#if they’re not miserable I don’t want em | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lighteyed · 3 months

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it's no big surprise you turned out this way

steve harrington x fem mayfield!reader

[3.7k] steve comes over for family dinner. it is absolutely not your idea.

disclaimer- no mention of blood relation to max, no physical descriptors of reader, they are sisters in any way you want them to be. trigger warning for shitty parents and billy h*rgrove. this is not a billy safe space.

dividers by @saradika-graphics and @cafekitsune

thanks for reading if you do <3 enjoy teehee

You drop a kiss on Steve’s head in greeting, which he accepts with a thrilled, in-a-new-relationship, glowing smile, before dropping down beside him and subsequently dropping your news, or rather, your request that’s not really your request, on him. “Neil wants you to come over for dinner.” You tense at the utterance of your stepfather’s name, even if it’s your own mouth doing the uttering.

His smile dissipates. Only a little, but enough for you to wring your hands together. You want to scoop all the words you’d just said back out from his ears and spoon them into your mouth again. Make him forget it’d ever happened. “Like, like family dinner?” He asks. He can’t fathom a world where he sits placid across the table from Billy Hargrove and passes him the salt respectably and doesn’t end the night with his fist colliding with his face (regardless of the outcome).

“No, it’d just be you and him, he’s dying to take you out on a date,” you deadpan in response, shaking your head. Steve rolls his eyes, no malice intended. “Obviously family dinner, Steve. You, me, Max, my mom, Neil… Billy.” You force out the final name. He swears he hears your teeth grinding as you say it.

“Don’t get grouchy on me.” He reaches over and smooths out the upset crease between your brows. Your shoulders relax in response. You’re always so wound up he’s made it his mission to give you that ease he knows you crave. He’s quite good at it, on days where he can steal you away and keep your mind occupied with the lovelier things in life. But there are some things he can’t spare you from, as much as he tries.

Really, he can only keep you out of that house for so long before your family starts demanding their 17-year-old back.

For the most part you keep away. Max roams the new mall all day with her friends now that June’s here and summer’s entered Hawkins in full swing, and you drive them there with your mom’s car if she doesn’t need it for the day, or Steve drives you all there and then home again if he’s not at work already that morning. If he has work you loiter in Scoops the entire day, lugging a stack of books acquired from the library and settling in a corner booth, popping your head up once in awhile to check on him and his misery in his new position in that ridiculous uniform. You brighten his days just as much as he brightens yours. And he really, really does. (And you like the uniform, as silly as it is, for the record).

“’M not grumpy,” you deflate, pressing your forehead into his shoulder. He rubs your back in a nice, soothing way when you lean into him. Ever since he asked you out he’s been taking every excuse to touch you and you’re not complaining in the slightest. He has the softest hands you’ve ever held and they’re perpetually gentle and kind. All the love in the world encased in the hands of some boy from Hawkins, Indiana, a place you never expected to find a home in, let alone find a boy. The boy, if you thought about it long enough. Early days to be thinking about it but you did think about it. Often. For hours. You sigh quietly. “I can tell ‘em you’re busy, you don’t have to come.”

“Max knows I’m not busy,” he points out.

“She doesn’t wanna be there, either. Look, I’ll just say you can’t come-“

“But I can.”

You lift back up, wary, but hopeful. A new flower poking its petals up from the earth, tilting right toward the sun. “I don’t wanna make you miserable.”

“That’s stupid,” he scoffs. He kisses your head this time, the perfumy scent of your shampoo fogging his brain up in a nice, lovey haze. “How could you make me miserable? You’re like, the best thing I’ve ever had, by a mile.”

You smile in spite of your gloomy mood. “The fuckin’ Hargroves have an innate knack for misery.”

“It’s a good thing you’re not a Hargrove then, hm, Mayfield?” He brushes your hair away from your face and takes your chin in his hand, angling your face up properly to meet his, and he kisses you like he well and truly means it, firm and adoring. You can feel his grin seared into your mouth when you pull away, in spite of your reluctance and Steve’s attempts to pull you back in.

. “You really wanna come? It won’t be fun. It’ll probably be shitty, actually.” You ask him in a tiny, hesitant voice, too overcompensating to someone who do anything you asked of him. Having Steve there sounds better than not having him there, and better than having to explain why he’s chosen not to come, but you know it’ll be weird. Worse than weird. After what happened back in November, him and Billy go out of their way to ignore one another, and it’s so deliberate it sucks the air out of a room. And even with that, Billy still makes it a point to direct snide remarks to you about Steve every chance he gets: alone, in front of Max, in front of your parents, in front of Steve himself while pretending he’s not there. And it’s gotten worse since you admitted to your mother in confidence that you and Steve were together now, and she told Neil, and Neil told Billy. But there’s no running from being at the same dinner table as him. You know you’re asking a lot. You wouldn’t be asking if Neil hadn’t insisted. In a loud, pointed voice, with a stare that unnerved you. You’d agreed to it hurriedly after that.

“Well,” Steve leans back, playful, “want to is a bit of a stretch but I can make an exception for ya-“

“Steve-“ you groan, pushing his chest, but he laughs, pushing himself back forward, smacking another loud kiss on your mouth.

“Kidding, I’m kidding, c’mere,” his fingers grip your waist feather-light, tickling, as he laughs, and you can’t help but laugh too through your head shakes and faux-exasperated sighs.

“I’m really asking you if you want to, I know it’s a lot asking you to make nice with Billy.” You interlace your fingers with his and he places them on your lap, all big brown eyes blinking up at you affectionately. You’re a sucker for his eyes. You can tell what he’s going to say before he says it.

“Nothin’s too much for you,” he says in his sweet, low voice, another kiss pressed to your cheek, his stamp of agreeance left blazing there on your cheek.

Late into the next day he arrives on 4819 Cherry Lane, as he has so many times before, but he parks right in front and gets out this time. He doesn’t sit by the wheel waiting for you to come running out, sometimes with Max in toe, usually by yourself, breathless and beaming, ready for him to whisk you away as fast as he can without breaking a million laws. He knows it’s not the gentlemanly thing to do, having a girl come to the car by herself instead of going up and ringing her bell, and normally he would, but you insisted he didn’t, not wanting to draw attention to yourself or him, and you were already waiting outside on the front steps when he got there most of the time, anyway.

And this time, too, you get the door before he can ring the bell, almost ripping it off the hinges when you throw it open to greet him.

“Thank God,” you mutter. You go to take his hand but remembers yours is sweaty and pull back. The sweater you’re wearing is pretty, complements your eyes and complexion and your everything, and your hair is down and soft-looking. He’d run his hands through it in other circumstances. “It’s not too late to make a break for it,” you lead him into the house quietly, throwing your head back and casting a dark look down the hallway. “Just say the words and we can flee, I won’t blame you.” He’s dressed so nicely, and you don’t even have the time to properly admire him. He did his hair all perfect (he always does but you can tell he put a little extra sparkle into it tonight), he’s in his nicest jeans that mold against his legs slim and fit, his sweater is a navy blue and it’s such a good color on him you might cry. You can see effort written in everything he does, tonight especially. His desire to make a good impression rings in your heart. You want to regard him warmly and turn your gaze on him with the utmost veneration but your skin buzzes with anxiety and it feels like one large, domineering fist is clamped around your intestines.

“It’ll be fine,” he says, squeezing your hand. He doesn’t even notice that it’s sweaty, though your anxiety is palpable and he amps up his happy exterior to balance you out. He’s probably just as nervous as you are, deep down. “Parents love me.” It’s an insistent sentence. “And I’m gonna turn on my charm.” He makes a clicking sound with his mouth and snaps his fingers around a little. You stare at him, blank. Neil is rumbling around somewhere in the distance and for the time being you are utterly immune to Steve’s banter.

Not completely, but enough. “I don’t know if that’s the kinda charm we need here,” you pat his shoulder.

“But it can’t hurt,” he points out with a raised eyebrow, pointing a finger gun at you.

“Oh, it can hurt alright.” You steer him into the living room anyway. “Steve is here.”

You announce it to the open air, waiting to see who comes when you call. Your mom, immediately, rushes out of the kitchen to greet him. She’s never met one of your boyfriends before. Her greeting is enthusiastic, to say the least. And she’s a hugger. It’s nice, actually, Steve thinks, no matter how embarrassed and nervous you are, to be embraced kindly by a mother. It’s familiar, like some distant dream from a faraway past. You have your qualms with Susan, he knows that, but he knows you love her hard, and that’s why you take so much issue with the way she lets herself be treated. It’s difficult to watch you grapple with all of this, all of the time.

“It’s so nice to meet you, Steve, or Steven? Whatever you want,” she rubs his back as she takes him into the kitchen alongside you.

“Steve is great, thank you, Mrs. May-“ he clears his throat, “Mrs. Hargrove, I mean.“ It’s hard to reconcile this woman in front of him with the domineering men bearing that same last name. It’s hard to distinguish her as anything but another piece of you and Max. A good piece.

“The girls talk about you all the time,” Susan says, still smiling.

“I do not,” Max huffs as she comes out of her room, abashed. She’s in a nice outfit, too. Not as dressed down as she usually is. She tugs at her tied back hair like it hurts.

“Ma, how tight did you do her hair?” You ask, beckoning Max over.

“It pops out of every scrunchie!” Susan says, patting her on the head with such clear affection it makes Steve ache a little.

“Maxie.” You open your arms for her. She stands in front of you obediently as you loosen the hold her hair ties have on her unruly locks, smoothing them out nicely as you tie it back up again, looser.

Everything’s so nice and homey that the shift in the atmosphere is almost imperceptible when a door creaks open a bit away from you four. But it’s there. He sees you draw back into yourself, your smile, at him talking to your mom and being so sweet, at Max, at the normalcy of this moment, sliding right off your face as Neil walks into the room. You’d almost forgotten him. You could’ve stayed in a bubble with your mom and sister and beautiful boyfriend forever. But Neil comes out from the hallway, from Billy’s bedroom, and Billy follows behind, fully clothed for once, his shirt buttoned all the way up his chest, his expression dark and cloudy. His jaw is tight as his gaze fixes on Steve.

But Steve, so gracious, sticks his hand out to shake Neil’s, smiling like Neil’s spawn isn’t the worst person Steve’s ever encountered as he introduces himself. “Nice to meet you, sir. Steve Harrington.” He keeps his mouth upturned sweet and polite even when Billy snorts in the background. He doesn’t even look in his direction.

“Nice to meet you, too, Steven.” Neil’s handshake is more like a clenched fist. You stare at their clasped hands like you want to commit murder. Steven.

“Steve, not Steven,” you mutter. Max touches your arm in warning before Steve can. You can’t help it. If there’s anyone you’re defensive over besides her, it’s him.

“Steven’s fine,” he chimes in, keeping that same old good-natured Steve smile on his face. He’s too appeasing and Neil has never deserved it. He rolls his shoulders back and talks to himself in his head. Just one night. For her, for her, for her.

“It’s the name your parents gave you, of course it’s fine,” Neil claps him on the back, and you know he doesn’t mean anything by it but you and Steve both flinch. From the words and the tap alike. Neil ignores your remark completely as he continues to talk to Steve in a way that makes your skin crawl. He brings Steve over to the dining room table and the rest of you follow suit, settling in around each other. You make sure you sit next to Steve, but you second-guess it when Billy takes the straight across from him. Neil drones on. “Y’know, it’s interesting how all this time, you’ve been driving the girls around for months now, but this is the first time we’re meeting.”

Steve checks on you out of the corner of his eye. Your jaw ticks. He squeezes your knee but before he can answer, you do it for him. “He’s been busy, that’s all.”

Neil looks toward you. For once. It is not a pleasant look. “For months?” He tucks his hands under his chin.

“I know you don’t like having strangers in the house after you work,” you say, placating in a way that turns your stomach.

“That’s true,” Neil says. “Billy doesn’t seem to get the memo on that, so I’m glad someone in this house is paying attention.” The degradation of Billy at the dinner table is nothing new. And you feel bad about it. You’d feel worse if he wasn’t so nasty and hateful to everyone because of it. Neil had run into Billy’s latest flavor, Miranda Brady from your Calculus class, while she was rummaging through the fridge the other night, and he hadn’t been happy. He was polite to her until she’d been hurried out the door by Billy, and then he’d reamed into him in colorful, awful ways. Max and Susan both hadn’t been home, but it was one of those nights where you had been, and you’d lingered by your bedroom door awkwardly, making sure it didn’t get too out of hand. You weren’t sure either of them even knew you were there. Accepting the praise seems wrong. You nod stiffly.

Billy, however, turns his gaze on Steve, the first acknowledgement he’s gotten in months. “Say, Harrington, you used to be quite the ladies’ man yourself, yeah?” A sick grin creeps up on his face. Steve sees your hand tighten around your fork. You’ve barely shoveled your pasta into your mouth. Max gapes at her stepbrother, her mouth still full of food.

Steve clears his throat. “I had a steady girlfriend for about a year, actually. I’m sure you remember that.”

“Yeah, but I mean,” Billy rocks his chair back. “That’s not what they were calling you King Steve for, is it?”

You lurch forward. Steve drops his hand over your knee again. “I think it was because of the whole captain of the basketball team thing. Or the captain of the swim team thing, I can’t remember when it started. Youngest captain the Tigers had seen in a decade, actually, when I got it sophomore year.” Steve grins again and the cocky charm he possesses but hardly uses much anymore comes out to play, just for a bit. You settle down again. You eat what’s in front of you, calmly. You hear Max gulp down her own food across the table. It’s almost cartoonish.

“Max, chew first,” Susan admonishes gently.

“I am,” she retorts, but she’s inhaling everything in front of her.

Billy cuts in. “See, that’s interesting, I thought it was because you hooked up with a lot of girls. Like half the class.”

Steve doesn’t even blink. He takes a sip of his water. “I don’t know what you’re referring to.”

“Are you trying to upset your sister?” Neil asks him with raised eyebrows.

He goes quiet again, hardened. “No.”

“It seems like you’re trying to.”

His jaw ticks this time. “I’m not.”

“Do you remember what I said to you? About a half hour ago?”

His jaw ticks again. His eyes meet Steve’s over the table. Steve feels the merest twitch of embarrassment for him. He knows all too well what it’s like to have a dad who takes a weird sort of pleasure in berating his son. “Yes, I remember.”

You stare down at your plate, pinching the skin of your palm.

“If you remember so well, then you should stop talking.”

Billy stops talking. Neil turns to Steve again. “So, captain of two athletic teams, that’s impressive. I’m sure your college plans are impressive as well.”

Steve stutters in his answer and you hold your head aloft in your hands, suppressing a groan. Max finishes her food so fast, she’s excused from the table and gone within minutes of that conversation starting. You nearly fall out of your chair in your attempt to kick her shin under the table. She holds her hands up in her retreat while nobody’s looking, mouthing that she’s sorry at you and running away into your shared bedroom. You suppress a groan again.

Outside, after another grueling hour of Neil dominating the conversation and making dinner unenjoyable for everyone, you walk Steve to his car, fiddling with your hands again. He props himself up against his window and wrestles you out of the knot you’re in.

“That sucked, I’m sorry,” you say, knocking your foreheads together, your mouth drawn in a thin, perturbed line.

“It was fine, you’re fine,” he whispers the last bit. That’s what you’re more worried about, after all. You’re worried he’s mad, planning to leave you for someone with a more normal family, people who are warmer, someone capable of being warmer. You’re plenty warm around him, but you suppose you could be better. You start running over all the things you could do better and all the ways he could do better in your head. “Stop thinkin’ so much. Everything’s okay.” He nudges your foot with his.

“No, I know, it’s just, it’s awkward, it’s not fun, shitty way to spend your night, shitty way for anyone to spend a night.”

“It’s okay. It was good. I was good, wasn’t I?” He kisses your palm where you’d pinched it earlier.

“You were great, you’re always great.” You stroke his cheek, lingering on his lips for a second. “You look really nice, by the way.” You’d almost forgotten to tell him. “I like this color on you.” You smooth over and down his arms.

“Yeah?” He grins, lopsided, tilting his head.

“Looks good with your hair.” You reach up to tug on the strand that hangs down like an art form over his forehead. You’re the only one he lets play around about his hair.

“You look beautiful, too, for the record.”

“I was trying to make this about you.” You poke him.

“I like when things are about you.” He pokes you back.

“I hate when things are about me.”

“Yeah, I’m trying to fix that.”

You chuckle. “Good luck.”

He gestures back to your house. “I’m makin’ progress here. I think I get you a little bit better now, after all that.”

“And what exactly do you get?” You wrap your arms around his waist.

“Why you’re always so tense and grumpy.” He cups your cheeks like he’s holding the most delicate thing ever to be held.

“I’m not grumpy-“

“Just tense, then.”

You accept that, begrudgingly. “I’m pretty on edge most of the time, I guess.”

“I try to talk you out of it,” he says softly, stroking your face.

“You’re the best, I hope you know that.”

“I try,” he says again, and you nod. “It’s not easy. Night after night.”

“It’s not.” You bunch up his sweater.

“I get it, you know? They’re not here as often as yours, but I get it.”

“Dinner with yours next time?”

“Yeah fucking right.” He kisses you for it, though, because you mean it, you’d have dinner with them if he asked just like he did because you asked, a long and languid kiss that he hopes no one’s shifting around the curtains to be privy to. He withdraws first and says, “Your mom is sweet, I’d have dinner with her again.”

“I’ll let you know when she’s free, take her out, show her a good time,” you tease.

“If she’s anything like you I’m a goner,” he laments.

“You’re a flirt, is what you are.”

You kiss him again, beaming, heart swollen with affection.

When you go back inside and Susan tells you how wonderful and handsome she thought Steve was, how good he seemed for you, that rush flows through you all over again. You even bring her in for a hug.

thank u for reading ur super hot n sexy n we're kissing rn

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington x mayfield!reader #mayfieldreaderverse #look at me finishing a wip

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trashmouth-richie · 1 year

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eddie x fem! reader

masterlist

w/c 7.8k

summary: things heat up in more ways than one for the roommates, thanksgiving makes everyone thankful.

warnings: NO MINORS, language, fighting, mentions of child neglect, mentions of murder

a/n: thank you to my beta readers: @jo-harrington @sweetsweetjellybean pls check out their work they are both so amazingly talented 🩵 thank you to @blueywrites for screaming with me on certain parts of this story + @fracturedarkness for helping me plan future parts for this series.

again— I’m no longer doing a tag list for this series— this week as really opened my eyes to a bunch of shit in this world and I’m fucking pissed off about it.

“Do you think it’s enough food? Last year Mike ate all the mashed potatoes so I’m just hoping there is enough for everyone.”

The holidays were always a stressful time for most people, housewives stressing over meal planning, guest lists and matching outfits for their Christmas cards—ones that coordinated well and hid the fact that they were miserable with their lazy, limp dick husbands. Poor Nancy fell into that category all too well.

She’s walking circles around her dining room table, counting the dishes on her fingers. Ham, turkey, cheesy potatoes, mashed potatoes, sweet potato casserole, corn, green bean casserole, a relish tray, strawberry fluff, gravy, two pumpkin pies, two pecan pies, a jello mold, two dozen caramel Rice Krispie bars, a pan of iced banana bars, and one can of jellied cranberry sauce on a crystal plate.

When Nancy asked you to join the Wheeler/Byers/Hopper’s gang for thanksgiving this year, you quickly accepted the invitation, asking if there was anything you could bring. She requested you bring the dessert. So the night before Thanksgiving, you started the tedious task of keeping Eddie from eating all the icing and caramel.

“Eddie! Have you seen the caramels I just bought? They were on the counter next to the flour canister.”

“Nope! Haven’t theen ‘em,” he answers all too quickly, “you thur you bought ‘em?”

“Yes I’m su—,”

Goddamn him.

Walking into the living room you approach the metal head, splayed out on the couch, fingers shoved in his mouth picking at his teeth, “oh Eddie?”

“Mhmm?” He hums, innocently, looking at you with big doe eyes.

“You wouldn’t happen to have caramel stuck in your teeth, the same caramel I bought and said, ‘please don’t eat these they’re for the Rice Krispie bars,’ would you?”

Rose colors his cheeks, “what? Me? Not listening? Ok O’Donnell,” he says with a scoff.

“Eddie,” you say sternly, hip thrown out and arms crossed over your chest.

“Ok! Fine! They were just so fucking good! But I’m dying right now— my teeth feel practically glued together— do we have any floss?!”

“Nance, I think there is more than enough here, you and Jonathan will have leftovers for weeks, months possibly.”

Fretting, Nancy wipes her fidgeting hands on her apron, “I just want it to be perfect— you know how I am.”

Type A, that’s how she was.

“It’ll be perfect, Nancy,” Jonathan agrees, coming up behind her and holding her around her small waist, “just like you.”

Scarlet heat accentuates her rouged cheeks. “Ok ok, no kissing the cook just yet,” she says, peeling herself from Jonathan’s arms, “can you and Argyle set the card table up in the basement?”

The turkey almost melted like butter on your tongue, the gravy was rich and savory. Karen’s cheesy potatoes were creamy and the crunchy cornflakes on top were to die for; the entire meal was delicious. The labor of Nancy’s love for her family and friends showing through her craftsmanship of amazing cuisine. You hadn’t seen Karen or Ted since the wedding, being the closest thing to parents you had, you were ecstatic when Karen joined you over the hot water and soapy sink, washing the china plates.

“So sweety, how have things been going lately? Nancy said you have a roommate?” Her tight blonde permed curls shaking behind her as she scrubs the pot used to make the gravy.

Drying the freshly rinsed dish, you answer with a coy smile on your face, “I’ve been good, doing better than I have in a while, yeah, I have a roommate, uhh Eddie Munson.”

“Oh Mike’s friend? He always was so kind to him, taking him under his wing and showing him the ropes in high school,” she looks at you then, her lavender eyeshadow catching the light over the sink, “I’m happy you two are dating.”

Dating.

Dating Eddie Munson.

Scenarios fly through your mind, Eddie holding your hand at the movie theater, him behind you—his chin resting on your shoulder helping you play video games at Arcade Land, watching him write songs and play his guitar, kissing his lips sweetly, deeply— moving down his neck, his chest. His fingers on your thighs—

You’re sweating.

Head dizzy and full of visions of you loving Eddie and Eddie loving you back dance in your head.

“W-we’re not dating, just—”

How would you describe your relationship with Eddie? Roommates? Friends? Waiting for him to kiss you?

“—friends,” you say, enunciating the word slowly, rolling it off your tongue.

“Well,” Karen says, a hidden smile on her knowing lips, “I’m happy you two are just friends.”

Friends.

Such a complicated word. Because you and Eddie were more than that, but definitely not dating. The tension between you was electric, and sometimes jarring, but you went to bed thinking of him every night, hoping he would just open the door to your room, slip beneath the sheets and hold you while you dreamed.

[Two weeks prior]

The morning after you had comforted him, you woke up alone— his side of the bed still warm as if he had just gotten up. Sleeping so soundly you weren’t sure what day it was, or the time. The alarm clock on your night stand said 7 o’clock but that couldn’t be right. You and Eddie had both slept for over twelve hours, the comforting kind of sleep that lulls babies to sleep, gentle, sweet, pillowy dreams in one another’s arms. Getting dressed for work, you slip a pair of jeans on, and change into a long navy blue cardigan, headband to match. Lacing up your converse, you open your bedroom door.

Eddie’s in his room getting dressed for work when you find him. Knocking on the opened door gently, you poke your head in, his eyes lift and meet yours, a sleepy, coy grin colors his face, but it doesn’t meet his eyes.

“Hey,” he whispers softly, stopping mid button on his work coveralls.

The black bandana around his head presses his bangs nearly flat, the soft waves of his chocolate dipped curls reflect the sun light with a honey oranged hue.

“Hi,” your voice is small and meek.

An overwhelming feeling of dread* clouds your mind. Where would this new found friendship and comfort lead you both? Maybe Eddie was regretting the entire night. You haven’t been on this comfort level with someone you were physically attracted to ever. Steve was like a brother to you. And Chad— you were never comfortable with him, your skin crawling just thinking of it. But Eddie? The sight of him gave you butterflies, his arms holding your waist while you slept was an intimacy you haven’t experienced before, and you wanted to relish in the feeling of it.

He fiddles with his rings on his fingers, rolling them around and around before his mouth opens to speak, “I’m sorry for yesterday,” he blurts out, looking down in shame, unable to meet your curious eyes.

Barely comprehending that he’s apologizing for being vulnerable, you walk towards him slowly. He notices your staggering steps and inches backward. His walls are back up, caged in with his feelings, barbed wire on the top so you couldn’t find a way in, electric fence surrounding the brick walls—the highest voltage imaginable.

“Ed—”

“Please,” he begs, voice cracked and broken, wavering on another breakdown, “please don’t… I don’t need your sympathy.”

Tears well in your eyes at his recoiling. How can a night of comfort turn into despair and hostility the next morning? Nose burning, signaling your brain that tears would be falling any second, you wipe your eyes hastily.

Eddie felt like his neck was out, exposed to the world, waiting for the guillotine’s blade to slice his skin, until the crimson of his blood spilled in the basket, severing his head, a trophy amongst the weak.

Munson’s didn’t accept charity, his whole life that's what he felt like to Wayne, a charity case, a goddamn roadblock in Wayne’s life stopping him from finding a girlfriend, sleeping on a real bed, forcing him to work overnight just for Eddie— he’d never forgive himself for the pain he’s caused him— and now you? Offering your bed to him, your fingers twirling through his hair as he came undone. Whimpering like an infant, coating your thighs with thick tears. Sure it felt nice to have someone there with him, to reassure him it was all going to be okay, sweet, angelic voice of reason. But when he woke this morning he felt disgusting, like a predator, a vicious wolf preying on a sweet innocent lamb offering herself to him because he was upset.

He didn’t want that for you. He didn’t want to taint your soul with his past.

“I’m not giving my sympathy,” you voiced into the void, whether he heard it or not you weren’t sure.

Eddie breathing heavily, trying to contain his emotions from spilling out of him, “good, because I don’t want it.”

He walks around you in a huff, the muted scent of cigarettes and cologne hit your nose, as he passes you and walks into the bathroom, shutting the door all too hard. Following him, you’re certain you are full fledged crazy at this point, like in a scary movie when the lead actress stays in the house instead of running away.

Opening the door, opening Pandora’s box, you push it til it swings wide, he’s hovering over the sink brushing his teeth, white and blue toothpaste decorate the corners of his mouth.

“Tooty,” he groans, spitting a dollop of toothpaste into the sink, “seriously— I don’t want to talk about it, whatever you have to say save it for the human Care Bear Harrington—I don’t want to hear it.” he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

Stones would be impressed with how still you’re standing, head raised waiting for him to look you in your eye. Refusing to break. A storm in your eyes threatening to flood. “Why are you acting like this?”

“I’m not acting like anything,” Eddie grunts impatiently, “are you ready?”

When you don’t say anything, he moves you out of the way, large hands around your arms, stepping around you and going into the kitchen.

Following him, you won't let up, his head in the fridge he pulls out the orange juice carton, drinking directly from the jug, “Eddie, you can talk to me about it, I’m a good listener.”

He shakes his head and rolls his eyes, gasping for breath as he swallows the citrus liquid, “I said— I said, I didn’t want to talk about it and I meant it, I’m a grown ass man— ”

Interrupting him, not giving him time to finish you blurt, “Doesn’t make you less of one just because you’re upset.”

His teeth clench so hard they almost crack, his hands balled into fists at his sides, the orange juice container crumbling in his grasp. Years of therapy as a child did nothing to help him. And neither could you.

“Stop,” he snaps, his eyes pinched tight, a wave of fury washing over him, only seeing red. “Jesus Christ enough! I don’t need this shit right now, I’m gonna be late for work!”

He stomps towards the door, shoving his boots on haphazardly, throwing his leather jacket under his arm, the same leather jacket you had worn the night before, your perfume lingering on the inside.

The smell of you lighting his fire even more, he’s losing all self control.

“What’s your problem anyway?” he grumbles, kicking open the front door, waiting for you to follow. His eyes are wide and full of hurt, anger, crippling anxiety so deep he didn’t even know if he was breathing. But no matter how mad you looked, how many tears you kept wiping away from your lash line, he couldn’t stop.

Keys in the ignition he puts the van into reverse and yanks the wheel quickly, driving like he robbed a bank.

Anytime you try to speak he cuts you off.

“Do you like getting involved with people's lives? Why are you so desperate to know what happened? Need something to gossip about at the salon? So you and your boss can whisper shit about me again? Hmm? ”

“What the fuck are y—” you try to say, but he cuts you off again, he’s raging war on himself and on you, it’s far from over, no surrender flag in sight.

“That must be it right?” he preens, barely stopping at the stop lights as he flies to your work, tires squealing around corners, “I’m here because you need something to talk about, the well full of hot gossip of Hawkins must have run dry. Well guess what sweetheart? It’s not anything I haven’t heard before.”

He’s so clueless, so expertly out of sync with what you were trying to convey, what you were begging him to understand. The tears are free falling and you don’t stop them, screaming at him, “Eddie!”

“What?!” he barks back, chest heaving with hatred filled lungs and venomous words so toxic they’re burning your skin.

Aching soul and self doubt at an all time low you try to will the words to not shake as you deliver, “do you really think I would hold you while you were sad with any other intention than consoling you!? You were upset and the least I could do after you helped me was try to make you feel better!”

He tried to argue but it’s your turn to cut him off, holding up a hand as he fumed through his nose. He parks in back of the salon, slamming on the brakes as you both jolt forward. “Let it go, Too—”

“I care about you, you stubborn asshole!” You grab your purse between your feet and open the door and jump out.

“Just stop,” Eddie pleads, his eyes brimming with tears, “don’t.”

“I can’t,” you say back in a whisper, your voice breaking at the last syllable, you reach for the door, out of breath and holding in your sobs the best you can, “oh, and for the record— Josie was telling me to be nice to you and give you a chance— my mistake.”

Slamming the door you don’t hear him break, you don’t hear him thrust the heel of his hand into the steering wheel until it aches and burns. His nerves shooting pain through his entire arm. You don’t hear him scream and hate himself as he drives to work, his body soulless, empty, fragile.

“Tooty, are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” you tell Josie for the tenth time.

You definitely were not fine.

Distracted the minute you got to work, your mind raced with questions of the unknown. Hurt, confused and pissed off, you had mixed the wrong color formula for your clients hair, resulting in money down the drain from your own paycheck as you threw the mixture away and started it again, for the third attempt.

At 10 o’clock you were folding towels in the back when you realized you had bleached an entire load of darks. The once rich black towels were now faded with splotches of orange.

Eddie’s words had ripped through your heart, hurdling themselves into the deepest parts of you that were sheltered away from anyone, taking up solace in your forbidden soul, hollowing it out.

By noon you were crying while rolling a client's perm rods into her hair, having to step away multiple times before Josie gently told you enough was enough and that you should go home for the day.

Not wanting to call Eddie and get a ride you decided to walk the half mile through town back to your home on Cherry lane.

Kicking a rock with the toe of your shoe for most of the walk home, you mull over the events of the day. Wiping your eyes with the sleeve of your cardigan as you tread along the sidewalk.

[Thanksgiving Day]

“Are you sure you don’t want to come with me to Nancy and Jonathan’s? It’ll be fun!”

Eddie is leaned against the driver window of his van, his finger tracing a smiley face into the dust in the dash. “I wish I could, but Wayne and I go fishing every year on Thanksgiving— it’s a tradition.”

Every year since Eddie was ten years old, Wayne took him fishing on Thanksgiving, starting early in the morning and going until sundown, ending the night camping beneath the stars, cooking their daily catch for supper, “save me a piece of pie okay?” he finishes, ruffling up your hair, a shit eating grin on his lips.

Feeling horrible that your car was still out of commission, Eddie had let you borrow the van for the night after you dropped him off at Wayne’s. “And you’re positive it’s okay if I take the van?”

“Does a bear shit in the woods?” Eddie’s laugh spread across his cheeks, the black beanie he has on his head inching closer to falling off every second, “Tooty,” he breathes, his brown eyes dipping into yours, “take the goddamn van and have a good time—and hurry up, you’re gonna be late.”

[2 Weeks prior]

🎶 it was the third of June another sleepy dusty delta day

I was out choppin’ cotton and my brother was baling hay

Bobbie Jo’s tune was ringing in his ears all day— no matter how loud he cranked the radio in the shop, no matter how many times he tried to hum a different tune— her -* words rang through his mind like silk, coating his skin and implementing old memories he didn’t want brought up.

He was filled with fury. A ticking time bomb. It should have been no surprise when Sean and Aaron started poking at him, how unhinged he would become.

“What’s got your panties in a twist, Munson,” Sean sneers, changing the oil on the Ford truck, “your little girlfriend finally figure out you’re a fucking loser?”

Eddie had already thrown a wrench across the shop out of frustration when he realized he forgot his lunch. He slammed the hood of a blue minivan on his fingers right after morning break, and now Aaron and Sean were starting in on him.

His breath erratic, trying to breathe through his nose to calm himself down but failing. His misery over taking his nerves. He grunts through barred teeth, “We aren’t dating,”

Sean perks up at the news, his wiry mustache splattered across his top lip like a squashed caterpillar, decrepit and sparse. “Oh shit, so she’s single, huh?”

“Damn,” Aaron chimes in, his hands cupped around his junk as he shakes it back and forth between his greasy hands, “what I wouldn't give to be balls deep in that pretty little mouth, that’d shut her up for good.”

“You’re skating on thin ice, fuck rag, I’d watch my mouth if I were you.” Eddie’s shoulders are tensed, adrenaline at an all time high. Fight or flight screaming through his blood racing through his heart and speeding up his heart rate.

“Whatchya gonna do about it, freak?” Sean spits pushing Eddie in the chest, “ ‘Name the time and place’ yeah motherfucker? How about right here right now?” Standing toe to toe with Eddie, but a foot shorter he peers into Eddie’s face, egging him on.

“Ever since you moved in with that whore you’ve been such a little bitch about everything— I mean I get it, honestly— Chad always said she had the sweetest p—”

Sean chokes on the last word as Eddie’s fist connects with his cheek, his rings would end up leaving bruises in their shape on his skin for weeks to come.

Sean throws a punch at Eddie but he is quick to dodge it, years of fighting in the trailer park giving him an upper hand. Blood spews from Sean’s mouth as Eddie upper cuts him in the chin, his tongue almost split in half as he bit down from the impact.

Eddie is blinded momentarily as Aaron socks him in the eye, a deep purpling plum colored bruise that took weeks to heal. Stumbling backwards his back hits the red sun faded tool box, Sean came swinging a crow bar out of nowhere and hit Eddie in the ribs, a groaning thud as the sound of his bones shatter in his body.

Behind his back, he reaches for whatever is closest, a wrench wrapped tight in his fingers gets thrown in the air at Sean, hitting him in the throat and knocking him over onto the smooth concrete of the shop floor, gasping for breath.

Aaron tackles Eddie, sending him into the air compressor, four fists are swinging and bodies shifting as they both struggle for dominance. Eddie’s lip is cut and his eye is swollen almost shut. Aaron’s nose is dripping blood on Eddie’s shirt as he punches him in the same place that Sean hit him with the crow bar. He’s able to get a knee up between Aaron and himself and twists his body to get above him, and when he does he lays punch after punch into Aaron’s swollen bloody face.

With each rocking fist connecting with flesh, Eddie has one thing on his mind, you. He thinks about the foul way they had disrespected you. The way you had cried when you told him you couldn’t stop caring about him. How he was close to losing you because he couldn’t open up and let you in. How terrified you must have been for all those years when you were scared and alone, nobody there to hold you and comfort you. And while he’s pummeling Aaron into a bloody pulp of cracked teeth and swollen eyes, it finally clicks for him.

The fight didn’t last long, but was effective enough to get Eddie suspended for the rest of the work day— and Aaron and Sean got a nice week's vacation with no pay.

Eddie’s knuckles are coated in a mixture of blood and spit. His jaw aches as he drives home with one eye open, it’s the clearest he’s seen in a long time.

[Thanksgiving]

“Fish ain’t bitin’ much are they?” Wayne and Eddie have both cast and reeled in their rods multiple times with zero luck. The small boat Eddie had gifted Wayne with for Christmas 3 years ago stood at still waters of Lover’s Lake, both men chilled to the bone.

“Nah, they sure aren’t. Probably no fish left in here after the summer you had.”

Since Eddie had graduated, Wayne dropped down to part time at the plant and went to dayshift. A true dream for him and for Eddie, offering to pick up most of the bills, a silent thank you for all the years that Wayne has taken care of him when he didn’t have to, but did anyway— the only caring person in his life, until you.

The wind whips through Eddie’s hair, tugging the curls out from the confinements of the cotton stocking cap snug on his head. The once crisp autumn foliage is soggy like forgotten cereal in a bowl of milk around them from the previous nights rain, chilling the usual humidity from the air and adding a depth of ice in their veins as they shake and shiver in their jackets, Eddie in his leather jacket, Wayne in a weathered faded khaki canvas coat.

Ruddy hands with silvered rings light two cigarettes, passing one to a pair of calloused, aged hands. Inhaling deeply and blowing warm smoke in the whispering winds of the quiet fog around them.

Wayne runs a rough hand over his sunned scalp, itching the small patches of hair left, as he readjusts his tattered cap, letting the nicotine settle into his bones and soothe the stubborn ache in his jaw, like ointment on an arthritic joint, “you ever gonna bring that girlfriend over to meet me or you keepin’ her alls to yourself?”

“What girl?” Eddie says quickly, coyly, blowing smoke into the space between the two of them, hiding his mouth with the curtain of his curls, opening the coffee can full of mud and worms, pushing another worm on the end of his hook.

Wayne hadn’t talked to him about girls since he was fifteen when he walked into his room and tossed a box of rubbers at his chest and grumbled, “use ‘em,” under his breath.

Irritation blooms against Wayne’s brows, “boy, don’t play dumb with me,” he cracks at Eddie, a false stern voice in his gruff voice, “the one you’re dating you little wise ass.”

“I’m not dating anyone, Wayne.” Eddie says, pretending to be preoccupied with the tackle box full of neon fishing lures and bobbers. He runs his thumb over the rough cracked surface of the faded red and white bobber, the same one Wayne gave to him when they started fishing all those years ago. The memory brings a smile to his face.

The gruff scoff from Wayne’s throat suggests bullshit to his ears from his nephew’s mouth, a noise Eddie has heard many many times in the two decades he had been living with Wayne, one that told him that he better tell the truth, and right the hell now. No matter that he now towers over Wayne, he’ll always be his boy, the wide eyed boy with a mountain of guilt on his shoulders, his son.

And as Wayne always knew— the more he poked and prodded, the more Eddie would clam up. They sit in comfortable silence, the slight breeze rippling the water on Lover’s Lake, rocking the small fiberglass boat and swaying the two Munson men gently.

How could he describe the relationship between you and him? Not dating, but hopefully more than friends. He didn’t have many friends that he’d willingly let help him battle his inner-most demons. In fact, Gareth and Jeff were still left in the dark about it. The breeze continues to grow frigid and burrows itself between the layers of his clothing, freezing his skin and peppering it with goose bumps. The chattering of Eddie’s teeth remind him of Steve’s birthday when he offered you his jacket, and opted to freeze the rest of the night just so you wouldn’t be chilly.

It’s simple really, he admitted it to Steve, but somehow admitting it to Wayne was worse than the hit from the box of condoms against his chest.

He says it all too fast, out of breath, and barely audible. But he says it. And a smile spreads across the weathered leather of Wayne’s face, pulling his mustache up, a glimmer of a sparkle in his eye, “see, now was that so bad?”

[2 weeks prior]

His knuckles ache, and he’s not positive if it’s from the blows to Aaron’s face or the way he’s gripping the steering wheel. His realization while busting open Aaron’s cheek made him eager to get home. Eager to clean himself up before he went to pick you up from work.

The house is silent as he walks through the garage, his angry hurtful words bounce back to him off the kitchen walls, the counter. The orange juice was still where he left it, crumpled and misshapen.

He truly was an asshole. Hurting the one person who cared for him other than Wayne. He sits down in a chair and unties his boots, blood splattered on the toes. Peeling the sweat stained work coveralls from his body, he tosses them down the steps to the basement, leaving them for later.

He stands partially naked in the kitchen, clad in only his underwear and socks, the kick of adrenaline wearing completely off, the promise of pain against his broken ribs rings searing heat through his body.

A glance around the kitchen stills the breath in his lungs. The kitchen is a wreck from the waffle night, the colossal beginning of a budding relationship that he was currently in the trenches hoping to fix. The once silky batter is now hard, pale concrete cemented onto the sides of the glass mixing bowl. The waffle iron was open, sprayed with cooking oil that was sitting with its cap off on the counter. The plates were sticky with cold syrup and now styrofoam resembled waffles, still on the table from where you had both sat. Forks and knives laying atop the ceramic plates in a haphazard way, awaiting the return of warm hands to finish their job.

Without thinking he starts to clean up, filling the sink with hot water, scraping the food from the plates into the garbage, putting away the orange juice and the left out butter and cooking spray. In no time the kitchen is sparkling and Eddie’s body is screaming at him to rest. The cuts on his knuckles are cleaned but swollen, soap stung from the water. His side aches, adrenaline slipping away with every growing minute.The pain is almost unbearable.

A clicking noise from the front door has him turning suddenly, a slight panic in his nerves as he stands stone still.

A block from the house, your tears return, cold, and stuck to your face like ice on poles. You’re exhausted, stomping the entire way home drove shin splints up your legs, the cold cramping dull in your calves. Thinking of Eddie the entire way home you are dumbfounded— completely and utterly confused at his reaction. How could he not know how you felt about him? Why was he begging you to stop? Wondering if you’ll ever get the answers to those questions you wipe your nose with the sleeve of your cardigan. If he was going to guard himself again, and put the barriers back up— so could you.

The door is stuck as you try to open it, pushing and shoving your shoulder into it, it finally gives, stumbling your way into the living room in the most ungraceful way. The scent of freshly wiped surfaces sting your nose and stop you dead in your tracks. You weren’t expecting to be relieved from seeing Eddie, but the relief is short lived as you notice the deep violet and indigo bruise painting his eye.

“Ed—,” you gasp, covering your mouth as you run towards him, foregoing the screaming in your legs, “wh— oh my God!”

His eyes melt at your appearance, scarlet rimmed eyes and wet cheeks take him in, eyebrows dipped into unease and apprehension. He feels your hesitancy, thick like fog surrounding you both as you reach your fingers up to his cheek. Ice cold pads of your fingertips skim the tender skin of his face, brushing the wispy hair of his bangs from his eyes with your fingertips to get a better look at him.

He doesn’t speak, barely breathing at your gentle touch on his face. The frosty coolness of your fingers burn his skin with every silky movement of your hands. He tries to avoid your eyes, avoid the pain he knew was from earlier and his cowardice.

Fingers dancing along his skin, you scan over his torso, the same way you did on the morning after Halloween, the bruising from the mishap of the steps is replaced by a pattern of splotchy deep bruising.

“They’re broke,’’ Eddie groans, his split lip ripping open, from him trying to force a smile, “looks cool though right?”

Using humor to deflect the true way he feels was an easy defense mechanism for him, but you won’t bite. Won’t take the bait he’s dropping into your waters, won’t nibble at his small offering.

Trying not to break, you stand your ground, “what happened?”

“Nothing that wasn’t deserved,” Eddie says, eyes casted downwards at your hands near his ribs, “I was just having a shitty enough day— my own fault—“, he adds quickly, his eyes flicking to yours, not wanting to put salt into the already festering wound he created, “I—uh—I took care of it.” He says in a final explanation.

“And now I’m going to take care of this,” he motions between you both, sliding his hands down your arms and settling them in your hands.

“Tooty— I,” he exhales as deep as his lungs will allow given the break in his ribs, spilling his stitched up heart to you, letting the walls fall with each word, “I’m sorry— I’m so fucking sorry. Nothing I do or say will ever amount to how shitty I feel for making you cry, for pushing you away. I’m a coward when it comes to this type of shit, and it was too heavy— too muddy for me to explain. I figured if I’d shut you out you’d go back to how it was before— before Harrington’s birthday, before Halloween befo—,”

A shake of your head and a sharp intake of breath come from your body. Did all of this mean nothing to him? The flirting, the gentle touching, the sweet gestures? It was all just something he wanted to forget?

Voice small and shallow, “Is that what you want Eddie? To go back to how it was before, when you first moved in?”

A single tear falls from your face, and without thinking, without second guessing himself or wondering if you would think he was being weird, Eddie is quick to brush it away with the curl of his forefinger. His swollen knuckles are tight and achy. He tries to hide a hiss from his teeth, wanting to live in this euphoric moment for as long as he can, as long as you will allow him to. He extends both hands now to your face, his rough thumbs rubbing over the expanse of your cheeks, fingers behind your ears, curling into your hair.

“I want,” he breathes easy now, as if the touch of your skin on his fingers mended his broken bones, his eyes soft where it allowed, one still swollen shut, “I need you to know that I care, too— and I don’t want you to ever quit caring about me— baby, I’ve cared about you for years—- and I can’t get myself to stop.”

And when a sob breaks from your chest, he pulls you into him, “c’mere,” the sensation steals the breath from your lungs, you’ve never been touched with such gentleness, such care. He’s holding you as if you’re glass. Fragile, cracked and held together with shitty Elmer’s glue that was a tempting snack for children. It’s so delicate the way he’s stroking your skin.

Minutes or hours pass you’re not sure. His warmth engulfs you, his musky cologne and spiced deodorant is a gentle blanket around you. Wrapping you in a swaddle of his admiration.

His hair tickles your cheeks, tattooed arms are twisted in your hair,and wrapped around your back. The shine of your tears coat his bare chest, his chin rests on top of yours breathing in your hair shushing you gently.

You spend the night working Eddie’s rings from his already swollen fingers, pressing ice packs to his bruises and spreading neosporin on his cut lip, rubbing it gently with the tip of your finger, Eddie giggles at the concentration on your face and the way your tongue is poked out.

He’s infatuated with the way you make him feel. His heart soaring higher and higher with each delicate touch of your fingers on his skin.

He’s up late that night, stomach full from your homemade chicken noodle soup and his heart even more full. Flying higher than cloud nine, your sweet face on his mind.

[Thanksgiving]

A sadistic voice echoes from your tv screen, “a little young for ya isn’t she Richie? BEEP BEEP RICHIE!”

Richie Tozier sips the Dixie cup of water, leaning against the bookcase in the Derry library, Pennywise continues his antics of torture as balloons drop from the ceiling, popping with blood spluttering on the library go-ers faces, oblivious to the fantasy nightmare Pennywise ensues.

The front door opens with a thud as a shriek and the popcorn bowl on your lap goes flying through the air. Eddie walks hurriedly through the door. A shivering spine of fear and realization hits you all at once. His boisterous laugh reverberates the living room walls as he picks popcorn from your hair, and places it in his mouth, a loud crunch between his teeth as he plops down next to you on the couch.

“Think you got your holidays mixed up, sweetheart— it’s Thanksgiving, Halloween was last month.”

Rolling your eyes you make a face to mock him, which only fuels his fire and has his cold fingers jabbing into your sides and tickling you so hard you scream out. Begging him to stop.

“Don’t!,” you squeal, holding your breath and giggling at his unrelenting tickling. He finally gives up after your face has gone red and your hair is a mess, laughing tears rolling down your cheeks.

Eddie sits back on the couch taking a huffing breath, a wild smile spreading from ear to ear, “that’s what you get for watching IT without me!”

Scoffing, you pick up the bowl of popcorn and the paled yellow crunchy kernels spilled on the ruby red throw blanket, “wait, weren’t you supposed to be camping with your uncle tonight?”

Eddie breathes out a sigh, bending at the waist to gather the kernels off the floor. The rest of the fishing trip with Wayne, Eddie spent it quieter than he had ever been, contemplating his next move, how could he show you that he was serious? How could he let you in? Show you his ugly past without scaring you, without you running for the hills? The answer was easy.

“I have something— somewhere I wanna show you,” he whispers, standing to his full height. Looking for the familiar mischievous glimmer in his eye, you are surprised by the genuine sparkle replacing it. His face his earnest, almost a look of doubt on his lips, scared of your reaction.

He peels the blanket from your lap and reaches down, his hand held out extended to yours, “come with me?”

The air is bitter. The driveway is glittering with a sequined frost, dancing with the shine of the street lights. Warm breath fills the inside of Eddie’s van as he slots the key into the ignition and fires it up, cranking the heat. Snuggling further into your knitted scarf, hiding the chill of your nose as Eddie backs down the driveway, heading out of town.

It doesn’t take long to get to where he was going, the drive in silence had you questioning what was going on in his mind. The path was overgrown, hidden from the road, hidden from anyone who didn’t know that it was there. The headlights of the van bob along with each sunken hole on the dirt drive. Jostling the van this way and that.

Nestled into thick trees past an old loose and corroded barbed wire fence, in place for property lines, sits a small house, paint chipped and barely visible. The roof was caved in by a large tree falling on it, the sagging porch still had bleached yellow crime scene tape hanging on by threads to the moss eaten pillar.

Eddie throws the van in park, sniffling slowly and looking around. “This uh,” he stutters, clearing his throat, “this is where I lived with my mom, my old man was in and out most of the time—drunk or in jail, I don’t remember him being here that much except the last time.”

Silence is golden, and you give him your undivided attention as he twists in his seat, bent knee leaning on the door frame.

“That,” he says pointing to the fallen tree in the back, “was an apple tree, apples this big around I swear,” he motions his hands in a circle, a chuckle in his throat, “we didn’t live here for very long, a year, or two maybe…”

His voice fades, and at first he second guesses bringing you here. He can imagine you piecing this puzzle of woe together, his life. The tragic tale of Eddie Munson, he didn’t spin a web of luxuries for you to pretend with him for a moment, a second, that he was anything other than what he was—but when your cotton gloved fingers slide into his, interlacing them—it gives him the courage, the resilience to continue.

“…I was six when it— when she was… he—,” he trails off, unable to finish, but it doesn’t take a genius to connect the dots. The abandoned house, the barely-there flicker of yellow tape, she wasn’t only dead— she was murdered, by his father’s hand.

Comprehending what he’s getting at, you can practically hear his heart breaking. Eyes never leaving his face, you take him in, his eyes are wet as he blinks back tears, using his other hand to pinch the inner corners of his eyes, and hide behind his hair, his face is ashen, once ruddy cheeks from when he came home and tickled you is now swallowed by stale ash, sucking the life from his eyes, his cheeks, his soul.

“.. right in front of me…” he hangs his head low, sniffing quietly, “Wayne took me in after that.”

Eddie and you were alike in more ways than you had thought, although your parents were still alive, they were equally absent from your life, much like Eddie’s parents. Sure you both had people who took care of you, and as sweet as the gesture was, it was never really the same. The aching torture of having to defend for yourself, put a brave face on for your temporary care takers so you don’t seem like a bother to them, so they won’t worry about the weight of taking you in— was all too familiar.

“Eddie,” you whisper softly, rubbing his hands with your thumbs.

Yearning and breaking for him, the cords of your heart reach to his, tethering them together as you slide over the center council, and carefully land into his lap. He’s surprised at first by your brazenness, but once you wrap your arms around his neck and hold him into you, he melts like chocolate at your heated touch.

Your fingers tug into his hair at the nape of his neck, his nose and lips make their way in between your scarf and your neck, the slight chill against your skin sends goosebumps down your spine, a throbbing in your core.

Realization spreads through your heart, your brain, the hair follicles on your head, the painted nails on your toes. Holding him, him holding you, his arms around you, your arms buried in his hair, his fingers rubbing patterns into your back as he sighs deeply and regulates his breath—for the first time in your life, you realize this is what love feels like.

To be loved and to be in love. It was undeniable. Right? Friends didn’t do this. Roommates didn’t do this. But two people who cared deeply for one another and were bonded together by more than just traumatic circumstances? That was love.

In this moment, nothing else matters.

It’s just you and him.

Him and you.

The flutter of your heart short circuits as it seeps hot sticky love all over your face, blooming warmly in your cheeks. Grasping him tighter, you pull away, settling your forehead into his. Whiskey poured eyes staring back into yours, for a brief second you swear you can feel his heart flutter with yours, beating as one.

Eddie doesn’t play his music loud on the way back. A comfortable echoing still in the van as it clunks along the road. His voice barely above a whisper when he speaks. He feels satisfied. Happy even? Like the weight of the world was off of his shoulders by you simply knowing his past. You didn’t ask questions and in the moment he didn’t need you to. His arms wrapped around you was more than enough, your fingers twirling in his hair, the smell of your perfume behind your ear. The way you let him grieve, let him take you somewhere he hasn’t gone in years, was something he’d appreciate for a lifetime to come.

Once home it’s like any normal night, only he doesn’t tease you. He doesn’t fight over the bathroom or use your toothbrush, he doesn’t argue when you pop Christmas Vacation into the VCR, even though you can quote the entire movie. He’s completely engulfed by you, watching you brush your hair, the extra roll of the waistband of your pajama pants. The ridiculous colors of your fuzzy socks you insisted on wearing now that the weather was colder.

He’s never felt nervous around a girl before, usually throwing himself around, showing off his exquisite rack like a stacked buck in rut, rubbing his antlers on trees, showing his mighty dominance.

But you weren’t just another lonely girl looking for a night with a lead singer, or a girl pretending to be in love with him just so she could score coke from his supplier while also fucking him behind his back, and you definitely weren’t a faceless girl that he plowed to forget it all.

Meaning much more to him than just some silly fuck, or a high school “sweetheart” that ended up being a heartless cunt, or a dumpster for his cum.

No.

You were much more than that, to him.

More than a roommate, more than a friend, more than Eyeball’s bratty fucking sister.

He could write sonnets about the little lines in between your brow when you pulled your eyebrows together, usually when you were mad at him. He could sing songs about your laugh, not the small polite one, the loud one, the one that rang every doorbell to his heart and and he gladly answered. He could hum a tune of gratitude about your cooking and the silent ways you care for him and your close friends. He’d get his ass kicked by the entire male population of Hawkins if it meant keeping you safe.

You were it for him.

The only one to make him feel, the only one he wanted to see at the end of the day, in the morning when he got up.

Watching you giggle and let out a yawn, he places a couch pillow between his hip and yours gesturing for you to lie down. He almost goes into cardiac arrest when you move the pillow entirely, your head resting in his lap. A sleepy smile on your face as you tug the blanket under your chin.

Yup.

You were it for him.

And he's a sucker, addicted to the way you made him love you so effortlessly.

hope you all enjoyed this volume! volume ix is where it heats up 🔥

@big-ope-vibes @br0ck-eddie @b-irock @loveshotzz @mopeymopeymouse @shiftingtherain @courtingchaos @nightonblogmountain @word-wytch @ghost-proofbaby @hanobe8 @abibliophobiaa @joejoequinnquinn just a few of the coven ��🩷

This is for you

*sacrifices 🖕🏼

#honey i’m home #eddie x fem!reader #eddie munson #stranger things x y/n #eddie x you angst #Eddie x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie x you fluff

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tteokdoroki · 1 year

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*ੈ🌩️‧₊˚— happy home day + eijirou kirishima.

૮˶ᵕ ༝ᵕ˶ა synopsis — exactly one a year after adopting from the pound, kirishima plans a special surprise for you, his special little puppy hybrid, on their birthday.

⭑ warnings — please read + mdni ! characters aged up, smut, fluff, hybrids, lingerie, collars, creampies, dumbification, possessiveness, pet-names, body-worship, orgasm-denial, dom-sub, unprotected sex, praise!kink, daddy!kink, breeding!kink, afab!reader, puppy hybrid!reader, pro hero + owner!kirishima.

⭑ words — 4.3K.

⭑ notes — hi !!! i wanted to post something so had you guys vote on what you wanted to see next. the winner ended up being kirishima <3! this was a birthday fic commissioned by my baby @eijirhoe ( who has given me permission to post ) and was beta read by the lovely @vagabondings!! i hope you enjoy !! kiss kiss - m.list ✩

“for fucks sake, kirishima, that is not a fuckin’ guard dog.”

only katsuki bakugou could be this miserable in an adoption centre for adorable hybrids— kittens, bunnies, mice and puppies alike. the redhead gives the employee standing nearby an apologetic mix between a smile and a grimace, the poor thing shaking in their boots at the proximity of the dynamight.

“katsuki, don’t yell. you’ll scare the ‘lil thing,” he pouts, sticking his fingers through the wire bars on the cage— coaxing the little hybrid inside closer. “and i thought you said german shepherds made great guards!” kirishima wiggles his digits again, pursing his lips to make those kissy sounds that are usually used to call to cats and crouches down to the height of the enclosure.

bakugou smacks him upside the head but takes a stance beside his rioting hero friend before signing dejectedly. “wrong sound idiot, you’re meant to whistle,” the two strong, and surely intimidating men spare a glance at the cowering hybrid as katsuki whistles in an attempt to gain some trust. “and they usually do, but this one looks like they might shit themselves if someone looks at them funny. not a guard dog.”

“but bakugou—“

“i hate to interrupt, mister riot. mister dynamight.” the employee from earlier steps in, steeling her nerves as she gestures to the cage the puppy hybrid is in. “but if this one doesn’t get adopted soon, i’m afraid they’re going to be put down. we don’t have the space for slightly quieter and apprehensive hybrids like them, no one really wants them if they’re not overly friendly or energetic and…if they do it’s usually for the like…”

“hybrid farms,” bakugou finishes for the kid, his voice thick with disgust. “just shut one of those down the other day. awful fuckin’ places.”

kirishima pouts again, peering into your cage— noting the gloss in your big pretty eyes and how you shrink in on yourself, tail pinned to the ground without the happy swish to it that other puppy hybrids in the centre have. “so…” he can’t imagine what you’ve been through, what you’ve seen to have ended up here. “if they don’t get adopted today, they’ll be put down? isn’t there any other way? that hardly seems fair.”

“to us it’s a little more humane than ending up at a hybrid farm or those indecent love hotels exclusively for sex with hybrids…” the employee trails off again, nervously fidgeting with their fingers. in the distance, a bell chimes with the notification of more customers— a mother and her child, probably looking to adopt one of the younger, nosier hybrids for their family. “if you’ll excuse me…”

“i’ll take ‘em!” red riot blurts without even thinking, the employee not having taken two steps away from him and his angry blonde friend who looks at him like he’s gone bat-shit crazy. “this is their only chance, right? i have to do something, they don’t deserve to go out like this.” the blonde closes his mouth, holding his protests thoughtfully.

he’s right. kirishima is right, his kind soul always is. “ai’ght, fine. but don’t expect me to train that thing, they ain’t nowhere near close t’bein’ a guard dog.” bakugou grunts, folding his arms across his broad chest with a faux look of dismay— not admitting how impressed he is with eijirou.

eijirou kirishima has a heart of gold, he’s always been like that— putting others before himself because he believes in them. he takes in strays, builds up their strength and their confidence, letting them know that he’ll always be the sturdy figure they can fall back on in times of need. katsuki was one of those strays, an unwanted dog just like you. he’d bared his fangs to the sweet redhead in fear of letting in someone that would hurt him, but as it turns out, becoming friends with someone as selfless as kirishima was just what katsuki needed.

the employee sighs, shoulders sagging with relief as they glance between the two pro heroes. “should i be getting the adoption papers then?”

with an enthusiastic nod, red riot peers back at you with affectionate eyes and a smile you can trust— one that only widens when you bump your head against his fingers over the bars of your pen and let the tips of them just brush your lush puppy dog ears. “yes please,” he says warmly, his gaze never leaving you. “don’t you worry about a thing little one, it’s you and me now, got it?”

and for the first time in forever, your tail wags happily, and you don’t feel worried at all.

being adopted by eijirou kirishima most probably saved your life.

he’d been eager to get you out of that shelter, with the promise of a better life written against his lips and lost under his tongue as he babbled about your new home and how excited he was to have a puppy hybrid of his own. a timid, sweet faced and jumpy german-shepherd hybrid nothing like their breed— with big eyes, a set of pointed and twitchy puppy dog ears and a tail that stays pinned to the ground with nervousness. there’s a lot for him to undo, a lot of trust to build up.

kirishima was patient when introducing you to his home that only big time pro hero money could buy— he let you sniff out the place, scenting areas that made you feel safe even having his comforting, large presence right beside you was enough to make your ears perk up and heightened senses go wild. he let you pick out the biggest spare room in the house and had even felt sad for you when you stated that you’d never had your own before.

“with me, i’ll make sure you have everything you want ‘n more, kay pup? things will never go back to the way they were for you.” the red head swore to you, crossing his heart — that was the first time you’d ever felt love like that.

the two of you quickly fall into an easy routine; kirishima would leave for work in the mornings after making sure he’d set out the perfect meal a growing pup, like you, would need— using all sorts of kibble that his explosive friend katsuki had recommended. occasionally he’d spoil you with pieces of turkey bacon that he knew you weren’t allowed to have, but what was the harm in spoiling someone who hadn’t experienced luxury before? plus he liked the way your German shepherd tail would wag and your pupils would dilate at the sight of the meaty meal.

eijirou made sure you had all the toys possible to play with while he was away for work— you didn’t like sitters and nearly chewed out the last one katsuki had recommended for a nervous puppy such as yourself. you didn’t like her scent and how it had gotten all over your owner. you preferred to be alone, surrounded by the pinewood and musky husk the redhead would leave behind. and, by the time he came home from being red riot, you’d be sitting right by the door with big bambi eyes to welcome him home, the little bell on your store-bought collar jingling as you rush to meet kirishima at eight pm sharp each day.

though you’re pampered with treats and pretty things and ear scratches 24/7– kirishima does have you trained by that awful bakugou. you’re by no means a guard dog, despite what your hybrid breed might indicate— but you’re disciplined with house rules and how to sit and act properly. bakugou is mean and he snarls at you from time to time, but the praise and kisses you get from your darling and sweet red haired owner make the training completely worth it.

nowadays, katsuki doesn’t even question when you scamper onto the couch or perch yourself on eijirou’s lap whenever they have their boys nights to watch the hero rankings live. “pampered fuckin’ pooch,” is all he grunts from over his can of beer.

“hey,” eijirou will huff, his hands on the fat of your waist or twirling through your fluffy brown and black tail. “don’t be mean, katsuki. they don’t know any better.”

even with all that house training— you still sneak into his bed when being on your own gets too much. his warmth calms you, and eijirou doesn’t seem to mind the brush of your thick and soft tail against his thighs in the morning. “pup, you’re not s’pposed to be on the bed,” he’d tried to scold you the first time it happened, he really did, but your ears lay flat against your skull and you gave him those eyes and kirishima was quick to dive in next to you— asking you what was wrong. “nightmares huh? of the pound? well, those can’t be very nice. maybe you should share a bed with me tonight. one night won’t hurt, will it?”

except one night, becomes every single night.

repeatedly, each night, eijirou scoops you up into his flexing, toned arms and carries you to his room instead of your own— tucks you under his weighted duvets not yours, and swamps you with his body heat. he runs like a furnace during the later hours, not that you mind, it’s nice to be close to him. to feel adored like that.

yourself and kirishima are touchier than most hybrid-owner pairs, you’ve noticed. bakugou thinks it’s because you have a clingy-attachment style, the red head because you’ve been deprived of the affection that most pups deserve. he goes beyond headpats and chin scratches, and the ones that itch right behind your floppy fluffy ears. kirishima keeps a hand on the slope of your waist when he takes you for walks on sunny days, he holds your hand instead of your leash most of the time and his lips linger against your forehead a little longer than normal for a hybrid that’s just a housepet.

you think it’s normal at least, you’ve never been cared for like this and having eijirou’s attention some, if not all, of the time feels like a dream come true. you know that he loves you when actions of endearment become more passionate— when innocent cheek kisses become sloppier lip-locks and when hugs turn into desperate attempts to grab at your flesh, also when your heat cycles become less about finding a mate and more about begging kirishima to ravage you against the nearest surface, soothing the instinctual ache in your bones and lower tummy.

he loved you, and you loved him— and you knew that you owed it all to kirishima for the better life he gave you. taking a chance on a shy little puppy hybrid at risk of being put down.

taking a chance on you.

“angel, ‘m home!”

the rustling of brown paper bags, heavy foot-steps and keys jingling in the front door make your puppy dog ears twitch and you perk up from your place deeper in the house at the sound of kirishima coming home from a long day’s work. you scramble up to meet him half-way into the kitchen, tail swishing a mile a minute behind you, nose wriggling in anticipation. “e-eji!” you breathe, fingers itching to reach out and touch him. “you’re back!”

you’re so cute, so loyal that it warms the pro hero right down to his core. kirishima nods once, giving you the go ahead to latch onto him since you’d waited so patiently and lets out a small chuckle as you tuck yourself into his side. “i always come back, don’t i?” setting the bags on the marble island, he frees up a hand to brush over your head softly, using a knuckle to rub behind your ear. “have you been good, baby?” moving to cup your cheeks next, he presses a gentle smooch to the tip of your nose. “‘course you have, you’re always good f’me…but, i gotta know— did ya miss me?”

“i always miss you,” you say a little too quickly, nuzzling into the palm of red riot’s large hand, tail wagging even faster. “can i…can i have a kiss, eiji? please.”

for a moment, a primal look flashes through the hero’s eyes before being replaced with something softer, something that mirrors the smile he gives you. “only ‘cause you asked so nicely, baby,” he says playfully, sliding his hands from your face down to your waist and tugging you nice and close, your hips flush against one another. “c’mere puppy, gimme some sugar, hm?” your body can’t help but bristle, keening into kirishima’s touch as he subtly lowers his voice and guides you into following his command.

you stand on your tiptoes without even realising it, tilting your head upwards as kirishima coaxes your mouth open with his mellow moving tongue—sighing sweetly against your lips until he’s captured them properly in a slow kiss, not giving you too much but pouring enough words into it to let you know how much he cares for you. he pulls away so things don’t too heated, but still keeps his hands on you before you can whine in protest.

“what’s that?” you ask softly, cocking your head to the side when you notice the bags behind him.

“oh those? well,” kirishima swoops down to your height, nipping your nose with pointed teeth— only serving to make it scrunch up adorably. “i heard it was a certain pup’s birthday today…and it also happens to be the one year anniversary of their adoption. so i got ‘em a lil’ somethin’ to celebrate.”

he lives for the way you smile, almost dies at how your eyes sparkle. “c-can i open it eji?”

“not all of it, pumpkin,” eijirou briefly lets you go and you really do whimper this time, knowing better than to claw at him to stay when you know he’ll be right back. the burly redhead turns to grab a perfectly wrapped package from within the brown paper bag and passes it to you with an eager grin. “go put this on f’me, will you baby? then meet me in the living room once you’re done, for the rest of your present, kay?”

“okay! i’ll be quick!” you practically squeal, vibrating in your place.

“good pup, i’ll be waitin’,” he turns you around with a grip that's barely there, handling you as if you’ll break with too much force and patting you on the bum softly as you go.

by the time you return to the living room, it’s been completely transformed.

the lighting is dimmed, a ruby glow filtering through and the soft hum of your favourite song reverberates against the walls and high ceilings. kirishima seems to be fixing a box on the coffee table by the couch before he notices you, a slick and sexy grin tugging at the corners of his lips as you approach him. “there’s my pretty puppy,” he rasps lowly, sending a shiver from the tips of your ears right down to your toes. “god, i think i made the right choice pickin’ that cute lil’ number out for ya, looks so good on you, hun.”

heat pulses under your skin like buzzing kinetic energy, making you tuck the swell of your cheek into your shoulder bashfully, fluffy ears flattening against your skull. “you think so?” said number is a darling little babydoll dress, made of black silk and red lace lace accents that tickle the backs of your thighs with hearts embroidered at the chest.

“it looks perfect on you baby, you’re breathtakin’,” kirishima tells you earnestly, holding his hand out for you to hold— which you take shyly. “c’mere, twirl f’me? wanna see all of you. show off for me, cutie.” every single one of his compliments has your tail swaying from side to side and blood rushing to your brain, making you dizzier than the cute little spins you do for him while the pro hero sinks into the couch to watch you.

he leans back, thighs spreading wide— and you have to fight the urge to drop your gaze between them. “that’s it pretty thing, my puppy’s such a fuckin’ stunner.” kirishima swallows thickly, ruby glossed eyes darkening with desire. “come t’daddy pup, wanna give you your other gift.”

you quickly shift to stand between his spread legs, quivering like you’re cold has large and rough hands swallow your waist and bunch your night dress up at your hips. he presses sloppy kisses to the softness of your tummy over the material.

“sit.” he commands simply, tugging on your hips to pull you down with him

“yes daddy,” your breathing is ragged as you sink into kirishima’s lap, thighs apart so that you can straddle him properly. you wonder if he can hear your heart racing from its place in your chest— your heightened hybrid senses can already pick up on his, kirishima’s pulse sky-rocketing now that you’re on top of him. “c-can i have my gift now?”

his calloused hand pushes the black silk up and over the curve of your ass, red riot digging into the fat of it to rock you back and forth over is hardening girth. “r’member your manners, puppy. yer s’pposed to ask daddy nicely.” nonetheless, he relents and snatches up the box on the coffee table— handing it to you to unravel. “open it up, baby.”

excitedly, you tear through the daintily wrapped package, revealing a red patent leather collar—decorated with red and black bows, and a heart shaped tag with the letters ‘EK’ inscribed into it. collaring was a big deal in the hybrid community, it meant a permanent mark, belonging to someone, being in love.

“let me put it on you,” eijirou simpers, readily slipping the leather around your neck and sliding two fingers underneath it to tug your lips up to his. “i love you, pup.” he confesses, licking into your mouth hungrily and grinding up into your dripping heat.

it’s embarrassing how wet you’ve gotten and so fast, dumbly following him to the forest fire of lust, sucking on his tongue like a parched puppy lapping at the first drink it can get. hybrids slick up faster when aroused and kirishima turns you on like no other— somehow finding your panty covered clit between your salacious bump and grind.

slumping against his beefy chest, your nails dig deep into his shoulders and whistle tone dog squeaks bubble up on the swell of your lips each time eijirou swipes the pad of his thumb over your swelling pleasures nub, encouraging your juices to gush over his hard on—glueing you both together by strings your arousal.

“i love you too…p-please e-eiji!” the air in the room feels heavier, tainted with the lust that clouds your logical thought. in fact, you can’t even think right with the way your owner toys with you. he drools against your puppy tongue, curses into your heated mouth all while you’re riding his fingers like your life depends on it, kirishima pinching at your sticky clit just to hear more of your needy whines. “p-please daddy,”

the hand that once sat lightly against your neck now trails over each dip and curve of your body, barely brushing over your nipples or digging into the meat of your ass and thighs. “you look so fuckin’ good in the things i buy you, hun, drive me fuckin’ insane,” kirishima fights back a moan, cock twitching against your ass, desperate to be inside of you. “so beautiful in that lil’ dress, with my name around your neck. fuck… ‘m so lucky. my pup, daddy’s sexy fuckin’ puppy.” he rambles and praises you all at once, giving you whiplash, making you clench and ooze sweetly around nothing.

you’re sure that the redhead is almost as brainless and as fucked out as you are just from dry humping his darling little pup… but through his own grunts and groans, hips wildly bucking up to meet yours— kirishima still manages to dominate you, make you feel like you don’t even have to think around him. “you want me, pup, is that it? want me to fuck you?” he hums huskily against the shell of your ear, pinging your collar against your neck when you nod your head yes wordlessly. “gotta—fuck— gotta use your words f’daddy, c’mon now, you know that.”

“y-yes daddy, want you. badly.” you slur, and suddenly, your world tilts on its axis. your back hits the sofa with a bounce and you're pinned against it by the weight of your owner above you, your knees being pushed into your shoulders.

“a-always such a good…obedient lil thing f’me,” eijirou groans at the sight of you beneath him. “so perfect, ‘m so lucky t’have such a beautiful puppy all to myself, shit!” your silk baby doll gathers at your hips, soaked panties tucked to the side and your glistening, pulsing mound on display like an attraction made just for him. he wastes no time in yanking down his sweats and boxers in one go— revealing his bright red and angry dick, covered in a thick layer of gooey white precum. all for you. kirishima slaps the length of himself against your slit once, twice before his forehead falls against yours.

“p-put it in eiji, c-can’t wait daddy…”

even though your cute little sex makes him a wreck, eijirou still manages to hold control over you— teasing you as he forces his fat tip past your tiny, creamy entrance. “so impatient, cutie, i should make you say please… but fuck, i need you so bad right now. might not last long…”

the pair of you let out strained moans as kirishima pushes in and he reaches the hilt—your sweaty bodies flush against one another, both of you covered in layers of each other’s arousal. your pussy flutters at being filled up so fast, clinging onto the pretty blue veins that spiral around his chubby, swollen cock— a low whine rumbles in your chest as the redhead sets a rough stream to his thrusts, milky cockhead brushing against each pulse point on your sensitive walls.

it’s almost like you’re being knotted, squelching as kirishima tries to pull out of your snug sex that grips him selfishly. all the while, he pounds you to hell and back. you're so full, you’re a slobbering mess already teetering on the edge of insanity. red riot leans over you, washboard abs pressed against the backs of your thighs to force you down into the creaky couch— each time he withdraws from your messy and wet walls, your ears fall back and your tail thumps hard against the cushions, coated in your viscous nectar.

“fuck, this puppycunt sounds so dirty, gorgeous…feels like fuckin’ heaven,” he whispers to you, words damp on your cupid’s bow. “my perfect puppy, a dumb lil’doggy on my cock…s’such a fuckin’ dream.” your brain empties, becomes a void that’s filled with only eijirou kirishima and the way he fucks you deep, hits every spot, touches your body like a man worshipping a higher power. “‘m so lucky baby, really am.”

your collar jingles, the pendant with his name on it bouncing every time kirishima’s cock bullies its way into your gooey insides until they give into him. you’re the lucky one, you think— lucky to be loved like this, to have been rescued from the pound and pinned down on a dick that aches to be inside you, wrapping around his pulsing length to the point where you’re practically milking him already.

“d-daddy!” you hiccup, big fat tears clumping in your lashes, your face a beautiful mess to the man above you. “i can’t…”

the pro hero reaches down between your bodies, close to cumming just from listening to you howl over the sounds of skin slapping on skin, and tugs at your soft slick tail—stroking it until your pussy quivers and gushes around him, painting your babydoll dress and his half rolled down sweats with a fresh wave of your essence. every time he pets the fluffy appendage, you get wetter and wetter, tighter and tighter and your moans loud enough to wake the neighbours.

heavy hips rock into you, even heavier balls clap creamily against your fleshy ass and kirishima lets his head drop to your neck—biting and sucking possessively at exposed skin just above where your collar lies. “yes you fuckin’ can, your daddy’s good pup right?” he slurs hungrily, writing his claim against your throat. “when you get close, hold it f’daddy, be obedient ‘n you’ll get your reward.”

you feel like everything’s on fire, every nerve ending in your body buzzing with anticipation— the knot in your stomach seconds away from unwinding. “b-but daddy—!”

“hold it.” eijirou warns sternly, though his breath stutters— every instinct that he has threatening to breed you up full with a load of his hot cum. “h-hold it, hon,” you sob at the pain and pleasure of holding off, thighs twitching, tail hitting the couch hard and puppy ears flopping over your face. you’re so adorable like this, jolting up the piece of furniture as the redhead languidly canters into you. he finally breaks when you let out a weak cry of his name, his first spurts of cum pouring into you. “f-fuck, let go for me puppy, make a mess on daddy’s cock—shit, thats it. so good, all over me, wanna see you cummin’ with me…”

white hot ropes of seed paint your insides just as your eyes roll back into your skull. he feels so warm, coating your insides with a layer of his cum as if to claim you from the inside out. there’s so much of it that oozes out of your entrance thickly, like a running tap of honey that ruins your pussy lips with opaque white—triggering your own orgasm. kirishima holds you close, whispers sweet nothings into your ear as your release crashes over you, rocking your world while your juices splatter out against his pelvis and all over your cute little gown in clear streams.

“happy birthday, beautiful,” the redhead mumbles to you sweetly, kissing his initials on your pendant and right up to your lips. “i love you.”

“t-thank you eiji,” you whisper back— a sleepy, full and content puppy. “i love you too.”

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mashbrainrot · 8 months

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Trapper in 'The Interview'

In 2006, Larry Gelbart wrote dialogue imagining Trapper, Henry Blake, and Colonel Flagg had featured in the M*A*S*H episode 'The Interview'. Here is Trapper's, with the original available to read here via Google Groups.

REPORTER: Captain John McIntyre is a surgeon attached here at the 4077. What they call a chest cutter, is that right, Captain? TRAPPER JOHN: Right. I look inside ’em for any souvenirs our troops might be trying to smuggle home as souvenirs. REPORTER: And removing them forthwith. TRAPPER JOHN: I don’t get into a lot of fights from any patients who want to hold on to them. REPORTER: A lot of them are very young, is that true? TRAPPER JOHN: Too young to be doing what they’re doing. Our job’s giving ’em a chance to get old.

REPORTER: You have a most unusual nickname, I’m told. “Trapper John,” is that correct? TRAPPER JOHN: It’s a hangover from college. REPORTER: Would you tell us how you got it? TRAPPER JOHN: The hangover? REPORTER: The nickname. TRAPPER JOHN: Nope. REPORTER: Too personal? TRAPPER JOHN: Sorry. REPORTER: Didn’t mean to pry. TRAPPER JOHN: I’ll tell you the college, if you like. REPORTER: But not how you – TRAPPER JOHN: It happened a long time ago. Happened B.M., you could say. Before marriage. REPORTER: Well, we certainly wouldn’t want to get you into any trouble back home. TRAPPER JOHN: Let me tell clue you in on something: I wouldn’t mind being in trouble back home one bit. I wouldn’t mind anything if I could be doing it back home. REPORTER: It’s not easy being this far away. TRAPPER JOHN: You know what’s easy? Hating being this far away. Hating just being a picture on the mantle that my two little girls say goodnight to. REPORTER: General Sherman was right, huh? About war being hell? TRAPPER JOHN: If generals hate war so much, how come they can never wait to get into the next one? REPORTER: I understand you tried to adopt what you thought was a Korean orphan some time back. TRAPPER JOHN: I thought I could make us both a little less miserable about what was going on here. Happily, the kid’s mother was still alive. REPORTER: That would have been a lovely gesture. TRAPPER JOHN: I’m not big on gestures. Unless there’s some kind of payoff. REPORTER: Would you like to say hello to your own children right now? TRAPPER JOHN: Not really. Not as just one more picture in our living room. It’s enough they’re seeing me. That’s a big enough kick for all of us. REPORTER: Do you feel this experience has in any way helped you as a doctor? TRAPPER JOHN: Let me ask you a question: just how many people you figure’re going to be carried into my office someday with a chunk of shrapnel sticking out of their heads? I don’t know where you live, pal, but where I come from very few folks ever step on a landmine in the middle of trying to cross the street. REPORTER: Would you say there’s been any positive aspect of any of this for you at all? TRAPPER JOHN: Of course, there is. You see people at their best around here – see them coping with the results of what some people can do when they’re at their worst. REPORTER: The doctors, you mean? TRAPPER JOHN: The doctors. The nurses. The orderlies – Koreans, mostly. Every day kind of bleeds into the next around here – in every sense of the word – the routine gets to be fairly unmemorable. But I have the feeling that years from now I’m gonna remember each and every one of them. And the face that goes with each one. (A PAUSE; THEN TO THE CAMERA) Hi, sweetheart. Hi, Becky. Hi, Cathy.

#trapper john mcintyre #trapper mcintyre #mash #mashblr #mash 4077 #m*a*s*h #mash s4 #mash s04ep25 #helen speaks #larry gelbart

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goodnightmemes · 1 year

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SUPERNATURAL SENTENCE STARTERS / SEASONS 4 - 5

❛ What’s the matter? You don’t think you deserve to be saved? ❜

❛ You should show me some respect. I dragged you out of hell. I can throw you back in. ❜

❛ Destiny can’t be changed. All roads lead to the same destination. ❜

❛ I have questions. I have doubts. I don’t know what is right and what is wrong anymore. ❜

❛ The only reason you’re still alive is because you’ve been useful. But the moment that ceases to be true, the second you become more trouble than you’re worth, one word, one, and I will turn you to dust. ❜

❛ Who do I have to kill to get some French fries around here? ❜

❛ How I feel, this… inside me, I wish I couldn’t feel anything. I wish I couldn’t feel a damn thing. ❜

❛ We’re all scared. That’s the big secret… We’re all scared. ❜

❛ If you think you have good intentions, think again. ❜

❛ It’s not blame that falls on you. It’s fate. ❜

❛ I’m tired of burying friends. ❜

❛ You ask me to open that door and walk through it…? You will not like what walks back out. ❜

❛ I’m sorry. This is a very serious, very emotional situation for you. I shouldn’t laugh. It’s just that, I mean, are they serious? They sent you to torture me? ❜

❛ Oh, you’ll spill your guts, one way or the other. I just didn’t want to ruin my shoes. ❜

❛ Most folks live and die without moving anything more than the dirt it takes to bury them. You get to change things. Save people. ❜

❛ I can’t see your face, but those are definitely your brooding and pensive shoulders. ❜

❛ You promised me my family would be okay! You promised you were gonna take care of them! ❜

❛ I gave you everything you asked me to give. I gave you more. This is the thanks I get? This is what you do? ❜

❛ Now for the punch line. Everybody dies. ❜

❛ Now I’m asking you, for once, trust me. ❜

❛ Maybe you’re right. Maybe there’s, no escape. After all, how can you run from what’s inside you? ❜

❛ You don’t know me. You never did. And you never will. ❜

❛ Well, boo hoo! I am so sorry your feelings are hurt, princess! ❜

❛ Are you under the impression that family’s supposed to make you feel good, make you an apple pie, maybe? They’re supposed to make you miserable! That’s why they’re family! ❜

❛ We’ve been through much together, you and I. And I just wanted… to say, I’m sorry it ended like this. ❜

❛ What is so worth saving? I see nothing but pain here! ❜

❛ No more crap about being a good soldier, there is a right and there is a wrong here, and you know it! ❜

❛ If there is anything worth dying for, this is it. ❜

❛ Well, can’t make an omelet without cracking a few eggs. In this case, truckloads of eggs, but you get the picture. ❜

❛ Oh God. Is that a molar? I have a molar in my hair? This has been a really stressful day. ❜

❛ I’ve got no idea, but what I do have is a GED and a give-em hell attitude, and I’ll figure it out. ❜

❛ I’m hunted, I rebelled, and I did it, all of it, for you, and you failed. ❜

❛ I lost everything… for nothing. ❜

❛ You feel bad now? Wait ‘till you’re thigh-deep in warm corpses. 'Cause my friend, I’m just getting started. ❜

❛ We’ve talked about this. Personal space? ❜

❛ I was dead from the moment we said hello. ❜

❛ Don’t you get it? You can’t run from yourself. ❜

❛ Same song, different verse. Things are never gonna change with you. Ever. ❜

❛ My heart breaks for you. The weight on your shoulders, what you’ve done, what you still have to do. It is more than anyone could bear. ❜

❛ You’re not fooling me, you know that? With this sympathy for the Devil crap? I know what you are. ❜

❛ Whatever you do, you will always end up here. No matter what choices you make, whatever details you alter, we will always end up…here. ❜

❛ Maybe we are each other’s Achilles’ Heel. Maybe they’ll find a way to use us against each other, I don’t know. I just know we’re all we’ve got. ❜

❛ You can do the right thing. You’ve got choices. But if you make the wrong ones, it’ll haunt you for the rest of your life. ❜

❛ I have to believe someone can make the right choice, even if I couldn’t. ❜

❛ You know, I’m starting to get why parents lie to their kids. You want them to believe that the worst thing out there is mixing Pop Rocks and Coke - protect them from the real evil. You want them going to bed feeling safe. If that means lying to them, so be it. ❜

❛ I wish this were a TV show. Easy answers, endings wrapped up in a bow. But this is real. And it’s gonna end bloody for all of us. That’s just how it’s gotta be. ❜

❛ Now listen very closely. Here’s what’s gonna happen. You’re gonna suck it up, accept your responsibilities, and play the roles that destiny has chosen for you! ❜

❛ Are you giving me the 'Last Night on Earth’ speech? ❜

❛ What a peculiar thing you are. ❜

❛ I still love him. But I am going to kill him because it is right and I have to. ❜

❛ Think of the million random choices that you make, and yet how each and every one of them brings you closer to your destiny. Do you know why that is? Because it’s not random. It’s not chance. It’s a plan that is playing itself out perfectly. Free will’s an illusion. ❜

❛ I can see how broken you are, how defeated; you can’t win and you know it, but you just keep fighting, just keep going through the motions. You’re not hungry, because inside, you’re already dead. ❜

❛ We’re supposed to be a team, it’s supposed to be you and me against the world, right? ❜

❛ Not for nothing, but the last person who looked at me like that… I got laid. ❜

❛ Well, we’re working on the power of love. ❜

❛ I love you, but you are a great big bag of dicks. ❜

❛ No one gives us the right. We take it. ❜

❛ If anyone gets to end this world, it’s me. ❜

❛ Before we get down to brass tacks, some ground rules: No slaughtering each other, curb your wrath. Oh, and keep your hands off the local virgins. We’re trying to keep a low profile here. ❜

❛ Get the hell off my property before I blast you so full of rock salt, you crap margaritas. ❜

❛ I don’t understand your definition of good news. ❜

❛ You are not the burnt and broken shell of a man that I believed you to be. ❜

❛ You have an inflated sense of your importance. ❜

❛ To a thing like me, a thing like you, well… Think how you’d feel if a bacterium sat at your table and started to get snarky. ❜

❛ I’m old. Very old. So, I invite you to contemplate how insignificant I find you. ❜

❛ However you feel now, it’s only gonna get so very, very much worse… questions? ❜

❛ I suggest we imbibe copious quantities of alcohol. ❜

❛ You’re not a kid anymore, and I can’t keep treating you like one. Maybe I gotta grow up a little, too. ❜

❛ Come on, I’ve never lied to you, you could at least pay me the same respect. ❜

❛ We’re going to kill each other. And for what? We don’t even know the answer. Let’s just walk off the chessboard. ❜

❛ What would you rather have: peace or freedom? ❜

#rp meme #sentence starters #sentence meme #rp sentence meme #roleplay meme #roleplay prompts #rp prompt #rp memes #inbox meme #sentence starter meme #*tv #*supernatural

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moonxmagix · 8 months

Text

MCR Songs & their vibes

MCR songs and whether I think they’re day, night, sunrise, or sunset songs. Also adding seasons. If you get it, you get it. If you don’t then idk what to tell you homie. I do get carried away & include scenarios I personally picture with the songs. It took me a couple hours to write this so please read. This might make more sense for my fellow autistics though:

First album: Bullets

As an overall album I don’t have a set season for it BUT if I had to pick it would be a transition from Summer to Fall. It’s also more of a Day album for me but not ever sunny. With exception of sunsets.

Romance - Sunset but when the sun is almost down, Summer but transitioning into Fall

HTMIBHFTBOU - Night but just after Sunset, still that Summer to Fall transition

Vampires - Night, but sometimes fits a cloudy rainy day, Fall

Drowning Lessons - Night, probably around 9pm, then again I get rain vibes, Fall but exceptionally chilly this day

Our Lady of Sorrows - Night, Fall, i imagine being aggressively drunk to this song in some small shitty venue

Headfirst for Halos - Day but slowly transitions into sunset, nice fall day

Skylines and Turnstiles - Day but super rainy/cloudy to where it looks night, Fall

Early Sunsets Over Monroeville - Day and night because it starts off nice then progressively gets darker, winter

TITBDE - Sunset/night but like right after the sunset, i imagine being at the fairground & setting the firewheel ablaze, Summer transition into Fall

Cubicles - Day but cloudy, Fall but getting close to winter, being miserable at a shitty corporate office job, coffee & cigarettes

Demolition Lovers - Day into night, Winter, blood in the snow

Second Album: Revenge

Easily a Fall album with SOME Winter exceptions. From the story we know I get lots of vibes of murder and suicide. I get lots of screaming and yelling between a couple vibes too. Definitely a Night time album overall.

Helena - Day but rainy & cloudy, funeral vibes but that’s so obvious, peak Fall

Give ‘em Hell Kid - Day but very cloudy it’s almost night, Fall, definitely ‘just got out of school 4 the day’ vibes

To The End - Night, a very eerie night somewhere in the woods bc you & your friends found a vampires mansion and the lore to the house is that a husband & wife lived there but they killed each other, Fall

YKWTDTGLUIP - Night but you're in prison so you don’t care what time of the day it is, Fall but it’s a bit chillier because it’s ALMOST winter

I’m Not Okay (I promise) - Day, cloudy school day with light drizzle, Fall but a bit warmer but it feels like summer because the gym teacher made you run laps outside & you threw up on the side

The Ghost of You - Day/night but cloudy (Kinda going off MV), Winter probably

TJLIGKY - Late Night, downtown somewhere sketchy in a hotel, missing person vibes tbh, rain, Fall transition into Winter

Venom - Night but early on, I imagine fighting for something you want/to keep living/fighting for love even if it’s not necessarily romantic love

Hang ‘Em High - Day, Sunny fall day, emo cowboy vibes idc!, Sunset later on in the song though, very sinister & hungry eyes, possession comes to mind here

Fashion Statement - Night but just turned, graveyard, crawling out of coffin in ground, Fall but foggy

Cemetery Drive - Day but cloudy and rainy, when you were found on the bathroom floor though it was night, staring out the window like a movie, Fall

INTYWIDFAL - Dead of the Night, lots of mania & killing, Staring at the mirror with blood on your hands, Fall

Third Album: Black Parade

This album is Winter through and through! Definitely a transition into Day from Night. Themes of death obvi and incompletion and self hatred. Lots of fire and potentially setting stuff ablaze, so arson! Memories on memories.

The End - Day but you’re in an auditorium watching a play/musical until Night, lots of screaming & agony, Fall but just about Winter

Dead! - Day but it’s cloudy, lots of dreaming & being taunted by death, Winter

TIHID - Night, being in the woods late at night, walking in snow barefoot & blood trailing behind, seeing ghost, Winter

The Sharpest Lives - Night but it’s 2am, drunk, cigarettes, trying to comes to term w/ your career & how you won't achieve anything, Winter

WTTBP - Day into Night, cloudy, dead of Winter but lot’s of fire to keep warm, seeing death finally

I Don’t Love You - Day but cloudy & rainy, Fall transition into winter, painful breakup but we knew that

House of Wolves - Night but downtown vibes so the lights keep everything alive, running from cops vibes, personal rebellion against church & religion, reminiscing on running the streets with friends when young, the memories are Summer but song is Winter

Cancer - Right after Sunrise, patient dies early in the cloudy morning, body stays in bed until Night though so family can visit, lots of flashback of memories, Winter

Mama - Night, arguing with family, lots of anger, war flashbacks, rainy Winter

Sleep - 4am Night, nightmares, sleeping in shitty hotel, haunted hotel, creaky floorboards, sleep paralysis, Winter

Teenagers - Day, Fall, zombie like & judgy teenagers, reminiscing on teenage years, violence

Disenchanted - Night, drinking yourself away, disappointment, feeling like you didn’t do enough, Winter, around Christmas

Famous Last Words - Night 12am, realizing your memory will forever live on, coming to terms w/ death, Winter but the fire is enough to keep you warm

Fourth Album: Danger Days

If you say anything else but Summer you're just wrong. Blazing summer heat & just sweaty musty & dusty mf’s. Themes of fighting for what’s right, the power of friendship & love. Partying in the desert. Obviously a Day time album.

Na Na Na - Day, blazing hot in the desert, partying at some underground rave, hanging head out window to shoot the corporation ppl, robbery, Summer

Bulletproof Heart - Sunset, lots of smiling & laughing w/ crush, trying to runaway with crush to somewhere better, one of the lovers dies because of Korse, Summer but it’s very breezy

SING - Night, “I’m gonna save the world” vibes, sneaking around, cool Summer night

Planetary (GO!) - Sunset but it’s just about to be night, partying, lots of colorful lazerbeams and strobe, very sweaty, Summer

TOHFMIY - Sunset, fighting for friends & showing them love, taking pictures with friends on a desert cliff, Summer

Party Poison - Day, pompous ass character, fighting for what’s right, protest, Summer

SYIHTB - Day into Night, fighting off the Exterminators, stealing cars & sneaking off, sneaky make out session, helping friends get away from Exterminators, Summer

Scarecrow - Day almost Sunset, feeling safe, finding a place to rest & collect thoughts, maybe mourn the people you lost, being found & have to keep moving, Summer but it’s not humid

Summertime - Day into Night, so much love, finally got with crush, telling story of them, sappy, laying in the desert/on-top of car & staring at the stars, hot Summer day but chilly night

Destroya - Day, horny, so hot you had to get almost naked, fighting against corporation by holding a concert of sorts to raise awareness, borderline dehydration, blazing Summer heat

The Kids From Yesterday - Sunset, reminiscing hard, missing childhood/younger self, living in the moment, hand holding w/ friends, realizing you’re not actually alone, Summer into Fall

Vampire Money - Day, causing chaos with friends, so many crimes, more crimes, scary teenagers, selling soul for fame, Summer in Los Angeles

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ficnation · 1 year

Text

Withering Wildflowers - Daryl x Reader

Prompt: a bouquet of flowers

Word count: 864

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Gender Neutral! Reader

Warnings: pure angst, usual twd themes (e.g. descriptive gore, use of weapons, violence, cursing), major character's death

A/n: This is a piece for @the-slumberparty writing challenge week 1! I'm so sorry I'm posting it right now, but I've just realized it was sitting in my drafts for weeks :") Enjoy some angst!

☁ 𝐅𝐔𝐋𝐋 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ☁ || ☁ 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐘𝐋 𝐃𝐈𝐗𝐎𝐍 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ☁

You were withering like the bouquet of flowers he left on your bedside table almost two weeks ago. Your skin lost its glow, greying like the petals of the wildflowers. Your limbs felt too heavy for your body, and your hair framed your face sticking to your sweaty skin.

Life was unforgiving for Daryl. He’s already lost so much—his family, friends, brother, and the life he used to know. Now, the world wanted to take you—the person he loved the most on this miserable fucking planet—away from him.

He sat beside you on the bed, holding your weak hand and pressing it against his cheek, trying to make you feel less alone.

“Daryl, I don’t want you to do it,” you rasped out, fingers brushing over his stubbled chin. You tried to meet his eyes, but you were afraid you’d break down right there in front of him, and he didn’t need to know how scared you were to die or worse—become one of those things.

“Not gonna let ya turn,” he mumbled out, leaving a soft kiss on the tips of your fingers. “It has to be me.”

He was calm, almost too calm now, after he lashed out at everyone that tried to talk to him about your condition and what to do about it. The anger subsided, making space for the fear, grief and agony the prospect of losing you brought. He didn’t want you to see it on his face and feel even worse. He just wanted to make your last moments peaceful and make sure you knew how loved you truly were and how much he’ll miss you—how much they’ll all miss you.

“Can ya at least look me in the eyes?” Daryl’s gruff voice sounded from beside you again, but the only thing you could do was shake your head and look down. The tears fell freely down your sunken cheeks. “Hey, c’mon, jus’ look at me,” he pleaded. He reached out, taking your face in his hands. “I know yer afraid.”

His last words got your attention, and you looked up, meeting his baby blue irises. “I’m dying, Daryl. It’s fucking terrifying, but…” you paused, taking a deep breath in to steady your voice, “leaving you scares me even more.” You didn’t burst into sobs; you had no more tears left to cry.

“I’m gonna be alright, ya know that. I promised ya.”

Daryl leaned in, leaving a gentle kiss on your lips. It took him a long moment to pull away. He wanted to cherish the kiss, but all he could focus on was the roughness of your lips that were once the definition of softness—always making him think of the delicacy of flower petals. It was another reminder of the state you were in—closer to death than you ever were.

“Can I ask you to do something for me? One last time,” you whispered, looking at him sadly.

Daryl knew you could read him and his thoughts like a book. He cast his gaze down shamefully, nodding his head to agree that he’d grant your wish. Why couldn’t he pretend just for a little while that everything was going to be okay? Why did he have to remind you and himself that you’d soon stop being you? He despised himself for it and for lying to you. He’d never be okay without you there.

“Can you pick some fresh flowers for me?” You looked at the bouquet by your side with a melancholic smile. “They’re withering.”

Daryl snorted quietly, “Since when do ya care ’bout a bunch of wildflowers?” His response made the grimace on your face become a genuine smile. He could swear his heart thumped madly at the sight—just like the day he saw it for the first time. “I’ll get ’em for ya, darlin’.”

The archer got up from the bed and rolled his shoulders to loosen them up. If you wanted flowers, he’d go to hell and back to get you some goddamn flowers; he’d rip them out of walkers’ hands if it came to that. Daryl glanced at you again thoroughly before he leaned over and pressed his lips against yours in a longing kiss. His fingers smoothed down your hair before he pulled away.

“I’ll be back real soon. I promise.”

You only needed to give her a slow nod for her to understand that it was time. She took the gun out of her waistband and stepped to your side, one of her hands reaching out to grasp yours. Carol knew how terrified you were, standing eye to eye with death itself, and she knew how Daryl would’ve never forgiven himself for being the one on the other side of that gaze; that’s why she agreed to your plan—to make it all less insufferable.

The moment you heard the front door slamming shut, you called out for Carol.

The woman barged into the room, her eyes murky with sadness and unshed tears.

Her hand was steady, holding the weapon against the side of your head. “Just look at the flowers, sweetheart,” she whispered.

“Thank you, Carol,” you mumbled out, your eyes glued to the bouquet of withering wildflowers.

@whiskeypowder @hopefulatrocity @witheringblooddemon @humanmistakes @yttricuz @twdeadlysins @donttelltheelff @spidergirla5 @depressedfrog2 @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @wonderful-writer @sexyseabass @sweetpotatospock @witchygagirl

#the walking dead #the walking dead x reader #twd #the walking dead amc #writing challange #the slumber party #daryl dixon #twd daryl #daryl x reader #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x you #the walking dead x you #twd x reader #twd x gender neutral reader #daryl dixon x gender neutral reader

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infraaa · 1 year

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How do we- how do we feel about longan and a siren reader.. silly little idea 😋

『INSP BY THE CONTORTIONIST AND IF YOU DONT KNOW THAT SONG….. GO LISTEN TO IT NOW 👹 also I really like this idea ngl! I made some hcs for it if you don’t mind. 💜』

longan dragon cookie w a siren s/o (afab)

bakers notes // imo this made me legit think of like… like sea fairy or black pearl. So since this is a siren thing there’s probs gonna be some ties between black pearl and the s/o (also @m00r3-starzz and or @ask-the-longan-dragon may place me in super hell (💜) after this.) also I’m still coming for either a random anon or @windlotus

tw i guess // hypnosis bc siren. Also it’s just a tad bit suggestive due to the nature of sirens, and the song… so… yk.

what makes you think that they haven’t or have not encountered one? For fucks sake, look, their palace literally floats above the Pacific Ocean.

They’ve seen Black Pearl Cookie at some point, and they know who Sea Fairy is… if anything seeing a siren would just take them back…

Your glistening tail under the moonlight and the reflection of the water on your gills… like a shining gem in their hoard.

Your singing would bounce through their air, into the nightly current floating around the golden palace.

Longan knows what you want. They aren’t dumb. Sirens sing for souls— for blood and food. And they are aware that Dragon’s Blood is well sought out after not just by vampires, but sorcerers and mages for its benefits and health properties.

They try to ignore you to the best of their abilities. But after a while it gets hard not to go out.

But when you sing so beautifully,

“Twisted all my limbs for you. Two of them in knots and two of them in loops. Ribbons tied around like a noose… wonder if I'll ever get it loose.”

Mmm, so smoothly…

“I don't wanna bruise for you. Holding back my words until my face is blue (huh!) I don't really care about your crew. You can tell 'em what you wanna do.”

You get into their head and make them internally spin around in a dizzy circle when you make your voice sound like that for them…

“Pushin me, lovin me, pulling me, fuckin me, crushin me, touchin me… aah!~”

Eventually they bite their lip and follow you, their eyes a dull gold. Their grey complexion now reflecting somewhat of a warmer tone in their cheeks. Aimlessly walking towards you, the click clacks of their feet across ivory tile floor as they go in and out…

They walk out to a terrace to eye you like a vulture, looking down at you, golden eyes now agleam in the dark of night. Yet they hold some kind of want…

They want you in their palace. But that’s impossible. If you’re akin to Black Pearl, you wouldn’t be able to survive above water… at least… not for long.

But that doesn’t mean that they can’t come to you, despite knowing the possible dangers that lead up to that. But ah hell, they could defeat you in a fight easily. The temptation of floating down to you was forming in their legs.

They must show restraint and willpower however.

Oh…

Twisting all my bones like screws. Stretching my self worth, just like you usually do. Caught you like the cold or a flu (achoo!) Praying that I'll someday be immune.

Here we go again…

Got me like a bad tattoo… always under skin, even when it gets removed. Never got a chance to undo… positions that you forced my way into.

Ugh! Their breath just quickened… mouth watering… of course, they don’t let you see that. That’s all internal. But they’re internally foaming at the mouth. Truly miserable.

But they do anyway. They step up to the terrace and graciously float downward. They have a small lump in their throat that tightens. They feel hot— but a comfortable kind of heat soars through them.

As you bummed you put a webbed finger under their chin, the intensity of eye contact not seeming to phase you. You smile… sickly sweet towards them…

“Sing. Sing weakling.”

They grow to crave it nightly— like a drug. Your soft sweet voice not looking to harm them, but to please them. And when push comes to shove, as it sometimes does…

There’s… other ways they can make you sing.

And sometimes, after you actually do, you continue to do so going on further in the youth of the night.

But the singing they make you do… isn’t singing. If you catch me…

#infrawrites #infradelivers #cookie run kingdom #crk x reader #crob #x reader #cookie run ovenbreak #crk headcanons #crob headcanons #longan dragon cookie

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carebearmareee · 5 months

Text

kiss her you fool !

asher and babe’s first kiss, written by me, in full detail (jk it’s a draft) based off of the song “kiss her you fool” by Kids That Fly. they/them pronouns are used for babe :)

on the third date they went ice skating. not the best idea. sure, asher was the one to ask them to go skating with him, but he started rethinking that decision when he realized he had no idea how to skate whatsoever. it was nice when babe grabbed his hand to steady him, which only led to them going down with him the next time his skate caught on a small crack in the ice. shit, this was not supposed to be going so horribly.

babe steadies themself and extends a hand for him to take again. “are you ok??”

he almost laughs at how concerned they seem because hello?? he literally just knocked them over and they’re asking if he’s ok?

“yeah, i’m fine! uhahf- are you ok? i mean it’s basically my fault that we fell- god!”

“don’t worry ash, it’s all good,” they smile, and asher thinks he might have died right then and there, “oh, hey! you might want to re-tie your skates, we’ve been on the ice for a while so they might be kinda lose by now.”

he agrees, and tells them that he’s going to the bathroom before they can help him with his skates. he whips out his phone to text milo as soon as the gets in a stall.

Today 7:18 PM

ash: MILO

milo: WHAT

milo: what did you do

milo: wait aren’t you supposed to be on a date right now??

ash: yeah

milo: did you ditch them?? oh my god asher

ash: no!! i’m in the bathroom. and im at the skating rink and things are not going well. like at all

ash: i keep messing things up AHHH

ash: AND I REALLY WANT TO KISS THEM SHAKDJSJ BUT HOWWW

milo: ohh that’s what you’re so worried aboutt

milo: just kiss em you foollllll

ash: HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO DO THAT WHEN I FALL OVER EVERY TWO SECONDS??

milo: when the moment happens it’ll happen, just be patient doofus

ash: ugh ok.

milo: NOW GET BACK TO UR DATE YOU GOT THIS KING

ash: OK 😭😭

he thought it was the right moment when babe was holding both of his hands and skating backwards while looking up at him ever so sweetly. he really wanted to kiss them there. but then they squealed (adorably, if he may add) and turned around, because one of their favorite songs was on. damn it. either he was failing miserably or babe was extremely oblivious to any hints he was dropping.

#im probably never gonna finish this #redacted asher #redacted babe #redacted asmr #redacted audio #mare’s drafts!#no one asked u mare 🤭

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madmanrambler · 1 year

Text

“So walk me through everything I missed. It seems like it was a lot.”

“What, Everything? It’s 85 bloody years, there’s a lot to cover. And me without a degree in history.”

“Alright then, summarize. I can research whatever you mention that seems particularly interesting.”

I shifted to better watch Corv as he spoke, listening through ears that still felt chilly from 85 years frozen. Corv, one of my rescuers, shifted in his own spot, his diminutive form finding a comfortable seat. He glanced at me before starting in to the history.

“Let’s see, you went under in the 2020s you said, right? So you at least have an idea that climate change was getting bad. That was most of the 30′s and 40′s, handling that in various ways. Mostly bad ways. Lotta border skirmishes, plenty of fighting and arguing about bits of this and that. Big cold war between Canada and China about shipping lanes that opened up in the Artic, which was a miserable bloody time.” this at least all made sense, and I was nodding along.

“in the 50s things came to a bit of a head. Most of the ice that was going to melt melted, and the weather patterns were stabilizing. the countries and people left were figuring out how to handle the Sahara being able to grow plants and the American Midwest becoming a desert. We got some peace makers out of South America, and you’ll probably find some interestin’ stuff about indonesia and how its government in exile set an example for island nations and how to handle the shift in tides. Always found some of that stuff fascinating, you can look up Melati Hon and her speeches on the new world, great stuff.” Corv seemed excited about that part, really animated and I could see his eyes gleaming. Really might be something worth reading, and seeing what I thought afterwards. He reluctantly plowed on. “the 60s people kinda lost their mind, great art from the period but a lot of folks were recovering from being kids during the greatest ecological disaster. The 70s there’s big move of standardizing everything, making sure that plugs fit all over the world and all the measuring equipment can measure the same. Parts of America still insist on using standard but that’s more a local custom then a nation-wide standard at this point. the 80′s had a lot of discussion about the moon base, I think there was a big scare around a country grabbing it for themselves and a space war or something erupting over that, it was agreed to be a joint venture with every nation able to send people up, averted a lot of problems. The 90s are close enough I can remember ‘em, and there’s a ton you could focus on but overall it’s all about how to handle us living with these new batteries we’ve got, the Phazolyte batteries.” This wasn’t exactly what I wanted to focus on, but Corv seemed to think it was important so I nodded and tossed in what I knew. “They’re batteries that mix with water to charge right?”

He coughed, shaking his head. “Yeah, I guess that’d be the second grader explanation. They mix phazolyte with water, and phazolyte causes water to be willing to compress as much as you push it, something it doesn’t want to do at all normally. S’why jumping off a bridge into water is like hitting concrete, all the force rebounds back into your body. With Phazolyte we get to store as much energy as we can compress into the water, then you just remove the Phazolyte and the water uncompresses, pushes against something, makes the electricity. And the Phazolyte, once removed, is good to use again, doesn’t lose anything in the process. It’s dead useful, and the last 15 years has been plugging that into everything and getting the supply chain worked out.” Corv coughed again, and glanced around. “That should cover the basics. Sorry we don’t have flying cars or nothing like that, I know you folks were keen on that.”

I stared at Corv for a long while. “Corv, that’s great. I’m glad you covered all the uh. The battery stuff. But.” I hesitated, glancing from him to the window to the chair he was sitting in. “You uh. Skipped the part about you.” Corv shifted in his seat again, glancing away from me. “Well it really isn’t all that important, it’s just part of the world really. I’m a British citizen, we still say god save the queen, we keep playing football-” “That seems like it’d be a bit hard for you to play.” I interrupt, glancing at how small Corv was. “I mean, Corv, you didn’t mention a damn thing about when birds started talking.” Corv looked what I thought was askance. “Well you did ask me to summarize.” He reminded me as his beak preened his feathers. “If I summarize I gotta skip the things that are less important. That’s how summarizing history goes.”

#CorvandI #writing #utopia fic?#mad man ramblin

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markosbabymama · 8 months

Note

yipppeee!!! :) in that case can i pls get a ck matchup?

i’m 5’3” (160 cm) , i have stone blue eyes but they change to green or grey depending on the day. my hair is wavy and shoulder length and it’s the color of cinnamon. i have dark freckles under my right eye but not my left. im on the lighter-tannish side and i have a sharp button nose.

i’m an aquarius rising and sun , and i’m a pisces moon. i’m an introverted extrovert and an entp. i have anxiety and adhd. i tend to hyperfixate on things very easily. i love film, and writing, and reading. horror is my favorite genre of book and movie. my love language is physical touch and words of affirmation. my aesthetic per-say is modern downtown girl meets 70s downtown girl.

i love music si much it’s a big part of my life. i’m learning to speak spanish and i tend to talk a lot if you couldn’t already tell. rambling is a big habit of mine.

i’m so sorry ml for writing like 3 full paragraphs 😭😭 mwah mwah tysm <3333

u are literally the cutest ever?!🩷🥹

you are made for miguel sorry i don’t make the rules

UGH HEIGHT DIFFERENCE !!

he loves to lean down and kiss u literally his favorite thing ever.

he’ll randomly give u piggy back rides or pick u up bridal style and thinks it’s the funniest thing ever

loves loves LOVES UR EYES!!!!

literally kisses ur eyelids bc he loves your eyes sm

*looks down at u while ur cuddling him* “when we get married and have kids they better have your eyes, or else i don’t want em.” *slaps his chest* “miguel!”

takes random pics of ur eyes while they’re in light

loves to run his hands threw ur hair. it’s therapeutic for him.

definitely tried to braid it and fails miserably but it’s the thought that counts.

randomly buys u claw clips and hair ties🥹

has a hair tie on his wrists at all times just in case.

once tired to kiss all the freckles on ur face to see if he could do it LOL

obvi he couldn’t but it’s okay cus he loves to kith u lol.

always admired ur freckles. thinks it’s the prettiest thing on the planet.

NOSE KISSES ARE A DAILY THING.

kisses ur nose as many times as human can.

loves to pinch ur nose as well lolz

he loves ur nose sm

he’s honestly always by you’re side since he knows it takes time for u to warm up to ppl

especially at party’s.

he will never leave ur side EVER.

only time he does is to get u a drink. but even then he’s like “u sure ur okay by urself? promsie??”

and let’s say u have an anxiety attack/ ur overwhelmed by something

MY GOD HES WAISTING NO TIME

he will run to your side so fast to make sure you’re okay.

will do breathing exercises with you, rub your back, give you water, talk u threw it, he will literally not move from ur side unless you say to.

loves how u get so invested in something

like he will literally go out of his way to make sure he knows everything abt ur hyper fixation

no matter wtf it is. it could be abt rocks and this man will search how many there are, JUST to talk to u abt it.

adores reading horror books/ watching horror movies with u.

he’ll wrap his whole body around u with twelve blankets on a couch and just sit there listening to you tell him about facts abt the movie, the cast, where it was filmed, ect.

loves watching u write

will literally just sit next to u and watch

HE ADORES EVERYTHING U DO MAN🥹

loves how passionate u are abt music

makes a special playlist just for u.

is proud when u add a song from his playlist to urs

“U LIKE THIS SONG???” *smiles like a six year old*

i honestly believe miguel is touchy too so he LOVES when u can’t keep ur hands off him

not in a sexual way, in a loving, caring, sweet way🖤

holds onto ur waist all the time

y’all definitely link arms all the time

he’s always touching u and the other way around. y’all can’t keep each others hands off the other.

“you’re the best thing that ever happened to me, mi amor.”

loves ur style and loves going shopping with u.

will hold up a pair of boots and go

“omg this would look so pretty on u mi amor.”

also loves finding lil hats for u to wear.

will blow every last dollar he has to buy u clothes.

*walks in with 5 giant bags* “Y/N, I HAVE A SUPRISE FOR YOUUU!!”

UGH LOVES CUS UR LEARNING SPANISH??!?!?!

literally is ur tutor

“Eres el amor de mi vida.” *looks over to him* “what did u just say, miguel? *smiles from ear to ear.* “nothiiinggg.”

u find out like three days later and kiss the shit out of him. LMAO

leaves lil love notes in spanish in ur locker everyday 🥹

so proud of u when u have your first full convo in spanish.

“YOU DID IT!!! IM SO PROUD OF YOU MI AMOR!” *tackles u and kisses ur face.*

so much shit talking happens at school.

miguel: “¿Viste su traje?”

y/n: “Sí, oh Dios mío. ella se parece a mi abuela.”

*both of u dying of laughter*

A/N: THIS WAS SO FUN TO WRITE MY GOODNESSSSSS. i really hope u enjoy this cause i had a blast writing it. love ya!!🩷🥹

#cobra kai #miguel diaz x reader #cobra kai imagines #eli moskowitz x reader #miguel diaz #cobra kai x reader #robby keene x reader #tory nichols #miguel diaz oneshot #miguel diaz imagine

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leviackermansmissingfingers · 8 months

Note

I WANT AN ERWIN X READER ONESHOT PLEASE

(FLUFF NOT ANGST OR ELSE IMMA GOING TO EAT YOUR SOUL)

calm downnn i got you--i'm not sure of how this turned out, but here it is!

pairing: erwin x reader

cw: slight angst, mostly fluff, mention of death, established relationship

content: reader comforts erwin after the 57th scouting mission

- a little comfort-

you were looking down as you walked on the streets of calaneth district along with the other soldiers of the survey corps. the regiment was silent, only the sound of footsteps and the comments of the crowd could be heard. The citizens weren’t really supportives of the scouts, as usual.

“am i miscounting, or are there fewer of ‘em than when they left?”

“no, there’s a lot fewer.”

“must’ve been a bad one. I don’t get it, they were all piss and vinegar when they left this morning. they’re already back?”

“hell, why even bother leaving in the first place?”

“Our taxes at work, ladies and gentlemens. bravo.” the crowd’s negative comments and whispers could be heard very clearly in the streets, but everybody tried to brush it off. you were walking with your head low, thinking about the outcome of the 57th expedition beyond the walls. it wasn’t a good one, with a lot of soldiers lost due to the female titan, despite commander erwin’s attempt to capture her.

speaking of erwin, you could notice your lover walking ahead of the regiment, his head hanging low, ignoring the crowd’s gossip and comments. obviously he was the commander, so the insults of the crowd were mainly aimed at him. you could see by the look on his face that he wasn’t proud of the mission’s outcome, especially not after losing so many men.

as you were getting closer to the survey corps headquarters, erwin’s face fell even more as you heard him sigh. you wanted so badly to come up to him and give him a big hug, but your duties as soldiers didn’t allow you to do that here.

Once you entered the barracks, you saw erwin leave and enter his office. After making sure that all of your duties for the day were done, you quietly followed him, before stopping at his door.

“erwin? it’s y/n”, you said as you knocked at the door. soon enough, you saw the door opening as your blonde boyfriend let you in.

“oh, hey y/n. i’m happy to see you.” erwin gave you a tired smile as he sat down on his couch, letting out a heavy sigh.

you quickly sat down next to him, giving him a concerned look.

“erwin? how are you feeling? you know, since the mission..”

erwin looked at you, clearly hesitating if he should open up to you. After a few seconds, he sighed again and looked away.

“i’m…i don’t know, honestly. i was certain that today would be a success, you know. i was so confident, too arrogant, and look what happened today…” erwin paused, exhaling. you slowly took his hand, giving him a soft look to reassure him.

“Sorry…i just feel bad, honestly. i feel like lately i’ve been a terrible commander. today was a disaster, not only did we let the female titan escape, but we lost so many men. i’m the commander, i should’ve been more careful, i should've have made a real plan, not an uncertain gamble…i’m not a good commander, am i?” erwin was looking down as he spoke, rubbing his temples. he was feeling miserable, and it was understandable seeing how many burdens he had to bear as a commander.

you squeezed his hand in a comforting manner.

“hey, look at me.” you waited until erwin turned his head toward you before speaking again.

“you’re not a bad commander, erwin.of course you made some mistakes, but that is normal, erwin. honestly? today was from far not our best mission, but you led it better than most of us would’ve had. you knew about the threat that is the female titan, and you managed to restrain it, you saved eren by doing it. yes, many died, and the titan escaped but you couldn’t have predicted it. our comrades didn’t die in vain, erwin. We learned from this mission, and you, erwin, is the one leading us and giving us hope. don’t let this one failure ruin your spirit and confidence.”

you paused, cupping his cheeks gently.

“and no matter what, you have my support, erwin. you always will, no matter how many mistakes you make or how many missions you’ll fail, i will be by your side. don’t lose hope, erwin. me and the others believe in you, okay? don’t be so hard on yourself. nobody could lead the scouts better than you” you said softly as you caressed his cheek gently, looking into his bright blue eyes.

erwin’s expression softened as he gave you a soft look. he put one of his hands on top of yours as he spoke.

“...i love you, you know that? you never fail to make me feel better”

“well, that’s my job after all. and i love you too, erwin” you said with a soft smile, bringing his hand to your lips and kissing his knuckles.

in the end, no matter how bad the mission could be, no matter how many people died or how many hate he received, erwin knew that he wasn’t alone.

because he had you.

#attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #erwin smith #aot erwin #erwin x reader #erwin x y/n #fluff #oneshot

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simp999 · 11 months

Text

A New Home Ch. 20

Various! Splatoon Manga x Skilled! Isekai'd! Reader

Wc: 1.6k

A/N: Why did I put so much effort into his tentacles, I don't even like the color yellow. Anyways, get ready to dislike Emperor :)

Back to the Start! Previous Next

“You’ve done well in advancing past the preliminary round. Strive harder to fight me.”

You noticed the way all of the inklings around you seemed to cower at the king’s voice, he sure knew how to control a crowd. Most of the blue team shuddered at the sight. You looked back to see Rider’s uneasy smile, as well as the way Stealth quivered on the spot.

‘So this is the absolute king.’

You refuse to let him sway you, staring him down with a look of determination written across your face. He seems entertaining. You two lock eyes for a solid few seconds, and you don’t even consider blinking until he’s got his eyes somewhere else. You look away from him to see how your teammates are doing, only getting reminded of how awesome they are when you see Leo with a bright smile, no doubts in his mind. Tasha’s analysing anything she can about Emperor, and Milo’s smile is much more focused. They intend on battling the Monarch team and winning, and nothing can stop them.

Except for you of course, if you so choose to go easy on your opponents. But who are you to disrespect your teammates? It’s not like you have much of a choice, so going all in is the only thing you can do now.

“We’ve got lots of training to do, gang.”

You state, just loud enough for your teammates to hear. Tasha gives a curt nod, Milo a smile, and Leo punches his right hand into his left in front of him, letting out a “Hell yeah!”

The crowd begins to disperse when the first teams to battle are called up.

[Team Yellow-Green VS Team Cardigan!]

Your determined expression immediately turns into one of slight irritation, desperately wanting to shake your head and facepalm. You had forgotten about that annoying team.

[And Team Gloves VS Retro Gamer Team!]

Gloves and Rider announce how they’re going to crush their opponents, and fight about who’s gonna win the championship. The two battles will be happening at the same time, so you’ll have to decide who to watch. Leo makes his way over to follow behind Gloves, starting up a quick convo before the battle to get Gloves pumped. Huh, it looks like they’re fans of each other. Milo does a half-jog to keep up with Leo, not wanting to let him off on his own. Who knows what that dork will do without supervision. He'd probably jump the railing to go and join Gloves’ battle if nobody was there with him. Tasha walks over to trail behind Rider, wanting to see how his battle goes down. May as well go with Tasha to split up evenly.

You end up beside Rider after he slows his walking speed to match yours.

“I better see you in battle soon.”

You knew that was his way of saying ‘don’t lose’.

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” You figure that this is the best time to slip in a hint, “Don’t be going easy on any opponents, now.”

Get em’, Rider. The Cardigan team deserves it.

The battles go by quickly, and it seems like Rider took your words with a grain of salt. Though, he did become more relentless as soon as Team Cardigan’s identities were revealed. Rider and Gloves meet up after their wins, and get at each other's throats with some "playful" banter.

You stand with your arms crossed, almost wishing you got to see a battle between the two teams. Your attention is redirected to a team you’d love to see in action, if only it weren’t for their future miserable defeat. Aloha drops down to stretch a bit, hyping himself up for his upcoming battle. The blue team is still surprised to see the S4 actually working together.

“Thooough grouping together suuucks.”

…They still have terrible chemistry. That’s probably the main reason they weren’t able to win against Emperor, all trying to do their own thing and refusing to cooperate. No team is at their strongest if they can’t manage to work together.

After Goggles pulls a dish of dango out of nowhere and offers it to the S4, Skull tells the blue team that he wants to battle them, despite Emperor’s Team being here. How sweet, it seems he’s starting to warm up. The S4 is off to their first match, Rider trailing behind to go watch. Goggles wants to join too, but Specs reminds him of their battle. You’re about to follow your team, who’s following Rider, but you hang back for a sec to save Inkfall from getting his shirt dirty. You smoothly grab the dango from Goggles’ hand before it touches Inkfall, walking off while munching on it, without a word.

‘This stuff’s actually pretty good. I should’ve gotten some for the squad.’

Inkfall noticed the way you saved him from a messy situation, but decided to berate Goggles for nearly getting him dirty. Just as planned, the manga goes on as usual.

The S4’s battle goes on seemingly without any problems, but your trained eye can see much more than the average cephalopod. Army tried executing the plans from his manual alone, which proved futile without cooperating teammates.

Aloha was still quite laid back, and didn’t function too well with the way Army was always bickering with him.

‘Army doesn’t see that Aloha does his best when he’s chill. It may not look like he’s trying hard, but he’s much smoother with his agility when he’s comfortable.’

You lean on the railing, shifting feet because they were getting tired. The opponent is too slow to hit Aloha, so the party squid easily manages to dodge, but ends up nearly bumping into Mask.

“Waaaatch it, idiooot!”

You shake your head at the poor cooperation. Skull never missed a shot, but he didn’t shoot at times that he should have. He’s so used to Aviator nailing the opponents before Skull even bothers to attack, so it must have been weird working with new teammates.

Mask held back and used his sub weapons as usual, but it wasn’t nearly as effective when the whole team was doing other stuff. Usually, it worked best when Desi would throw toxic mist to slow down the opponent, then Mask would finish them off quickly with two perfectly aimed burst bombs.

The match still ends as expected, the S4 managing just under 75% of the stage. You’re glad they won, but the happiness quickly dies down, knowing how bad of a hit they’re about to take. There’s no avoiding the outcome, but it still sucks to see such skilled and respectable people get demolished. You recollect your thoughts, making your way out of Deca tower to meet up with the rest of the gang.

Goggles enthusiastically congratulates the S4 on their win, and you stay farther away. Aloha isn’t paying attention to Goggles at all, only looking for you. When he does spot you, it’s almost like when a puppy is reunited with its owner. You could’ve sworn that he’d be wagging his tail if he had one.

“Hey, hey~ you saw my sweet moves, right?!”

You inwardly debate if you should tell him the truth about how badly they work together, or just let him be happy.

Well, his dreams are about to get completely crushed, so you should put him in a good mood while it lasts. You put your hand out for a fist bump and point out one of the times he did a cool backflip while dodging some ink, splatting an opponent at the same time.

“You are lying. Not entirely, but you believe that we could battle better.”

Yet Army sees right through you once again. For the weakest of the S4, he's pretty sharp. Your smile drops and you look away dully, with a slight furrow in your brow.

“...’Cause I know for a fact that you guys have the potential to be over one-hundred times stronger than this. You just don’t work well together. Being strong isn’t all there is to a team, you need to trust each other, too.”

The blue team had walked away a while back, and your teammates take their place, hearing you out. They saw it too. Of course, their clear bias for their idols fogged up the fact that they can be stronger, but your teammates aren’t stupid. Two of them, at least. Leo tilts his head in question, he still has much to learn. He really is like his idol.

“So, what do you expect us to do, then?”

“Lose, probably.”

Skull wasn’t expecting that response. Most people avoid talking to him altogether, but saying something like that? That’s pretty bold… Had it not been coming from you. You’re no longer at the ‘Unreachable idol + lowly fan’ phase, you’re now acquaintances. And you won’t sugar-coat it. Even your teammates behind you are shocked at how you ‘disrespected’ their idols, almost forgetting that you’re just as big of a fan, if not more, than they are.

“That’s not something you can fix overnight. Hours upon hours of training together might help that, but it’s completely useless if you guys simply don’t get along.”

You glance back at Tasha, then Milo, and Leo,

“You need a family that would kill and die for you, and you need to bring the same if not more to the table.”

Next part

June.1.23

#x reader #fanfic #splatoon manga #splatoon manga x reader #splatoon #splatoon 2 #splatoon 3 #splatoon manga rider #splatoon manga mask #splatoon manga aloha #splatoon manga goggles #coroika #splatoon manga emperor #splatoon emperor #splatoon manga prince #splatoon manga edging jr #splatoon manga n-pacer #coroika emperor

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thebiggerbear · 7 months

Text

Kiss Me Again - Beau x Cassie - Prompt Response

A/N: Prompt from prompt list by @dumplingsjinson. Beau and Cassie are just too adorbs. I had to write this.

Unbeta'd so all mistakes are my own.

“Quick, kiss me again, they’re coming back—”

<-->

Cassie shot Beau a look at yet another dad joke he had just told.

“What?”

“No, just no.” She shook her head, urging him to quit while he was ahead.

He gave her his most charming smile. “Admit it, you love it.”

She tried to keep from smiling, she really did, but failed miserably. So instead, she settled for an eye roll and then turned away so he couldn’t see her face. Because if he saw her grin, it would all be over. The dad jokes would be turned up ten notches and she couldn’t do that to Emily, or herself really.

Beau laughed, knowing full well why she was suddenly so invested in Dewell & Hoyt’s current case board. “Yeah, she does.”

Denise appeared next to Cassie, handing her a packet of papers. “This is that report you asked for from the DMV. Em and I are trying to match the license plate right now.”

Cassie nodded her thanks. “Let me know when you have an address and I’ll take a ride over there.”

Before Denise could say anything, Beau piped up from behind them, “Something I should know?”

Denise glanced back and forth between Cassie and Beau, and then settled on Emily who was typing away on Cassie’s computer as her father sat next to her on the desk. “I’ll let Cassie fill you in on that, Beau-Beau. Me? I need some sustenance. Em, why don’t you come with me to the coffee shop down the street and we’ll pick up some sandwiches to bring back here?”

“Oh.” Emily looked surprised. “But I’m almost—” At Denise’s look, she nodded and slowly got to her feet. “Right. Okay, yeah. I’m starving, anyway.”

Denise gave her an encouraging smile.

Beau reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet, slapping some bills into Emily’s hand. “Lunch is on me. Do your old man a favor, though. Can you get me that buffalo chicken sandwich special they have? Oh-ho-ho yes. Thanks, kiddo.”

The older woman turned to Cassie, arching her eyebrows in question. She shrugged and settled on the easiest answer. “Same for me, too, I guess.” Denise smiled and gave Cassie a wink before leading Emily out of the office and down the block.

Cassie turned to see Beau’s gaze trained on her.

“Have I ever told you how good you look in that color?”

She glanced down at her light blue turtleneck before smiling up at him. “Thanks. I think.”

He tossed his wallet onto the desk beside him and turned to fully face her. “C’mere.”

Cassie rolled her eyes again but made her way over to him, not in the least surprised when his hands flashed out, gripped her hips, and pulled her in, his lips intent on hers. When he finally broke away to let them both get some air, she wrapped her arms around his neck, content to stay there with him as long as possible. It was rare that they got moments like this alone these days. Between the Bleeding Heart murders, whatever was going on with Avery, and the rise in cases in Lewis & Clark County requiring the full attention of the Sheriff’s Department, she and Beau didn’t get to see each other too often. And when they did, usually someone else was around like Jenny or Denise or now even Emily. Seeing as neither of them were ready to broadcast their change in relationship status to everyone just yet, this proved to be frustrating and slightly problematic. So any time Cassie could get with the Sheriff she cherished, soaking up every possible second before the bubble would be burst by whatever twist or turn the universe wanted to throw at them that day, she’d take it.

Beau’s arms snuck around Cassie’s waist and he placed his forehead against hers, closing his eyes. “Been a while,” he murmured.

“Yeah,” she whispered.

After a moment, he opened his eyes and let out a sigh. “I’m sorry. Between the murder in the park the other day, the whole Carla and Avery thing going on, and making sure Em is okay after what happened, I just haven’t been able to really get time to step away.”

“I get it,” she assured him. “You’ve got a lot going on. Us, too. We’ll get time. After.”

“Yes. We will,” he promised, giving her a soft smile. “Gotta say, I’ve been missing the hell out of you, though.”

“Same here.”

Beau’s smile grew. “You’d think criminals would be more considerate. Realize we have lives.”

“Right? You’d think they’d take a holiday every now and then just to give us a break.”

He snickered and kissed her lips. “So selfish of them.”

“Very selfish,” she agreed. She then snuck a hand up to pat down his hair, her brows furrowing at the stubborn wayward lock that just wouldn’t go back into place. Every once in a while this would happen and Beau hated it. He swore that one of these days he would cut his hair to which Jenny would threaten to use the picture she took of the three of them from the last movie night they had, and have Poppernak upload it to the department website. Jenny would then receive a glare of the likes that Cassie never wanted to be on the receiving end of, though she was secretly amused at the constant bickering between the two. Beau had told her once that Jenny was like the annoying younger sister he never asked for. Cassie knew better, though; for all of his griping, he liked Jenny well enough and he secretly enjoyed their banter. It made things a lot easier on the workfront and Beau had confided to her that he had been initially worried that the two would keep butting heads after their first meeting. But all of that worrying had been for naught; they actually worked quite well together. Denise even kept referring to them as Helena’s own crime solving duo.

Cassie would never admit it but she liked Beau from the outset. His sexist remarks aside, he was friendly, personable, and she could sense there was a lot more to the Everything’s-Bigger-In-Texas-Darlin’ front he put on. It turned out she had been right, and looking at Beau now, she had never been happier to be right about a guy since Andrew.

“Is it sticking up again?”

“No, it’s just…” She made a few more attempts and luckily, it worked. “There.”

“Damn hair. I swear I’m gonna cut it.”

Cassie laughed and cupped his cheeks, leaning in to kiss him. “No, you’re not.”

“I am. I mean it. And I don’t give a crap what Hoyt says. I’ll have a desk jockey strip her access from the website so fast it’ll make her damn head spin.”

She decided to tease him and dug her teeth into her lip, forcing his gaze down to her mouth. “But if you do,” she murmured. “Then I won’t have anything to hold onto.” His eyes flickered back up to hers and she could see the green darken slightly. Mission accomplished.

It wasn’t all that surprising when Beau loosened his grip on her to sneak his hands into the back pockets of her jeans, and squeezed. “Oh, I”ll give you something to hold onto, darlin’, don’t you worry.” He leaned in a little closer and his voice dropped in register, making an all-too familiar fluttery feeling appear in her abdomen. “You know, you really shouldn’t be teasing me like that when my daughter is about to walk through the door.”

She stared into his eyes, not giving an inch. “Is that a punishable offense, Sheriff?”

He tugged her in closer and squeezed her again. “You want to find out?”

Excitement coursed through her. Oh, she very much did, but he had made a good point. Denise and Emily were bound to return any moment now. The coffee shop was most likely not going to be that busy, not at this time of day. Everyone had already gotten their caffeine fixes about two hours earlier.

And as if on cue, Cassie heard the lock on the front door being turned. That surprised her; why would Denise have locked the door? She didn’t have too much time to think on it, though, because right then Beau swooped down to drop a heated kiss on her lips, the promise of later rippling through her. One glance into his eyes before she took a step back confirmed it.

Cassie didn’t get too far when Beau suddenly jumped to his feet and grabbed her again. His arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her up to meet him more fully. Placing her hands on his shoulders to steady herself, she could hear the door being opened and Denise talking. She was pretty sure this was not how Beau wanted Emily to find out about them. As a matter of fact, she knew it wasn’t. Beau had been pretty insistent that he wanted them to sit down and have a conversation with Emily when the time was right, same as she wanted to do with Kai.

Remembering this, Cassie tried to step away but he held her fast. “Beau,” she warned. “They’re about to walk in.”

“You’re not getting off that easy.” He then murmured to her lips, “Whatever plans you’ve got tonight, cancel ‘em. You’re coming over.”

She went to speak when they both froze, hearing Denise opening up the front door again and saying to Emily that she thought she had dropped something on the sidewalk. They literally had seconds, if that.

Beau turned back to her, smirking. “Quick, kiss me again, they’re coming back—”

“Oh, ew, gross.”

Both Cassie’s and Beau’s heads snapped up, seeing Emily staring at them from the doorway, bags of food in hand. Denise appeared behind her, beaming and looking beyond happy, and then mouthing an apology.

Beau slowly released Cassie when she attempted to move away, chuckling nervously and taking a step back. A faint tinge of pink dusted his cheeks and the bridge of his nose which at any other time would have been adorable, sweet even, but not now. Now, they were both in the hot seat. Cassie wasn’t sure what to say so she stayed quiet, willing to follow his lead on how he wanted to handle this. She had only started to get to know Emily herself once Beau asked her to keep an eye on his teenage daughter who had recently found the dead body of one of her fellow glampers in the woods. She hoped this wouldn’t undo any rapport they had built so far.

He cleared his throat uncomfortably. “Em, listen…I—”

“You’re dating Cassie. Yep, I know. Already got the memo.”

The pink in her dad’s face turned to red and the tension in his body increased. Cassie felt for him; he was embarrassed and he hadn’t wanted her to find out like this. She felt guilty for teasing him; had she not, maybe Emily would have never walked in on them and she wouldn’t be the wiser. “I get that. But the bottom line is—”

“No,” Emily insisted. “Dad, I mean I know . It’s literally old news. I already knew about you guys.”

Beau was shocked and Cassie’s jaw dropped. Even Denise seemed surprised, turning to Emily in amazement. “You knew?”

Emily glanced back at the older woman with disbelief. “And you didn’t?”

“Oh no, I knew,” Denise confirmed.

“Wait,” Cassie interrupted, making them both look back at her. “You both knew?”

“Well, Cass, you two weren’t exactly being subtle.” This time, it was Cassie who was blushing. “The constant calls, Beau-Beau here coming by the office a lot recently and looking much happier than usual I might add, even right down to the way you two look at each other when you think no one else is watching. Of course it was obvious to anyone with eyes.” The older woman then thought for a minute, turning back to Emily. “I didn’t think you knew, though.”

“Oh yeah.” Emily made her way past the two slightly embarrassed but also dumbfounded adults standing in the center of the room, plopping down in Cassie’s chair and opening the bag of food to find her lunch. “They’re actually one of the main couples featured in my podcast.” Both Cassie’s and Beau’s eyes widened. “Originally, I was going to do my mom and dad, and then my mom and Avery, but this is much more interesting.” Emily gave them a devilish smile and proceeded to take a bite of her sandwich.

“Em, what…” Beau was sputtering, trying to process everything he just heard. “Wait, is this the summer project you were talking about?” At Emily’s nod, Beau’s jaw tightened. “Please tell me you haven’t put it out there yet.”

“And are we really being featured in it?” Cassie added.

“Well…”

Cassie’s nerves were skyrocketing. She didn’t want to think about how all of Helena and possibly the rest of the state — the rest of the country — now knew she and Beau Arlen were an item. Not that she cared what anyone thought; her relationship was her own and she cared deeply for Beau, she wasn’t ashamed for anyone to know that. But if this was made public in a very viral way, and if they were as obvious as Denise claimed, then that meant a certain blonde undersheriff must be seething right about now. She turned wide eyes on the sheriff and let out in a breath, “Jenny.”

Beau held out a comforting hand and went to speak when Emily cut him off. “Jenny? She’s the one who gave me the idea to feature you two instead of my parents.”

Just when Cassie thought she couldn’t be caught off guard anymore than she already had been today, she was wrong. “What?” Beau demanded.

Emily’s smirk was now gone, replaced by a sheepish expression when she realized that her father was anything but pleased at this information. “I was talking to her about the podcast and when I told her what it was about and who I planned to feature, she said you two might be a better choice than you and Mom.”

“Wait, what is the podcast about?” Cassie had to know. Why would she and Beau or Beau and Carla or even Carla and Avery for that matter be featured in a podcast of a high schooler? She was determined to ignore the knowledge that Jenny knew about her and Beau for now until she was ready to deal with it.

Emily glanced over at her father who had his hands on his hips and was staring down at her expectantly. “Secrets and lies in relationships,” she mumbled.

“Oh, boy,” Denise whispered before hurrying over to her desk to sit down.

Beau and Cassie exchanged a glance of disbelief and confusion before looking back at Emily. Cassie felt sick to her stomach; Jenny knew she had been quietly seeing Beau and based on this, she was not happy.

“Why are you doing a podcast on secrets and lies in relationships? And more importantly, why would you feature me or your mother?”

“Because,” Emily started, obviously grasping for something to say that would keep her out of trouble. “Yours and Mom’s relationship had a lot of that.” Cassie noticed pain flicker across Beau’s expression before he crossed his arms, studying his daughter as she attempted to explain. Before this, she would have never reached out to him in front of anyone, in case they were watching. But now that Emily, Denise, and apparently the whole world knew, Cassie didn’t give it a second thought as she laid a reassuring hand on his arm, squeezing gently. His hand covered hers, squeezing back, but he never took his eyes off of Emily. Something that wasn’t lost on the young girl either.

“You weren’t the only ones I was going to feature!” Emily rushed out. “I was also going to feature Luke and Paige, and Mom and Avery like I said, and—”

“Luke and Paige? You mean the guy who was accused of killing his girlfriend who is still missing? Yeah, that’s not happening.”

“But, Dad—”

“It’s an open homicide investigation, Em. Not to mention, I’m the sheriff. Did you think about that when planning this project of yours?”

Emily rolled her eyes. “Of course, I did. I wasn’t going to mention names, I’m not stupid.”

Beau let go of Cassie’s hand and paced to the end of the desk, sighing and running a hand down his face. Emily glanced up at Cassie who gave her what she hoped to be a tiny reassuring smile. She was trying not to think about what the implications of Jenny telling Emily about her and Beau dating would mean: for her friendship with Jenny, for her relationship with Beau, for Jenny’s own relationship with Beau — all of it seemed much more complicated now than it was prior to this knowledge.

“You know what would make a great podcast?” Both girls turned to look at Denise. “One about UFO’s.”

Cassie bit her lip to keep from chuckling. Denise and her UFO theory. She had to admit it — it wasn’t a bad idea. One much more preferable than the podcast Emily was currently working on.

Before Emily could say anything, the sheriff spun on his heel, hands on his hips again. “No more podcast,” he decided. Emily’s shoulders slumped and Beau gave her a look. “If you want to do one using Denise’s idea, then fine. But nothing about anything personal. Especially not about me and your mother. And especially not about people involved in an open investigation. Ever. Got it?”

Emily nodded, looking rather forlorn but knowing full well that she wouldn’t be able to win this one.

“Good. And by the way, you’re grounded.”

“What? Dad, come on. I don’t even live with you.”

Cassie didn’t need to glance at Beau to know how much that one hurt.

“That may be so but trust me, it’ll be a hell of a lot better to take your grounding from me than what your mother'll have in store for you once she finds out what you’ve been doing and that you’ve been airing out all of her dirty laundry.” Emily paled at this. Cassie still had yet to officially meet the former Mrs. Arlen, but based on what Beau and Jenny had said about the woman, she didn’t sound like she would be the understanding type if she learned her daughter was broadcasting all of the details of her relationships. Especially given the context of the theme for the podcast itself.

“Okay, hear me out for a second,” Emily tried. “What if instead of grounding me, I spend more weekends with you in the tin can.” At Beau’s glare, she continued. “We can do whatever you want to do, no matter how much I’ve protested it in the past. And not only will I be the coolest kid ever and be good with you and Cassie dating, but I’ll let you tell Mom on your own and I’ll even throw in my vocalized support for free.”

“Did you just counter your grounding with various forms of subtle emotional blackmail of your father and his new girlfriend?” At Emily’s sweet smile, Beau gave a nod and chuckled. “Impressive.” He glanced up to find Cassie giving him a look and he straightened up. “And ballsy. Which does not work in your favor, young lady. You’re grounded for three weeks, all three weekends which you will be spending with me in the Airstream and we will be doing what I want, whether you protest or not. Which means we’re going fishing so yeah, be ready. I will tell your mother about Cassie and me when I feel it’s the right time. Right now, she…has a lot of other things on her mind and that’s the last thing she needs to be worrying about. Especially since you said you already knew we were dating and you didn’t seem to have an issue with it then. And you already are the coolest kid ever,” he finished with an affectionate smile. “But even the best kids get misguided sometimes and it’s my job to steer you back onto the straight and narrow, so… Three weeks.”

Emily didn’t appear pleased but she shrugged her agreement. “Okay.”

Beau shot a satisfied smirk over at Cassie who inclined her head towards the back room. Getting her meaning quickly, he clapped his hands together and glanced between Emily and Denise. “Well, since it is no longer a secret…”

“And apparently never was,” Cassie muttered.

“Cassie and I are going to have a quick chat in the back so talk amongst yourselves… Actually, maybe don’t.”

“Just don’t make out in the storage room again.” Cassie’s eyes widened and turned towards Emily. The tips of Beau’s ears were the ones that turned pink this time. “That was weird and totally uncomfortable. Not to mention, extremely gross.”

Cassie glared over at Beau who laughed nervously. She had warned him it would be too risky a few days ago, with his daughter only twenty feet away, but he had insisted, citing the lack of time they’d had together over the last week, and she’d eventually given in. He was hard to resist, even in the best circumstances.

“Kids. They say the damndest things, don’t they?” He shrugged sheepishly with an anxious smile on display.

Out of the corner of her eye, Cassie saw Denise biting her lip to keep from laughing herself. Emily, too. She was so glad this was so entertaining for everyone; and to think, here she had been mortified at not only her assistant knowing about their recent rendezvous but also Beau’s teenage daughter along with every busybody in this town. “Beau,” she called before walking into the back.

“Yeah.” Beau hopped to it and followed her inside, shutting the door behind him.

Cassie crossed her arms. “Cute kid.”

He was practically beaming. “The cutest.” When Cassie didn’t crack a smile, he sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Look, I know this isn’t the way we planned for this to happen and I get how embarrassing all of…that was. I’ll talk to Em and explain to her that—”

She held out a hand to stop him. “Beau, I don’t care about that.” Relief saturated his features. “I’m more concerned about Jenny.”

His face darkened slightly. “Traffic duty. So much traffic duty is in her future.”

She ignored that. “A podcast about secrets and lies in relationships? Her telling Emily to focus on us? Not a coincidence.”

“Yeah, I was thinking the same thing but hey,” He cupped her face. “I don’t want you to worry about this. Okay? I’ll talk to her.”

Cassie shook her head. “I appreciate it but that won’t matter. She’s going to want to hear it from me and based on what Emily told us… Beau, I know her. Better than anyone. She’s not happy.”

“Since when is Hoyt ever happy?” When Cassie didn’t laugh or say a word, only continued to look worried, Beau reassuringly stroked her cheeks with his thumbs. “Cass, it’s going to be fine. Look at it this way, it’s less people for us to tell now that—”

“The whole state knows?”

He winced slightly. “Yeah, pretty much.” He then pulled her in for a hug, kissing the side of her head and murmuring into her hair, “It’s all going to work out. Trust me.” She closed her eyes and melted into him. She did trust him but she also knew Jenny. And with their history… She dug her fingers into the back of Beau’s jacket and on cue, he tightened his grip on her just like she wanted. If she wasn’t so worried, she might have smiled at the thought that Beau had indeed given her something else to hold onto.

“You know, one of the perks of everybody knowing,” he breathed into her ear. “Is less sneaking around.” She nearly shivered when his lips brushed her ear lobe. “Which means more time for you and me.”

She gasped when he suddenly picked her up, her legs wrapping around his waist on instinct. He grinned up at her as he started walking them further into the room, towards the back corner where a spare desk sat. As a rule, anytime he was in the vicinity, Cassie made sure to avoid that area. He liked it way too much, so much so that he put it to good use one night when she had been working late in the office by herself and he casually stopped by on his way home. “Beau,” she warned. “They’re expecting us back out there.”

“I know,” he chuckled. When they reached the desk, he gently lowered her down onto it. “But I told you I’d give you something else to hold onto, and darlin’...” This time, Cassie did shiver when his voice dropped into that deeper tone that he knew sent electricity up her spine. “Look around you because you’re gonna have a lot to hold onto later tonight,” he promised. His lips enveloped hers and she moaned when his tongue licked its way into her mouth. He kissed her deeply, silently hinting at everything that was to come when they were truly alone.

When he broke away, leaving both of them gasping for air, he put his forehead to hers and stared into her eyes. “Send Denise home early,” he commanded. “I’ll drop Em off at her mom’s. Then I’m coming right back here and you’re closing the office the second I walk through the door.”

Usually, Cassie didn’t care to be told how to run her business, but right then, his ordering her what to do was kind of hot. And from the bastard’s smug smile, he knew it, too. She nodded, panting, “Okay.”

His smile grew and his hands squeezed her hips. ”That’s my girl,” he hummed, dropping another kiss to her lips before starting to retreat.

“Get your ass back here, Sheriff.” Cassie tightened her legs around his waist and pulled him back to her which caused him to throw his hands out on either side of her on the desk to keep himself from falling onto her, making him grunt. The sound caused a fire to start in her lower abdomen and she forcefully pushed the images of all the other times she’d heard that noise from him away. It was that or she’d never let him leave the room, and the latter wasn’t happening under any circumstances. She lifted up, hovering near his mouth, “I wasn’t done.”

He chuckled and it thrilled her when she saw his gaze darken even further. “Oh, you weren’t, were you?”

She threaded her fingers into his hair and whispered, “Nope.” She slotted her lips against his, kissing him as if her life depended on it. Cassie didn’t know what Beau did to her, but ever since they had shared their first kiss months ago, she struggled to keep her hands to herself whenever they had a moment to themselves like this. And apparently, so did Beau, since his hands were roaming everywhere .

The sound of loud laughter in the office broke them apart. They waited a moment, trying to determine if someone was coming in or not as they caught their breath. When no one rushed in, Cassie glanced back up at Beau and nearly laughed. His hair was sticking up in various angles; her hands had done their work well. She felt a lightness inside of her chest when she noticed him staring down at her, his smile warm and his eyes filled with something akin to adoration. She had seen that look often enough before they started dating though she never quite knew what it meant. Now she did, and she smiled back up at him.

He leaned down to place a soft kiss to her lips and then moved back, holding out a hand to help Cassie to her feet. She ran her hands through his hair, attempting to undo some of the damage she had done, and he groaned. “It’s sticking up again?” She snickered at his obvious irritation. “I’m telling you, I’m gonna cut it.”

“No, you’re not,” she laughed.

“Oh, I am. I’m going to the barber two blocks over, watch me.”

She shushed him and finished fixing up his hair as much as she could. His gaze was trained on her and when she stopped, giving him a once over and grinning up at him, his eyes softened and he leaned in to press a kiss to her lips.

More sounds of laughter and the teasing call of “Cassie…” by Denise had him frowning at the door while shaking his head. “We’re never living this down, are we?”

“Probably not,” she chuckled.

He gave her a tender smile and placed his forehead up against hers, staring into her eyes. “Worth it, though.”

Cassie returned the smile and cupped his cheeks, stroking his bearded jawline with her thumbs. He was right; it was definitely worth it, especially when they could get small quiet moments like this. She marveled at the fact that this man could literally go from teasing her like usual to successfully stoking the fire between them and being hot as hell while doing it to being soft and sweet and loving, all in a matter of minutes. But it was Beau after all, and as she had discovered the last few months that he had been here, there were many different sides to the county’s newest (and youngest as he always reminded her which then earned him another round of teasing) sheriff. And she loved every single one, even though she hadn’t quite told him that yet.

She could feel herself getting closer every day to saying those three little words to him; she just wasn’t sure if she wanted to be the first to say it. While she had a pretty good idea of how Beau felt, she wasn’t sure if she was ready to open herself up like that only to be shut down. Not after what happened with Mark, Cody, Andrew, and…her dad. That had been why she and Cormac hadn’t worked; she wouldn’t let him in, not completely. But Beau…Beau she didn’t see coming. And he had been patient and kind and just there for her. He never once demanded anything of her that she hadn’t already been willing to give. Beau also wasn’t the type to play games or hold himself at bay (not with her anyway); he wore his heart on his sleeve, unashamedly letting her see everything laid bare, and she loved him for it. As a matter of fact, their dating one another had only been kept secret due to her request. While he wanted some time to tell Emily himself should they get serious, he had no qualms about anyone else being in the know. But Cassie had wanted to wait since she knew how fast word traveled around Helena. And based on the conversation with Denise and Emily earlier, the news of their relationship was going to spread at the speed of light. She tried not to think about how it already had thanks to the podcast Emily had come up with.

Cassie’s smile grew when Beau groaned at hearing another set of giggles behind the door. “Guess we should get out there.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbled, kissing her once more.

A sudden loud pounding on the door had them breaking apart. “Let’s go, lovebirds.” Cassie froze at that voice. Jenny.

Beau was already there, a hand on her back rubbing comfortingly, and pressed his lips to her forehead. “Right here,” he murmured into her skin. “I got your back.”

She appreciated the sentiment but still she couldn’t resist teasing him. “Which means you’ll be using me as a human shield.”

“What? Never.” That feigned shock on his face said otherwise.

She shook her head but the humorous moment between them had helped to ease her nerves slightly. “Right. Well, guess we should head out there then.”

Beau gave a nod, let out a heavy breath, and turned to leave. He then stopped for a moment, reaching back to take her hand in his. He grinned when Cassie intertwined their fingers, and opened the door.

They stepped out to find Emily smiling but with her nose scrunched up, a beaming Denise, and most surprisingly of all, a smirking Jenny sitting on Cassie’s desk. Cassie froze; there wasn’t a trace of anger or irritation in the blonde’s expression.

“So, it’s official.” Jenny nodded towards their joined hands.

“Yep, it is,” Beau confirmed, giving Cassie a quick smile. She cradled their hands with her other one, returning the affectionate smile.

“About time.” Jenny held a hand out towards Denise. “Pay up.”

Cassie watched with wide eyes as Denise begrudgingly held out a twenty dollar bill which Jenny snatched up. She glanced towards Beau who looked just as confused as she was. “Wait…you’re not mad?”

“Mad? No, if anything, I’m relieved.”

“But…Em’s podcast…secrets and lies…”

Jenny dug her teeth into her bottom lip, grinning, and turned to give Emily a high five. “Told you it would work.”

Emily nodded. “She did.”

Cassie and Beau exchanged a glance before he got serious. “Alright, you two. Now, Hoyt, what the hell are you talking about?”

“Did you really think I wouldn’t notice?” Cassie squeezed Beau’s hand. Here it comes. She knew they weren’t getting away unscathed. “I kept asking both of you about each other and you either dodged the question,” She looked pointedly at Beau. “Or you played it off as no big deal.” She then looked to Cassie. “As if I didn’t know what was really going on.” Jenny then smiled. “You two thought you were being so sneaky.”

“We planned on telling you…,” Cassie tried to explain.

“When the time was right,” Beau added.

Jenny snickered. “Finishing each other’s sentences already?”

Beau rolled his eyes. “Alright, Hoyt, so you knew. Great. Good to know you’ve been putting those investigator skills to use somewhere. So, what? You have a bet going with Denise or something?”

“Yep. Pop, too.” Cassie felt like she wanted to melt into the floor. Did everyone know? She should have known better; Emily might not have used names in the podcast but that didn’t mean Jenny, Poppernak, and those who knew them couldn’t put two and two together.

“Bet on what? Us making it official?” Beau seemed less than entertained at the notion now that Jenny had mentioned Poppernak had been in on it, too.

Jenny shrugged. “If Em mentioning her podcast would get you two to come out of the closet or not.” Cassie tensed. Wait…what? “Or maybe it would be more appropriate to say the storage room,” she teased, making Denise laugh and Emily mutter, “So gross.”

“You told Em to mention the podcast?” Cassie couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “To get us to admit we’re together?” Jenny could have some wild ideas from time to time, but this took the cake.

At Jenny’s shrug, Emily jumped in. “Yep. And don’t worry, after talking to Jenny, I decided to do my podcast on something else.”

“So you haven’t put out any episodes yet?” When Emily shook her head, relief flowed throughout Cassie’s body. So not everyone in Helena knew about her personal life or heard details about her relationship with Beau; she was very relieved.

Jenny gave Cassie a look that indicated she was owed a very big thank you. She gave her friend a grateful smile. Perhaps she had been wrong to worry over Jenny’s reaction once she knew Cassie and Beau had been seeing each other.

“So, wait, there’s no podcast?” Beau checked.

“Oh, I’m doing a podcast, it’s just going to be on UFOs like Denise suggested.”

Both Beau and Cassie looked to Denise who held her hands up. “I didn’t know about the Secrets and Lies one and just to clarify, the bet was on who could make you guys admit it first, not anything about mentioning another podcast.” Denise then sidled up to Jenny. “Which now that I think about it, your little ploy didn’t work. They had already admitted it before Em ever mentioned that little nugget.” She stuck her hand back out. “So technically, you don’t win.” Jenny rolled her eyes but gave Denise back her money. “Thank you.”

“Wait, so who forced them to admit it then?” Jenny wanted to know.

“No one. I accidentally walked in on them having a moment .” Emily made a face and sat back down.

Jenny’s smirk was wider than it had been before. “Wow, that must have been scarring.”

“Traumatizing,” Emily agreed.

Beau, having decided he’d had enough, cleared his throat. “Okay so just to confirm, there is no podcast about Cassie and I or your mother and Avery or anything like that, right?”

“Right. So you can unground me now. Since, you know, it’s not real.”

“He grounded you?” Jenny asked in disbelief.

Emily nodded, checking her computer quickly. “Three weeks.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah.”

Beau glanced towards Cassie who gave him a relieved smile, and he nodded before his gaze landed on his daughter again. “Six weeks.”

Emily’s head snapped up. “What? Why? Dad, that’s so—”

“Unfair? Yeah, well so is what you just put us through. Six weeks it is. And your mom is going to back me up on this when I tell her.”

Emily’s shoulders slumped again but she wisely didn’t argue.

Jenny saw it and tried to reason with Beau. “Beau, that seems a bit harsh, don’t you—”

“Not another word, Hoyt. You’re already on traffic duty for the unforeseeable future. Don’t make it worse. Because if you say one more word about this, you’ll be cleaning the toilets at the station,” he warned.

Cassie fully expected Jenny to protest, to get angry and have some choice words for her boss, but instead she just glowered at him while keeping silent.

Beau gave a satisfied nod. “Thought so. Now, if you ladies would be so kind as to excuse my girlfriend and I so she can walk me to the door. Em, get your stuff. Let’s go.”

Emily grabbed her backpack and shut her laptop, making her goodbyes to Denise and Jenny. Cassie gave Jenny an uncertain shrug as she and Beau walked past her, following Emily towards the door. She smirked at Denise’s wink, now realizing why Denise had winked at her earlier and why she had locked the door when she and Em went to the coffee shop. She had been trying to give them a moment alone.

Beau reached into his pocket with his free hand and passed his car keys to his daughter. “Why don’t you go start Pedro up and I’ll be out in a minute?”

Emily nearly rolled her eyes. “Sure. Bye, Cassie. See you tomorrow.”

Cassie gave her a wave. “See you tomorrow.”

“And don’t drive away.”

Emily did end up rolling her eyes. “Sure, Dad.”

Beau waited until the door was closed and he could see Emily get into the car through the glass before he turned, quickly glancing behind them, and then pulled Cassie to him, kissing her.

“You good?”

“Yeah. I’ll be fine.”

He nodded. “Remember what I said,” he murmured. “Send Denise home. Get rid of Hoyt.”

Seeing his piercing gaze darken once more, her heart started to beat faster. “Okay,” she whispered. Though she highly doubted it would be so easy to find an excuse to make Jenny leave. Cassie fully expected for the blonde to press her for details once Beau was gone, and she wouldn’t leave until she got them. “Though I seriously doubt I’m going to be able to get Jenny to go anywhere after this.”

Beau thought for a second and then yelled, “Hoyt, if you don’t leave in the next twenty minutes, you’re fired!”

Cassie’s jaw dropped and she hit his shoulder.

“What did you just say?” Jenny snapped back.

“What are you doing?”

The corner of his lips tipped up in a smirk. “Making it easier.” He then yelled again, “You heard me.” They both could hear Jenny making their way towards them and Beau straightened up. “I’m going to…yeah.” Before he could make his escape, Cassie grabbed his jacket to prevent him from leaving.

“And that’s making it easier? Now she’ll dig her heels in and never leave.”

He cupped her chin between his thumb and forefinger, eyes trained on hers. “I love you.”

She froze, not having expected to hear that from him just yet. And then it hit her just why he was saying it. “Wow, those really are the last words of a dying man, aren’t they? You know Jenny is about to kill you.”

He shrugged, his smile growing. Guilty . “That and ,” He tenderly stroked her cheek. “I really do, Cass.”

Before she could respond or react in any way, she heard Jenny snap behind her, “You want to repeat that, Sheriff ?”

Without missing a beat, Beau leveled the blonde with a glare. “I don’t need to. Be gone in the next fifteen or Pop gets your job.”

Jenny started to retort with something but it was lost to Cassie because Beau immediately leaned in to whisper to her ear, “I’ll be back in less than an hour. And then it’s you, me, and that room. So you better be ready, sweetheart, because I certainly will be.” His lips brushed against her ear lobe and she shivered against him, making him chuckle under his breath.

He pulled back, grinning from ear to ear and his eyes glued to hers. “Yeah, yeah, whatever, Hoyt. Just be out of here in the next half hour since Cassie’s closing the office early today. I don’t want to see you when I come back here.”

“Oh, you’re coming back after you drop off Emily at Carla’s, are you?”

Cassie could hear it in Jenny’s tone; she knew why Beau wanted her gone. But right then, Cassie could care less. Especially when Beau’s smile softened and he caressed her cheek. “Damn right I am,” Beau quietly confirmed before leaning down and planting a steamy kiss on her.

When he pulled away, Cassie was left in a sort of daze. She didn’t even have it in her to be embarrassed or act all flustered or annoyed that he had kissed her like that in front of Jenny. Instead, she wanted to yank him back to her, everyone around them be damned. And from the smirk sitting on Beau’s face, the bastard knew it, too.

“I’ll be back soon,” he promised, using that voice. He gave her a wink and made his way out the door, leaving her staring after him and feeling as if she was on fire and going to melt into a puddle on the floor, all at the same time. Swinging from sweet boyfriend to sexy sheriff to her best friend and back…how did he do that?

Jenny appeared next to her, watching with her as Beau drove away from the curb, giving them a wave. “So, you’re closing the office early?”

Cassie knew Jenny was fishing but she didn’t bite. “Yep.”

Jenny then moved into her line of vision, grinning wickedly. “You know I want details, and I’m not leaving until I get them.”

Cassie rolled her eyes and spun on her heel to head back into the office, determined to send Denise home. After that, Cassie was going to empty this office if it was the last thing she did.

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