

You rest your chin on your elbow, sad the milkshake is already nearly gone. “I had just hoped he would’ve matured by now…”

“In seven months?” Eddie asks you incredulously, raising his brows past his curly bangs. His expression quickly turns curious, tilting his head at you.

“What?”

“So, you’re willing to bet that Daniel Moore has improved just based on personal speculation alone but you’re not willing to believe me when I say Steve Harrington is no longer a douche?”

You roll your eyes. God, you should’ve seen this one coming. “That’s different! I only heard about Daniel. Steve Harrington actually sat back and laughed when Tommy asked–”

“You out as a joke, yeah, I know, I’ve heard it before,” Eddie mumbles, grinning at your shocked expression. “Well, that was like what, three years ago?”

“I still can’t believe you’re friends with Steve Harrington now, of all people! Listen, I know he’s also Dustin’s friend, but I find it hard to believe that you guys even have something in common,” You shrug.

“I still can’t believe you refuse to give him another chance!” Eddie playfully retorts, licking some of the whipped cream that still sits on the rim of the glass. “He’s in your Sociology class, isn’t he?”

Yeah, and he seems to insist on forcing his friendship on you, too, no matter how much you resist it. If you found friendship in Eddie, it seems reasonable to find friendship with Steve, too. Yet, there’s a little part that remembers the cruel laughter, his carelessness with others’ lives, and it ripples down your spine in a violent shudder.

You haven’t gotten rid of the notion of being his friend completely, but it’s just not the right time for you, yet.

You shrug. The topic has too much nuance for a nice dinner with your best friend. Just in time, Martha wordlessly drops off the two plates, the smile that spreads across your face is effortless. Zachary, the night chef must’ve heard about the shitty night and added extra for you, because the mountain of strawberries on the table is huge, even for your standards.

Eddie smirks, reading your mind. “You gonna finish all those?”

“Absolutely!”

-

Eddie sits on one side of the open courtyard, flicking off ashes from his cigarette as he waits for you to get out of class. He mentally reflects on his crazy afternoon, taking another long, much needed drag. The car with the million symptoms was one thing, but the proposition he got right before, he couldn’t wrap his head around it.

It’s been 13 days since Daniel, four awkward classes of avoiding his glare, and you’ve decided to give up on boys completely. The one you want doesn’t want you, and the dates you’re going on don’t seem to do well no matter who you say yes to. The two offers you’ve gotten in the last week were therefore denied, realizing that even if they are cute, you don’t want to lead anyone on when your heart belongs to someone else.

Before the aforementioned date, you were practically begging for someone to ask you out, but for some inexplicable reason, now you’re getting offers left and right. Somehow people just know when you’re playing hard to get.

At least Eddie’s dates seem to be going terribly for him, as well. That’s one thing you can thankfully count on.

The puff of smoke that leaves his lips as you approach him should not be as gorgeous as it is. It’s practically unfair. “Hey, Eds.”

He flicks the filter, killing it on the cement table he sits at as he blows out one more puff. “Hey, sweetheart.”

Just from that particular look in his eye, you can tell something is on his mind. “You okay, there, Munson?”

He smirks, effortlessly standing up. “I suppose. I’m not sure how to react. Or how you’ll react.”

Your brows meet your hairline, watching his mind move at a million miles per hour. “Ok, Eddie, this better be about a new class of creatures in DnD, or something, because you’re scaring me.”

He smiles, nodding his head over to the halls that lead toward the front door of the campus. “Someone asked me out on a date, earlier, today.”

Your brows furrow, biting back the jealousy that eats at your chest. Every little part of you holds back the monster that threatens to claw its way out, to snarl and hiss at every girl that even so much as looks at him wrong. It’s hard to bite it back, to choke on it purposely, but if you must, you will.

It tastes like venom as you swallow it back down. “Oh, who?”

A faint pink spreads across Eddie’s cheeks, much to your dismay. Not once, in your fuck, what, seven, eight years, of friendship have you ever managed to see Eddie blush. (Just once but it was when you nearly walked in on him jerking himself off a few short years ago.) “Who?”

“Um Chrissy. Chrissy Cunningham?”

Your jaw drops, but your gut falls through the floor. You swear you hear it smash through the tiled floors and fall into the depths of hell.

“She asked you out?”

“Hey! Don’t act so surprised! A cheerleader could like me!”

That was the last thing on your mind. Of course a cheerleader could like Eddie, they’d be stupid not to. No. Every other girl that Eddie has either slept with, or gone on a date with brought no worry to your head, competition, per se. But a girl like Chrissy, one with pretty blonde curls, adorable smile and a sweet disposition, it’s like your worst nightmare come true.

Thanks to living in such a small town, you can recall 99% of the names that Eddie had told you, whether they be hookups or a date. Most of them didn’t intimidate you, only because, selfishly, you could nitpick at things you think wouldn’t work out with Eddie. Whether they were too vapid, too shallow, had none of the same interests as him, only shallowly liked him for his looks, or was a bully…you had something to give great comfort to you to prevent that little jealousy monster from clawing its way out.

This time, your brain wracked itself for some sort of answer. Some sort of flaw in the Queen of Hawkins High that could settle this uneasiness that has taken over your mind. Nothing. Nothing.

“I’m not surprised a cheerleader could like you, I’m surprised that Chrissy Cunningham asked you out,” you answer candidly, walking in step with him to where you supposed was his van. “I’m guessing you said yes?”

“I’d be crazy not to!” Eddie answered sheepishly, tugging at the sleeves of his leather jacket. “I’m taking her out on Friday night.”

“Ah, you’ll tell Steve to take Creeper off hold for us, then?” You try to keep your tone nonchalant, but bitter jealousy coats your tongue.

Eddie stops mid stride, faltering, his brows pinched as he gives you those big brown eyes. “Shit. It totally slipped my mind.”

This is also new. Even as his dates would happen, any previously made plans with him were always a priority. You just hope this doesn’t become a new habit of his.

“We’ll do it on Saturday, yeah?”

You nod, giving him the comfort you suddenly find yourself craving. From the pep in his step, the rosiness of his cheeks, the warm glint in his eyes, you can tell that he’s truly excited. As a best friend, you try to be happy for him, however hard it is to make the smile on your face even remotely convincing.

Eddie curls his arm around your shoulder, tugging you along with him for what will probably be another afternoon in his room, clouded by a haze of weed.

You smoke more than usual, if anything to allow his excitement and plans for his big date in two days to buzz into the background, the bong hit rippling through your lungs as a punishment for yourself.

-

A weight on your bed suddenly dips down and you sit up quickly to face Eddie sitting on the corner of your mattress with a small smile on his face. Your headphones, still playing the obnoxiously loud music that drowned out his knocks, fall off your head as you sit up. You press the STOP button, clicking loudly in the silence as you stare at your best friend.

The anxiety of his date has eaten you all night long, the only thing strong enough to distract it being music loud enough to hurt your eardrums. You always feel some sort of anxiety, but tonight was even worse, eating at your brain in fear of how painful it might be to be third wheeling with him after being his #1 for so long.

For once, you can’t tell how it went. A slimy, selfish part of you is hoping he shares bad news. His smile breaks. Into a bigger, much brighter beam. Damn.

“How did it go?” You ask, already knowing the answer.

Eddie slams himself onto the bed next to you, hiding his eyes with his hands with his dimples deep, his pearly whites exposed. “Fuck, it was the best date I’ve ever had.”

Your heart shatters. “That good?”

“God, she’s– much better than I thought she could’ve been,” Eddie answers, peeking out from behind his hands. “It’s fucking crazy.”

Of course Chrissy Cunningham, a known sweetheart, is everything he’s ever dreamed of. Of course she lived up to his expectations. Just your luck. “I’m just jealous of your remarkable turn in luck, I guess.”

Eddie chuckles, turning onto his stomach to face you as he kicks his feet. “You’ll have your turn, baby.”

The pet name stings in the worst way. Instead, you raise your brow at him. “Look at you lookin’ like a schoolgirl with a crush. Pretty boy doesn’t even need makeup with all that blush.”

He rolls his eyes, pinching you on the shin. “You’re such a shithead.”

“Yeah, well you still choose to hang out with me anyway, so, that’s on you.” It takes everything in you to ask the following question, “So, tell me about your date, will ya?”

He does. He rattles on and on about how pretty she is, how easy the conversation was, how much she surprised him, how the night ended with a kiss that had Eddie giggling. He lays next to you, leather jacket put aside on the corner chair and boots next to your bunny slippers at the end of your bed. Your small twin mattress has you close in proximity, your side in direct contact with him as he rests his head on his hands.

“She’s such a cool girl, you know?”

You’re half asleep by now, allowing the exhaustion to overwhelm the slight ache in your chest. It zaps through your heart, overwhelms your senses and makes you dizzy. Your eyes flutter shut, but Eddie keeps talking softly next to you.

“Why were you blasting your 8-track, anyway?”

The question harshly yanks you out of the haze, failing to think of something that doesn’t seem completely false. You wish you were a better liar. “Just stressed out about your date.”

He gives you a strange look, eyebrows tilted. “Hmm?”

“We both haven’t had a very good track record, lately, and if things won’t turn around for me, then at least they should do one of us a favor.” Not, not the truth, but definitely an over exaggerated version of it.

“You’re so good to me, you know?” Eddie asks, intertwining his hand with yours. “Wasting your anxiety on me.”

The rings are harsh against your skin, squeezing your fingers tightly. The physical hurt is almost comforting in direct contrast to your emotional hurt.

His scent is comforting, as it lures you like the pied piper into the land of sleep. It’s about another twenty minutes until he realizes there are soft snores coming from you. He doesn’t care to drive all the way home, despite it only being a five minute drive away.

He falls asleep to your comforting breaths, allowing your hand to remain engulfed in his.

-

The loud ringing of your phone jerks you awake, quickly crawling to the side of your bed as you grab it from the dock housed on the floor.

“Hello?” Sleep sits deep in your voice, spelling out clearly to your caller that you just woke up.

It just occurs to you that you could’ve just allowed your dad to answer it.

“Good morning, sunshine,” Eddie’s voice is chipper, alarmingly so since you’re not even awake yet.

“You sound way too awake for someone that didn’t believe in waking up before 1pm,” you quip, rubbing your eyes sleepily.

“Ha,” he deadpans, yet it's clear he’s smiling. “Chris wants to meet you. I mean, I know you’ve already met her, but you know, as my girlfriend?”

Ugh. It’s been a harrowing three weeks. “Yeah, sure. What did you want to do with her?”

“I thought we could introduce her to pancake night,” Eddie sheepishly answers, like he knows you would be hesitant to invite someone into your holy ritual.

Yeah. You don’t want to invite her. But…you asked for patience last month and it seemed that the universe has answered with a lovesick Eddie Munson.

“I don’t see why not,” you lie, finding it rolls off the tongue much easier than it used to.

“You’re the best! I’ll see after you study in the library, yeah?” He knows your schedule. On Thursdays after the morning Sociology class, you opt to crawl up into a small corner and hermit yourself with snacks and a pile of books to get the work that needs to be done finished.

In high school, you could get away with doing minimum work and passing, but with your dad paying and barely able to afford it even with his second job, it sent the need to do your work to the best of your ability for once. You owed him at least that much from all the calls of missed classes for four years straight.

“Sure.”

As you stretch while hanging up the phone, you glance over to the alarm clock to see the time and it lurches you forward in bed to scramble for clothes, textbooks, and scattered papers as your lecture starts in less than twenty minutes. You’re usually already sitting in the seat by then.

On your way out the door, your dad is surprised you’re still home, offering to drive you. You don’t want to burden him even more than you already have, so you insist you can ride your bike and still get there on time. Well, at least you hope you can.

The bike rack is nearly full when you get to the college, six or seven locks messily put around the poles, most bikes already fallen over. You jam your bike in between two of them, hurriedly wrangling the annoying coil of sturdy cable between what you’re sure is entangled in someone else’s lock, too. Whatever, they should’ve been more organized.

The clock on the wall tells you class started three minutes ago and your heart falls to your stomach, knowing the professor is a stickler for punctuality. His words falter as soon as you enter the hall, the heavy door echoing its creak against the walls. He graciously allows you to sit and get situated before he continues. He makes examples of every late student, and you figured you would never be in his laser eyed focus. Well, before your alarm decided not to go off.

The last chair available is the corner chair in the front row, the one spot in class you love to avoid. It’s too close for comfort, a place he often chooses for students to answer his questions even if they don’t raise their hand.

That, and it’s right beside Steve Harrington.

His fingers raise from the desk as a greeting, sharing a sweet smile as you start to collect your textbook and notes. You awkwardly smile back at him, your attention snapped back to the professor as he pointedly talks right at your desk in his lecture. Fuck, this’ll be annoying.

By the time the three hour lecture ends, your hand hurts from the amount of notes you wrote down, one side covered in graphite from smudging the paper. Your stomach grumbles, asking loudly for lunch after neglecting to eat breakfast as usual.

Unbeknownst to you, Steve follows a step behind. “That lecture was brutal,” You hear from behind you. You toss your head over your shoulder to glance back at him before turning back around.

“I guess.” You say awkwardly. Here we go again.

“Out of curiosity, how are Eddie and his new girlfriend doing? Chrissy Cunningham, huh? I cannot say I saw that coming.”

Neither did you. “They’re doing great, from what I hear. Haven’t really met her, yet,” you answer, heading straight to the small cafe that has a home in the heart of the campus. “Listen, Steve, I really don’t want to talk about this right now.”

“Why not? You don’t think he’s happy with her, or something?”

You stop midstep, turning to face him. “It’s not that. I just don’t have the capacity for it, ok?”

“You like him,” Steve accuses, his brows meeting his hairline.

Your jaw drops, stuttering through an empty sentence. “I do not like him!”

“Really?” Steve laughs, crossing his arms as he watches you build a brick wall around yourself. “So you not wanting to talk about his new girlfriend has nothing to do with the way your face fell when I asked about it?”

How the hell did Steve Harrington pick up on it so fast, of all people?

“Even if I did, why the hell would I want to talk about it with someone I don’t even know?” You sigh, looking wistfully over to the cafe. “Besides, I’m not even caffeinated yet.”

Steve rolls his eyes, nodding towards the said cafe. “Here, if I treat you to some coffee will you talk to me about it?”

“If you add a wrap to the deal, then I’ll think about it,” You say dryly, pulling a laugh from him.

The barista, a student who you’ve gotten to know is somehow managing to do pre-law and work part time smiles nicely.

“I’ll get a vanilla latte with nonfat milk and an extra pump of vanilla, please.”

Steve raises his brow at you before making his own order, “I’ll get a medium black coffee with room for creamer, please, and whatever this lady wants from the menu.”

You scan until you reach the egg omelet wrap with mushroom, bell peppers, and tomatoes. “The loaded omelet wrap.”

After Steve pays he meets you on the handout counter. “Why nonfat milk and the extra pump of vanilla?”

“If I get nonfat then I can replace the sugar with the extra vanilla.”

“Pretty sure that’s not how that works.”

You pick up the cup as it lands on the counter, wincing at the temperature on your tongue. “It works.”

Steve grabs his, shaking his head as he makes his way over to pour some creamer in.

The wrap is soon presented as well, steaming in its cardboard sleeve as the scent alone pools on your tongue with saliva. The only thing that got you through that lecture was just the thought of lunch.

Steve meets you at a two-top by the window, setting his own bag down as he sits right across from you.

The omelet, much too hot to eat, sits waiting for you on the chestnut brown table as you sip on the latte. The latte is much too hot as well, but you’ve never had enough patience to wait for that caffeine kick. If you weren’t so afraid of your professor’s wrath you would’ve shown up another ten minutes late with a coffee cup in hand.

Steve allows you and himself a few minutes of quiet before he speaks. “So, why don’t you tell him?”

You cough mid sip, mentally apologizing to your lungs for allowing non-oxygen to make its way in. “I’m sorry?”

“Stop pretending. Eddie was dead on when he said you were a bad liar,” Steve says, grinning with stupid smirk on his face.

“Why have you and Eddie talked about me?” You ask, narrowing your glance towards him.

“Are you kidding? You’re all he talks about,” Steve shrugs, so nonchalant that you have no choice but to believe him. “Kind of annoying, actually.”

“Why?”

“I have to hear about how great of a friend this girl is but also how she can’t stand me.”

You huff in laughter at how distraught he genuinely seems by it, his face contorted into someone who definitely isn’t used to rejection. You cock an eyebrow at him. “Can you exactly blame me?”

“Yes! I can! Everybody loves me!” Steve rolls his eyes playfully, and damn it if you can’t help but find it mildly amusing.

“Hate to break it to you, there, sweetheart, but the people who were picked on by you don’t exactly crave to be around your oh-so-wonderful presence.”

He squints, crossing his arms as he leans forward. “Picked on? I mean that’s a little harsh, considering–”

“Fine, yes, you didn’t exactly jeer, or outright bully even, but you watched and laughed along and sometimes that feels even worse,” you admit, feeling suddenly small under his gaze. “Tommy and Carol said shit, that’s just what they did… But sitting back and watching sometimes is just as bad. You were nice, sometimes, I guess. But the fact that you had that capacity for kindness and chose against it just spoke volumes.”

“I met them in seventh grade. They weren’t as bad back then, mostly just somewhat belligerent. They got worse over time, but we all had terrible home lives, it was like we were the only ones that got what that was like…and somewhere along the way, I forgot that just because we had an excuse didn’t mean they had the right.”

“I guess that makes sense,” you answer, glancing at the omelet, debating taking your first steaming bite. “I mean, I’m not condoning it, but sometimes loyalty can be blinding.”

“I’m not that douche, anymore. I got that knocked out of me when I was seventeen. Literally. Now I spend most of my free time with a high school junior,” he laughs, taking another large sip of his coffee.

“Aah, Dustin,” you hum, thinking of the many instances where he had tried to convince you of what Steve had just told you. What made you so insistent on denying believing in either of your friends seems to dissipate, however, just in the friendliness that Steve radiates alone. Damn his charisma. “Would you believe me if I said he vouched for you many times?”

“The kid loves me, what can I say?” He shrugs, not hiding his laughter. “Now. Back to you. Why not tell him?”

No use in hiding it. If Steve can bare his soul in the middle of the day at a damn cafe just to get you to trust him, you suppose you owed him the same. “‘Cause he doesn’t feel the same,” you answer, starting to peel open the snack from the hunger pang. “Why make it weird when there’s nothing that could come from it?” You shrug, looking down sheepishly as the weight of your words sink into your heart like a stone.

“Doesn’t like you. Are you sure about that?” Steve asks, licking his lips.

You hesitate. “Is this a trick question?”

“Nope. I just wonder if you truly believe it, or if you’re too scared to let yourself have something you’ve wanted for so long.”

“Where do you get off on acting like you’re some sort of expert on this?” You ask, folding your arms across your chest. The question rings out from the mere fact that he is dead on the nose. He couldn’t be any more right. The very idea that Eddie had even an inkling of what you had for him scares you to death. You would rather keep him as a friend and lie in wait than lose him from a great love and not have him at all.

“I’m more observant than most people give me credit for,” he admits, twirling his almost empty coffee cup. “I’ve heard countless hours of Eddie talking about you, yet I haven’t heard him speak once about Chrissy. That says a lot, don’t you think?”

“Well, me neither, and I’m his best friend. Don’t get down on your luck.”

“You are both idiots. Just tell him. Seriously. I’m sick of you both acting like a pair of love sick fools.”

“You seem to be very convinced of something that is not real,” you tell him, garbled from the bite of omelet you’re in the middle of swallowing. “If you keep this energy up when you’re studying, you would probably do pretty well for yourself.”

“Fine. Remain in denial. I don’t care. You can destroy yourself from the inside. Who cares? Just, let me in. I need someone to help me with these assignments. They are mind numbingly dull.” He throws his hands up like he’s admitting defeat.

“You need a study buddy?” You laugh, hiding the food that sits in between bites. “I suppose that could be arranged.”

“Sweet. Now are you gonna treat me to a coffee every now and then, or?”

“I have a single father, not an unlimited credit card from Daddy’s big business, Steve Harrington.” You say matter-of-factly, jabbing your finger towards him accusingly.

“Oh, so I have to provide the newly released movies and buy the coffee, I see how it is.”

“Privilege breeds responsibility, Stevie. I don’t make the rules.” You give him a half smirk. As you look at him, you’re finally seeing the person you thought could see all those years ago behind the mask of his terrible friends. Steve’s ambush would be the best thing to come out of the next few weeks.

Because it turned into hell.

-

As your hair runs wild behind you, there’s a grand attempt to allow yourself to let the wind distract you from the sinking feeling in your gut. It grows bigger and bigger, until it becomes unbearable as you reach the gravel lining the trailer park. You allow your bike to fall heavily on the trailer, taking a moment to collect your courage before knocking on Eddie’s front door.

It feels weird knocking. You can’t even recall the last time you did. But, you refuse to overstep any boundaries that might not be communicated yet. Being on Chrissy’s good side will make your life a lot easier.

Eddie answers the door, out of breath and sweating with wild eyes and even crazier hair. “Hey!”

“Hey,” you greet, stepping in right behind him. You blink, taking in the pristine surroundings. It’s like stepping into an alternate dimension, one where Eddie and Wayne regularly cleaned their trailer and preferred the smell of lavender over stale beer and greasy pizza boxes. The kitchen is spotless, the living room has a lit candle sitting on the coffee table, and the shelves containing the million mugs were dusted. “Who are you and what the hell did you do with my best friend?” You laugh.

He chuckles sheepishly, crossing his arms in front of his chest as protection. “Uh, is it too much?”

“Better warn her now so she doesn’t get used to cleanliness,” you answer, watching as the surfaces around you sparkle and shine.

“Ha, ha. I have to get dressed. I have some snacks on the kitchen counter. You mind starting the popcorn?” Eddie doesn’t bother waiting for you to answer, already walking to his room.

You get a glimpse of his bedroom as he shuts the door behind him, smirking at the clothes still scattered on his floor. At least one part of this little haven of yours remains normal.

The popcorn shakes in your hold as you continually stir it on the stove to prevent it from sticking to the bottom of the thin aluminum bottom and burning. Just as the first batch of kernels reach their limit, a knock from the front door hits, each one feeling like a crack in any normalcy you’ve ever had.

Things will never feel the same ever again. Not after tonight. On your way to open the door you try to tell yourself that it can be a good thing.

Right?

The door opens to the once head cheerleader of Hawkins High, wearing a pink dress that fits her tiny frame nicely with blonde curls and bangs that beautifully frame her face. Her hands are folded behind her back, standing meekly in white sneakers and long lashes and blue eyeshadow. It’s hard not to be envious of how pretty she is.

It’s clear she’s not expecting you to open the door. “Hey! Sorry, Eddie’s just in his room. He should be out any minute.”

“Oh. Ok,” she enters as you back up, wringing her hands together, probably out of anxiety. “What movie did he rent?”

“You know, I was so busy making fun of him for cleaning up for once I didn’t bother to ask,” you admit, hoping to make the atmosphere just a little bit lighter.

She looks around the place, seemingly taking it in. “Hmm,” she hums, walking over to the couch. “It’s cute when they try so hard.”

“Sure,” you answer, walking back to the kitchen, hoping the popcorn isn’t irredeemably burnt. “Do you want butter on the popcorn?”

“Yes please!”

You’re in the middle of mentally begging Eddie to come out already while the butter melts in the microwave, the hum of the microwave loud in the silence.

“Okay! I’m ready!” Eddie announces, opening the bedroom door with a flourish. “Sorry for the wait!”

As he gets to the couch behind Chrissy, he wraps her in a big hug and plants kisses all over her neck. “How you doin’, sweetheart?”

You hold back the nausea as you pour the hot butter all over the popcorn in the large plastic bowl. You find it ironic that this is the same bowl you’ve held back Eddie’s hair over as he hurled into it. You just hope Wayne thoroughly cleaned it.

“Popcorn is ready, can y’all help me bring the chips and candy?” You ask, shaking the bowl to coat the butter over each kernel.

“We can do that,” Eddie answers, grabbing Chrissy’s hand as they walk to the kitchen.

“How can I help?” Chrissy asks, arms open as she looks around a kitchen she has no familiarity with.

“Um there’s some soda in the fridge, grab me and Ed a Coke, and you can grab yourself whatever you want,” you answer, pointing to the twenty year old fridge in the corner.

“Hand me some,” you command, holding a single hand for one of the many bags of snacks Eddie juggles.

The popcorn and a couple dozen little bags land on the coffee table in front of a blank tv screen. Chrissy sits with a soft grunt in between the two of you, cradling the cans of coke and sprite in her tiny arms.

She distributes the cans, handing them over to you and him. Eddie squats in front of the TV, pressing play on the tape which he apparently already prepared to watch. His plaid boxers peek out of his jeans, sitting above the studded belt as he adjusts volume and picture.

You share a smile with the blonde, opening your can and wincing at the loud hiss. You keep thinking about the days you and Chrissy will look back on how awkward this was. How the first days of this trio were so weird, and off putting, and how she thought you were a bitch when she met you.

Where she’s a friend.

You have to try.

“What are we watching?”

Eddie turns around slowly, that over exaggerated smile on his face that tells you he’s up to nothing but trouble. “Oh just a little somethin’”

“Oh god,” you wince, knowing that look on his face. You lean into her, whispering, “Hope you like horror.”

Chrissy turns to you with wide eyes and a queasy smile. “Not really.”

“Oh, this one is a classic,” Eddie promises, animatedly using his hands as he crouch-walks back next to her. “If any movie can turn someone into a horror fan, it’s this one.”

As soon as the music starts playing you recognize it. It’s a tune you’ve heard many times in his living room, subjected to it too many times if you had anything to say about it. Of course, you’ll watch it with him every time, regardless.

“Halloween? Seriously? The serial killer stalking the babysitter? You couldn’t think of anything else?” You roll your eyes. He could probably do a whole reenactment of the movie word for word if he tried.

“It’s a classic for a reason, sweetheart,” Eddie tells you, grabbing the bowl straight away. Of course, he will rip through the popcorn, he always does.

You feel Chrissy tense up, not that you can blame her. You suppose a talk about proper pet names will be necessary.

Each bag of snacks is eventually opened because you can’t stick to one bag long enough to finish it even if you tried. You get bored of the same taste too often. You have your favorite few, fuzzy peaches, M&Ms, Reese's Pieces, Swedish fish, and last and most controversially, at least where Eddie’s concerned, salt and vinegar chips.

He always has his own snacks at his disposal from nights of having the munchies, always on a dollar store run for said snacks. At each movie night he restocks, both yours and his alike, and suddenly you realize you will need to remember Chrissy’s too, if you’re going to be cordial.

With each bloody death that splatters the walls on screen, Chrissy grows closer and closer to Eddie. There’s a part of you that has considered using scary movies to cuddle up to him, but you’re just not genuinely scared of them enough to consider it. The ruse would’ve faded eventually. You try not to let the jealousy eat you up from the inside, no matter how much it burns your skin.

His arm wraps around her, petting her shoulder gently as she whimpers at the slash of his knife. “It’s corn syrup. Totally fake. You can tell by the color, it’s way too bright.”

Towards the end, the loud, chirpy, nauseating sound of kissing fills your ears. Your eyes can’t help it, they move towards the noise and immediately regret it. Oh god, they’re kissing. If you can even call that kissing. He’s practically engulfed her mouth.

Surely, with the company they have, they’ll stop, right? Their heads will remember and sheepishly get the fuck off each other? Right?

Two scenes and what feels like forever, later, you realize how wrong you are. “I’m glad you two are crazy for each other, really I am, but can we please wait until I’m gone?” You give an awkward laugh to try to stifle the discomfort coursing through your veins.

Eddie makes a surprised sound, almost like he completely forgot you were there. “Shit–sorry.”

Chrissy doesn’t make any apologies, in fact, you miss the way she rolls her eyes against his chest. She wanted to keep going, hoping you would take her hint to get lost.

Before long, the end of the movie finally arrives, the end credits rolling with that famous piano tune. Chrissy has practically stitched herself to Eddie’s side, her arms wrapped around his waist. The popcorn bowl is nearly full. All that work on it for nothing.

You sigh, about to claim that it’s your cue to leave when–

“I’m thinking we should show Chrissy one of our pancake nights, don’t ya think?”

No. You don’t want that. From the way Chrissy completely tenses up, neither does she. But for his sake, you both reluctantly agree.

Hawkins looks a lot different from Eddie’s backseat.

As the ring of the bell against the glass door announces your arrival, Martha’s head snapping up from the magazine she’s buried her nose in. “Hey you two, I was wondering when I would see you again!”

You and Eddie walk directly to the corner booth, as per usual, Chrissy trailing a half step behind him with her left hand intertwined with his right. Before Martha walks up to the booth, she starts the blender, the sound oddly comforting for how uneasy you feel.

“Well, looks like we got ourselves a little straggler! What’s your name darlin’?” She asks, the notebook she now holds a dark purple instead of the red she had last time.

Chrissy stares blankly at her, curling back into him. You don’t remember her being this shy in High School.

“This is Chrissy,” Eddie introduces her, giving her a fond look. “She’s my girlfriend.”

Martha’s penciled brows raise straight to her ruby red hair, the chewing gum loud in her silence. Her surprise only lasts two seconds, shifting into hospitality for the new member. “Welcome to these two’s many, many nights spent here at Benny’s. In fact, could you make them come a little less often. We’re starting to get annoyed at them.” She jokes, throwing a wink at you.

You laugh with Eddie, taking note of the fact that Chrissy is still silent.

“Alright, well I already know what these two want, did you need a second to look over the menu?”

She nods.

“Alright, well, I’ll be right back with your milkshake.”

“Can you make it one medium, one large with two straws?” You ask Martha, sure it would get more awkward if she brought one for you and Eddie to share.

“Oh, sure,” she answers, her voice unusually soft.

Less than five minutes later she returns with two milkshakes and a menu.

“Oh,” Chrissy comments, looking curiously at the pink ice cream drink in front of her. “I don’t really like strawberry. Can I get vanilla instead?”

Your forehead meets the table, punishing yourself. “Shit. I’m so sorry! I didn’t even think to ask.” Eddie apologizes.

“It’s fine.” Chrissy smiles sweetly at him.

“Oh, you gotta eat breakfast, it’s tradition,” Eddie mutters, switching her page to the all day breakfast menu.

“Hmm,” she responds, pointing to one of the menu options. “I think I’ll get the poached egg with the avocado toast.”

“Alright. Should be out quickly,” Martha answers, grabbing the milkshake from them.

“How often do you guys come here?” Chrissy asks, turning her face to Eddie.

He shrugs nonchalantly. “Probably more often than we should. Like when shit goes sideways, or we need a hit of sugar, or when we just feel like bugging Miss Martha, over there.”

“When did you start coming?”

“My junior year,” you answer, smiling at the memory, “his second attempt at senior year, we both didn’t want to go to the stupid school dance, so we decided to get dressed up and come here, instead.”

“Why didn’t you want to go?”

Eddie shrugs, petting her shoulder with his thumb. “We thought it was dumb. Then, we ened up coming back when both of us failed this one really important bio test. Then, by the third time she remembered our orders and had the blender going by the time we sat down.”

Eddie asks how your day was, so you inform him you managed to have a civilized conversation with Steve Harrington. You have an audience for the conversation, one member animatedly interested, the other politely listening.

Polite is definitely the way to describe it, no spark in her eye. At least, not the one she wears when she listens to her boyfriend speak. In fact, you can practically see them glaze over.

Just as you nearly avoid explaining the main topic of the awkward conversation, Martha comes back over with two plates, one for you, one for Chrissy. It’s only half a moment until she’s back with the new milkshake and third plate.

The mountain of strawberries is bigger than average this time, this larger size becoming something you might get used to if the staff continues to spoil you like this. You take another flick of whipped cream from the top of the milkshake, suddenly realizing you’ve barely taken a sip the entire time. Damn, it’s usually half gone by the time you get your food.

“Do you guys order the same thing everytime?” Chrissy asks, looking at both of your plates.

“Yup!” You exclaim, spreading the strawberry sauce around your plate.

Her blonde brows furrow. “Maybe it’s not good to eat this much sugar every time you guys come here,” she comments, cutting at her squishy green toast. It doesn’t look appetizing to you in the least.

“It’s not like we come here every night,” Eddie laughs, spreading his sprinkled whip around the fluffy waffle. “It’s fine to indulge every now and then, you know?”

“Maybe you guys should try something a little healthier?” Chrissy asks, her voice having what you think is a little bit of a bite in it.

“People don’t exactly come here to eat healthy, Chrissy,” you laugh, thinking of the menu item called Heart Attack Jack, which is a burger doused in American Cheese with layers of bacon and a bucket of grease. It’s not going to be a soccer mom’s number one choice for health.

“You don’t have to bite my head off, it was just a suggestion,” Chrissy mutters, curling into herself.

“I-I didn’t,” you reply, very surprised at her knee jerk reaction. “I’m just saying, if we wanted to go somewhere to eat healthy, we probably wouldn’t pick a greasy diner in a small town in the middle of nowhere. Honestly, I’m not sure anywhere in Hawkins really has the healthiest choice.”

“Chris, what she’s trying to say is that eating a crap load of sugar is just tradition at this point,” Eddie says, intertwining her hand with his. “It’s a part of our ritual. You don’t have to eat like us if you don’t want to, we just thought you’d want to be included.”

“It’s just a lot of sugar, is all.” She’s barely taken a chunk out of her food, resembling a bunny in the very small, very tiny bites she continues to take. “Maybe I won’t join you guys next time. I don’t really understand the point.” She says sheepishly.

In the depths of your soul, you feel at that moment you would probably never get along with her, have given up hope on her completely. It wouldn’t be for a handful of weeks until you acknowledge that you had sound reasoning.

The bill is paid, money hitting the table on your and Eddie’s parts, the vanilla milkshake just barely touched. If you knew she wasn’t gonna drink it you would’ve doubled down on the strawberry, Eddie hates vanilla.

As you walk out to the van, trailing behind them as he wraps his arm around her shoulders, you find yourself at an impasse. “Eddie, can you give me a ride home?” Chrissy asks. She moves on her tiptoes to whisper in his ear, “Maybe I can ride you before you drop me off?”

The pancakes you wolfed down churn back up your throat, threatening to make their second appearance for the night.

Eddie’s cheeks flush, his eyes wide as he tugs her in. Guess that answers that question. “Um, do you need a ride?” He asks you, almost avoiding your eyes.

Chrissy’s death stare is plain as day, silently warning you not to take it. Fine, you didn’t want to sit in the van with these two, anyway.

“No, it’s fine. I can grab my bike from the back.”

Chrissy beams, her curls bouncing as she jogs to the passenger seat. You hope your ass imprint is uncomfortable for her.

Eddie returns with the bike, putting it gently down in front of you. “Hey, Ed?”

“Hmm?”

“Might want to teach your girlfriend how to whisper,” you tell him, grabbing the handles from him. “It’s not considered a whisper when everyone in a ten foot radius can hear!” It comes out harsher than you intend it, but with how horribly tonight has gone, you can’t bring yourself to want to apologize.

“Oh, fuck,” Eddie swears, the pink in his cheeks now from embarrassment. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t mention it,” you insist, dismissing it. You had a feeling she said it loud enough for you to hear on purpose, anyway. “Just use protection, ok? We don’t need any more Munsons in this world running around, creating chaos.”

If you got Chrissy pregnant I would actually be sick, is what you mean.

“Shut up,” Eddie laughs, wrapping you in a hug over the bike. “See you next time, slugger.”

That was when you changed from sweetheart to slugger.

-

There’s no whiplash like discovering your best friend is a completely different person when he’s in a relationship. On one hand, phone calls with him are as ordinary as always, teasing and jeering and flush with the familiarity of a best friend.

On the other hand, when you meet with him and his girlfriend, he seems to dampen his wild personality and slice it into ribbons for her sake. It kills you.

Reruns play on the small tv, old cartoons Wayne recorded for a rambunctious little kid in his mix. You’ve watched them enough to know some of them by heart, especially your favorite gags.

Eddie sits in the corner of the couch, curled up with Chrissy on his lap as they talk quietly. They’re low enough you can barely make out what they’re saying, but from the giggles alone, you have no interest in the nausea it would give you.

She was already in his lap when you got there, a sarcastic comment choked back having something to do with maybe getting off, opting to sit on the other end.

“Oh, Ed, the movie is next Friday,” you remind him, taking another sip of the ice cold coke in front of you.

“Remind me what that was?” Eddie asks you, peering his chin over Chrissy’s head.

You narrow your eyes, scoffing in incredulousness. “Uh, hello? I did not wait in line for hours for the Princess Bride just for you to forget!”

“OH, fuck I didn’t realize that was coming up so quickly!” Eddie exclaims, a wild look in his eyes. “Well, shit I’ll make sure to free my oh-so-busy schedule!”

“Sweet.”

“Oh, I totally wanted to see that movie!” Chrissy chirps, sitting up in Eddie’s lap. “Are there any more tickets for the night you guys are going for?”

“It’s been sold out for weeks,” you shrug, chomping on a potato chip. “I stood in line for like six hours that morning.”

“Oh,” she mutters, curling into him.

You wish you could say it doesn’t give you great pleasure to know she won’t be able to crash your movie night.

“You think, uh,” she starts, turning around to face you. “You think I could have your ticket and Eddie could take me?”

You scoff, bewildered that this even crossed her mind. “I beg your pardon?”

“I mean, I really wanted to see it and it doesn’t really make sense for you two to go out for a date, now that he’s dating me…”

“I think you forgot the part where I stood in line for six hours to get these tickets,” you reply, trying to catch Eddie’s eyes. He’s avoiding you.

“And I’m sure we’ll all go next time!” She offers as an almost smug smile plays at her lips.

She can’t be serious. After watching her face, you realize she is fully expecting you to give up your ticket so she can go with him. Guess that Iron Maiden concert coming up this summer is off the table, too, you think, rubbing your eyes tiredly.

You look at him, waiting for him to say something to indicate how ridiculous his girlfriend is being, to stand up for you.

Oh. He’s not going to.

“I really don’t see the big deal.” Chrissy scoffs.

Of course you don’t. “I’m sorry, but I’m not giving you my damn ticket!” you snap. “If you really don’t want Eddie to come with me that badly then I can get Steve to take me.”

Which is ridiculous, Eddie was the one who wanted to see this movie in the first place. It looked like it was about adventure, something Eddie loves in movies. You decided then sure, since his birthday is right after the movie comes out, you’ll stand in line for the tickets then treat him to a fun movie night.

If Chrissy is uncomfortable with that, then that’s her prerogative, but she can choose something else to do with her boyfriend since she wants to so badly. You won’t let her walk all over you.

Chrissy doesn’t answer, but she’s clearly upset by yours. “It’s alright, babe,” Eddie hums, tugging her up against his chest so she curls into him. “I can wait until it comes out. We’ll just rent it, yeah?”

You’re not sure which makes you more nauseous, the fact that he just made a plan with her that won’t come to fruition for six months, or that he had nothing to say in the conversation.

You’ve never felt so unwelcome on his couch. “I’m gonna head home. I’ll see you later.”

Whatever comes out of Eddie’s mouth then falls on deaf ears as you fight the tears that irrationally threaten to spill over your water line. They’re stupid, your emotions are stupid, the movie is stupid.

-

Steve sits on the other side of the light brown table in the library, hunched over some notes as you explain the concept to him once more.

“Ugh, this is ridiculous, I’m going to forget this as soon as we learn it,” Steve whines, rubbing his eyes.

“Well you’re only taking Sociology because you haven’t claimed a major yet and sociology is required in most degrees.”

“That’s true,” he smirks, stretching his arms. “This still is all starting to look like gibberish. I get it, we live in a society in which the rules are not in our favor, why does that have to be studied to this intent?”

You shrug. “It’s fascinating.”

“To who?”

You roll your eyes, wondering how he grew on you like a weed. “Alright, we’ll take a break, then.”

“Any plans upcoming for next Wednesday?”

“Uh, no, at least not that I’m aware of,” you answer, putting your highlighter down. “We were supposed to see the movie for it, but, well you know how that turned out.”

“I’m sure there’s something he’s planning,” Steve assures, tapping his pencil rhythmically. “It’s not like him to not make a spectacle of his birthday.”

That, you agree with.

“Dustin said he hasn’t heard anything about it, either. He almost planned a surprise party for him. You think he’s just taking it easy this year?”

You doubt it, he’s turning 21, after all. Not like hasn’t been going to bars since he was fifteen, but now at least he’d be able to go into a major city with his real ID without getting flagged. Last year he prattled on about plans for this one, how he was gonna have a big rager at Steve’s and drop a whole paycheck on kegs.

You’re sure if he was going to do anything in those next two days, then he would’ve told you by now.

That Wednesday morning, you rise early to the sound of your alarm.

The kitchen counter is already filled with the ingredients you need, preparing for a labor of love. You hook your Walkman to your jeans, listening to the music blaring in your ears as you add one ingredient at a time, watching the batter slowly come to shape.

It’s familiar, your mom’s famous homemade recipe for cake batter. After missing her many cakes and the familiarity of her food, you finally searched for the cards containing her neat print, clearly and concisely telling the reader what her recipes needed.

It became your favorite thing to do when you missed her.

As you pour the batter into each divet in the tray, you recall the first time you thought to make a birthday cupcake for Eddie.

Neither of you cared much for first period, so it was easy to catch him before he woke up. That day you presented a vanilla cupcake with a swirl of black and blue frosting. You learned that morning he hates vanilla.

Every other instance of making him a cupcake has been a litany of flavors, but never vanilla.

As they bake, you whip up the frosting with a hand mixer, hoping the low hum doesn’t wake your father. He works so hard already. Red food coloring turns it from white, the process all too satisfying.

A plastic sandwich bag with the corner cut off is always just enough for you to pipe frosting on, the skilled hand you’ve trained after trial and error working fast.

Your dad always knows on February 19th he will wake up to 11 cupcakes on a big plate.

The pastry sits in a comically large container as you borrow your dads truck, the sun just barely peeking over the horizon as you climb the stairs to the Munson’s front door.

You balance the cupcake in your hand as you head straight down the hall towards Eddie’s room. The sounds filling the trailer take a moment to register, for some reason not realizing how quiet it should be on an early weekday morning. The only sounds should be that of an early bird or newspaper hitting the front door.

Dread finds home in your stomach, as if on a very instinctual level you realize what you’re hearing. Though for some crazy, masochistic reason, those instincts wanted to be sure.

His door, wide open, reveals him hunched over Chrissy with the blanket barely covering his broad shoulders as he’s rocking. He’s rocking…and oh, you can hear her, too.

She’s moaning, whining, clawing her nails up his back like a leech, or worse, a tick, digging itself in and refusing to give up the tight hold they have on their victim.

Your mind goes empty, numb, until you hear her faintly wish him a happy birthday. You blink yourself out of the trance, blindly stumbling back into the fresh air of the living room. The cupcake lands on the kitchen counter on your way out the door, not caring as it slams behind you, definitely alerting Eddie and Chrissy of the third unknown presence in the trailer.

You couldn’t find it in yourself to even care about it, the queasiness deep rooted in your stomach threatening to make itself known on the outside plants.

You have a class in less than an hour, something you need to continue into the second year of your Communications degree, but not something that requires brain power.

The simple question of how you managed to ride your bike all the way to the campus, take notes in your class and blindly walk over to the library will always escape you. You somehow watch yourself go through the motions until you meet Steve at the cafe.

The moment he sees you, he knows something is wrong just by the deadened stare that’s taken over your face.

When you break down into tears, he brings you to his house, letting you finally admit to him what you’ve been afraid to admit to yourself.

You’re in love with your best friend. And while you’re doing your best to be happy for him, your poor heart can’t handle it.

-

The cupcake isn’t mentioned until you call him two days later, still heartbroken, but missing his voice. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, despite the great ache that makes each and every day fuzzy.

Usually, more than half the cupcakes get eaten by him, which is why a dozen are made each year. There’s still more than half left, the very sight of the cupcakes depleting your appetite as his continued absence carves a bigger and bigger hole in you.

He answers on the fifth ring, sounding as if he’s in the middle of rummaging through items in some way, slightly out of breath. “Hey, Chris, sorry I can’t find–”

You swallow the pain. Maybe the lump of pain swallowed in your stomach will finally evict itself like the contents of stomachs should. Yet, the more you throw it up, the more it seems to gather. How does that work? “It’s me.” You say dryly, tiredly.

“Shit,” he breathes, the background noise coming to a sudden halt. “Hey, you.”

“Hey. How was the cupcake?”

“The mysterious appearing pastry was delicious as always, slugger.” Slugger. “What-what time did you drop it off?”

You know that he knows that you heard something. He doesn’t know how much you heard, but he knows the slam of his front door was you.

“I didn’t hear much. Just enough to know you had already received your birthday present for the year,” the attempt at humor doesn’t hit you very well. You’re not sure how it’s received, but Eddie laughs regardless.

“Sorry about that, she slept over the night before unplanned. I should’ve remembered your yearly morning cupcake.”

“Should’ve remembered you have a girlfriend,” you answer, wishing you had that better judgment. “Did you do anything for your birthday?”

“Chris took me out for dinner with her parents.” Honestly, that sounds like it was for her more than it was for him.

“Sounds fun,” you deadpan, earning earnest chuckles from him.

“They’re an acquired taste,” Eddie offers, allowing your slight criticism of his birthday party.

“You sure you still don’t want to go to Indianapolis and bar hop?” You can’t help but ask. It’s like you can hear his reluctance to accept the celebration he got.

“Nah. Besides, we can’t risk your fake ID, after all.” He pauses, an understated sigh passing through his breath. “How has school been?”

Small talk is not often something that passes through a conversation between you two. You’re aware of it, he’s aware of it, and it turns the conversation into something almost jilted.

“I miss you,” you admit, lying back on your bed.

“I miss you,” he parrots, soft and sweet.

“Can we do something? Just you and me?”

He chuckles, low and under his breath. “Sure. Pancake night. Just you, me, and Martha’s perfume.”

…that never happened.

-

The less you see Eddie, the more you end up hanging out with Steve. He seems to want to introduce you to his own best friend, but your admission of not wanting to be a third wheel again gets him to drop it. You can’t help but notice the only times you speak to Eddie are when you call him. He hasn’t called you since asking for Chrissy to join pancake night.

That alone wouldn’t entirely convince you to not call him anymore. The jilted conversations always ending with promises of time with one another never coming to fruition. It’s the equivalent of being skinned alive, one strip at a time.

Steve has watched the circles under your eyes darken, the enthusiasm in class deplete, and the lust for life dissolve before his very eyes. To say he’s pissed at his friend is to understate it, he’s ready to tell you to give up on him and forget he exists.

Yet, Steve knows how unlike Eddie it all is. Dustin has complained he hasn’t been called back for a long time, Gareth reached out to you asking if you’d heard from Eddie lately as they haven’t rehearsed for a while. He garners more concern than anger at times.

Steve’s living room has become a new choice of hang out space, but the unnatural cleanliness of the house, the lack of cologne that both Eddie and Wayne use, the familiarity of eight years of friendship, it gives this unrelenting feeling of emptiness. It’s worth trying to fill it with edibles and weed.

It doesn’t seem to work, but you’ve become more open, more free willing with him as a direct result. He doesn’t favor horror movies like you and Eddie, but you find common ground in action and slapstick comedy, instead. Anything but romcoms, you implore. Anything even close to resembling romance is rejected.

Steve spills the latest he heard from Hawkins’ elite country club group, a bunch of ladies with nothing better to do with their afternoons than spread rumors about the population as a whole and judge them for it. Steve knows for a fact which members of the country club have side women, bringing them in hours after walking in with their own wives.

It’s so nice to be concerned with the lives of others and to not care about yours falling apart at the seams. Well, really it's being ripped apart by Chrissy Cunningham’s greedy little claws.

Ironically enough, you get paired up with Steve for a major assignment in Soc class, one required to analyze social constructs that have been deep dived in class. Another little gift of irony is you were given Social Stratification, which is the hierarchical arrangement of individuals or groups within a society based on various factors such as wealth, power, and prestige.

Being from two very different classes, you and Steve find yourself uniquely qualified to discuss the topic.

It provides opportunities to hang out together, distracted by the collective want to not work at all, but driven by an looming due date. Your mind wanders to Eddie non stop, wondering how he is, if he’s ok, if work is still giving him a hard time, did he finally get the belt he was needing, if Wayne was taking it easier.

Your fingers itch for the phone to call and ask, always haunted by the memory of each phone call, the polite conversation and empty promises. You crave to remember what it was like before.

Steve seems to act as your voice of reason, disencouraging you every time you mention wanting to call him. He sympathizes, of course, but he recalls the last time you called him and the aftermath following it.

When the assignment is finally in the last stages, making final edits to clear up any loss in conciseness, the final second guesses if the point has been made clear, you sit on the floor of Steve’s room cross legged, going cross eyed as you reread it, again.

“I can’t wait for this thing to be handed in,” you groan, throwing your pen at him.

“I think we earned a celebration,” he sighs, throwing the pen back to you. “On Friday, after we finally hand over this paper to this asshole, I am throwing a big ass party in your honor.”

“A party will not make me feel better,” you reprimand, glancing at him under your brows.

“No, but a good excuse to drink the pain away, might,” he grins, leaning forward on his stomach and kicking his legs animatedly. He looks so innocent, as if he doesn’t have his own agenda. You’ve come to know him well enough that he really doesn’t. “C’mon. Let loose with me just for one night!”

You reluctantly agree to it after he pulls out his dumb puppy eyes.

News of Steve’s party spreads fast across campus, and you find yourself curiously excited for it when you usually dread dancing with complete strangers. The strangers at this point make it better, not needing to concern yourself with anything other than how the alcohol burns.

Your dad drives you to the party, the rain heavy on the pavement making it hard to bike in such weather. He’s noticed the way you’ve shut down a little bit as of lately, more than happy to bring you to a party if it means putting some life back into the eyes of his one and only daughter.

When you enter the door with slightly damp hair just from the walk from the truck, the party is already in full swing, music overtly loud, bodies bumping and dancing, empty cups already scattered on dusty surfaces.

As soon as you see Steve, he waves you over, talking to Robin, who he’s introduced you to. She became your friend the same way he became your did; ambush. Turns out, Robin is really cool. She hands you a beer, winking as you tilt your eyebrow out of skepticism.

“Beer, really?” You ask over the music, turning the bottle around in your hand.

“You’re drinking to forget, right?” She asks, an air of wisdom in her scratchy voice. “Then what does it matter what it tastes like?”

Well, you guess she’s right. You grab another from the fridge while you’re at it before they lead you to a couch. It’s surrounded by a crowd of people you mostly have never met before, more than happy to laugh with them at the particularly stupid topics of conversation.

You’re already pretty buzzed less than an hour spent at the party, having asked Steve to get you a third bottle. “Might wanna slow down, sweets.”

“I’m drinking to forget, remember?” You ask him, winking cheekily.

Time starts to meld together as the bottle gets emptier and emptier. Robin grabs you by the hand to dance with her and Steve in a circle, top 40 pop acting as a soundtrack while you forget any goddamn trouble that might have plagued you.

You’re chatting about some mindless gossip when something tells you to turn your head towards the door. The door opens to Eddie and Chrissy, holding hands as they look around the party that got even rowdier since your arrival.

Eddie’s eyes meet yours, frozen in place as the emptiness his absence has left consumes you.

“Oh shit,” Robin mutters right next to you, but you don’t answer it as you stumble your way into the kitchen.

The internal debate on whether you need to drink water or more alcohol is roaring, so you drown it with more alcohol. Maybe you can shut it up. It’s too fucking loud. The ajar door opens and closes, a presence in the kitchen you don’t bother acknowledging. You don’t smell Eddie’s cologne, the momentary disappointment flooding your senses that he saw you and didn’t even bother talking to you.

Another sip. Another gulp. Make it go away.

“I was wondering when I would run into you,” it’s not Eddie, or Steve. Confusion takes over you as you wonder which male voice in your life you’re forgetting, turning to face the culprit.

Daniel.

“Here I am, I guess,” you mutter, taking another swig. “What exactly do you want?”

“Retribution.”

“Huh?”

He laughs, cruel and blunt. “I’m here for what I’m owed, sweetheart. I don’t get told no. Girls don’t say no to me. So, I think I’m owed some payback for the humiliation you put me through.”

What the fuck?

The laughter that leaves your throat is loud and abrupt, clearly not what he’s expecting. “Oh my fucking god, you’re just delusional. Girls don’t owe you shit for buying them dinner! You ask us out for a date, that’s on you, bud!”

“I don’t fucking think so,” he growls, slinking in closer. You can smell his breath, he’s clearly been drinking. “I will get what I want, I always do.”

Panic floods your brain, suddenly realizing he’s being dead serious. “Wait–” you protest as he leans in, the wall and your back colliding harshly. “Wait, no–”

“All you had to do was blow me, baby,” he chides, as if he’s reprimanding a small child. His hand harshly wraps around your waist, preventing you from weaving from between him and the wall. “Now look what you made me do.”

You try to push him off, panic continuing to push up your throat as he proves himself much stronger than you. Oh god, am I about to get raped in Steve’s kitchen?

His hand feels slimy as it pushes past your shirt, sending a jolt of shivers down your body. You’re shaking from fear, one cheek against the wall as you continue to resist him. “Stop– Daniel, please stop–” Your voice is frantic, eyes wide in terror as you try to push his hands away.

The harsh laughter directed at your pleas are cut off, an incredibly familiar voice slicing the air with malice. “She said stop.”

The heat you were surrounded by is thrown off, leaving the cold air behind Daniel to overwhelm you as he’s thrown onto the floor.

Blows of fists on flesh fill the room, watching in horror as Eddie has him pinned, delivering blow after blow to his face. You only see a portion of Eddie, his dark jeans and leather jacket as he hunches over his victim and blindingly delivers one punch after the other. Daniel has stopped fighting back, just a limp set of limbs as it jumps from each hit.

When Eddie has shown no signs of letting up you’re forced to jump into action, stumbling as you run into his line of eyesight. “Eddie, stop! You’re going to kill him!” You plead.

The sounds of brutal fists on soft flesh die immediately, Eddie huffing as he rises to his feet. “You okay?”

You blink as his hands frame your cheeks, petting them softly with his hands. A tear falls, splashing his hand. His concern is comforting, but the direct juxtaposition of his concern from the silence he’s fed you the last few weeks washes over you, confusing every emotion that has been hurting.

Despite the sweet shine in his eyes as they watch you, you back from his hold in a jerk reaction. “Didn’t know you still cared about me.”

He wears the hurt from this statement on his sleeve. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

You wander back over to the fridge, grabbing a beer from the second six pack you’re working through. You pop it open from the mounted bottle opener, taking a handful of sips. “You’re kidding me, right? You haven’t called me in weeks. Weeks.”

He stands there, blankly watching.

“I might be more forgiving if it weren’t for Dustin and Gareth and hell, Steve also saying the same thing. None of them have heard from you. You went from calling at least once a week to radio silence! I wanted to get along with Chrissy. I really did. I started all the conversations, offering snacks, asking questions about her, letting her set her boundaries, but she had something to say about everything we did together!”

Eddie stutters, blinking as he watches you talk. He doesn’t try to talk, doesn’t try to defend himself. You don’t give him the chance.

“She clearly doesn’t respect you, otherwise you would still be my best friend and I would remember the last time we had a normal fucking conversation. I get wanting boundaries, but at this point, I don’t think she even wants you to have friends! Is that what you want? A girl who makes you make yourself smaller for her sake and isolate completely? Really? Because that’s what you have. No horror movies? No more junk food? No heavy metal music? She’s making you shrink yourself so she deems you desirable! Fucking– I can’t watch it anymore.”

“Wait, what do you mean–” he’s interrupted by the door closing, a yelp filling the room as Chrissy runs to him.

“What happened to your fists?” You glance down to them, seeing bruises lining his knuckles.

“Nothing, it’s fine. I’m fine,” he assures her, putting his hands on her shoulders.

“Alright. Well. I meant exactly what I said. I can’t do this one sided friendship thing with you anymore,” you take another swig, wondering how the bottle was already so light. “I can’t. Call me when you find my best friend, because I haven’t seen him in three months.”

You leave the room, ignoring the calls from his mouth that suffocate you. As you stumble into the living room, you catch Steve’s eye right away, chin trembling. The hot tears that trail down your face have already drenched your cheeks by the time you realize it’s even happening, choking on the emotion that drowns you.

Steve guides you into the guest bathroom, closing the door as he watches you attempt to stop the sobs long enough to tell him what happened.

“I think–” you hiccup, sniffling loudly, “I think I just lost my best friend–” tears rattle through you once again, just saying it out loud feels like lightning in its startling ability to shatter you once more.

By the time the sobs diminish again, you’re sat on the floor by the tub, head sitting in his lap as he pets your hair. You sit up suddenly, mid hiccup as you give Steve an odd look.

He almost asks if you’re okay when you spill over his lap, whimpering between gasps as you know what you’re doing, the toilet only a foot away, but it continues to explode from your stomach.

“I’m so sorry,” you explain, tears falling again, as he sits in shock.

He grins sadly, undoing his belt. “It’s fine, sweetheart.”

He finds someone, Robin, to grab him a second pair of pants, ditching the ruined pair in the bathtub.

The dry heaving seems to stop the tears, now staring blankly with a wet face and lashes that stick together. Steve brings you upstairs, wrapping his arm around your waist as he brings you to his bedroom.

As your head hits his pillow your eyes fall closed, mumbling something about fucking up, about three months ago.

Steve locks his door from any stragglers, walking down each step to find a particular metal head to give him a piece of his mind.

From how your sobs shook your body, he might give him the whole thing.

-

The light cascading through the blinds hurts, like a dagger through your brain as you take in your surroundings. You don’t know how you got into Steve’s room under his blanket.

As soon as you sit up, the pain stabs you, pushing you back down. Ow. You don’t even attempt to get up again until the urge to pee hits you, when it’s too much to ignore. You rub your eye, tip toeing to try to get back under the dark blue comforter decorating Steve’s bed.

On the corner of the bed Steve sits, one foot resting on the other knee as he holds a jade green drink. “How badly does your head hurt?”

You wince at the volume of his voice, placing your hands over your eyes. “Not great.”

He winces sympathetically, offering the smoothie. “What’s the last thing you remember?”

Blurry images flash through your mind, the kitchen, Daniel, half of the second case gone. You attempt to remember past that point but it comes up blank. “I remember running into Daniel.”

As you sip on the surprisingly delicious hangover smoothie, Steve watches you, wearing a clear expression of concern.

“Anything after that?”

You can tell he’s egging you on, digging for something with an unprecedented seriousness in his tone. But there’s no memory after that. You gingerly shake your head, which sends more needles of pain through your skull.

“Why?” You ask weakly. Steve pauses, ruffling a hand through his hair as he releases a long sigh.

“You really don’t, huh?” Steve asks, one last attempt. “Maybe it’s good you drank as much as you did, then.”

“Steve, you’re scaring me.” Images of worst case scenarios course through your mind. What did you do?

Steve pats the spot on the bed next to you, double checking you don’t feel the urge to throw up. You don’t.

“Daniel tried to force himself on you.” He’s gentle, compassionate in his admission as he watches your reaction.

Huh. “How far did he–” you stutter, breath hitching as you bite back the sobs that suddenly threaten to rake through your body.

“He was interrupted before he even got that far,” he comforts you, wrapping his arm around your shoulder as he caresses it. “Eddie sort of bashed his face in.”

Now that you think about it, the memory of Eddie hunched over Daniel as he delivered blow after blow to his nose, his cheekbone, his eyebrow. You didn’t see the final result of Eddie’s defense, but the bruised knuckles you vaguely recall spell out how brutal the retaliation was.

Eddie.

“What–” you pause, stuttering through your breaths, “what happened after that?”

“You yelled at Eddie. Berated him. I think you even told him you didn’t want to be his friend anymore. At least, that’s what I gathered from what you told me,” he admits.

Your blood grows cold. From the weeks of silence, the jilted conversations, the slow resentment that bloomed through your stomach for him. The ache already hurt just from the absence of your best friend, but it was good for you. Fuck, this hurt.

“Is that all?”

He laughs, pulling your head into his neck. “Just that you can’t hold back your liquor.”

That’s why your breath tastes like vomit.

From the extra strength tylenol he gives you, the rest of the morning is spent helping Steve tidy up the trash around his house. Only after spending twenty minutes in the kitchen on his hands and knees scrubbing up the red stains does he allow you to help him. You only catch a glimpse of the paper towel soaked in dried blood and bleach when throwing out red solo cups, a small hint of the mess Eddie made of Daniel.

The thought of his name is a self betrayal, and you work faster once it crosses your mind.

Once the place is clean, you allow Steve to drive you home at his insistence, repeatedly asking when he pulls up to your house that you’re sure you’re okay.

Your dad is at work, not there to ask any questions you wanted to avoid from the previous night, namely why your eyes are swollen from tears. The blinds in your room fall with a trill resembling a xylophone, blocking the sun from your intense migraine.

For the first time in weeks, you’re stirred awake from sleep from the ringing of the phone on the floor that has been pushed under the bed. You let it ring.

Just as sleep pulls you back in, you’re abruptly startled as the phone alerts you again. You roll over, ignoring it as you wrap your head in your hands, curling into the pillow. No one has to get a hold of you that badly.

This person does, it seems, as they call you again. You groan, crawling over the edge as you grab the phone from your receiver. “Hello?”

You refuse the want to chew them out, to take your emotions and friendship breakup out on the person who has interrupted your sleep.

“It’s me.”

You lurch forward in your bed, still tethered to the receiver by the tightly coiled wire as it forces the receiver to scuff against the hardwood floor. Eddie.

-

Eddie’s sat on his couch, limply resting his head on the couch arm as the shrill voice of the main character complains over a problem that could be solved if she had just told someone. His hand rests on his eyes, shielding himself from the light to prevent the headache he can feel coming on. He’s given up on suggesting other movies by now, but she somehow seems to only play the movies that get on every last nerve.

He would probably be more willing to watch the romcoms in question if they weren’t the bottom of the pack. Last time Eddie even suggested a romcom he actually doesn’t completely hate he had to hear about it for an agonizing twenty minutes. Fine. She could watch her movie, he can practice on his guitar, right?

You would think.

So he dissociates and focuses on the gentle petting of his calf as he rests his leg on her lap. His mind floats to his best friend, how much he misses the smell of your shampoo, or when you make fun of the cheesier horror movies he loves to watch. If Chrissy wouldn’t make a near temper tantrum every time your name is mentioned in conversation, he would’ve called you weeks ago. He missed your voice.

Chrissy continues to insist that you like him, that you’re trying to steal him from her. It turned into many fights where Eddie felt like he was losing his mind, insisting he just wanted to see his best friend. There is a stubborn, immovable force still holding hope that something will just click one day and realize just how wrong she is. There’s a little nagging part of him, eating at his brain, warning that it probably won’t ever come true.

The possibility is almost too much for him to mentally handle, because when it blows up in his face and you decide not to forgive his radio silence, he doesn’t think he will be able to handle the absence in his life. So he procrastinates the detonation.

“I’m surprised you’re not going to Steve’s party,” Chrissy chirps, interrupting Eddie’s disarray.

Eddie blinks, trying to recall any mention of a party that might’ve slipped his mind. That might’ve been the reason for his ignorance if he could remember the last time he even spoke to Steve. He’s sure Chrissy knows that.

“I didn’t even know he was having one.”

She grabs at the extra material of his jeans, pulling his attention. “Did you want to go?”

He mentally rattles through the mechanics of going to Steve’s stupidly large house, knowing damn well his distance has managed to drive you straight into the arms of someone new, even if it’s only platonic. You’ll be there, the chance much more likely than not.

He wants to see your face, even if it’s in passing. He wonders if Chrissy sees you there if she’ll decide to leave early or just avoid you altogether. But it’s just the chance that drives him to agree.

By the time he gets there, vehicles have already littered the streets surrounding his house, some even audaciously blocking his neighbor’s driveways. Chrissy’s hand is in his as he walks in, anxiously looking around the party for you.

He peers into the living room, to the couch containing members of some of Steve’s closer acquaintances and it wasn’t long until he saw you, sitting right next to Robin holding the bottleneck of a beer bottle.

Your eyes are already on his, wide and still as you stare at him. You’re even prettier than he remembered, any polaroid he’s ever had of you does absolutely no justice to your radiant smile or vibrant eyes.

Fine, you’re staring at him like you would rather be anywhere else for the moment, panic flooding your features, but it’s a breath of fresh air for him compared to his last few suffocating weeks. As you stumble to your feet, Eddie tricks himself into believing that you’ve gotten up to talk to him until you pass the front entrance straight into the kitchen.

He supposes he deserves that, fading as Chrissy tugs him to the dance floor. His hands find her hips, allowing himself to get lost in the relentlessly catchy pop tune. He can’t help but allow his eyes to float back over to the couch every now and then, something in him carnally needing making sure that you’re safe.

Alarm bells go off, goosebumps trailing over his skin as something in him screams that you’re in danger. You could very much just be avoiding him, which he wouldn’t blame you for, not for one moment, but he wouldn’t forgive himself if he found out his worry had any footing.

“Babe, I’m gonna grab a drink,” he mutters, blankly kissing her sweet scented blonde hair before his long legs take him to the kitchen.

His stomach drops as your voice fills the kitchen, asking the asshole with wandering hands to stop as he forces himself on you.

The next thing he knows, Daniel is under him, his back slammed on the floor with a face scrunched up in pain as Eddie’s fists are flying. His fists, his jeans, the floor, the whining little shit’s face, it all gets painted with blood.

Eddie doesn’t realize when the pair of arms stop trying to push him off, or when the green eyes no longer stare at him in horror, shut from the trauma of one blunt hit after the other. He just continually bashes his face in for even daring to attempt to force himself on the woman he loves.

Fuck this guy. Fuck him.

Eddie’s blind with rage, but he’s also blind with his own regret.

Your voice cuts through the anger, a warning that seeps in his brain like a sponge. If he keeps hitting him like this he will end up taking his life.

He stands up, facing your trembling form as you seem to be in shock. You melt in his hold, tears spilling over his hands as he caresses you, doing his very best to take care of you. He knows the answer when he asks, but he has to hear it from you.

Finally, the words seem to sober you from wanting his comfort to the hurt that you’ve felt from his silence. You lurch yourself from him, staggering blindly to the fridge as you grab another beer. The scent was harsh on your breath, the sight of you glugging back as much as you can sends jolts through his system.

Then you tell him everything. And he deserves it. He wants so badly to tell you how badly he wanted to call you, but the excuses sound lame even in his own mind.

When you tell him you’re done is when he finally snaps out of his own trance. He knows what you mean, but surely, you don’t really mean it? Before he can ask, Chrissy comes into the picture, doting over his bruised knuckles, ignoring you completely as she asks what happened. He’s fine. He’s not, but he’ll say anything to get back to what you were just saying.

Choked back sobs escape as you tell him with absolute finality that you are done, tripping over your own feet when you leave through the kitchen door.

No, this has gone too far. Eddie hasn’t had a single drop of alcohol but feels as if he’s wasted from stumbling after you, blocked by his girlfriend.

That conversation goes as well as can be expected.

In the hours following, he doesn’t seem to find you anywhere. But without Chrissy trailing after him, he finds himself free to converse with friends he’d missed, meeting their snide remarks of coming back to the land of the living with grace. Eddie stays for hours, half heartedly partaking in any conversation he finds himself witness to just in case you make another appearance.

Steve walks down the stairs after what feels like forever, wearing a grim look on his face. Eddie approaches him. “Hey have you seen–”

“She’s upstairs,” Steve answers, sighing. “Passed out. She’ll wake up tomorrow morning.”

“Is she okay?”

“Didn’t choke on her own vomit, at least,” Steve quips, his voice harsh. “Physically, she’s okay.”

Steve moves to walk around Eddie, seemingly done with the conversation.

“Physically?”

Steve sighs, angry, frustrated. “She just sobbed on the bathroom floor for an hour and a half, Ed. I literally watched her heart break! Safe to say, I don’t think she’s doing so well emotionally.”

“Fuck,” Eddie mutters, feeling hopeless, like he should’ve been there to take care of you instead of being the cause of your suffering. “Steve, I–”

“Listen, Eddie. I just heard a bunch of shit from her that I’m not even sure she knows that she said. Other than her I guess telling you to fuck off, what else happened?”

Eddie gulps, not exactly wrapping his own mind around it, yet. “I found Daniel Moore trying to force himself on her.”

“Jesus,” Steve mutters, passing Eddie straight into the kitchen.

“Steve–” Eddie tries to stop him, or warn him at least, wondering how no one else has seen him, yet. There is almost no reason for most to make their way into the kitchen as the drinks station is in the living room, but usually a straggler or two, especially couples would make their own way in. He’s definitely not up and partying from the blood that seeped through the shirt he was wearing…

Should Eddie have called the ambulance?

“What the fuck–” Steve barks, taking in the crumpled form before him. “Jesus, Eddie, what happened?”

“You listen to your best friend beg someone to stop assaulting them and not beat the shit out of him?” Eddie retaliates, watching as Steve double checks to make sure he’s still breathing.

“Well, now I gotta get him out of here before someone has you fucking arrested,” Steve mutters, wracking his brain through old morally questionable friends of his that would help with no questions asked. Fuck. He has a few favors to call in. “Where’s Chrissy gone?”

“How the fuck should I know?” Eddie spits.

“Considering she has control over who you’re allowed to spend time with, probably somewhere nearby with binoculars,” Steve mutters, a fragment of seriousness in the joke.

“Well, not anymore,” Eddie shrugs, feeling surprisingly pragmatic about it.

“Oh.” Took you long enough, Steve thinks. “I’m gonna get him out of here, but I suggest you do the same.”

“Can I stay? I wanna be here when she wakes up.” His eyes pleading to Steve.

Steve’s brows raise. “Respectfully Eddie, I don’t think she really wants to see you.”

“I haven’t been able to tell her anything for weeks, I’m staying!” he insists, crossing his arms like a petulant child.

Steve shakes his head, leaning on the counter. God, he wished he hadn’t invited a few dozen people to come to his house for the night. “God, you’re an idiot.”

“Excuse me?”

“You’re an idiot. You’re both idiots, but, man I think you’re the bigger one.” Steve walks around the kitchen island, getting unreasonably close to him. “I don’t know if you’re blind, or just selectively ignorant. She loves you, dude! She was willing to support you getting a girlfriend, but then you just shut her out. It’s gonna take more than an apology to be back in her good graces. When she wakes up with a killer hangover, I think the last person she’ll want to see is you. God, if one of you just made the jump years ago this never would’ve happened!”

Eddie’s heart drops at Steve’s angry words, refusing to believe any of his feelings for his best friend are reciprocated. “Sure, because three months of friendship tell you everything you need to know about a person.”

Steve chuckles, walking over the snoring asshole as he steps out to the living room. “I would have to be blind not to see it. She talked about you one time about this stupid fucking movie she watched with you and I could tell. Rather than telling your girlfriend that you have a best friend and she has to get over it, you shut her out. For weeks. And left someone else to pick up the pieces.”

“Steve, I know. I know I was being an ass–”

“Then why didn’t you stop? Why didn’t you give her a call? You had to know she wasn’t going to forgive you so easily–”

“Of course I fucking knew that, Steve! Why do you think I put off letting it explode in my face?”

“Because you’re an idiot! She loved you. She loves you! If you can’t see that then I really don’t know what to tell you. Listen, if you call her tomorrow, I’m not all that sure what would happen. It’s gonna be a while before she’s ready to forgive, bud. For now. Maybe you should go.”

-

“Oh,” you sigh, hugging your knees into your chest, feeling small. A war rages in your mind. You were hurt enough by him to break your friendship off with him, but you don’t even remember it. The other side of you just wants to be close to him again, willing to sink into the apologies that he owes you and happily accept them.

But you shouldn’t. And you know you shouldn’t.

“Do you wanna come over for a movie?”

You want to come over and watch a movie so badly, it wraps around you and constricts your airflow. “Will she be there?”

“No. Just me and you. I promise,” Eddie swears, voice low enough that it resembles a whisper. “She won’t be, uh, crashing our movie nights anymore.”

You diminish the pulse of hope that threatens to bloom. “What do you mean?”

Eddie sighs. “I was hoping to tell you in person, but we broke up last night…come over, I’ll tell you more. I just need my best friend…and a horror movie…and junk food, god, I miss junk food.”

You miss him so much it hurts. “I’ll be there in an hour.”

The bike ride sends pulses through your head, worsening the ache of the hangover. If the pain isn’t gone by tomorrow, you might just ask someone to shoot an arrow through your head to put you out of your misery.

It’s been more than long enough since the last time you were on his front door step, nervous as you hesitate to knock. Eddie’s footsteps are rapid and loud as soon as your knuckles hit the door, the opening to him, wide eyes, graphic t-shirt and pair of sweatpants. He appears unlike himself, almost tired. You wonder if you noticed it last night.

Before either one of you says a word, he tugs you in, wrapping his arms around you in an embrace in his scent. Overwhelming emotion takes over, his shirt absorbing the tears that fall. He feels like home, every part of him. His scent, the muscles flexing under your grasp, his steady breaths.

“I missed you,” he mutters, his voice low, choked, even.

Then why didn’t you call me? “Me too–” you whimper, squeezing onto him even tighter. You sniffle, curling your head into his neck.

The hug lasts forever, or at least long enough for your arms to become numb.

Your butt lands on the couch, the spot that was once permanently marked by you now weirdly lumpy from the lack of use. Did Chrissy know she was allowed to sit in her own seat on the odd occasion? On the coffee table, Eddie has already prepared the popcorn and your favorite snacks, only your favorite snacks. Three movies are laid out, all awaiting their turn in the VCR.

“What’s this?” You ask, rubbing your nose from the snot.

“Uh, three movies. Pick one.”

You read the titles, Back to the Future, Friday the 13th, and Labyrinth. “What happened to wanting to watch horror movies?”

“I have a lot of sucking up to do before I get to be picky with our movie night,” Eddie answers, his voice gentle and careful. “Pick one.”

If he says so, then you’ll have to pick your favorite, rather than his favorite. “Alright, then, Labyrinth it is. David Bowie in leather pants, here I come!”

As the movie plays, a teenage girl desperate to find her brother, you sink into the comfort of the ratty old couch. Through Eddie, you found out that the rattiest couches are actually the most comfy. The more tears and rips, the better. Eddie stands up, running to the kitchen to grab fresh cans of soda from the fridge.

He sits back down, handing you a Diet Coke while popping open his own. Two things you notice when he sits. One, he’s remarkably close, his ass nearly planted in between the cushions. Two–

“Since when did you start drinking diet coke?” You ask him, wincing at the aftertaste.

“Since Chrissy was such a stickler for sugar,” he answers casually, grabbing a bite of the popcorn.

His simple tone, emotionless and understated, squeezes your heart. “What happened with her, anyway?”

Chrissy blocked him, staring at him with wide eyes as she held his shoulders. “What–what is going on?”

“I need a minute,” he stuttered, attempting to walk around her.

“Did you do that?” Chrissy asked, pointing to the lifeless piece of shit on the floor.

“Chris, it’s really not a good time, right now. I will tell you later, I promise. I’ll be right back.” Eddie promised.

She blocked him again, hands pushing on his broad shoulders. “You’re not seriously thinking of going after her, are you?”

“Chrissy, she’s my best friend! That creep just tried– I have to go check up on her, make sure she’s okay!”

“You mean the girl who is pathetically in love with you?” Chrissy asked, belligerent and full of sass. “Sure, go and give her more false hope! She was practically all over you at the diner, mooning over you, desperate to take you out on a date, I mean, don’t give her fucking hope!”

Eddie sighed, rubbing his face angrily. “I don’t know how many times I need to fucking tell you, Chris. She is just my friend. She was being nice, trying to include you. I’m so fucking tired of this conversation!”

“So am I!” Chrissy crossed her arms, popping her hip out. It was times like these Eddie was absolutely sure of why Chrissy and Jason dated for so long. “You know what? Fine. Me or her.”

“What?” Eddie was unsure if she was being serious.

“Pick! Me or her? Because when you pick me maybe then she’ll get the fucking hint!”

It was the easiest decision he’s ever made in his life. “Her.”

Eddie finishes explaining it, mostly nixxing the parts where she berated you or talked shit. You just needed to know the part where she practically had a temper tantrum.

“Wow,” you mutter, remembering how you called Chrissy sweet when they first started dating. “And…you, you picked me?”

“Of course I did.” Eddie pops a kernel into his mouth, leaning back into the couch. His body heat is warm, his scent intoxicating. “You’re my best friend.”

“You haven’t called in weeks, Eddie.” It comes out quietly, the hurt overflowing in your body and pouring out your mouth. “I thought you had a new best girl.”

Eddie sighs, grabbing your hand. “If I could take back the last three months, I would. I-I’m so sorry, sweetheart.”

“I missed you so fucking badly,” you admit, focusing on how your hand feels intertwined with his.

“I missed you. I know– I fucked up, but believe me when I say, I missed you so fucking much.”

On one hand, it’s hard to believe him. It seemed like it was so easy for him to cut you off. On the other, the glint in his eyes, his thumb caressing the back of your hand, gentle and unequivocally vulnerable.

Eddie leans forward, connecting his forehead to yours. “I will make it up to you, I promise.”

“You have a lot of making up to do, mister,” you inform him, pulling away from him to lightly nudge his hair.

“And a million strawberry mountains covered in strawberry sauce,” he answers, kissing your forehead softly.

“You really had me worried,” you admit, taking a good look at his face. “I believe you when you say that you missed me, but Eds, you hurt me. I want to trust you, but–”

His movement is swift as he grabs your face with his hands, pulling you in close. “I know, baby, I know.” The pet name takes your breath away, music to your unsuspecting ears. The name wraps itself around your like a warm hug, melting all those months of worry and panic away. “I’m so fucking sorry, if I could just–”

Maybe it wasn’t the right timing, months of silence, unanswered questions, hurt, but all that just conveniently disappears the moment his lips touch yours. You startle, jerking backwards as you look at him curiously, looking for something that’ll tell you he’s not kissing you out of pity, or obligation.

You’re met with the exact way that he always looks at you, but this time, it’s radiant. How did you miss it this whole time? You smile, wrapping your hand behind his neck as you tug him in, entangling his lips with yours and chasing that emotion that ran through you the first time.

Eddie meets your kiss with enthusiasm, grinning madly as he pulls you in closer, your body flush against his as he pulls you down with him.

It’s maddeningly enchanting, the way you can taste his minty breath and his hums against your lips, buzzing and tickling. His tongue sweeps along your bottom lip, pulling a gasp as you happily meet his with yours. Your skin feels electric as his hand sneaks under your shirt, as if he’s just getting the feel of you.

You sigh, curling your arm around his neck to pull him impossibly closer. His kisses trail along your jawline, down your neck, pressing sweet kisses down your jugular. “You taste like strawberries,” he mutters, audibly smiling. “I should’ve known, all those damn strawberries you eat.”

“Before we go any further,” you gasp, clutching at his t-shirt, “and believe me, I want to, you owe me a proper date.”

“Taking you out for a date, baby?” He places more rapid kisses on your neck, letting himself absorb your laughter. “God, I’m lucky.”

-

You’ve learned one thing for absolute certainty, Eddie Munson knows how to grovel. Between the many kisses you’ve shared that night you tell Eddie with surety that just because he knows how to kiss doesn’t mean he’s suddenly forgiven. Eddie relishes in that, grinning just because you’re kissing him.

The previous night he was losing his mind at his ex-girlfriend’s terrible movie choices, and you, his best friend, the person who has always known him best, you’re finally here kissing him. You could ask him to write a 1000-page apology letter entirely in rhymes or haikus and he would do it heartbeat, but all he’s required to do is prove it?

He’s more than willing.

When the date is proposed, he swears he would love to take you anywhere. He provides a list, with all of the restaurants you know he can’t afford. When you ask him and inquire about such, he shrugs casually. There’s a silent question there, wondering if Chrissy had even considered his wallet size before their date nights.

Instead, you answer with, “Our first date should be the diner, no?”

You’ve never been so nervous before, looking through your small arsenal of date night dresses. He’s seen all of them, whether from a school dance or the aftermath of a date gone sour. One dress catches your attention, at the very back of your closet covered in plastic, just waiting for the right time.

White, with blue flowers hand embroidered on the bodice, a sweetheart neckline and bubble gum pink ribbons tied together as the straps. Periwinkle blue that bleeds into mint green leaves along the hemline, fanned out into a hoopskirt. You’ve stared at this dress when it sat in your mom’s closet, asking when it might be your turn to finally wear it.

The dress fits you like a glove, looking remarkably close to the photo on the easel downstairs, a first date 25 years ago that ended up being one of your favorite bedtime stories.

As you finally make your way down the stairs, hair half up in curls in a ribbon matching the ones on the dress, your dad looks at you with pride and glossy eyes. Whispered words of the resemblance as he hugs you, eyes too tired for a man in his forties from loss and stress, a whiff of gratitude hits you.

It’s a warm spring evening, no need for a coat as the van pulls up with the usual melodies of heavy metal and drumming. You make your way down the sidewalk to his passenger side, butterflies erupting as you open the door.

The volume is turned down to a background noise, the heavy metal feeling oddly out of place at such a low volume. “Hi, sunshine.”

You grab his hand, petting at his calloused skin. “Hi.”

You feel his eyes on you, taking in the dress that is on its first night out in decades. “I don’t know how you show up looking this good and expect me to act normal.”

You grin, pressing a kiss to his shoulder and sniffing at the leather. He can’t say shit like that and expect you to go on like normal. “C’mon. I haven’t had a strawberry milkshake in ages.”

You open the window just a crack, appreciating the scent of fresh grass in the spring. New beginnings, fresh starts, rebirth. It seems oddly poetic.

He pulls up to the diner, bright neon lights against an evening sunset. It looks as if it’s painted, yellow into orange into blue. A lonely diner isolated sitting against a watercolor sky, but one of your favorite places in the world.

The bell ringing feels like an old song you haven’t heard in years, bringing some bittersweet nostalgia.

Martha perks up, the diner even deader than normal with only a lone man sitting on a bar chair holding a milkshake like a beer. The comparison sends a gag reflex through your body, never wanting to even smell another beer in your lifetime. As you sit next to Eddie, in such close proximity that the other side of the booth is useless, Martha appears with a cheeky smile on her face.

“If you two aren’t on a date, I’ll eat my notebook,” she sighs, hands on her hips as if she’s chastising two kids.

You and Eddie glance to one another, debating on fucking with her. It’s all the approval she needs.

“Finally! If you came in my diner again with those puppy dog eyes of yours I would’ve about had it with you two. Now, are you getting your regulars again?”

Eddie’s arm curls around your shoulders, his thumb petting the bare skin of your shoulder. “I’m disappointed you haven’t already brought the milkshake, Martha.”

“Smartasses. The both of you!” She walks off, a brand new pep in her step.

His thumb turns under your chin, pulling your face towards his. “C’mere. I need to make up for the times I just wanted to kiss those pretty lips in this booth of ours.”

“Why didn’t you?” You ask him, breathless as you stare at his eyes.

“I didn’t think the prettiest girl I know would want to kiss a goofball like me,” he chuckles, self deprecating and vulnerable.

You shake your head sadly, sighing happily. “You are so wrong.”

His chuckles are interrupted by your kiss, clutching onto the cotton t-shirt clinging onto his chest. It’s like you to forget how to breathe, taking the moment to take a deep breath before kissing him deeper, harder.

Your tongues meet, wrapping together with his and leaning forward to be as close to him as possible. His hand lands on your thigh, petting it roughly as he teases you. You hated yourself, hated how you told him you wanted to wait, because it’s becoming too much. The need for him sits deep in your stomach and begs you for any resolve from his teasing hands.

His kisses keep you only so satiated, whimpering by the time your make out sessions are done and ready to beg him to touch you already.

The glass of pinky sweetness hits the table, interrupting his electric lips on yours. “If you two do it, at least have the decency to take it to the bathroom like every other patron.”

You yelp, avoiding Martha’s eyes as Eddie tugs you in against his chest, kissing your temple. “Yes ma’am,” Eddie obeys, saluting with two fingers. Two, very distracting fingers.

You take a sip, humming. After weeks, you will proudly proclaim that this is still the best milkshake in town.

Eddie kisses your cheek, pulling you even closer. “If you lick that whipped cream off your finger, so help me god.”

It’s a habit of yours, one you’ve done at least once a visit just to get a taste of it before it sinks into the milkshake. The numerous times you’ve done it sinks in, unknowingly teasing him. “Something wrong with tasting whipped cream, Eds?”

“When you do it with that tongue of yours, yes,” he mutters, nipping on your jawline.

“Why don’t you have a taste,” you hum, taking a scoop with your pinky, licking it up.

Eddie pulls you in, humming as his tongue reaches out for yours to grab a taste of the cream melting fast in your mouth. He pulls back all too soon, eyes fluttering shut as he tuts his tongue. “Mmm. Yum. Thanks, baby.”

The milkshake is nearly gone by the time Martha rolls around again, pancakes and waffles in hand, interrupting soft conversation and sweet nothings.

He finally tries a taste of your pancakes, eating from the fork you offer him. His face winces, screwing up as he chews on it. “That strawberry sauce is sweet, ain’t it?”

“A little sour, I guess, but it’s my favorite. The fresh strawberries are a nice little addition.” You tell him, cutting up the pancakes.

“I’ll stick to my sprinkles,” Eddie mutters, dipping a piece of the big fluffy waffle in the whip. “They are the best.”

“I have a question,” you mutter, relishing in the taste of the sweet strawberry sauce. “How-how long have you liked me? Was it more recent, or have you liked me for years?”

Eddie smirks, placing a stand of hair over your shoulder. “Years.” He chokes back the correction of the word like, cause it’s so much more. “The first time I saw you, you were giving one of the football dicks hell for picking on one of the scrawny little freshmen. And I mean, berating him. You’re shy, baby, but not when it comes to others.” He pauses, chewing thoughtfully. “I knew from that moment.”

Oh. It was a handful of months before you found yourself sitting by the hellfire table, shaking your head at their antics. Plus, Gareth was just plain wrong in his opinion, you shook your head disapprovingly as you dug your nose in the book. Eddie caught on to it, demanding you join their group and inform him of how wrong he was. You did. You didn’t realize how charming Eddie was, how welcoming and genuinely kind.

It took your breath away, especially how gorgeous he was. The crush was kindled from then on, only being nurtured as you continued to debate him and his friends on their nerd culture.

Eddie followed up with the same question, asking how long ago for you, too. You tell him that very story, of how he enamored you just from being around him.

“You know, by then I was already head over heels for you,” he admits casually, sipping the last of the milkshake. “Something about sticking it to the man just does that to a guy.”

“Those dimples of yours are a weapon.” You admit in kind, and he laughs. You drop your jaw incredulously. “They’re a weapon! You think your hands are the only things those girls call magic?”

Eddie leans in, hot breath on your ear sending ripples down your neck. “And have you thought about these magic hands of mine, sweetheart?”

You gulp, licking your lips as your heart races in your chest. “Maybe...” You say softly.

He hums, tentatively kissing your skin. He really shouldn’t be doing this in a public space, you think, attempting not to wiggle at the uncomfortable feeling of arousal pooling in your panties. “I can’t wait to show you just how magic they are.”

You hold back a whimper, choking on it as your eyes flutter shut at his tentative kisses.

“Let’s get out of here, shall we?” You nod, watching as he places the right amount of bills with a decent tip for Martha.

On your way out the door, Martha shouts her goodbyes, happily yelling out her congratulations as the glass door slams behind you. Eddie’s lips find a home on the back of your hand, holding it as he kisses loudly, tickling the skin.

The trailer sits alone in the park, all lights off as he pulls up. With the turn of a key, his arm wraps around your waist as you walk in sync. It’s familiar as you help him turn on the lights, domestic, even. His jacket is off, tossed on the couch as he tugs you by the hand towards his room.

You’ve thought about it so many times, whisking away into his room with him to devour him completely. Usually it occurs when you’re mad stoned, happy and horny, but too blizted to make a move.

Your hands curtain the back of his neck, thumbs petting the nape of his neck and tangling themselves in his curls, rubbing in small circles. His lips connect to yours, stumbling over dirty laundry as he guides you to his bed. “Hmm, strawberries.”

He yelps as lands on his back, laughing as you collide with an oof. The playful moment is quickly replaced with intensity, staring down into his brown eyes, darkened by desire. Across the years of being his friend, he’s darkened his eyes in many moments, right before he decides to pin you down and tickle you senseless or when you talk down on yourself.

There were moments when his intense gaze took you aback, mostly when you innocently used too much enthusiasm in eating ice cream or put your hair up in a ponytail.

Or when you wore a sundress that sat a bit too high on your thigh.

All these moments suddenly make sense, filling you with a gust of emotion as you grab at him, tugging him harshly for a kiss much more powerful than you knew you had in you. He gasps into it, deep and desperate against your lips as you pull him closer. One of his hands travels downward, hiking under your skirt and grabbing at your thigh, your knee pulled up against his stomach.

Eddie turns you over on your back, hands grabbing at the skin harshly, his rings pressing at your skin hard enough to create an indent. Your leg wrapped around his waist tugs him down, his chest landing on yours.

“Question, my love,” Eddie mutters, words intertwined with his kisses. “Why the hell haven’t I seen this dress until now, it’s…oh my god.”

You grin against his lips, pushing your hands past his cotton shirt. “Waiting for a special occasion.”

“You telling me I could’ve seen this ages ago, baby?” He gasps, wrapping your tongue against his, delicate but enough to make you mewl into his mouth.

“Probably.”

He nips your lip, a punishment for your cheekiness. “It’ll look better on the floor.”

Your hips grind up, meeting the bulge in his pants just right. “You can’t say stuff like that–” you gasp, arms wrapping around his neck to hold on to him pathetically.

“You have no idea the things I’ve wanted to say to you.” His hand travels further up, passing the waistline of your panties and spreading on the skin of your tummy. “All the things I’ve held back…”

The admission is thrilling and terrifying, giving you almost everything you’ve ever wanted.

Now if you could get that bike you wanted for Christmas when you were twelve…

“Can you tell me now?” you ask, smiling up at his pretty, bewildered face.

“Hmm, patience,” he tuts, using his hand to explore. “Right now I just really want to touch your pussy, please, baby, please.”

It’s your turn for bewilderment. He’s acting like touching you is this great honor, instead of a means to an end like anyone else you’ve slept with. “Uh, yeah, I want that. I really, really want that.”

Eddie sighs, using his traveling hand and dipping it under the waistband of your panties. As his best friend, you’ve gotten so comfortable around him, arguably too much. Late nights in his room with a t-shirt and panties as his room fills with smoke. Eddie is only human, appreciating them too much as as you sat cross legged with the strip just a tad too thin for what it was supposed to cover.

This particular pair is decorated in lace up the front, a sheer lace for the bum, a light blue to match the flowers. His fingers latch to your pussy, delicately moving them up and down the folds.

“Oh my god,” he sighs, playing with the slick and spreading it. “You’re so wet, all this…all this for me?”

He adds more pressure, rubbing small circles and watching you throw your head back and melt in the heat that spreads across your thighs and takes form in a tremble, in a shake. “F-feels good.”

“Yeah?” he asks, placing his thumb on your clit and rotating it in tiny circles. “You like the way I play with your pussy, baby?”

You frantically nod, grinding up against him. “Need..need more. Please? More?”

“What does more mean?” He leans in, decorating your neck with sucks and bites and licks. “You want me to lick it, baby? You need my fingers, you already beggin’ for my cock? C’mon my girl, use your words.”

You might just beg for his cock, but you don’t want it to be over so quickly. “Want–want your fingers, Eds.”

He giggles, planting a nice wet kiss on your lips. “That’s my girl.” He doesn’t wait a second, curling one finger past your entrance and pumping it slowly, building a slow momentum that pulls at your stomach. He sighs, husky and deep, “Fuck, it’s so tight.”

He removes his finger without warning, not commenting on the moan in disappointment that escapes your mouth. He sits up, grabbing at the waistline as he tugs them down your legs, slowly, carefully, savoring in the moment. He lifts up the skirt, exposing the landing strip that sits waiting for his eyes.

“Did you decorate your pussy just for me? It looks so pretty… Thank you, baby girl,” Eddie is borderline emotional in his gratitude, showering you with praises.

Your legs attempt to close back together in embarrassment from his intense stare. He notices it, pushing your legs back down. “Do me a favor, won’t you? Keep these legs open while I eat your pussy.”

You drench your thighs, turned on even from the mere idea of being with him. “Mmkay.”

“You–” he gasps, delicately licking at the mound. “You taste so good. Wanted to bury my face in this little cunt for so long.”

His hands lift your thighs up and over his shoulder. His mouth tells you he knows exactly what he’s doing, listening to the cues you give him through your quivers and whines. The dress is completely covering his face, hiding the man that is eating you out, slowly and carefully, as if wanting to taste every drop of arousal you feed him.

Before long, your legs start shaking in his hold from the pleasure that has your hands tangled in your hair, eyes squeezed tight as he pulls whine after whine from you. One finger slides right back in, facing no resistance, sucking on your clit simultaneously. That arches your back and curls your toes, gasping from his build up, his words, god just from the years of mental torture.

You cum against his lips without warning, for him or yourself, twitching around his fingers and crying out his name.

He coaxes you through it, kissing your pretty pussy lips gently until your legs stop convulsing. Sweat beads on your forehead, spreading on your back and neck and making the thick fabric of the dress too hot. You untie each ribbon, desperately grabbing at the neckline to pull it up and off.

He kisses up your torso, laughing as you get stuck with the dress half off. One heel digs in his back in retaliation, whining as you gesture to him to help you. “I’m sorry, you’re just so cute.” Eddie giggles.

You whine, kicking your legs for him to hurry up. Your hair is stuck in your dress. It lifts over your head, a light bra covering your tits acting as a tease for him. The dress lands on the floor, nice and splayed out as it’s done its purpose.

You roll your eyes, tugging him in for a desperate kiss by the neck, wandering hands moving south to tug at his t-shirt. “Wanna see you, too,” you confess, helping him rid of his shirt. “Show me those tattoos.”

“You like the tatties?” You nod enthusiastically although you know he’s just teasing you. “Oh, I bet ya do. Probably ogled them while I wasn’t lookin’ huh?”

With a chest like his, you don’t imagine he could blame you. You let your eyes speak for you, raking over his covered chest and openly staring. “Wanna suck your cock.” You look up at him with big doe eyes, silently begging.

Eddie’s eyes widen at your admission, groaning as you start to undo his jeans. “Fuck, I don’t know if I’ll last that long…I need to be buried in you, wanna feel that pussy around my cock.”

You gulp, wrapping your legs around his torso so his jeans meet your pussy, probably drenching a wet spot on the front. “Me too…but I remember you said you didn’t really get reciprocated very much.” You inhale, gathering courage. “I remember thinking how I’d love to spend hours with your cock down my throat.”

Eddie keels over you, curling his face in your neck as he whimpers. “You were holding that back from me?” He punches the mattress right next to your head, a mild temper tantrum. “What other depraved thoughts have you been hiding from me?”

“You want me to tell you, or show you?” You’re not sure where this surge of confidence is coming from, but you’re running with it, especially if it means you can hear him make that sound again.

“Sh-show me- want you to show–” he nods, whimpering into your neck and shuddering.

“Mmkay,” you muse, smirking at just how easily the shoe falls on the other foot. “Get on your back.”

He complies promptly, wrapping his arm around the small of your back and turning the two of you over. You straddle him, grabbing at his chest carefully as you plant kisses all the way down his lean torso. You bring teeth into the mix, sucking and biting and marking your territory.

You’ve been itching to do so since he showed up one morning with bruises decorating his neck, claiming his hookup got a little too eager.

I'll show you eager, you begrudgingly think, wishing that all the boys were teasing him from bruises you gave him, instead. God, there was one planted on his collarbone that was excessively large, annoyingly so.

You mark your way down his chest, his stomach, lapping greedily at his treasure trail as he whimpers at your enthusiasm. This is power, you think to yourself, wondering what other noises you could conjure from him. As your mouth moves, so do your hands, undoing his belt slowly, taking your time as you unzip his fly.

The evidence of his arousal is strikingly clear, his boxers bulging out of the open fly and begging for your attention. While your subtle glances downward gave you an inkling of his size, his hardened cock presenting itself to you, even disguised in its plaid wrapping, had you letting out a gasp in unbridled lust.

You wrap your hand around it, gleaming as he hisses, a hushed swear passing through his lips. You watch his face, observing him as you place your lips on the covered shaft, just letting him feel the heat of your breath on it. “Oh, fuck–” Eddie chokes, letting out harsh shudders.

The sight of his face is borderline angelic, all of his walls down as he focuses on you. You can’t help but smile at that, at how you desperately wished for nights like these, only paying attention to one another. You poke your tongue out, drenching the cotton fabric with your spit, working your way down the length.

At his little whines, you finally curl his fingers under his waistband, drooling at the taut cock that pops out, giving you a friendly hello, swaying from the spring. You smile ear to ear, delicately wrapping your hand around the base.

You kiss the tip, lapping at the pearl of precum that gives the clear indication of his arousal, as if his hard on wasn’t enough. “Mmm,” you hum at the salty taste, leaning in to suck every last drop from his flushed tip.

You let the saliva that has pooled on the surface of your tongue drool onto his cock, spreading it down the shaft, absorbing the moan he rewards you with. “Shit, that feels–oh my god.”

You smile with pride, finally taking him into your mouth, enthusiastically bobbing up and down on his length. Your eyes remain on his, watching him as his face melts, committing it to memory.

“Oh, Jesus,” he swears, hips rutting up, clawing further into your mouth. You take him in further, gagging on it as you wrap your tongue around it experimentally, choking loudly and purposely. “Ch-choke on it, yeah, ch-ohmy god, just like that–”

Your hand moves in rhythm with your mouth, slobbery sounds of spit on flesh, his and yours, deliciously wet. He tenses up beneath you, whines growing more desperate, moans huskier, deeper. It’s a marvelous melody, one no composer could make even if they tried their hardest.

“St-st-stop,” he stutters, curling over himself, writhing under you. “Stop–I-I’m gonna cum.”

Reluctantly you listen, lifting your head off him with a pop and cheekily smiling at his heaving chest. You crawl upward, yelping as he wraps his arm around the small of your back and tugs you in for a kiss, more powerful, wrapped in an unnamed emotion you couldn’t possibly let yourself be delusional enough to define as. The one hand crawled up your back undoes the clasp of your bra, tugging it off your arms and flinging it across the room.

“Gimme those tits,” Eddie sighs, kneading them in his hands and toying with the flesh and nips. “Oh, they’re so pretty, baby. I love them, I‘ve wanted to play with them for so long.”

Eddie’s legs move under you, kicking off his jeans while holding you close to his chest. You sit up, tugging him up with you as you hover just over him.

His skin directly on yours, close and toe curling as you straddle his lap, arms wrapped around his neck as you stare into his eyes. There’s a glow in them, eyebrows relaxed as he holds your hips, staring up at you with such enamour. “Want your cock,” it’s only a whisper, but loud in the intimacy between you two. “I want you.”

His brows furrow, only a moment. The thought passes through him quick as a flash, but you see it.

“What was that?”

He smiles, relieved and tender. “I’ve wanted you for so long.” He leans in, pressing kisses on your clavicle, your neck, your shoulder, the swell of your breast. “Not-not just like this. I mean, fuck, I wanted it, so, so bad. But…I’ve wanted you, wanted your late nights and early mornings, to help you when you need to study, wash the dishes…sorry, I’m rambling.”

You pet his cheek, shaking your head. “No. Keep going.”

“I mean, we’ve always sort of had that, you know? It was just torture, not kissing you stupid whenever I wanted…because I wanted to. I wanted to, so much, baby. I love you. So much. You’re my best friend, my person, and I just love you so fucking much.”

A breath of a laugh passes through your lips, attempting to absorb what he had just told you. “Really?”

You smile, holding him tightly as you kiss him, sighing happily as he confirms, nodding frantically. The head brushes against your entrance, pulling a whine from you. “Eds, I-I love you, too.” The kisses get more fierce, Eddie clinging onto you harder and nearly attacking your lips. “But…if you don’t fuck me soon I might actually lose my mind,” You giggle.

He laughs, combing his fingers through your hair, away from your face, from the sweat. He slaps his cock against your clit, teasing you with his head. “Of course, baby, you wanna ride me, hmm? Hop up and down on my big fat cock?”

You nod, biting your bottom lip, hissing when he pushes his head in, watching as your jaw drops. “Oh, look at you, I knew you could take it like a good girl.”

You choke back a whine, swallowing hard as his words have such a strong effect on you. ‘Fuck, f-feels so good.” You stop, mewling as the burn of his girth becomes too much.

“Don’t rush yourself, baby, it’s okay.” He puts his hands on your hips, digging into the soft flesh. “So nice and tight, fuck.” His eyes practically roll to the back of his head.

You sink further, taking him deeper as the burn bleeds into bliss and back to burning again. “Jesus, s’good.”

“Mm, almost there, baby.”

“Move, please. Eds. Need-need you to move.”

Eddie chuckles, large hands holding your back. He lifts his hips, slowly filling you to the hilt and bringing it back out, one hand landing by his side to use it for leverage. You chirp out his name, mewling as he slowly rocks his hips. “Love the way you say my name,” he gasps.

You start rocking, slowly lifting your hips as you assist him. “You gonna make me scream it?”

“If that’s a challenge, then I will happily accept,” Eddie growls, gripping onto your hips harder and pulling you down so the union of where your bodies meet hurts in the best way. “Wonder when those legs will give up, hm?”

“I’ve thought about riding you on the couch too many times to give up easily,” you admit, giggling at his wicked grin.

“Oh, have you now? Been wearing those little panties just so I’d snap and ravish you, hmm?” He asks, hair wild as he watches you bounce on him.

“Maybe,” you admit, though that was mostly just out of comfort and trust of your best friend. “You have stronger will power than I thought you would.”

“Hmm, you think too much of me, baby,” Eddie mutters, framing your face with his hand and pulling you in for a kiss.

Admittedly, your legs are growing tired, but you soldier on, connecting your forehead with his desperately and watching his eyes glaze over. Your head already feels hazy, heat building in your stomach as you rapidly climb towards your climax. “You getting close? About to cum on my cock?”

You nod, startling in your movement as he starts to move you quicker with just the tightening of his grip on your hips. “Eds,” You whimper as he rubs his thumb on your clit, rapid movements as he hurdles you towards your orgasm, your cunt tightening around him as your eyes roll back.

“Lemme feel you squeeze my cock, baby, wanna feel you cum all over it.” Almost as he demands it into existence, you finish with a start, twisting your toes together and hunching over his shoulder while he rolls his hips, gasping and whining and mewling. “Oh, that’s my girl. Here, bet those legs’re gettin’ tired, hmm?”

You nod, giddily giggling as he maneuvers you on your back. “God, I love you. I really really do. I don’t–I don’t know what the fuck I’ve been thinking–”

You slap your hand on his mouth, giggling at his wide eyes. “Sorry, but…shut up. Rail me. Destroy me. We have time for all that later, now quit getting all emotional on me.” You take your hand off his mouth and pat his cheek. “Be a good boy and make me scream your name, won’t you?”

He chuckles deeply, his jaw dropping as he nips on the palm of your hand. “‘Be a good boy,’ hmm? Yes, ma’am.”

Okay, this turns you on too much not to eventually dissect it, but Eddie’s hips start moving, harsh and raw and brutal, just as you asked for. With each collision of his hips comes a whimper from the force, each one louder than the last.

His head curls down into your neck, sinking his teeth into your skin as he sucks and bites and laps his tongue over the pain. “Look at your neck, all marked up. All mine,” He rasps.

“All yours,” you whisper, choking on the emotion that fills your throat.

“My good girl who loves to get fucked hard, hmm?” He chuckles, curling his arms tightly around you. “Oh, listen to those pretty little noises you’re making, so pathetic for me, oh fuck.”

“Ed-keep-oh-oh–” you gasp, whining higher and higher.

“Yeah, just like that. Pathetic little princess.”

Your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him in close, skin to skin, all sticky and sweaty as the smell of sex fills the air.

“You’re moaning like a desperate little slut but you’re not screaming my name, yet. Can’t wait for it. Hmm? Why you makin’ me wait?”

“Maybe you’re not hitting hard enough,” you gasp, a smile spreading across your face.

Eddie’s eyes widen, lifting his body off yours quickly. “Oh yeah? Hands n’ knees. Turn around.” He sends a jolt of fear through you, eyes widening as move into a crawl position. “That’s a girl.”

His hands tighten on your hips, lining himself up and pushing in all within the span of 3 seconds. He’s relentless with it, lurching forward as he grabs a fistful of your hair. “C’mon, I can’t hear you.” He taunts you, pulling deliciously at your scalp.

He starts moving faster and harder, clumsily planting his lips on your back, messily trying to take any claim he can on you. One hand slaps your ass, Eddie hums, appreciating the print of his hand on your skin. Moans pass through your lips, the loud ones that Eddie was asking of you. HIs name is added into the mix, cross eyed and desperate as he somehow increases his force.

“There we are. Where do ya want me to cum, baby, I’m so fuckin’ close.”

“Cum–cum in me, Eds. Fill me up.”

“Fuck-you, y’sure?”

“Fill. Me up.” You say again, getting your point across.

“Oh fuck–” he stutters, jaggedly rutting into you as he bends over you, filling you up with sticky white ropes. “You feel that, baby? Fuck. You feel all full?”

Eddie releases the hold on your hair as you fall forward, breathing heavily as you collect yourself. He pulls himself out, collapsing right next to you. His arms easily wrap around your back, pulling you in against his chest. You curl into him, sighing happily as you listen to his racing heart.

You lay like that for a while, listening to his breathing even out as he pets your hair gently. He plants a kiss on your forehead, humming. “Why did that take us so long to do?” You ask, still trying to regain control over your breathing.

“Hmm?” He pulls away, processing your question. “Oh, I don’t know. We’re idiots.”

You tug him back in, feeling sleepy as you smile against his chest. “Yeah. Big, big idiots. I love you, idiot.”

He hums, pulling you in tighter. “Love you too, ya idiot.”

It’s strange. You thought it would change everything if he were to finally be yours. It doesn’t change anything, banter traded as always, only with a caressing hand that tugs you in for a kiss when he teases you. Hormones go wild, finding resolve in one another as movies are no longer watched, just a nice background noise.

-

Thank you so much for reading, remember replies and reblogs are the best way to support fic writers on tumblr

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bold means it wouldnt let me tag you so I DM'd you in private to you know.

#eddie munson #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x reader smut

[xo-cod]

forgive the inaccuracies, idk much about babies <3 ooc/rushed :)

simon w his baby but she has a preference for one parent and it's not him

simon finally coming back to his safe place, his sanctuary, his home, all but eager to spend some needed time with his family. be had been off to a mission, the last one for a while to make sure that everything was okay. he had already been incredibly reluctant to leave you but now that you both had a baby, it was hard. not a second was spent on the field where images of the pair of you blazed through his mind, almost nearly costing his arm and leg in the process of being too distracted. it had been hell to say the least

but the day finally came, there he was finally on his way back after an intense gruelling month. simon saw you first, bundling you up close in his built arms enjoying your little chuckles that fell from your lips. removing his balaclava as he peppers tender kisses across your cheeks before your lips, his soft smile growing at how happy he was to be back. before he set you back down, eyes scouring about for his bundle of pure joy

"where is she, lovie?? i missed her so much, i got her a little trinket from the place we were deployed in, hope she likes it" he chuckled softly, opening one of his pockets to reveal the gift as he catches his baby on the carpet playing with toys babbling away. his heart was practically bursting at its seams, shedding away his utility vest and his gear to make sure nothing could hurt her before he gently padded his way over. he had different ways the evening would pan out but he hadn't expected this.

he didn't ever expect to be met with a blank stare in return

his heart dropped when he picked his little girl up, she was too busy playing with her favourite toys to even react to him. he hadn't anticipated her looking at him like a stranger. he could've cried with the way she wriggled out of his grasp and wanting to be let down as if he was some enemy. as if instead of being the protector he was now the very thing he swore to keep away from his child, a stranger.

his face like a kicked puppy when he looked at you with pure shock and pain, looking back at the baby who was eagerly crawling back to you having wanting nothing to do with him despite him trying to come closer. you could see all the happiness he previously had practically disappeared from his body, his shoulders deflating with sadness and pain

she couldn't recognise him, she was no longer a daddy's girl

"honey.... sweetheart, it's me, dad. daddy's here. c'mon, c'mere munchkin" he tried to chuckle, kneeling down opening his muscular arms only for her to blink at him and then look back at her toys again

"lovie.... what's going on?" his voice is so soft with hurt and shock looking back to you with huge shining eyes as if he had encountered the worst loss till date. suddenly the mission he had just been on was nothing, the weight of his child preferring you over him was crushing his heart into pieces he didn't think he would come back from. how he'd do any mission 10x over if it meant his child, his treasure would love him again

•••

and it remained that way for the next week, he tried his utmost best but it never seemed to be good enough for her. you tried to console him but he remained dejected, she was always wanting to run back to you. to be comforted by you and to be held by you. every time he tried to tuck her in, his efforts simply proved fruitless. she would cry and cry until you came back in and he watched from the side never feeling like he had failed so hard before in his life.

it hurt more than any of the superficial wounds he ever managed to get in battle, it hurt more than him being on his literal deathbed all those times he was caught in the cross fire. and it only propelled him further into despair when he made the mistake of googling it and realising that this phase may very well last years.

you could see him break with everyday, doubting himself as a father and as a husband. blaming himself and letting the doubt plague his heart and mind. it seemed nothing could comfort him apart from his baby that wanted nothing to do with him. he hadn't managed to hug her at all, he missed being able to snuggle her soft skin for hours. lounging around the home with her cuddled up in one arm as the other gently rubbed on the back of her head soothingly holding her close to his heart. and the thought of never being able to cuddle her without the cries that accompanied it was more than he could bear, it hurt more than anything he had gone through

that was until one night, he was tiredly going to the bathroom and pausing over the nursery. he hadn't meant to but he peeked in and saw her laying in her crib half asleep. her eyes big and brown exactly like his, blinking up slowly at the lieutenant. she was quiet apart from the small sounds she made sucking on the pacifier, a soft bunny in her hand as she peeked back at her father.

"hey baby...." he whispered so softly, he didn't even think she had heard. but her head tilted in curiosity and he chuckled, his hands coming to rest on the walls of the crib. desperately aching to feel her soft skin but too nervous to agitate her

"it's me honey, your dad. i really.... really miss you" he broke off, his heart feeling so heavy as the guilt came barreling in once more. it was his fault that he left her for a month, he shouldn't have been so surprised when he came back and preferred you. you had been there when he couldn't, she developed an attachment with you, not with him

"i'm so sorry to have left you for a month, honey. if i had known- if i thought for a second you'd hate me-" he didn't have the heart to finish the words, the guilt overriding his senses. with a soft sigh, his forehead leaned against his palm for a moment. his own baby didn't like him, he hadn't felt this low in a long time.

he promised he would never raise her in a volatile environment like he had grown up but already he hadn't been any better. he left her knowing for a month, coming back to see her favouring you. and it wasn't easy on both of you, he knew that. he knew he was being irrational but it stung more than any cut, the fact that if he hadn't made the choice to go on the mission that his baby wouldn't be acting so strangely around him.

simon didn't expect anything more tonight, too scared to touch her in case she started crying so he settled for placing the blanket back over her and heading off to bed with a heavy heart. what he didn't expect was the small coo coming from her lips, her tiny fist wrapping up over his index finger. his heart was in his throat, eyes wide at the sight as he looked back to her sweet innocent face again

"me?? you want me?" his voice was so gentle, too scared to speak loud as if this was all a beautiful dream he would wake up from. hesitantly he had reached down, his breath held as his large hands wrapped around his baby so delicately as if she'd shatter beneath his fingertips. slowly sitting down on the rocking chair, the moonlight pouting through the window illuminating her features.

how everyone around claimed she was a carbon copy, how proud he was to call her his daughter. all the moments that they shared running through his mind like a montage and she tilted her small head up at him, a gentle giggle falling from her lips before she rested her weary head against his warm chest. he could've cried and he did, gently but firmly holding her body between his hands. thanking whatever goodness he had done in his life that she was back, his baby was back. and she loved him just like before. she recognised him, she wanted him willingly. it was enough to break him out of whatever funk he had been in, trying desperately not to sob happy tears after a long gruelling two weeks.

you woke up the next morning to see simon laying on the rocking chair, one hand protectively over her small back while the other locked around her little legs as they both slept peacefully. his cheek leaning against her forehead as they cuddled up close on the rocking chair, both making the exact same sleeping face causing you to hide your growing smile and snap a little picture of the tender moment.

she truly was his little mini.

#simon riley #call of duty modern warfare #simon ghost riley #cod mwii #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #dad!simon riley #dad!ghost #dad!simon riley x reader

[hwaitham]

𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓻𝓼 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝔀𝓸𝓮𝓼 𝓸𝓯 𝓪 𝓵𝓲𝓽𝓽𝓵𝓮 𝓯𝓪𝔀𝓷 𝓱𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓽 ⋆ ࣪˖ 𓂃𓋜

al haitham x f!reader . sfw — hurt ﾉ comfort . established relationship . rewrite from an old blog ﾉ insecure reader ﾉ he calls u ‘ habibti ‘ + ‘ baby ‘ + ‘ sweetheart ‘ ﾉ non - sexual nudity ( ie. u bathe together ) ﾉ reader is heavily insp by me n' this is a piece i wrote to comfort myself over anything soo .. Ya ૮꒰ྀི⊃⸝ ⸝ ⸝⊂꒱ྀིა pwz b kind with ur comments thanku!!!! ꒱ྀི 3.9k wc

“i’m always clinging onto you… and i depend on you quite a bit… don't you find it to be bothersome?” (i’m sorry if my love for you feels harrowing, unbearable, suffocating; i’m sorry the only way i know how to love is like a child.)

all it takes you is one little step past the front door, and al haitham immediately realises you’re unhappy.

it's hard not to, when it comes as large as a raincloud hanging over the house. 

first, a drizzle with the drag of your feet; steps that are normally light and fawn-like and struggling to catch up with his own long strides, a wee bit skittish and much more adorably clumsy than you’d care to admit, are now sluggish. devoid of their usual urgency and purpose. 

then, a deluge, as he hears you heave a sigh from beyond his tome. you’re burdened by something, he notices, as you scuff along the hardwood floor, let your book bag—and subsequently your heart—tumble to the ground. 

“welcome home.” al haitham rises from the daybed, coming to meet you in the foyer. “how… was work?” 

something in his tone, the pause in his question and the uncharacteristic apprehension of it makes your heart wither and crumble. quick as ever is he with his eyes—most especially when it comes to you. 

how you so wish in this moment that weren’t the case.

“fine!” your reply is light, “just, i’m a bit tired… is it okay if we eat leftovers from last night for dinner? i’m really sorry…” when you smile up at him, it doesn’t meet your eyes, nor too do your eyes meet his own.

lies—you’ve never been all that successful at convincing him of them, due in part to the guilt that you can’t keep hidden from your countenance, as well as the callowness of your voice that seems to render any falsity you utter ring with an air of untruth.

“it’s nothing to apologise for.” he says slowly, standing before you as he awaits the hug you always give him when you arrive home from work, the press of your ear over his heart. you up on the tips of your toes as you ask him for a kiss and to cut up a peach so you might feed them to each other as you sit on the sill facing village hills.

you do none of these, and al haitham wonders why.

walking past you, he ruffles your hair, softly scritches at your scalp. “go wash up; i’ll set the table.”

you want to speak, say thank you, but you can find no words. a deep melancholy breaks over you like a hurricane. it terrifies you. but still you lift your head, look past his ear as you smile again to hide all the woe-rapture that festers within.

and this is all it takes for al haitham to resolve that he will do something about it.

the tahchin is bitter on your tongue today. 

grains of rice pebbly between your teeth, chicken tasting far too much of chicken and not the blend of spices it had been marinated in. it’s near unpalatable. 

and just as it is unpalatable, it is a most arduous task to even lift your fork. the weight of your melancholy is clamped to your wrist and your jaw—it makes eating all the more difficult than it need be, and a knot at the back of your throat that feeds the taste of bile into your mouth only serves to darken the shadow that your malaise casts over dinner.

how is it: your favourite dish losing its ability to console, its only purpose to be a vessel for sustenance. yet, even at that, what sustenance does it provide you with when each bite makes you feel as though you might hurl?

“you’re not eating.” al haitham observes sharply, glancing at you out the corner of his eye. it’s a serious shortcoming in his mind, obviously, for someone who does so dearly enjoy her meals.

you shrug despondently and sigh, “suppose i’m just not hungry.”

as much as he may want to, al haitham doesn’t push further—his hand hovering over a button before deciding to leave it untouched in fear of what may come. and you’re grateful, that he doesn’t ask you what the matter is, and simply hums in acknowledgement before returning to his food.

(his silence casts a harsh stroke upon your heart.)

you’re grateful, truly, you are.

(you hear his voice in your head—‘are you alright, habibti?’, and quickly, you seize a grasp of your heart to stop the bleeding that threatens to reach your eyes.)

now you’ve gone and worsened the spoil of your appetite.

resting your fork on the worn wood table, you sigh yet again—this time around a soft wispy thing that does little to soothe the ache of your lungs, and turn your head to regard his profile. 

the relaxed ridge of his brows and the handsome slope of his nose, lidded teal eyes that are always analysing, never idling; he is just as a diamond is. all sharp edges that glimmer and glint, not only in body but also in mind.

al haitham is beautiful by way of his nurturing and guiding in a seemingly unorthodox manner. generous with his intentions no matter how hard he may try to prove otherwise, clever and witty and always five steps ahead and so incredibly attractive in his self-assurance—oh, he is just perfect—as is the ground he walks upon and the air that floats over his head and each word that touches his lips. 

what is he like… winter fields blanketed by the sun and the tips of flower petals after a deluge, bubbles in wine, diamonds, diamonds, all diamonds. he is a brilliant blue diamond in your night sky.

and you, what are you like? 

puerile at heart and loud with your love. a wee bit foolish and entirely silly, always fumbling and mumbling and messing up in spite of trying your best. 

if al haitham is as a diamond is, then perhaps you would best be suited to a pearl—with those little dewy globes resting on your lashes more often than not, a heart smooth to the touch and all the more fragile.

which, yes, does sound rather precious when worded in such a way, but you can’t help but wonder, if for al haitham you are too much.

whether your whimsies are too fantastical, and your brain is too often in the clouds and not in your head where it belongs. or whether the apple-sweet naivety that offers your heart up to anyone who shows you even a modicum of kindness, be it honest or corrupt, is too much of an annoyance to look after. you worry whether your love is too strong for someone like him who has grown so comfortable in his own company, like fire scorching his blood or the waves of the sea crashing along a cliff or the sticky residue of honey on fingertips that just won’t wash off.

these woes slather uncertainty over your spine, and before you can think, you’re already reaching over to clutch at al haitham’s sleeve. 

it’s an effort to command his attention, silently, for if you call him by his name instead, you fear the tears may fly out your eyes and the pathetic hiccups out your throat and you’d weep until the end of eternity. that’s how it feels, anyway.

“yes, habibti?” al haitham wipes the corner of his lip with his thumb and lays down his fork just as you’ve done yours. he waits for your voice to fill the heavy air of the dining room, but when he notices the nervous nibble of your lip and the twiddles of your thumb, he sighs, pulls you in closer by the leg of your chair. “you know, you shouldn’t be afraid to tell me if anything’s troubling you. i’ll do my best to help however i can.”

his hand swallows your fist in a comforting embrace, plucking your fingers free one by one so that he can thread his between yours. it’s a challenge to not look his way when he behaves so darling, and in his eyes you see a certain pleading softness swimming round the edges of his pupils. 

it’d be hard to notice to an untrained eye, what with his acts of romance mostly always lacking the entirety of pomp and blare in the world, but you can tell—of course you can.

it holds you spellbound, compels you to give in, and so, you reach your trembling hands past your ribs and take hold of your burgeoning heart, pay little heed to the rose thorns that scrape and scar it as you tug it free of its cavity. placing the lame organ in front of al haitham, you wince at all its clotted ugliness and self-serving insecurity.

“that’s exactly it… i cause a lot of trouble for you, don’t i.”

(am i too much? am i too overbearing?)

“i’m always clinging onto you… and i depend on you quite a bit… don’t you find it to be bothersome?”

(i’m sorry if my love for you feels harrowing, unbearable, suffocating; i’m sorry the only way i know how to love is like a child.)

“it’s just—” there’s a fracture in your voice and then a whimper that follows. 

you’re quick to avert your gaze from him and down to the worn wood table, at your grubby plate of food. the words, recited in your head over and over slip away from your tongue and leave it laid with only scribbled thoughts; they float up—up—up… and then your eyes squeeze shut and your fingertips press anxiously into the space between his knuckles and your shoulders shirk in on themselves.

as many a time have you weeped before him—over the loveliness of a perfectly sunny day or a particularly sweet and excellent bite into a zaytun peach, over all things nonsensical and silly and things that one ought not to be weeping at. but in this moment, you feel obliged to hide your tears from him.

you’d rather he didn’t see you cry, at least, not over something like this. 

not over yourself.

“it’s just, i can’t help but feel as though you’d fare better off with someone more like you—someone more sound in mind and less chaotic at heart, perhaps. i dunno…” you pick idly at your food, the tooth of your fork accidentally sending a grain of rice flying to the floor under the pressure of its touch. how unfortunate. “i don’t know…”

(i wish i were more like you. maybe then i’d feel like less of a liability at your side.)

in all your days of loving al haitham, you’ve only presented your heart to him as a dog would to its human, but today you’re atoning. it’s near sacrificial—your laments and apologies for being too much, too little, not enough, whatever. 

your heart waits anxiously before him: sliced down the precise centre, carmine, bleeding, beating.

and for the first time since you’ve come bounding into al haitham’s life, his house is silent, though, this silence seems to dislike being broken as he mulls yours words over—save for the sad hymns sung by the wind and the gauche scritches and scratches of your fork atop ceramic.

the tears begin to brim and froth behind your lash-line, like milk on the stove that boils and isn’t being kept a watchful eye over. yet, even as your vision begins to blur, you know al haitham is glancing your way.

he takes your heart into his mouth and cradles it gently within his maw.

“is this what’s been on your mind? silly girl.” 

your lover leans into your personal space and flicks your forehead gently, coaxing your gaze from your lap to his face. 

“your heart is rather big.”

(you make it easy to adore you. and i like that. it saves me so much trouble making myself adore someone.)

“you both love and loathe it in equal parts.”

(you will always be so free and blithe, as you will always be naive and afraid. such is the eternal nature of your heart—it will coddle and weather in its fragility until its last days. won’t you trust it to me to make sure of? to care for?)

“yes—you cry too often, and you forgive too easily, and you worry too much about those who aren’t deserving of your care, and you feel guilt too strongly over things you have no control over.”

(you are so precious, so pure, so full of infinite compassion for the world.)

“it’s easy for one’s heart to be trampled over if it’s held in their palms, for the world to see. just as you hold out your’s.”

(to me, your beauty lies heaviest within your fawn heart.)

al haitham’s words are veined with ice, and your lips freeze in their subtle pout—one that wobbles on the edge of a dejected frown, “it’s not like i mean for it to—” 

“but don’t you realise that’s why i’m here? why i’ll continue to be here? to catch your heart before it has a chance to get trampled over, and to tend to it when it does?” the ice crackles through his words and they all break up, as if it were spring again. “don’t you realise this is what i admire most about you?”

(i love you.)

for a moment, your heart flutters queerly. the veil shrouding your thoughts lifts and you’re left to be shaken and pierced by al haitham’s tender tone.

“it sounds as though you wish you were more like me…” your lover takes the fork from your hand and raises with his fingers your chin, so that you may properly meet his eyes for the first time this evening. “but when we love someone, we love them entirely for themselves, not whatever thing we’ve twisted them into to fit our own image. if that were the case—we’d only be loving the reflection of ourselves we find in them. is this not what you once told me, sweetheart?”

(i love you, in all your adorably jejune whimsies and nonsensical musings and humble tidings. i love the darling tears that cling to the round of your cheek and your great excitability and childish curiosity—all things i lack. and of all things i love your mad, devout love; so… please, please continue to love me as you do without fear of abandonment.)

perhaps, after all, it is okay that you are nothing like him and he is nothing like you. that you are diametric antitheses, like earth and air or diamond and pearl. your eyes falter under his gaze, body rigid in his arms as he manoeuvres you into his lap and presses his palms to your hot cheeks. 

“please, i…” you weaken and he smiles and then you tremble and soften and melt and the tears finally bubble onto your face just as a white rose slips past its sheath. 

like a baby, you sob—free of guilt and shame, it’s the only thing you know how to do when you’ve already spoken the words in your mind.

you press a palm to his chest, fingers splayed out over his heart, head tilted down and hair hiding yourself from him. though, he can still see; and you know he can, even if all that’s in your periphery are clouds and fuzz, wobbly pearls of dew that dribble down your face. he doesn’t ask you to look at him—he already knows why you weep. from catharsis or love or joy or heartache or gratitude… all of them at once or perhaps none of them at all.

“i-i’m really sorry for r-ruining dinner!” your voice is stuffy with sniffles and you hiccup in between your words, eyes squeezed shut awfully tight so that your nose crinkles. how sweet.

there you are again, little flower. al haitham spares you a smile that twists your heart as he leans in to brush his lips against yours, exchanging breaths. i’ve missed you. “you didn’t ruin anything. now—” with one hand, he holds you by the dip of your waist to press you to his chest and uses the other to gather a bite of tahchin on his fork, “you need to eat.”

at the hands of your lover, the tahchin is savoury and full of life on your tongue, nowhere near as nauseating and boorish as earlier. “isn’t it fascinating, haitham?” you part your lips to take another bite and hum softly as the spices flush you with warmth. “how the tahchin tastes so much more delicious now that you’re feeding it to me?”

he watches on in awe as you chew on your food, tiny little hiccups from tears unshed that occasionally rack your chest and fluster you, the ones that have dried coming off your face as gossamer flakes. they’re angel tears, he’s certain of that much. 

“you have the cutest cheeks, you know…” your lover takes the fat of your cheeks between his thumb and index finger as you eat, gently squeezing and marvelling at the suppleness of your powdery skin. “baby's just like a bunny.” 

“stop teasing…” you grasp his wrist gently, swallowing your food and sucking in your cheek to bite down on it bashfully, look the opposite way of prying eyes. they’re lidded and lazy and there’s a smile that lifts them up at the edges—his eyes, you see—but also his heart. because you just make him feel like that: organs and limbs loose and relaxed and thumping with his calm pulse, vision framed by a glowy pink haze as though he were laying on marble under the sun by the sea. everything sweet and wonderful in the world.

“even after all the moments we’ve shared…” he smirks and pinches your bottom lip, bringing you in close. “you’re still just as shy as though it were our first.”

you can't help but burst into a lovely little peal of giggles as he kisses you and pampers you, your tippy toes dusting the floor playfully and your fingertips curling strands of his hair. your cheeks are stuffed with warm food and your eyes burn with the crystalline that brims at your lower lashes when you swallow thickly, so you push back the tremble to your voice and bury it under his love stored in bite after bite of tahchin. 

and even after your plate has been emptied and love is about to burst past the seams of your heart and your tummy, and you lay half-asleep atop him in a growing pool of moonlight—even after much of your aches and pains have been put to rest, al haitham still has yet to be completely satisfied, awaiting to be placated by one final thing.

“come, you must be tired,” he ties your hair for you, takes you by your hand, offers to wash the lingering fogs out of your soul. “should we bathe together before we sleep?”

al haitham’s touch is soft as he strips you of your clothing, kisses downwards of your clavicle after he removes your necklace—your wrist, your rib, your belly, your thigh. he knows just how you like your baths: window propped wide open to waft in the fragrance from blossoming peach trees and the sweet lulls of nightly birdsong, padisarah petals coasting across the water.

he prepares the room for you as such, swathing your frame between his long, broad limbs in the tub, too tiny for two, mind you. yet, he finds it to be a simple task to ignore the annoyance of the ledge digging into his spine when your body curls up against him like this, cheek pillowed by the plush of his chest and your arms draped ‘round his waist.

“you like holding me close, sweetheart?” 

it’s a fun little poke at just how tight you cling to him, but truthfully, al haitham is all the same. a hand on the small of your back or warm fingers massaging your chilly nape—he finds the utmost comfort in feeling your skin on his, familiarity in the clouds of chantilly cream and sumeru rose that seem to linger about in the air around you. 

perhaps he is just as clingy as you are, in how he cuddles you close to his chest and takes a book from the stool next to the bathtub, preparing to read to you from it.

and you listen intently—no matter how hard the throes of sleep try to whisk you away—to the flip of parchment, the birds keeping you company at the sill, the handsome cadence to your lover’s voice that makes your cheeks feel all bubbly, the beat of his heart dovetailing yours through your back.

he reads to you until the moon casts her light over the water through the window and your fingers are pruned—short fairytales about butterflies dancing on honey cups, maidens falling in love with talking roses—all from a certain emerald-covered book handed down to him from the only person to show him the same tender care you do.

the tension is dispelled from your shoulders, the barely there coil of anguish around you fully snapping and resolving into something lighter, entirely less murky. and as you sit there in his embrace, you feel your nose twitch and the backs of your eyes sting. 

again! again, you cry! how lame you are in love, indeed, silly girl.

because al haitham is romantic in the way he silently cares for you like this, looks at you as though you’re extraordinarily lovely, the greatest bit of knowledge he’d ever be able to wrap his head around; touches you as if you were the most delicate of flowers. 

which, you are, because how can you not blossom under his affection and grow a little love-struck?

“h-haitham?”

the words halt in his throat and he looks down at your face, or as much of it as he can make out when you’ve near buried it entirely into his neck. humming sweetly, he coaxes you on with lithe fingers slipping beneath the water’s surface to rub shapes into your doughy hip. “yes?”

“i love you…” you pick mindlessly at the emerald on his chest, let the words flow freely from the blubbering mess that has become of your voice— “i really love you, a whole lot.”—look up at him and smile toothily, plainly, eyes all watery and full of hope, promise, just like the child in you. “you love me a whole lot, too, don’t you?”

and what can he do but mirror your smile. because from it a picture of reassurance has been born, flooding and twisting and seizing his entire being. sometimes, most times, he doesn’t know how to behave when this thing, this wild love so eagerly breaks his body and pours without end into the hollow of his heart. 

but it is a nice feeling, a sweet feeling: when you look at him like this and he thinks, perhaps, he could learn to love as freely as this too. all he has to do is look. it won’t be hard. 

after all, everything he sees holds your darling smile within it.

tusm for reading!!! i hope this was able to bring some comfort for those who also have little fawn hearts .. and worry about their love being too all-consuming . im actually rllie embarrassed n nervous to be posting this fic bcos it means an awful lot to mi ૮꒰ྀི◞⸝⸝⸝⸝◟꒱ྀིა that being said , if you hav any comments to share please make sure they are only kind .. thanku ♡

#𝓭𝓸𝓵𝓵𝓯𝓸𝓵𝓭𝓮𝓻 ⑅˚˖ ݁ ˓ ෆ #alhaitham x reader #genshin x reader #al haitham x reader #genshin impact x reader #alhaitham x you #alhaitham x y/n #genshin drabbles #genshin imagines #alhaitham comfort #genshin comfort #< haithie 3

[theloveinc]

OlderDad!Bakugou who gets a haircut and his baby doesn't recognize him and he doesn't want his dad to pick him up 😭😭😭😭😭😭

Bakugou has a cry in the bathroom and you have to spend the rest of the night consoling him.

Also Hiiiiiii, miss u, hope youre gooooood

head in my hands bc of this, just thought abt bakugo growing out his hair a little bit right after baby's birth...takes him months to go and get a real haircut cuz he doesn't wanna burden you more than he already has and by the time he's okay with the thought (but only for "AN HOUR MAX," is what he says), he has a mullet thing going on and all this scruff on his chin🥺🥺🥺

so he gets home with his regular ol' haircut, maybe a little shorter just to account for ... not wanting to go again so soon, and baby's HOLLERING bloody murder as soon as they see him and refusing to be taken out of your arms, doing that thing where they're flipping their face back and forth to dodge a kiss...

it's so tragic bc not even a little cheek nuzzling helps to calm them bc bakugo's CLEAN SHAVEN and smells like aftershave instead of like dad when he tries!!!!!!

and after, you watch him kinda sulk into the bathroom, thinking like aw yeah thats a bummer but also pretty funny, too (esp bc the haircut does look good🫣🤓), AND HE DOESN'T COME OUT FOR LIKE an hour???

....until you finally have to ask him if he's okay in there and you're opening the door to him sitting on the toilet seat, arms crossed and red cheeks a little streaky with tears...

LJFKASDJFADSJK it's the cutest, most sad sight you ever did see!! ofc Bakugo tries to deny it, but the way he tears up again (after you're done assuring him he did nothing wrong) when his baby finally realizes it's him and smiles (and then how he refuses to give them up again until bedtime) has his ass. EXPOSED.

(i love and miss u more than air, earth, water, dirt + HOPE YOU'RE GOOD TOO BESTIE ILY)

#bakugo #HI PYGMY THIS WAS INSANE OF U TO SAY THANK U PYGMY MY BFFL #but sorry u said this and i had to rip the idea right out of your hands and put it straight into my mouth #i feel like i'm high on a drug i really do #bakugo doing that thing where he he refuses to leave baby or u for long periods and fights being told to go do something nice for himself #he's showing up to his first guys night in like 6 months and doesn't know what do with himself #needs a baby picture once and hour #and he gets home to baby asleep in the crib and YES he's upset he missed bedtime but also like. wow. alone time with y/n. #and he just wants to hold u🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 and watch a movie and be together #and he;s finally at a point in his life when he's able to admit vulnerability and talks abt feeling like an inadequate dad. #and finally u just have to shut him up by fuc-[redacted for profanity] #oh my god gonna think abt this all night #ALL NIGHT I LOVE U PYGMY #caitie things #kids tw #gen #pygmy lurks

[xxbimbobunnyxx]

Alpha!Steve Harrington x jealous!fem!Omega

I saw these photos and I couldn’t stop thinking about riding Steve’s throat and my brain just kind of ran with it and made it alpha!Steve and this was born…

18+MDNI!! (General omegaverse behaviors, Steve and reader are mated, Steve comes home smelling like another omega but it’s nothing shady, throat riding, dirty talk, jealous reader.)

Your ears perk up at the sound of Steve’s car pulling into the driveway, your eyes dart from the dishes in the sink you’re currently doing to the big kitchen window above you. You watch Steve put the car in park with anticipation, you had been eagerly waiting for him all day. You could tell your heat was close and you were feeling extra needy.

He steps out of the car looking handsome as ever in his work clothes. The suit you ironed fresh for him that morning is a bit wrinkled now, his shirt is untucked and his tie is pulled loose. His hair that he usually slicks back on work days is starting to fall loose as well, a few stray strands of chestnut hanging around his ears and on his forehead.

You abandon the task at hand. You turn off the kitchen sink and dry your hands, pulling your apron over your head leaving you in just your silk sleep shorts set. You know this little outfit drives Steve crazy. You turn the lock and open the door just as you hear him start to put his key into the lock. The huge smile on your face falling immediately when the smell of him comes wafting in with the wind. You scrunch your nose in disgust, your eyes setting into a glare.

“What the fuck Steve? Who the fuck do you smell like? You fucking reek like an omega in heat.” You gag, the smell of another omegas desperation dripping off your alpha making you feel like you’re going to hurl.

“Baby, hey, just listen to me okay?” He takes a step forward and his hand reaches out for you but you jerk away from him. “You were right okay? About that new girl at work? I really thought she was just being friendly to me all this time but she went into heat at work today and…”

You snarl at him, your stomach drops as your mind goes to the worst places imaginable. Did he fuck her?

“Sweetie… just let me finish, nothing happened. Don’t go there. You know I only want you, you’re my omega, my mate. She uh - she basically cornered me in my office and threw herself at me, she tried to sit in my lap and she was dripping with slick and I swear I pushed her off of me baby, she didn’t even smell good to me. I was gagging and all I could think about was you.”

He has a pained look on his face, and his hand raises like he wants to reach out for you again but it’s almost like he thinks better of it and drops it back down to his side. His head hangs between his shoulders and he looks deflated, like a sad dog. Your first instinct is to comfort him, console your alpha, but the possessive part of you wants to go to that bitches house and give her a piece of your fucking mind. The part of you that wins though? The animalistic nature to remind your alpha who he belongs to.

Your hand reaches out and grabs hold of his tie, dragging him inside. He barely has time to kick the door shut behind him before you’re on him. Your fingers weave through his hair sprayed locks and pull, your lips smashing against his, all tongue and teeth. But you can still smell her on him, and this close you can tell she must’ve looped her arms around his neck because you can smell her on his throat and that makes you see red.

“Ugh, I can fucking smell her all over you, it’s awful Steve. Go in the bedroom. Now.” Your voice is stern, your eyes burning with rage in a way Steve has never seen them. It’s kind of turning him on. He decides he’s going to let you do whatever you need to do to him to feel better about this. He walks towards your bedroom, removing his tie and dress shirt as he goes.

You’re close behind him, helping him take it the rest of the way off before you’re reaching for his belt and undoing his pants too, shoving them down his legs. You throw his clothes that reek of the other girl across the room, you’re going to be burning those later.

“I missed you all day long, wanted you all day long, but I can hardly stand near you without wanting to puke right now.” Your eyes scan his naked body as you remove your own clothes.

“Baby, I can take a shower it’s no big de-“

“No Steve. Not good enough. Lay on the bed. On your back.” Your voice comes out a growl and it sends a shiver down Steve’s spine. He obeys, lying in the middle of your king sized bed, his cock at attention. He watches as you crawl over to him, swinging your leg over his hip to straddle his waist. “I’m going to make sure the only thing you can smell is me.”

You grin at him as you scoot up his chest, your bare pussy hovering over his throat. He assumes you’re going to sit on his face so when he feels your slick lips touch his neck he moans in surpise.

“She has some audacity, touching my alpha. I could smell her on your scent gland Stevie, I only want my smell there.” You look down at him with a pout on your lips and he wishes he could kiss it away. But he can tell that’s not what you need right now.

“Ride my throat baby girl, mark your territory.” His large hands grip onto your ass, pulling you down harder on him, encouraging you.

You’re so wet from all the thoughts you’ve been having of him all day, that combined with your fast approaching heat gives you the perfect amount of lubrication to glide against your alphas broad throat. You give an experimental thrust, a breathy gasp leaving your lips at the feeling. He hasn’t shaved in a few days so there’s a bit of stubble and his Addams apple slides through your lips and hits your clit deliciously.

“Oh Stevie, it feels so good.” You moan, your hands grip onto his hair as your thrusts increase. “You’re my alpha, mine mine mine.”

“Yes omega, I’m all yours, no one else’s. Use me to cum, mark your territory baby.” Steve’s grip on your ass tightens as he uses it to help you grind against him.

You feel yourself approaching the edge embarrassingly quick, you’ve been sensitive and needy all day and knowing you’re erasing the scent of that other omega from him appeases your primal brain. Your thrusts don’t let up, little moans and gasps leaving your lips. Steve can tell you’re close, his hands leaving your ass to tug on your nipples instead.

“Come on omega, use me to cum, want you to cum all over me.” His words do you in, your thighs shake and you throw your head back as a rush of slick leaves you. It drips down Steve’s throat and he groans at the feeling. He’s so hard right now he feels like he’s going to burst.

“Now let me show you just how much I love this pussy, how much I love you. I’d never want anybody else honey, this pussy was fucking made for me.” Steve grips your thighs, flipping you over into your back in one swift motion. “I’m fucking yours baby, your alpha… let me show you…”

#alpha!steve harrington #alpha!steve Harrington thoughts #alpha!steve Harrington blurb #alpha!steve Harrington x omega!reader #alpha!steve Harrington smut #Steve Harrington blurb #steve harrington x reader #Steve Harrington smut #Dolly writes

[louloulemons-posts]

Secret Kisses

Steve Harrington X Fem!Henderson!Reader

Summary : You and Steve are secretly dating, here are 3 times you were almost caught and the 1 time you were.

Word Count : 1.2k

Warnings : Not proofread, 3am writing, swears, pet names, FLUFFY, kisses, suggestive at parts, fem reader, no use of Y/N, Steve and reader just want to make out lol.

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

- First time : Driving you home and nobody’s in

You’d been hanging out at Eddies trailer, watching some horror movies and smoking a bit with your friends.

Giving the metal head a hug and waving goodbye Steve drove you and Robin home.

“See you guy’s tomorrow,” she said, kissing your cheek from the backseat and climbing out.

“Let’s get you home,” Steve smiled, taking your hand in his. “Thank you for driving me.”

“Couldn’t leave my girl stranded could I? Or worse, Eddie could’ve drove you home in his death trap!”

“Eddie can drive,” you laughed.

“Sure, doesn’t mean the vans safe.”

“You worry too much,” you sighed, leaning over and kissing his cheek.

“Just want you to be safe.” The drive was quick and quiet, one of your favourite tapes of Steve’s playing. Steve pulled up to your house, no lights on inside.

“Tonight was fun,” you spoke, smiling.

“It was, we do need a proper date night though. Maybe the movies?” he asked.

“That sounds good, I’ll trust your taste in movies.” He leaned over the console to kiss you, leaning in softly.

You lips almost touched when you heard a foggy voice, “Are you coming in or not?” Dustin.

Pulling away from Steve you sighed, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Y-yeah, goodnight.”

“Night,” you smiled, climbing out the car and headed over to your brother.

“Have you been smoking?!” he exclaimed.

“Shut up!” you slammed your hand over his mouth, shoving him in the house. “Why are you sitting in the dark?” Waving at Steve before heading in yourself.

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

- Second time : Movie dates, sat in the dark, perfect right?

Sat in the movie theatre side by side, fingers linked, waiting for the lights to dim. You’d decided to see The Breakfast Club, after Nancy had said it was really good.

“You’re going to run out of popcorn and the movie hasn’t even started yet,” you chuckled at Steve. “It’s good!” he defended.

“Lies, but either way you’ll be grumpy 15 minutes in because you have nothing to snack on.”

“That’s why I got you snacks my love.”

“What so you can steal them?”

“Exactly that.”

“And what if I said no?”

“Well I’m sure I could persuade you..”

“Oh yeah?” He leaned closer to you, lips touching, “Yeah.” He softly pressed his lips to yours when familiar voices came.

“Okay so G6 and G7 El,” Max Mayfield spoke. “Shit,” Steve whined. The seats right in front of you. “Shit,” you repeated.

Walking down to their seats El spotted you, smiling, “Hi guys!”

“Hey,” you smiled back, nudging Steve.

“Hi,” he let out a pained grin.

“Just you two?” Max asked.

“Oh yeah, had to drag Steve with me. Nobody else would come with,” you shrugged.

“Hm, seems like Robins type of film. Eddie thought … not so much,” the redhead hummed. “Yeah exactly.”

“Should have come with us,” El said softly.

“If I’d have know you wanted to see it I would’ve, could’ve made a girls night out of it,” you smiled at her. Always having had a special place in your heart for that girl.

The lights dimmed, “Well we’ll see you after the movie,” Steve said. The pair sat down facing forward. “Guess we can’t make out now,” he sighed.

“You’re literally a horny teen.”

“Well I’m a teen and you’re hot so … I’m always horny.”

“Shush,” you laughed, punching him lightly.

“Maybe you can stay at my place?”

“Hm, if you’re lucky.”

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

- Third time : Lunch breaks aren’t easy either.

It was Steve’s lunch break, just him on today as it was a slow Monday. He shut the door and turned the sign to close, smiling at you who’d brought him food.

Pushing you into the back room, hands on your waist, your own tangling in his hair. Lipgloss transferring onto his own lips, “Stevie,” you giggled into his mouth.

“Missed you … so much,” he spoke between kisses. “Saw me yesterday.”

“Not enough!” Pulling you as close as he could, your legs wrapped around his waist and he lifted you into a filing cabinet.

“So. Fucking. Perfect,” he kissed and kissed and kissed. His hands played with the bottom of your skirt, pulling away. Lips swollen and hair messy.

“We’ve got 20 minutes Stevie.”

“That’s plenty of time to do what I need to do to you,” he smirked, lowering himself.

The bell on the door jingled, “Steve!”

“I’m gonna kill your brother.”

“Oh I’ll help.” Tidying himself up he left the back room, you jumping down from the cabinet.

“Henderson, thought you were smart enough to know what the word closed means.”

“Ha you’re real funny. I was just wondering if you’ve seen my sister?”

Steve’s heart went to his throat and you panicked trying to keep your breathing quiet. “Nope, why?”

“Well I saw her car outside and I thought maybe we could head home together,” he explained, “She might be getting some groceries though.”

“Mhm, maybe. If she stops by I’ll tell her you’re looking for her.”

“Great, thanks man.” You heard the bell ring again, signalling his exit.

Walking out of the back room you sighed. “Your brothers looking for you,” he teased.

“Oh you don’t say?” Kissing the boys cheek, “I should probably go.”

He whined, “Steve if he catches us-“

“I know I know. Okay go, but next time something like that happens I’m not stopping.”

“I’ll take your word for that.” Pecking his mouth you headed out the door to find you shit head of a brother.

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

- The time you’re found out

You heard soft knock on your window. Not wanting to turn the light on in fear your headache would get worse, you walked over.

Pulling back the curtains, you saw a familiar face. You pulled up the window and stepped back, “What are you doing here?” you asked.

Steve climbed in (fell in) to your room, “Robin told me you weren’t very well, couldn’t really call cause you know,” he motioned to the door.

“Thought I’d come check on my girl, brought you some gatorade and snacks.”

“You, Steve Harrington, are the sweetest boy I’ve ever met.” Pecking his nose, you walked back to your bed.

“What’s wrong?”

“Migraine.”

“Oh baby I’m sorry. Have you taken anything?”

“Took some more tablets not too long ago, they should kick in soon.”

He sat down next to you, stoking hair gently. “Do you want me to go, leave you in peace?”

“Could you stay?”

“Course. No place I’d rather be.”

Taking off his shoes, jacket and jeans he climbed in beside you. “Come lay on me baby,” he whispered. Resting your head on his chest, you hummed, his warmth was so nice.

Running his fingers up and down your back you were quickly lulled to sleep.

Stirring awake to a knocking sound, “Yeah?” you said voice croaking, thick with sleep. Steve also woke up, giving you a sleepy smile.

“Mom said do you want breakfast, she’s made waffles,” Dustin spoke.

“Oh yeah sure, I’ll be there in a minute.”

“Does Steve want any?” He asked through the door.

You looked at the boy, both of you wide eyed. “Hello? Does he want any?” your brother repeated.

“Oh um sure if she’s got any spare,” Steve said. Hearing you brother grumble as he walked away, you put your head back on his chest.

“Well he knows.”

“Yeah.”

“I can do this now then,” Steve smirked, kissing you square on the mouth.

“Hm, yes Mr Harrington you can.”

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

A/N : I wanted to do some fics with other characters soon, they don’t have to just be Stranger Things characters, I’m part of many many fandoms. So if there’s any other characters you’d like to see, let me know! 🤍

Thank you so much for reading! Please leave any requests 🤍

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanficton #steve stranger things #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington x henderson!reader #joe keery #strsnger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things #louloulemons #joe keery imagines

[rianavi]

clothes on

kinktober day 1

kinktober masterlist

spencer reid x f!reader

content; smut, dry humping, sub!spencer, needy!spencer, car sex, pet names (baby, good boy, pretty boy), hair pulling, biting

summary; spencer has been hard all day so as you guys get to your shared apartment he cant wait any longer

the car ride home was silent, nothing could be heard besides the soft sound of the radio and spencer’s hard breathing.

you leaned against the window and sighed softly at the content feeling of your boyfriends presence.

he seemed off, and you couldn’t tell why.

when the car came to a stop your eyes fluttered open, expecting to be at home. which was why you were surprised to find yourself parked on the side of a backroad you knew no one ever came to unless they were hunting.

confused you looked over to spencer with raised brows. catching him with his head on the steering wheel and legs shaking.

immediately you thought he was crying which freaked you out.

“spencer? whats wrong?” you asked, resting your hand on his shoulder.

the touch made him flinch and you heard a small whine come from him.

a frown came over your face as you removed your hand, kind of offended as he usually finds your touch as comfort.

“spencer, what happened are you okay?” he doesn’t answer, just continues breathing heavily

“baby,”

that seems to set him off, he throws his head back and groans, eyes clenched shut and adams apple visible.

you see it now, the tent in his trousers, the sweaty hands, the clenched jaw. he was horny.

“oh, baby,” you unbuckle your seatbelt to lean across the center console.

your shirt catches and the edge, pulling it down just a little so he can see straight down it.

resting your hand on his thigh he looks down at you, noticing your cleavage right away.

he has to refrain himself from whimpering out loud, instead just freezing.

he can feel himself painfully hard, knowing that if he looked he’d be completely red.

you look up at him before taking his hand, “why didn’t you say anything?”

“i didn’t want you to say no.” he stammered out, face growing red

you smile at him, “as if i could ever turn you down.”

climbing over the middle, you sit yourself on his lower thighs, reaching under the seat to move it back.

when there is enough room you sit down fully, reaching forward to grab his face.

you kiss him quickly, hungry, and rough. you can taste your own chapstick and feel his soft stubble against your palms.

your right hand leaves his face to drag down and rest it on his upper thigh, rubbing it softly. this causes him to twitch in his trousers and whimper into your mouth. “please,” he whispers breathily into your mouth.

you swipe your tongue across his bottom lip causing him to open it slightly.

quickly you place your teeth around it and start sucking, biting down softly.

he bucks his hips up and grips your hips, moaning loudly.

before you can pull out of his grip he harshly pulls you into himself, your now sitting fully on his lap, his hard on right under you.

you break the kiss, panting heavily and lips swollen.

looking up at him you see him with his eyes clenched and lips all red.

reaching across yourself you plant your hand directly on top of him. pressing down and squeezing softly.

he moans loudly head hitting the seat and back arching. you figure this is the only relief he’s had all day, which kind of makes you feel bad.

“my pretty boy, why didn’t you say anything? you’re so hard, how long has it been.”

“s-since we woke up.” he managed to get out, immediately worrying you

“baby, next time you tell me okay?”

“okay,”

“good boy,”

you start to rock against him, the friction pleasing yourself.

you sigh softly, needing him inside of you.

you reach down and begin to undue his pants, but your hand brushes against his tip and he can’t stop himself.

he grips your hips harshly rocking you quickly against his length. the friction being to much for him.

strings of moans and whimpers leave his lips as he chases his high.

noticing his pleasure you being to kiss down his jawline, making your way down his neck.

you suck softly leaving bruises everywhere you could, moaning into his skin when he rubs against your clit.

it takes a couple more minutes before he feels the tight coil in his stomach and he cant bring himself to move anymore, the pleasure being to much for him.

you notice this and begin rocking against him yourself, ignoring the way his nails sink into your skin or the way he tries to pull you to a stop.

you suckle on his skin once again, this time unbuttoning his shirt and reaching his chest.

his whines and incoherent mumbles grow louder though you can’t understand what he’s saying.

“do you want me to stop?” you ask, making sure he wants to continue

“yes! oh god! yes!” he moans loudly as his back arches.

you reach one of your hands up to his head, pulling softly and his hair.

he practically screams out of pleasure.

you scratch at his scalp pulling every once in a while. going back to biting him.

you can tell he’s close so you rub yourself on him as fast and hard as you can. biting the one spot behind his ear and pulling at his hair.

he cums in hot sticky ropes that immediately seep through his boxers and trousers, reaching your own.

the sounds of his whines and the feeling of him underneath you has you cumming right after him.

you wrap both hands around his neck, resting your head on his chest. panting heavily and legs shaking he kisses the top of your head and rests against it.

“i love you.”

#criminal minds #fanfic #smut #spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid angst #kinktober #kinktober 2023 #october #halloween #31 days of smut #i love smut #pure smut

[azriels-shadowsinger]

Hi! Can I please request 1 and 16 for Cassian x reader 🥹

“He treats me well-" "Okay good for you." "-but he isn't you."

Cassian x Reader

wc: 1.3k

a/n: so i couldn’t decide how i wanted to combine those 2 different prompts so i’m just writing 2 separate cassian fics i’m sorry. working on the other one right now, but for now here’s this!

warnings: angst, slight suggestiveness at the end

prompt list

Cassian was sick of it. He was sick of watching you date these undeserving males, fall in love with them, and then get your heart broken. Every single time, you run to him to console you. And every single time, he wipes away your tears and assures you that somewhere out there, there is someone who will love you and treat you right. Little do you know, he’s silently praying to the Mother that one day he can be that person for you. Not so silently, he prays that the stupid prick that broke your heart will drown in the Sidra, which usually earns a laugh from you.

Currently, Cassian was trying to keep the irritated expression off of his face as you told him about your most recent date with some new guy.

“He even paid for dinner! How sweet of him, right Cass?” You ask excitedly.

Bare fucking minimum, Cassian thought.

“That’s great y/n.” The words come out a bit more annoyed than intended, making you frown.

“What’s your problem?” You ask.

“Nothing.” He mutters.

“Bullshit, Cass. Did I do something to piss you off?” You try to think back over the past few hours to remember what you did to upset him, but nothing comes to mind.

“I just don’t really care to hear about yet another male that you think is your one true love, who will inevitably break your heart in a week.” You stare at him, stunned.

“Well, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize I wasn’t allowed to talk about my love life to my best friend.” You argue stubbornly. He lets out a laugh.

“I wouldn’t call getting broken up with every other month a love life, sweetheart.” He regretted the words the moment they left his mouth, but it was too late.

“Fuck you, Cassian.” You storm off before he can even apologize.

———

Unsurprisingly, the new guy ended up being a jerk and stood you up the following evening. You had waited at the restaurant for over an hour, earning apologetic looks from the waitress.

Cassian tried to act casual while he sat on the couch at the House of Wind, waiting for you to return from your date. He picked up some random book that Azriel had left and began scanning the pages when you winnowed home. Cassian can’t help but let his eyes roam over you, admiring your stunning figure accentuated by your dress. As soon as his gaze reaches your face, he notices the tears threatening to spill and stands up immediately. He debates walking over to comfort you with a hug or letting you come to him, still unsure if you are mad at him.

“I don’t want to hear ‘I told you so.’ And I know you don’t want to hear about my dating life anymore, so I’m going to bed.” You rush from the room quickly, leaving Cassian alone once again.

Yeah, you’re definitely still mad. Cassian has to fight the urge to follow you. He knows how your brain spirals in these situations, blaming yourself and doubting your self-worth, all because of a stupid male. He wants so badly to go up to your room and console you. He wants to wipe your tears like always and say some idiotic joke to make you laugh. More than anything, he wants to reassure you that this isn’t your fault. But he can’t, so he just sighs and sits back on the couch, picking up the book again.

———

It had been a few weeks since you and Cassian had a proper conversation, both of you too stubborn break the silence first. There had been a few short exchanges, usually just during training or when others were around, but the tension was apparent to everyone.

Cassian had heard from Mor that Feyre set you up with one of her artist friends, Kallum. He can’t be mad at his High Lady for doing what she thinks is best for her friend, but gods he was pissed about it.

You had gone on several dates with him over the past few weeks. He overheard you telling Feyre about them, describing the romantic gesture that Kallum made recently.

Was this it? Would this be the male who finally stole his best friend from him for good? If this male is a friend of Feyre’s, he must be a good guy.

Cassian hurries past the sitting area, not wanting to be caught eavesdropping, but somehow you catch his eye. He can’t help but notice the flicker of sadness in your stare.

———

After four weeks of stubborn silence, you approach Cassian at training.

“Hey.” He turns to you, surprised.

“Uh, hey y/n.” He notices that you’re picking at your nails, a nervous habit from when you were a kid.

“So, I’m bringing Kallum to dinner tomorrow evening. To meet everyone.” You say awkwardly.

Oh.

“I know you and I are still in a weird place, but can you please be nice? I want to make a good impression and see what everyone thinks of him.” You bit your bottom lip nervously.

“Why do you care what we all think of him?” He huffs.

“Because I care what my family and friends think of the person I’m dating.” You counter defensively.

“Do you really? Or do you need us to like him in order to convince yourself you like him too?” You scowl, but Cassian has that stupid cocky smirk on his face. He’s not wrong, which only pisses you off more. You had tried desperately to like Kallum. He’s a nice guy and he seems to like you a lot, but you just couldn’t find a spark between you two.

“He’s a good guy Cassian!” Your face turns red and you are too flustered to come up with a more clever response.

“If you say so.” Cassian rolls his eyes. You sound like you’re trying to convince yourself, not him.

“He is! He treats me well!” You argue.

“Okay, good for you.” He says sarcastically. You stay silent for a long moment. Cassian turns to leave, not wanting to argue any longer.

“He treats me well…but he isn’t you.” You say softly.

Cassian freezes. Surely, he misheard you. He turns back to face you and is faced with the vulnerable expression on your face.

“Seeing as you don’t seem to want to be my friend anymore, there’s no point in hiding it any longer.” He takes a long stride towards you and takes your face in his hands.

“You’re right. I don’t want to be friends anymore.” Cassian presses his lips to yours, kissing you deeply. You melt into his touch and tangle your fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck. The kiss quickly turns heated, and you let out a soft moan. Cassian pulls away, and you give him a confused look.

“As much as I want to continue this, sweetheart, I plan to take you to dinner first. I want to show you how you deserve to be treated on a date.” He leans in close, brushing his lips over the shell of your ear. “And then maybe I can show you how you deserve to be treated in bed as well.” Your face turns bright red, and you nod. Cassian lets go of you, but you pull him in for another kiss, this one lasting a bit longer than the last.

“I should probably go break up with Kallum.” You giggle between kisses. Cassian growls at the mention of another male’s name and pulls you closer.

“That is the last breakup you are ever going to have. I’ve waited 500 years for this, I’m sure as hell not going to mess it up.”

Feel free to keep requesting prompts :-)

prompt list

#acotar #acotar fic #cassian #cassian acotar #acotar x reader #cassian x reader #my writing

[vanwritesfan-fiction]

For Travis. One of the kids is having a hard time with him leaving for a trip. Crying, screaming, clinging to him - breaking his heart

Savannah always had terrible seperation anxiety, even as an infant. She was a typical daddy's girl, and he always had to be in her sight or there would be tears and tantrums that only he could console. As soon as she learned to walk, she became Travis' shadow, following him wherever he went.

At that age it was a little easier to distract her when he had to go to games or travel- out of sight, out of mind; but this was the first season where she understood that his career took him away from her quiet often, and she was struggling with nightmares and sleep regression whenever he wasn't home.

"Daddy, where going?"

Travis placed his jacket in his suitcase before turning to the tiny voice that was whispering to him, finding Savannah standing in the doorway, her pajama pants hiked up around her knees, messy hair hanging in her face. The toddler rubbed her sleepy eyes, her plush dinosaur tucked safely under her arm.

Travis picked her up in his arms, pulling her close. "Nannah, I just put you to bed. What're you doing up?" He always waited until Alex and Sav were in bed to start packing for an away game to try to make it as inconspicuous as possible.

"I have bad night nights", she whined out on the verge of tears. "Oh, baby, its okay. I've got you now. He gently rocked her back in forth in his hold as he paced the room. You peeked your head out of the bathroom, where you were getting ready for bed, to see what was going on. "What's wrong, babe?"

"She had a bad dream", Travis mouthed to you quiet enough that Savannah couldn't hear him. You gave him a sympathetic look, knowing this was breaking his heart. You knew this was just as hard on him as it was on your daughter. There were so many times you basically had to push Travis out of the door because he didn't want to leave.

You carefully pushed the hair out of Savannah's eyes, her lashes fluttering as exhaustion set in. "Do you wanna sleep in Mama and Daddy's bed tonight?" She gave you a weak nod, clinging onto Travis even tighter. As soon as they climbed into bed, she was laying on Travis' chest, falling asleep to the rhythm of the rising and falling of his chest. "I'll finish packing for you", you whispered, Travis giving you a thankful air kiss.

The next morning, you got up early to say good bye to Travis, who was dragging his feet as he ate breakfast and got ready to leave. The kids were still sound asleep, Savannah still in your shared bed. "Don't even think about it", you warned, catching the flash of distress on his face as he got dressed. "She'll be fine, baby."

"She wouldn't let me go last night. Every time I tried to lift her off me she started to cry, even in her sleep."

You wrapped your arms around his neck, Travis' hands finding your hips. "Alex went through this same thing, too, remember?", you scratched the back of his head with your nails, something you always knew calmed him down. "She's just going through a phase, but I promise you, she'll be okay. You need to focus on the game, baby."

"I know, I know", he admitted with a huff, giving you a kiss gentle kiss on the kiss before letting you go. You watched as he put on his jacket and gathered his bag. "Give them all the kisses for me, okay?"

"100 each. You got it", you said with a wink and one last kiss.

Just as Travis reached for the door handle, you heard the pitter of tiny feet coming down the hallway. "Daddy!". Savannah had tears streaming down her face, her nose red and snotty as she ran up to Travis. You let out a sigh as he picked her up, Sav wrapping her tiny arms tightly around his neck.

"What's wrong, baby?" Travis rubbed her back, but it did nothing to console her. "You were leaving me?", she asked between sobs, haphazardly wiping her face with the back of her hand. "I've gotta go to work Nannah, just for a little while."

"Daddy has to go play football, Sav! He's gonna go play with Uncle Patrick and Uncle Chris."

"They can play without me", Travis muttered out, but you shot him a look not to start that. "C'mon, baby, we'll have breakfast with Alex and then we'll watch Daddy on the TV on Sunday, okay?" You reached for her, but she pulled away nodding her head. "I want Daddy". She tucked her face in the crook of his neck, continuing to cry, pools of tears wetting Travis' sweater.

"Hey Nannah", Travis said in his gentlest tone, setting her down on the ground. "Remember when we went to the game last weekend with Nannah and Papa, how fun that was? and how much of a big girl you were with your own seat, cheering me on when I played?" She nodded with a sniffle, holding onto his hands. "Well, I have to go play somewhere else so other kids can watch me play too."

"Big girls like me?", she asked, with an inquisitive tip of her head. Travis chuckled, realizing she was starting to understand as much as a three year old could. "Yes, baby, just like you, and I need you here to watch me on TV and cheer for me, okay? I can't win without you."

"Okay, I cheer for you, Daddy!" Travis couldn't help the grin on his face at seeing her perfect little smile. "Okay, give me a kiss." He grabbed at her playfully, peppering her face with kisses as she giggled uncontrollably. "That's my girl."

"Don't forget mama, too. She needs kiss." Savannah said, running over to you.

"Of course, I could never forget mama. Goodbye, babe." He gave you a third kiss, this time, your lips linger together a little longer. "Bye, I love you."

#travis kelce #travis kelce fanfic #travis kelce fanfiction #travis kelce imagine #traviskelce #nfl imagine #nfl fanfic #nfl fanfiction

[moonstruckme]

I've never requested before so I'm quite nervous but may I request something with a reader thats like usually very chatty when coming home from work but maybe someone at their job said something rude or they just feel to tired to talk? preferably with poly!marauders but i dont mind any characters, i love your writing and i hope you have a wonderful day :] no pressure to write this ofc

Thank you for requesting lovely and hope you have a wonderful day as well! <3

Eddie Munson x fem!reader ♡ 677 words

Eddie’s van is idling at the curb when your shift ends. He grins as you get in, swapping his cherry coke to the hand already holding his cigarette to wrap the one closest to you around your thigh. It’s a favored spot. You’re always thinking you ought to trace an outline of his fingers and get it tattooed with “Eddie’s place” inside as a lark, but he’d definitely enjoy it way too much. 

“Hey there,” he drawls, voice saccharine sweet and expectant as he leans across the console toward you. You peck him on the lips. 

“Hi,” you say back. “You taste like cherries.” 

His grin is crooked, goofy in that unabashedly lovesick way that makes your heart stutter. He holds up his cherry coke like he’s making a toast. “T’was the point. You want a sip?” 

“Yes, please.” You take it from him, letting the cool fizziness wash over your sandpaper tongue. You’ve been craving a drink since halfway through your shift, when you’re fairly sure you’d willed all the water out of your body so you wouldn’t cry in the break room. Poor forethought. 

The syrupy sweetness is comforting, familiar like Eddie and summer days and the lake. It makes you feel a bit more normal. You have to stop yourself from gulping it all down, dropping it in the cup coaster as Eddie stubs out his cigarette and puts the van into gear. 

It takes until the first stoplight for you to realize he’s not headed towards home. “Where’re we going?” you ask. 

“To the arcade. We’re meeting Dustin and them there, remember?” 

“Oh. Right.” You’d totally forgotten. At least Robin should be there. 

Eddie gives you a sidelong glance. “Work was good?” 

If you’re being honest with yourself, about 70% of it was totally fine. “Mhm.” 

He hums back at you, short and low. “Okay. What’s wrong?” 

“Hm?” you hum again, unable to help it. “Nothing, why?”

“Don’t play dumb.” He squeezes your thigh meanly, metal rings biting into your skin. “You always want to gossip after work. Something happened, yeah?” 

You toy with your bottom lip, looking out the window. You’re quiet long enough that Eddie gives your leg another warning squeeze. 

“Talk.” 

“It wasn’t really anything,” you say, honestly but forcing a bit more offhandedness into your tone than maybe you really feel. “A customer got all pissy with me because he thought something should be on sale and it wasn’t, but I’m not, like, still sad about it.” 

Eddie doesn’t take his eyes from the road, but his lips purse unhappily. “But you were, huh?” 

“I was,” you allow. “But I’m not anymore. I guess it just tired me out.” 

He glances your way, as if to be sure you’re telling the truth, and hums. “M’sorry, baby. Still down for the arcade, or do you just wanna go home?” 

“No, I’m good.” You wrap your hand around his forearm, running a path from his wrist to the crook of his elbow and back again. “I wanna see Robin. I can rally.” 

Eddie nods contemplatively. The steady rumbling of the van is the only sound for a few seconds, and then he says, “On a scale of one to ten, where are you right now?” 

You think about it for a few moments. “A four,” you decide. 

He nods again. “Okay. By the time we leave the arcade, we’re gonna have you at a six.” 

You grin at him. It’s already easier. Eddie sees out of the corner of his eye, quirking a brow like you’re being a dork but then slipping his hand from your thigh to intertwine your fingers from his. He brings the back of your hand to his mouth, kissing it wetly. You know he's content to sit in silence as long as you need, but you have one more thing to say.

“I feel like finishing off your coke would bring me up to a solid four-point-five,” you suggest hopefully. 

Eddie rolls his eyes, but the corner of his mouth kicks up. “It’s all yours, sweet thing.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x self insert #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson hurt/comfort #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson scenario #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson one shot #eddie munson oneshot #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fandom #stranger things 4 #stranger things x reader

[i-cant-sing]

I was rereading some of your works and this line stuck out to me

‘Enji is keeping up with all your cravings, no matter how weird. You're craving ice chips? Alright. You want ice cream at 3 am? The fridge is stocked with your favs. Oh no, you want soft serve? Its okay, princess, I'll drive us there. I'm sure they'll open the store for the no. 1 hero.’

I immediately pictured him, banging on the front door of the shop, absolutely panicked because his “baby” is hungry for ice cream and is worried that she’ll cry because of pregnancy hormones

HAHAHAHAHA YESSSSSS and like u can't blame him??? He's already so protective of you as his daughter, but not that you're pregnant with Ratsuki's baby, his protectiveness increases ten folds. Who knows what that devil's spawn is doing to your poor body???? How much pain you're in because of Ratsuki's baby????

Ugh, he just- even if you tell him how excited you are to gave this baby, Enji just can't stop fretting over you because you're his baby! Always were, and always will be!

Yandere dad Enji with pregnant daughter reader is literally so cute because there is nothing that will stop this man from making sure that you are healthy and comfortable and yes, he will still hold you whenever you're feeling down, baby bump or not, you weigh nothing to him🥰

You're feeling emotional and end up calling Enji (instead of Katsuki cause he's busy with work) and he hears a wobble in your voice? BAm, papa is at your door step in 10 minutes with ice cream and snacks and warm cuddles. Feel free to bitch about Katsuki to him (actually dont, he will kill him)

Ever since you got married and moved in with Katsuki, Enji had been missing your company. And once you had returned from your honeymoon and visited him, he realised just how terribly he missed you. So of course he grabs any opportunity to spend time with you. Baby checkup? Okay, papa Enji is coming to pick you up. Grocery shopping? How odd that he's also out of groceries. Cmon, lets shop together, and maybe some cute (SUPER EXPENSIVE, LUXURY BRANDED) maternity and baby clothes to spoil you. Nothing to do at home? Well, you can always help out dad at his work! Enji's sending a car to drive you to his company 🥰 And its like, even if you do have plans with Katsuki, Enji will pull some strings to make sure that Katsuki gets stuck at work while you sulk at home, awaiting your husband. But Enji will come to console you, cry on his shoulder baby. Sometimes, Enji will drop by unannounced, especially if he finds out that you're spending the weekend with Katsuki's parents. He'll be bringing in a boquet, kissing you on the cheek, before wrapping his coat around you, telling you that you must come home with him right away. And you're all like "??? Dad! I'm here with my in laws. I cant just up and leave-!" And he pulls the big sad eyes and says "Its Rei." and you automatically sigh and nod before going to apologise to Kats parents for cancelling your plans with them, claiming there's a "family emergency", which isnt a lie because yandere Rei is an EMERGENCY at all times. Its just, you've always known your mother's mental health was detoriating, but the rate at which it detoriated increased ten folds when you moved out. She's always been protective of you, because of all the trauma and because you're her youngest, so of course... she took it the hardest when you left her side to be with Katsuki. And before your marriage, you swore to your father that you'll always be there to help him with Mom, whenever needed, no questions asked. Its the only reason Enji gave you his blessing marry RATsuki. So whenever he misses you too much, he tells you that Rei is having another "episode" where she's screaming your name, crying that someone took you away and is hurting you, is resorting to harming herself, etc. And sometimes Rei does have these epiosdes, other times she doesnt, but it doesnt matter to either of them because if they want u home, you will come. And as soon as Enji has brought you to the Todoroki estate, your're running (or waddling) inside, immeadiately engulfed by your mother who will now proceed to coddle you and fret over you non stop for the next couple of days (spoon feeding you her food, brushing your hair until you dose off, rubbing your baby bump while humming lullabies. Enji's having the best time too becuase he gets to tuck you in at night and wake u in the morning and have more daddy-daughter ice cream dates with yall) until she's better or... well, your husbands comes to fetch you.

And Rat- KATSUKI, sees through all their BULLSHIT! But you dont and thats why he cant call them out on it. Thats why he must be the more patient one between him and your greedy parents.

#yandere enji todoroki #yandere enji #yandere rei todoroki #yandere rei #yandere bnha #yandere bnha x reader #bnha headcanons #yandere mha #bnha imagines #yandere todoroki clan #yandere endeavor #my hero academia x reader #mha x reader #platonic yandere #yandere todoroki family

[lizard-on-a-window-pane]

candle light with remus lupin for your eclipse event! maybe something where he's mean but also does good good aftercare? LUV UR WRITIING <3

thank youuu, and thank you for requesting! really hope you like it!!

pairing: Remus Lupin x reader tags / warnings: established relationship, smut (NSFW, MDNI), fluff word count: 3k part of my 1k celebration!

You are exhausted. You’re tense; you’re tired as you come home after what’s felt like a  week, not a day. Too much to do, too much pressure, too many decisions. You feel them in your body, weighing you down. The first thing you do as you enter your bedroom you share with Remus is strip down to your knickers. You toss your bra away with perhaps a little bit too much resentment and find your favourite of Remus’s jumpers you like to borrow. It’s too big on either of you.

You head to your kitchen, putting on a record so sad it’s somehow consoling as you do. As you start making yourself a comforting cup of tea, you hear the door behind you. 

“Hi, lovely.” 

It’s his voice that’s lovely, and just the sound of it has already begun thawing your tension. 

“Hey,” you say back as you feel him approach behind you, his arms coming around your middle. They’re warm and firm, and you sink back into his body. You feel him breathe in your hair, kiss the side of your head. “Remus,” you whine into him. He hums into your neck in response, placing a soft kiss there. His squeezes you tightly, his hands bunching up the jumper you’re wearing. “Hmm. Sad music, cosy jumper, earthy tea, whiny voice,” he lists sympathetically. “Someone’s had a long day.”

“You’ve no idea.” His large hands come to your shoulders, kneading deeply. You squirm at the intensity, pain and pleasure dancing inextricably. At a knot a bit too sensitive for his ministrations, you flinch out of his grasp and step back, turning to face him. You expect to be met by his beguiling brown eyes, but they’re look down. His head cocks to the side appreciatively. You realize he’s admiring your bare legs and chuckle. “Nothing you haven’t seen before.” “Doesn’t mean I like it any less,” he retorts, voice gruffer. He looks you up and down with an intensity that dissipates any playfulness in your mood. You realize how badly you want him to take you, to make you leave the day behind you and completely envelop you in the here and now… and the pleasure it could hold. 

Remus can’t read your mind, though, and being the doting boyfriend he is, he comes to hold you gently again, stroking your back, trying to comfort you. “Let’s get you relaxed, huh, baby?” he says, kissing your forehead. “Yeah,” you whisper.

“What do you want to do? Want to go straight to bed? Watch something? We could read together? Same book or different, you choose.” He’s already taken over preparing your tea, seemingly completely distracted away from your body. 

His suggestions and demeanour make you think maybe he’s not in the mood, Remus never being shy to tell you when he is, so you worry maybe it’s not the best moment to voice your honest desires. 

“I don’t know, whatever; you choose.” You sound a bit defeated, and he looks over at you at your tone. “No, you should. I’m happy with anything if it’s good for you, really,” he says as he turns back to the easy work of pouring the hot water. He’s always this sweet, almost always defers to doing whatever you feel like doing. 

It’s no fault of his, but your looming tiredness, your sudden heat, it all makes you snappy. “I said I don’t care, Rem. Why do I always have to be the one to choose everything? Sometimes I’m tired, okay? And I already said you can choose.” The mugs are forgotten, his attention fully on you at this. “Woah, what’s up?” He leans back on the counter, arms crossed a bit defensively, but eyes all concern. 

“Nothing,” you sigh. “Nothing, I’m sorry.” You turn away and busy yourself with anything you can find, tidying up mindlessly. “Hey, c’mon, love, what’s up?” His voice is slightly harder, and as he asks, he turns you to face him, his hands firmly holding your shoulders. His eyes look searchingly into yours, but your eyes flutter closed at the feeling of his hands on you and the sound of his deep voice. You bite your lip and whimper very very softly.

His hands immediately leave you, and it’s urgent when he rushes out, “Woah, did I hurt you? I didn’t mean to, baby; I just wanted to talk. You alright?”

You nod and whine “Remus” again, stepping toward him and looking into his eyes. You grab his hands in yours and place them back on your body. You bring one to your face and lean into it, put the other on your hip and squeeze your hand over his. 

He’s watching you closely, letting you guide him. 

His proximity and his touch, even like this, heat you up, and your body pushes you to honesty.

“I don’t want to sleep, or  read, or any of that. And I don’t want to choose anything or think about anything else. I want you, Rem. I just want you. Please.”

His eyebrows shoot up, and ever so slowly he starts moving his own hands on you, yours still hovering above them. 

His touch makes you melt, and your eyes shut. You exhale loudly as his hand grabs your face a bit harder. His thumb strokes, pushing into the skin of your cheek. You open your eyes and meet his. They’re looking at yours searchingly, but upon seeing the look you’re giving him when they connect with yours, something clicks in Remus. You register it in his eyes as they shift in what seems like one blink from keen observation to piercing intensity. 

He pulls your face to his forcefully, devouring your mouth. He’s eating up your immediate whimpers, tilting your head with his hands on either side of your face, pushing your tongue with his and licking into your mouth. You surrender completely and let him guide your ardent kiss. 

Soon, his hand juts your head back with no warning, tugging your hair, and his mouth moves from yours to your jaw, kissing sloppily until he reaches your neck, where he plants a cruel bite. You yelp, and he licks over it soothingly, but his voice is rough as he asks, “This what you want?” His mouth sucks your neck harshly, and his hands push under your jumper and grip the flesh of your hips so hard your body sways with his motions. 

“Fuuuck, Rem, yes, pleeease.” “Yes what?” he snaps. “Yes, I want this. I want you to touch me like this.” 

“Good,” he utters matter-of-factly. 

He tugs the jumper over your head and throws it aside then maneuvers your body with his strong hands on your hips. 

“Turn around,” he commands. And you do, though his hands flip you without your having much say in it. 

His arms wrap around you, and he kneads your breasts roughly. He handles you so harshly that you yelp again in pleasured pain. 

Remus presses his body up behind your now almost completely naked one. You feel his breath on your neck and shoulder, and you shiver as sensation shoots down your spine. You’re very pleasantly surprised to also feel his already hard cock on your arse even through his trousers. You push back into it and grind. He groans in reaction then chuckles gruffly into your ear. 

“Fuck, you’re desperate, huh?” He squeezes your tits and thrusts his hips. His voice low and ominously even, he tells you, “You know, baby, all you had to do was tell me you wanted me to fuck you.” You whimper; he chuckles again. “Yeah? You want to get fucked, pretty girl?” You nod wordlessly. “I wanted to fuck you as soon as I came in here and saw your gorgeous thighs.” Never breaking contact with your skin, his hands slide down your body and squeeze the outsides of your thighs. Then they cup your arse and squeeze even tighter, jiggling it in his rough grip. “You looked so fucking sexy. But I thought you were tired. Silly me, huh, not realizing how you wanted me to take care of you. This how you want me to take care of you?” 

“Yees.” “Hmm.” 

Your head is lolled back on his shoulder, but he pushes you suddenly forward. “Bend over.” You do. The kitchen counter is cold on your tits; his hand is hot on your back, pushing you down. 

His other hand yanks your knickers down and rubs roughly through your folds. You’re soaked. “Dirty girl,” he chuckles. “Wanting to get fucked this badly.”

Without ado, he pushes two fingers into you. You scream at the breach, at the first hot graze of your inner walls. He rubs them around then curves them toward your sweet spot. His pace is immediately punishing, and it’s not too many thrusts later that he adds a third finger. Your cunt is squelching as his fingers fuck you. His hand on your back moves up toward your neck and massages your shoulder as he holds you in place.

He keeps going, pushing so hard the fronts of your thighs smack the counter with each thrust, so fast that it’s hard to discern the increasing shaking of your thighs from the motions of his hand.

You whine, and turn your face into the counter to quiet it. His hand at your neck yanks your hair to lift your face. “Uh-uh, pretty thing. I’ve had enough of you being quiet tonight. If I’m going to fuck you this good, you’re going to let me hear how I make you feel.” You whimper involuntarily, doing nothing to filter your loud reaction. “Better.”

Your thighs are seriously shaking now, and you’re tightening deliciously. You’re getting close. 

His hand stops and pulls out of you, the other also releasing his grip on your hair. Your resulting whine sounds almost like you’re crying. 

“Fuck, baby, relax,” Remus laughs. You hear the zipper of his trousers, hear the soft pat of clothes falling to the floor. His foot kicks yours into a wider stance suddenly. Then you feel his hard cock prodding at your warm, wet entrance. One of his hands grips your hip harshly as he guides himself in. He’s slightly slower as he does, but he pushes all the way in without stopping. When he’s completely inside you, you whimper again at the fullness and barely hear him whisper “fuck.” 

Just a second later, he’s thrusting; a few seconds later, it’s already rocking your entire body from the intensity. His grip tightens, and you know you’ll admire a bruise there tomorrow. His other hand grabs your shoulder for better leverage as he pistons in and out of you. 

You’d already been so close that at the fucking he’s giving you, you feel close to the brink before even adjusting entirely to the position. Your hands flat on the counter, uselessly attempting to grip something, give you some stability as your body spasms jarringly. 

“Fuck, already?” Remus pants. His tone seems sincerely surprised, not teasingly so. 

He moves his hand to your other hip, vice-like grip pulling your arse onto his body in time with each fast, forward thrust of his hips. 

He’s the one to moan loudly this time as your walls clench him. His prolonged moan sounds like it’s strangled in his throat as you clench again and again, but though it’s clearly wrecking him, the only effect on his pace is its increased brutality. 

You start cumming in earnest, crying through it, shaking hard. Remus fucks you through most of it, but toward the very end, you feel him pull all the way out quickly, the absence jarring and gaping. His fingers pick up what his cock was just doing, and the sudden re-intensity gives you a second peak. He keeps going until your clenching cunt has mostly relaxed then slowly removes his fingers. 

Your body feels heavy and limp, its only movement the harsh up and down of your heavy panting. When Remus’s hands maneuver you to lift your torso and turn you around, you’re very little help. You feel unstable on your legs, but Remus safely holds you up. “Why’d you —” you start, your voice an exhausted whisper.

“Shut up,” he says, words hard, tone soft. He’s panting too, looking sweaty and spent. “Jump.” You’re confused, but your body heeds his command as his hands lift your arse up till you’re sitting on the counter. His hands grab the backs of your thighs and lift them up and out. You fall back slightly at the shift and end up resting on your forearms looking up at him. You rest your foot on the counter when his hand drops your leg so he can use it to guide himself back inside you.

He slips in easily but takes a moment to settle once he does. His eyes closed, chin lifted, chest rising and falling heavily. He looks so beautiful. 

When he’s gathered himself, he shifts as close to you as he can and guides you up toward him too. Your legs wrap around his waist, your arms support you as you hold on to the counter’s edge. His support you, too, wrapped around your waist.  

His forehead comes to yours, and he kisses you sloppily as his hips start thrusting again, more slowly this time. One arm still anchoring you, his other hand comes to your face, holding it as he keeps kissing you. His breathing picks up again as his hips do.

Face still close to yours, he confesses, “I know you wanted it rough, but I really felt like looking at you when I came this time.” “Fuck, Rem.” You kiss him hard and clench him harder. He groans and picks up his pace, clearly getting tired but chasing an approaching high. 

His hand slips between your bodies, pushing you the slightest angle away from him so he can rub at your clit. Your cunt spasms at the sensation, and you hear his breath catch. 

He presses harder, establishes a rhythm, gradually making it faster. You’re close again at his adept touch, and you chant his name desperately as you shake your hips and push over your edge. His strangled moan tells you he’s cumming before the feel of it between your legs does, his dark, aching eyes on you the whole time. Once he starts slowing down, you wrap your arms tightly around him and nestle into his neck. He kisses you everywhere he can reach: your cheek, your neck, your shoulder. 

When he pulls apart from you, you shiver. You’re covered in sweat, and as he pulls his softening cock out of you, the wetness there is even worse. You wrap your arms around yourself and clench your thighs together. 

“Here, baby,” Remus says, running for a clean towel, dampening it before standing in front of you again. Very gently, he pushes your thighs apart again, stroking one soothingly as he cleans between your legs. When he’s done, he wraps you in a hug to bring you down off the counter, supporting you while you find you balance after your legs being rendered jelly.

“C’mere.” He holds you as he walks you to your bedroom. “You want to shower?” “‘M too tired. Can I shower in the morning?” “‘Course, lovely. Whatever you want.” “Ugh.” “What is it?” “I need to pee.” Remus giggles at you as he guides you toward the bathroom instead of the bed. 

“I can’t pee with you staring at me like that,” you complain when he just leans on the sink as you try to go. “I’m not staring; I’m admiring.” “Ok, I can’t pee with you admiring me like that.” He laughs again and turns around dramatically. He takes the opportunity to clean himself up.

You do what you need to do but stay sitting on the toilet even after you’ve finished, feeling too tired to get up. Remus dampens your hand towel and squats in front of you. He dabs at your face gently, freshening it up. You close your eyes at the soothing sensations of being cleaner and of being doted on. When he’s done your whole face and neck, he pecks your nose before getting up. “You planning on sleeping here or what?” he teases. “‘M tired,” you moan. “C’mon, lovely girl,” he chuckles, yanking you up. You finish cleaning up then follow him to bed, plopping down onto it. He hasn’t stopped giggling at your antics. “Want clothes?” “Just knickers please.” He tosses you a clean pair, slips into his own pants, then falls into bed with you. He shifts your body into a reasonable position and pulls the covers over you. Resting on his side, propped up on his elbow, his other hand starts stroking your bare skin lovingly. “You okay, sweet girl?” “Hmmm.” He kisses your forehead. “I know you’re sleepy, but just tell me if you’re okay. Nothing hurts or anything?” “No, Rem, I feel great.” You smile up at him without opening your eyes. You can’t see him looking down at you like you’re the most precious person in the world. To him, you are. “’S like my whole body is sinking and floating at the same time.” He chuckles adoringly and kisses you again, cuddling up beside you. “Good.” “Hmm.” You’re sinking into sleep but whisper giddily, “Thanks for fucking me.” He barks a full laugh. As it quiets to back to his giggle, he brings his face to yours. He nuzzles your nose with his and kisses your cheek. “Always happy to take care of my girl.” He kisses you again. “It was fun. Good for you? What you wanted?” “Mmhmm,” you nod. “Just what I wanted.” You use what little energy you have left to shift closer to him. “Now I want your cuddles.” “Always happy to take care of my girl,” he says again, more softly this time, as he wraps his arms around you snugly and kisses your forehead. 

You settle into each other, and the rise and fall of his breathing, the graze of his petting fingertips are the last things you feel as you drift into sleep.

#remus lupin #remus lupin x reader #remus x reader #remus lupin x you #remus x you #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin oneshot #remus lupin fanfic #remus lupin smut #remus lupin fluff #marauders #marauder x reader #marauders fanfic #harry potter fanfic #ria1k

[whatdoeseverybodywant]

Rebuild & Restore - Chapter 3

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site, even if you give me credit. DO NOT REPOST MY FICS

Reblogs, comments, likes, and feedback ALWAYS appreciated ❤ 

All OC Characters belong to me

Series Masterlist

Melvania furrowed her eyebrows as there was a knock on her front door. She looked at the clock that hung on the wall just above the entryway to her kitchen and set her coffee mug down on the counter as she saw it was just after 7 am. 

“Josh?” She asked her baby brother as she opened the door, shocked to see him at her house so early. “What are you doing here?” 

“We need to talk.” He said gruffly. “Can I come in?” Mel nodded and opened the door wider for him to enter her home. 

“Is everything okay?” She asked as she followed him into the living room and sat down on the couch across from the chair he had sat in. 

“No, not really. It’s about yesterday. With Kiyana.” Mel scoffed and rolled her eyes. 

“I should have known.” She muttered, sitting back and folding her arms. “Lemme guess, princess couldn’t handle hearing the truth so she sent you here to set me straight?” She scoffed again. “She is a whore and I'm not apologizing for saying it Joshua.” 

“That’s the mother of my kids Mel, whether you like it or not, you will not say no shit like that again while my kids are around.Yes, Kiyana fucked Joe.” Josh paused and clenched his fist together, he was still having a hard time dealing with that. “But I had an affair first, aight. I fucked up my marriage not Kiyana.” Mel rolled her eyes at his little speech. 

“To be completely honest baby bro, I could care less. She hurt you and that’s all I care about.” 

“You don’t have to like her, I mean you never did. But what you will do is respect the mother of your nephews.” Josh said as he stood up from her couch and walked out of his sister's house without saying another word to her. 

Next stop, Kiyana’s house..

“Boys!” Kiyana yelled from the bottom of the steps. “What's taking so long!” She rolled her eyes as all she got back were giggles in response. She playfully glared over at Kairo when he started to giggle in his pack’n’play. “And what so funny?” She teased picking him up just as there was a knock on her front door.  

“Dada!” Kairo squealed, reaching his arms out for Joshua as Kiyana opened the door. 

“What are you doing here?” He handed her the flowers in his hand and took Kairo from here. “Who are these for?” She rolled her eyes at the look he gave her. 

“Who else would they be for? Open it.” She eyed the box warily and opened it, shocked to see it was red roses with the letter K in  white roses. “You like it?” 

Kiyana nodded, “Yes, thank you.” 

“You welcome ba-” He paused and stopped himself. “You’re welcome Kiyana. I’m sorry for letting Mel run her mouth yesterday and not stopping her.”  Kiyana said nothing and set the flowers down on the console table. 

“What are you doing here?” She asked again and Josh sighed. 

“I wanted to take my family to breakfast.” Kiyana nodded and bit her lip.

“Ok, The boys are already dressed. We were going out with my mom, but I guess they can go with you.” She walked into the living room and Josh followed her, shutting the front door behind him. 

“No, Key. Not just me and the boys, you too.”  Kiyana arched an eyebrow and shook her head. 

“No, that’s not a good idea. We’re div-” 

“Divorced, I know.” He cut her off. “You don’t gotta say that shit every time we see each other.” 

“We’re not family anymore Joshua. You and your family made that perfectly clear yesterday.” Josh set Kairo down in his pack n play and walked closer to Kiyana, who stepped back.  

“I’m sorry Key. I was in my feelings yesterday and I apologize. So please, can we take our sons to breakfast?” 

 To Samara 👯‍♀️: Need to get this nigga head checked out… From Samara 👯‍♀️: Who? Lol what happened To Samara 👯‍♀️: Joshua, he showed up this morning w/ flowers and apologizing for Mel.  From Samara 👯‍♀️: …. Girl  To Samara 👯‍♀️: And now we’re at breakfast bc he wanted to take his ‘family’ out.  To Samara 👯‍♀️: Oh and he played our song on the way to breakfast and kept looking at me out the corner of his eyes  From Samara 👯‍♀️: not beauty by dru hill, lmao too little to late josh smh

“Who you texting?” Josh asked and Kiyana furrowed her eyebrows. 

“Samara.” He nodded, surprised that she actually answered him. He took a sip of his orange juice and watched as she cut up Kaiden’s waffle for him. 

“Joe’s back in Pensacola.” He blurted out and Kiyana paused her cutting and looked up at him. 

“Okay..” She trailed off with a shrug. “Why are you telling me.?” Why in the hell is he bringing up Joe? She thought and then swallowed hard as she remembered the text message she received last night. 

“Cause we had a deal, Kiyana.” Kiyana tilted her head at Josh. She then looked at he kids and noticed that they were busy on their I-PADS (yes, they’re I-PAD kids… don’t judge her) 

“Josh, we're divorced. I can talk to whoever I want to.”  Josh scoffed and shook his head, 

“I don’t want him around my sons, Kiyana.” She sighed and rubbed her temples, feeling a headache coming on. 

“I do not and will not talk to him. Joshua. Me and Joe have nothing to talk about, okay?” She said, just to get him to shut the hell up. Pleased with her answer, Josh let out a sigh of relief and sent a smile her way. 

“Thank you” Kiyana didn’t say anything back to him, she just sighed and looked out the window, wishing she was anywhere but at that diner. 

A.N/ Kiyana will forever love Joshua, he was her first everything. She did file for divorce first but no matter what she will always be inlove with him.

🏷️ : @christinabae @southerngirl41 @reci1996 @jeyusos-girl @bemybabiibish

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#wwe #jey uso #jey uso x black reader #jey uso x reader #wwe x black reader #jey uso x black oc #jey uso fanfic #jey uso fanfiction #jey uso imagines #jey uso imagine #wwe x fem reader #wwe x oc #wwe x reader #wwe x you #wwe x y/n #jey uso x exwife! reader #roman reigns fanfiction #roman reigns imagine #roman reigns fanfic

[coriolantha]

‧˚₊•୨ Patience ୧•‧₊˚⊹

mike schmidt x GN! reader

summary: mike comforts you after you've had a long day₊˚⊹:˚｡⋆୨୧˚

tags: fluff, mike being a sweetheart (as always), anxiety, reader has bad self image, insecurities, reader is overwhelmed and needs a break (so real), hugging, cuddling, comfort

wc: 1.1k

notes: hii this is my first fic i've posted on here. ngl i'm... scared. im not proud of this but i can't scrap it this time otherwise i'm never gonna get anything posted LMAO. please leave any criticism in the comments if you'd like, feel free to share any opinions, i want to improve the quality of my writing! thank you sm for reading! 🫶

today has been punishing.

rain trickled down the foggy window, making soft tapping sounds as they hit and fell, reluctantly racing down to gather in the weep holes. the rough, scratchy carpet beneath you beginning to burn as you shuffled around your desolate home.

exhausted, you gave up trying to distract yourself from your main task; your bedroom.

your eyes darted around your cluttered room, glossing over as you noticed every individual piece of clothing that wasn't hung up, organized, and neatly put away. you began to have a headache thinking about where to even begin. you felt like a filthy slob, your surroundings perfectly reflecting how you've felt all day.

you flicked the lights off, the warmly lit room now becoming pitch black, except for the small gleam of light that came through the open door. you sat on your bed, absentmindedly kicking your various pants and t-shirts away from you to give yourself some room to lay down.

mike wouldn't be back home for a while now. it was only 12:45am, which gave you 5 hours and 25 minutes to attempt to sleep before having to get ready for your office job... which would leave little to no time to spend with mike.

fuck mondays.

turning over to your side, you hugged your knees, shivering. no amount of blankets could fix how cold you felt. the truth was, you missed your boyfriend; longing for his cozy hugs and soft, gentle kisses he'd press against your cheek as he consoled you.

you missed him more than anything in the world.

with a blink, the tears that have been collecting in your eyes came down your flushed face at once. laying there, you accepted your pitiful reality, slowly drifting off into unwanted slumber, in solitude.

the time was around 2am when you felt a dip into the bed. panicking, you quickly awoke, shuffling to sit up as fast as possible. although you didn't know of the time, something felt off. mike wasn't supposed to be home yet, that's for sure.

panic turned into confusion as you heard mike, obviously feeling guilty for having jumpscaring you so badly.

"oh, shit- baby, it's me," he whispered apologetically, reaching his hand out to cup your cheek. turning on the dim lamp, he quickly turned back to face you. his eyes bore into yours, scanning to make sure you were going to be alright.

all day he was desperate to see your face, even after his shorter-than-usual-shift. mike couldn't get enough of your perfection, although you always brushed him off whenever he ever mentioned this to you.

he noticed your terrified expression which started to wear off, beginning to blend into relief.

"it's just me... you don't need to worry about anything, okay? i'm right here, no one's gonna hurt you," he muttered, leaning over to press a chaste kiss on your lips, lingering longer than usual.

weight lifted off your shoulders as you began to put pieces together. now, all you needed was an answer to your burning question.

"mike, why did you come home so early? did something happen?" you asked anxiously, looking right back at your boyfriends affectionate, adoring eyes.

"oh, sweetheart..." he soothed, "i got let out early today. nothing worth worrying about. i guess they didn't need me as much as i thought they did," he let out a quick, dry laugh, shaking his head dismissively.

"fuck, i've missed you all day, i'm so damn glad i could leave that job early. anything to see you, my love," he cooed, brushing a strand of hair out of your face, delicately tucking it behind your ear

you were in awe; it was a miracle he came home early, especially today. you were fighting to hold your tears back, mouth quivering as you bit your bottom lip. mike noticed your change in emotion immediately.

"hey hey hey," he whispered urgently, quickly grabbing your hand and giving it a light squeeze, "what's wrong?" his voice drowned in concern.

"i did nothing all day. the only thing i've done is just stand around and... thought of doing something, but i couldn't. i was so tired, but of what? like, why didn't i clean our room? and the worst part is, you have to come home, tired as hell, ready to go to sleep, only to see your messy room and your partner who still hasn't done anything about it," you quavered, sniffling softly as warm tears fell from your eyes.

mike said nothing, but you could sense how hurt he felt after you talked so badly about yourself. he sighed, laying down on the plush mattress. he patted his chest, inviting you to rest your head there. you did so immediately, closing your eyes as you listened closely to his heart beat.

"you know i love you, right?" he asked gently. you stayed quiet, knowing he wasn't expecting an answer.

"i love everything about about you. but the only thing i don't love is how badly you talk of yourself. i hate it. it doesn't make any sense to me," he stressed, stroking your hair soothingly.

"so what if our room is messy? i don't think about that when i come home. all i think about is how i can finally be with you. i'm not going to let some clothes on the floor get in the way of us, ever. or anything, in fact."

you nodded in agreement silently, your tears dry on your cheeks.

"we can tackle this room together. we can do this however you want- i can pick up your clothes while you organize them into whichever area they go to, and i'll pick up my clothes too, but you won't have to organize that, i'll take care of it. how does that sound?" he asked delicately.

you instantly felt a huge weight lift off your shoulders.

"thank you so much, mike. you don't know how much i needed you today," you exhaled, "really."

he looked down lovingly at you, curled up beside him. he kissed your head tenderly, rubbing up and down your back.

goosebumps spread across your arms. you felt so loved and safe.

"the real question is," you suddenly asked, "how are you so perfect? were you made in a factory or something?"

"says you," he laughed, holding you tighter.

the two of you basked in the love you had for one another for a while. no words were exchanged, only him occasionally rubbing his thumb against your arm, while you began to doze off, which caught his attention.

"want me to turn the light off?"

you nodded, wrapping your arm around his stomach.

he turned over once more, pulling the cord of the lamp light, the room now pitch black.

"i love you," he whispered, turning to his side a little more so he could be pressed closer against you.

"i love you too, mike. always," you mumbled back, the two of you drifting off to sleep.

₊˚⊹:˚｡⋆₊୨୧₊˚⊹:˚｡⋆₊

dividers by @f-loqweres 🫶

#josh hutcherson #mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt x gn!reader #mike schmidt x you #mike schmidt x y/n #mike schmidt #mike schmidt x reader fluff #fluff #mike schmidt x gn!reader fluff #comfort fanfic #comfort fluff #comfort #lovers #self love #jhutch #fanfiction #fanfic

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

Steddie Upside-Down AU Part 63

Part 1 Part 62

It’s sudden; the way there are warm hands clutching at Steve’s arms hard enough to hurt. He opens his eyes. Will and Eddie are hovering over him. Will looks sad, but Eddie looks furious, one wrong move away from snapping Steve’s neck in some sort of mercy killing move.

He thinks he’s back, for just a second. Just like that time in Will’s bedroom, when everything had snapped back into place with these two staring up at him with very similar expressions crowding their faces.

But the sky’s still red, those same shadows cutting through his room. “No, no, no no no,” Steve whispers. He wraps his hand around forearms and yanks them both forward, away from that thing outside. “Not you, too!”

Will comes willingly, docilely falling into Steve’s side where he’s huddled into his closet, letting hanging sleeves drape in front of him, obscuring his view from the window.

Eddie resists, turning to stare up and out the window. “Stevie,” he says flatly, not looking over at him at all. “What is that thing.” He says it flatly, no intonation at all because they both already know.

“The spider!” Steve says, clutching desperately at Eddie’s leg, as he crawls out of the closet. “Don’t go out there.”

Eddie stops and turns. Steve scooches forward to keep his hold on Eddie’s calf as he looks back at Steve. He looks so incredulous he’s almost smiling. “That is not a fucking spider, Steve.” He snaps the whole sentence, barking it in Steve’s face until he shrinks back.

Eddie stops, holds up his empty hands as if that’s a comfort at all right now. “Sorry, Stevie,” he says, a little chuckle running through his words, even though nothing is funny at all. “I’m just not sure how we’re gonna squash that thing.”

Will lets out a high-pitched giggle before slapping his hand over his mouth. The kid. Why the hell is the kid back here? Why are any of them? But, Will? The fucking kid?

Eddie starts crawling forward again. Steve desperately snatches his ankle in his palm, holds firm. “Don’t go out there,” he demands.

Eddie reaches back, pries his fingers gently off his ankle, takes his hand and looks back at him again. “I won’t. I’m just going to get a look, okay?” he says, like he’s consoling a puppy he’s abandoning at the mill. “Promise.”

He squeezes his hand once, smiling that soft, pained smile that means everything isn’t okay, but he wants to convince Steve that it will be. Then he let’s go.

Eddie Munson disappears. He didn’t move fast enough to get out of the room. He, he didn’t dissolve in front of their eyes. Steve didn’t even blink. No, Eddie’s just there, and then gone.

Steve hiccups, crawling forward into where he used to be, Will tucked into his side. Like if he’ll be able to see where Eddie’s gone – sleuth some clues over what happened. But there’s nothing.

There and then gone.

“Steve?” Will says, quiet.

Steve huddles back into the closet, turns to Will. He’s crying, face expressionless as the tears slip down and drop onto the tan pants of his costume. And seeing him like that drives it all home. How young Will is, how fun the night was supposed to be. How he’s here, again.

“What happened?”

Will’s voice breaks, even as he stares up at Steve with a vacant expression. It’s too much, being here again, watching Eddie disappear before his eyes. He’s just a kid.

Steve swallows. “I don’t know, bud,” Steve chokes out, smiling down at him as the tears finally pool over his lash line and cascade down his cheeks. “But we’ll figure it out, okay?”

Will reaches up, wiping the tears off Steve’s face with his small hands, even as new ones fall to replace them.

It’s a tender moment at the end of the world, even if Steve’s heart is shattered into too many pieces, floating away with all the ash in the air.

God, what the fuck are they supposed to do?

Steve doesn’t know. So, he pulls Will to his side and stares at the spot Eddie was. There should be a stain on the carpet; blood, or ash, or a shadow spilled deep enough in the carpet that it’ll never get out.

There’s nothing at all.

Then, the shadows slanting across the room move. They grow larger, blocking out the red light of the sun until the whole room is bathed in black as the giant spider whatever that thing is outside lumbers silently toward them. Night falls on the Upside-Down for the first time.

“Steve?” Will asks, clutching onto Steve’s arm tightly enough to bruise.

“It’s okay,” Steve says, clutching right back.

He closes his eyes.

Pain blooms, bright and vicious against his face, sudden enough to send his head reeling to the side.

There’s light filtering in through his closed lids. He can see it the way you can when you wake up in the early dawn hours and know what your alarm is goingalarm’s going to say before you open your eyes to look.

And it’s warm. It’s flooding through him, lighting up his deadened blood vessels. It’s so warm, it hurts. Or maybe, he was so cold that the absence of it hurts.

“Stevie?”

His eyes shoot open because he knows that voice better than he knows his own. He opens his eyes, to Eddie Munson crouched in front of him, eyes so wide Steve could fall in.

Carol’s kneeling beside him, hand raised, like she was about to slap him. Or already had by the stinging in his cheek.

He doesn’t remember Will until the kid is crawling out of the closet and lunging at where Jonathan’s hovering by Steve’s desk. The brothers collide, hugging tightly. It’s like the seal is broken.

“What the fuck, Harrington?” Carol demands, curling her open palm into a fist like she’s going to punch him this time.

Steve pays her no mind. He lunges out of the closet, slamming into Eddie hard enough to send him tumbling onto his ass. Steve doesn’t care. His knees are bracketing Eddie’s hips as he tries to crawl inside his ribcage, fingers scrabbling at his back to try to pull him closer.

Eddie’s hand sinks into Steve’s hair, pulling hard enough to hurt. Steve leans into it like a dog starved for affection.

“It’s okay,” Eddie says, pulling him forward by the strands of his hair until Steve’s forehead is smushed into Eddie’s sternum. “I’ve got you, baby. I’ve got you.”

There are voices yelling all around them while Steve and Eddie sit, untouched at the center. Questions are asked and unanswered as Steve presses his face into the crook of Eddie’s neck hard enough to hurt, breathing deeply. Eddie smells like weed, and ash and a little like sweat.

Steve’s right where he needs to be. He holds on just that little bit tighter.

Part 64

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#steve harrington #steddie #eddie munson #my fic #steddie upsidedown au