#logistically I'm not sure how they would kiss

[belokhvostikova]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐘𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐤: 𝐂𝐥𝐮𝐛 𝐏𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐬

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 | The realities of life come hurtling down with no mercy, and the progress you believed to have achieved crashed and burned right before you. But for once, Eddie Munson is there to give you the one thing you’ve been yearning for: stability. Because Eddie Munson loves y...

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | Swearing, yelling, crying, brief alcohol consumption, brief mentions of drugs, depression, bullying, strained parental relationship, mentions of parental abandonment, mentions of parental death, mentions of driving under the influence, and mentions of childhood abuse and neglect.

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞 | And that’s the end! I truly will not be able to formulate the right words to express just how utterly thankful I am to all of you who have shown your support and love on my first series! I am forever grateful, thank you. I love you all! Also, I had my little Breakfast Club moment at the end. Also, I added a small allusion to Shrek, I'M SORRY! I was watching it while writing.

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 | One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six.

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐕𝐈. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐘𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐤: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐅𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐝𝐮𝐜𝐭

“Hmmm…”

Surely—only in the logistics that was Eddie Munson’s mind, of course—anyone could decipher the underlying “fuck off” that was spoken into that quiet, drawn out hum that Eddie’s sleeping state grumbled out from the comfort of his bed. But it was evident that his uniquely catered Eddie Munson language got lost in translation, because whoever was creating that grating, jarring, and abrasive knocking clearly was not smart enough to interpret his message, he came to the conclusion. Totally not because it was just a sleepy murmur… totally not. Nonetheless, the corrugated wood of his front door was rattling harshly under the fervent hits of bare knuckles, seemingly also bringing awareness to the repeated request to tighten the door hinges from Uncle Wayne to his forgetful nephew, though that ask fell quite redundant on deaf ears- well, until now, of course. 

Maybe if Eddie waited long enough they’d go away.

No, they didn’t.

“Fuck me, man.” He complained with a yawn. Truthfully, Eddie would like to say his slumber came about under the guise that it had been a long day, I mean, hey, rule number four of the Munson Doctrine specifically states a tired man deserves a restful hours long nap, should it ever be brought up with complaints from another party member. But the honesty of the inner workings of his mind actually proffered the idea of sleep to fill the gaps in which you were not in his company. After you had left his trailer, Eddie had plopped on his bed with a pained groan of pure longing for you to just return and stay with him forever. He missed your pretty face. Your mawkish voice. Your saccharine smile that just made all his insides turn into a mush of gooiness. Sleep gave him the ability to close his eyes and transport his subconscious into another reality where you were laying delicately in his arms, eyelashes kissing your cheeks, lips pushed into a pout as they smushed against his naked chest with little breaths tickling his skin, and you were just losing all your worries in the solace of his heavy arms wrapped around you in protection against all the evils of the world that could hurt such a beautiful person. And also, sleeping through the evening allowed Eddie to stay up all night, which for whatever reason enabled his mind to formulate the most insanely creative ideas of his upcoming campaign, because, honestly, who could conjure up the idea of hooded cultists who hail a so called Lord Vecna at two in the afternoon? Not anyone sane, that’s for sure. The ominous hour of 3:00 a.m was a profoundly better time for ingenious ideas to flow. So, might as well kill two birds with one stone. But that’s all besides the point. 

“Jesus shit, dude, fucking relax.” He aimed against the knocking perpetrator. Eddie groggily stood on wobbly legs, the sensations of pins and needles nestling into his toes, as his bare feet trudged their way through piles of clothes and thrown magazines. 

Reaching the doorway of his bedroom, his movements came to a halt, he needed a good stretch before cursing a neighbor out for disrupting his peace. He had his bets that it was surely the recently converted Jehovah Witness that lived three trailers down, who made it her mission to “condemn the devil within and save him from satan.” One time, Wayne even caught the middle-aged woman sprinkling holy water around the Munson trailer during the time Eddie decided to practice his guitar just a little too loud. His tired muscles burned with the extensibility of his reaching movement; back popping with a deep arch, elbows cracking as his arms turned up to the sky, and a waking yawn to resume his conscious breathing. Padding his way to the front door, his left hand rubbed the dry remnants of sleep from his eyes, as his right hand eased the harsh reddening imprints of his jeans on his abdomen with hard scratches. He really should have taken off his belt before a nearly two hour long nap.

The rapid knocking was really starting to piss him off. It had been reaching the five minute mark, couldn’t people pick up the point that someone didn’t want to be bothered? “Oh, my god.” Eddie sighed with a heavy breath, clinched eyes to attenuate the pounding headrush that coincidentally became worse with every deafening knock. His heavy hand slammed onto the door knob with a cruel twist.

“What the fuck is wrong with- oh.” It was you. Fist frozen in the air, but it had quickly fallen from the opening of the swinging door. You flinched at the sudden ambush. “Sh-shit, sorry, fuck, I’m sorry, I didn’t know it was you.” 

“No, I’m sorry, I, uh, I can leave, I shouldn’t bother-”

“No, no, no, no.” The sound of your quiet, nasally voice had upset his stomach with worry. “C’mon in.” His body moved for your entrance. Upon seeing you in the glowing lowlight of the yellow lamps across his living room, Eddie was able to make out the redness of your eyes, followed by your creasing eyebrows that seemed to find no moment of peace to relax. “Is- is everything alright, sweetheart?”

He hadn’t meant to upset you further, but his gentle prodding question seemed to elicit your pent up emotions, and your face immediately crashed into the palms of your hands, as tears began making their pounding way out with choking sobs that you attempted to conceal. Eddie had no hesitation rushing his arms around you, where your stature had just given up in the embrace of his warm body. Your drenched lashes seeped through your fingers, spreading their salty wetness across the expanse of his naked chest, his lips pressing into the crown of your head, where he inhaled the sweetness of your lingering smell that he was just dreaming about merely two minutes ago, and his large hands raced around the canvas of your back to give you the comfort neither of you were ever privileged with as lonely children. 

You were in utter distraughtness…

-

Four Days Earlier

That following Tuesday after your return to Hawkins High you got slapped in the face with the biases of privilege, as Jason Carver smiled at you after leaving the front office from a meeting with Principal Higgins during the school day. Believing your hopes of finally having the world align to the imperative need of justice you felt were deserved for Eddie Munson, others… and yourself came to be too good to be true after Ms. Kelly had called you into her office. Before you, it was Martin Valencia, sophomore, who detailed the accounts of when Jason threatened the boy because he stood too close to jock’s locker. Then, Nathan Werner, senior, lamented the numerous times Jason and his posse would throw bits of food at his lunch table under the guise of just “messing around.” Tracy Owens, freshman, spoke of when unsolicited comments about her body were hurled against her when she stepped out of her comfort zone and wore a dress she felt pretty in. Because of Jason’s words, Tracy never wore that dress again. Then it was you. Ms. Kelly had used the term “anonymous tip” to explain your visit to her office, but Eddie Munson’s name was written all over it. Unless, of course, a bystander had felt bad for the agenda that was being pushed against you before and prior to your suspension, but that wouldn’t occur in the bubble of Hawkins High. No, you knew this nameless hero came forward—completely unbeknownst to him, funny enough—with the purest intentions of explaining your hurt to invigorate the importance as to why he cared so much about you that it reflected in his actions. Why he couldn’t bear to see you pained by the abhorrent actions of angry men, because he’d been there. He’s fallen victim and he’s victimized. But that wasn’t who he was anymore- it wasn’t who he ever wanted to be. So, Eddie Munson spoke. Even though he didn’t want to throw your name out there without your permission, his words were clear enough to pick you out. 

Subtly may not have been in his skillset, but at least compassion was. Even if he was still learning. 

Truthfully, you were wavering between the feelings of anger and relief upon initial arrival. While the notion of speaking to a licensed counselor for the guidance and understanding the troubles within seemed essential for your progress, you couldn’t shake the feeling of being cornered when your name echoed through the intercom. You wanted to speak on your own terms. Choosing when and how. And the abruptness of your visit felt more like an intervention, though Ms. Kelly was firm with her assurance that your personal feelings were not going to be psychoanalyzed without your consent, and you were merely appreciated for any input you could provide about the bullying that was from Jason Carver. 

So, as Eddie Munson had done, you spoke. Finally.

But the reality of life came crashing down as you were humiliated with the fact that all that strength you mustered to be vulnerable about the hurt and pain inflicted onto you by a schoolmate ultimately meant nothing in the eyes of the authorities when Jason Carver ultimately got off scot-free. Despite her best efforts, Ms. Kelly presented the finding of what’s been going on with the rightful opinion of suspension as consequence, but her professional judgment had proved to mean nothing when Coach Monaghan had reminded Principal Higgins of the upcoming semi-finals that their star player couldn’t miss. 

Jason Carver’s suspension declined into two days of detention. 

Reality, too, had devastatingly slapped Ms. Kelly in the face. No title. No profession. Not even her degree could trample the opinion of a white man with a promise to bring home a trophy. She was a woman, a woman of color who resided in the rurality of Indiana. This had been the verity of life for Ms. Kelly. For Chrissy Cunningham. For you. Looped and controlled into an endless cycle of becoming puppets for puppeteers who felt that a total of four inches between their legs somehow made them superior. 

But who were you guys to let them have a say in the show?

Chrissy Cunningham had made her strong decision to leave a relationship that hegemonized her will. You were on the course to liberate yourself from the appalling titles that tried to demean your worthiness. And Ms. Kelly would have her power when principal evaluations would circle at the end of the school year. Retirement would be hurtling early for Principal Higgins. 

“It fucking sucks doesn’t it?” Eddie Munson had found you on the bleachers after cheer practice, as everyone but you began clearing out for the day. Marinating in your sweat under a blistering sun surely would be enough to send you to the showers, but on days like these, simply sitting and reflecting was enough to just be… enough for the day. 

You didn’t even have to ask to elaborate, as he sat down next to you. You understood. “I took a picture of you and your friends and I got a week of suspension, ugh.” You threw your head back, as he chuckled at your exasperation. 

“That was totally out of jealousy, looked way too sexy in that photo, of course, it pissed Higgins off.” That was able to get a sweet giggle out of you, and Eddie swooned at the sound.

“Well, it was a very… nice picture of you.” You smiled, before containing an even bigger grin with a bite to your lip, which had Eddie piquing with surprise. 

“Wait, really?” He sprung up, his back jumping into the straightest posture it ever had been before. “Because, y’know, I was totally just kidding, but you- you just admitted that I was sexy-”

“I did not say those words!” You protested with a bubble of laughter.

“Nah, nah, nah,” Eddie waved his finger in your face, “you can’t take that back, sweetheart, you totally think I’m sexy.” He puffed the lapels of leather jacket, which was surely too hot to be wearing in the spring weather. 

“Oh, whatever.” Your effusive voice too giggly for the faux groan of annoyance you attempted to portray, but the fluttering butterflies stewing in your belly were ready to contradict any reservations you planned on having with him; your body was clearly ready to open itself up to him. 

“C’mon, sweetheart, don’t try to deny it, it’ll do you no good.” He smirked. Soon, a prodding tongue peaked from his lips to indicate his venture as to how he was going to convey his next words correctly without turning into a nervous mess. Maybe it was still too early to ask you his impeding question. Maybe you would flat out say no to his face. Maybe hearing and processing the rejection was needed for his progress. Maybe- just maybe, you would actually say yes and his throat would constrict with anxious nerves. Maybe he should just take the leap. “Y’know, some scientists actually say that tagging along with the ever so devastatingly handsome man you think is sexy to, I don’t know, say, the Hideout tonight at ten, is actually a good way of dealing with, y’know… tingling feelings.”

Oh, he was so close to being smooth, but he was internally dying at his poor choice of words that had you dying of laughter at him. Maybe if he squeezed his eyes tight enough he’d get sucked up into a blackhole and he wouldn’t have to relish on the fact that he just uttered the words “tingling feelings.”

“Aw,” you beamed with amusement, “like a date?”

If Eddie Munson couldn’t suave his way out of embarrassment, he sure could joke his way out of eternal misery. “Woah, no!” He fervently shook his head. “I believe that’s something that happens when two people like each other. And, c’mon, that’s totally not us. We’re buddies!”

“Oh, right.” You nodded along to his sarcastic logic that made you gush inside. “Well, that’s actually really good, because since we’re friends we can tell each other about our secret crushes, right?” Eddie’s lips completely folded within themselves to hide his ebullient smile. “See, there’s this guy, pretty tall, he’s got this whole Van Halen wannabe hair-” you couldn’t contain your giggles as his mouth dropped with dramatic flare, and his hand held his heart with pain.

“Kirk Hammet, this dude would prefer Kirk Hammet.” Eddie corrected matter-of-factly.

“Ugh, he's got this Kirk Hammet wannabe hairstyle-”

“Much better, keep going.” He chimed in with approval and encouragement.

You could only playfully roll your eyes in retaliation. “Anyways, he’s also super funny- oh, a fully decked out metalhead, and, you know, just a little bit… sexy.” Eddie got full merriment from seeing you suddenly shy away from the revelation, just belting a trading laugh at your banter. “So! As a friend, Mr. Munson,” you pulled him back to the topic, “do you have any tips on how to get him on a date with me?”

“Well,” Eddie tittered with a breathy sigh, “hypothetically- theoretically- if it ever were to randomly occur- just in case he were to ever ask you out to, say, the Hideout tonight at ten, I personally think you should go with him.” He rejoiced proudly.

You giggled before sincerely smiling at him. He was so unbearably cute. It stung to have to turn him down. “I’d love to go with you, Eddie, but…” his grin had slowly began to drop, “I’m still very much grounded and confined to my room. It’s school and practice, that’s it.” You despairingly reminded. 

Eddie let out a disappointed breath through his nose, nodding to affirm his understanding, though mumbling a small “prick” at the allusion to your father. 

“I’m really sorry, Eddie, maybe another time we-”

“No, no, no, sweetheart.” He interjected. “Don’t apologize or try to, like, make it up to me, it’s not your job to do any of that, it’s okay.” Eddie managed to speak out with a small smile. Though it wasn’t a direct no, he was accepting it, letting it be spoken without interference from his anger. This was a part of his learning. This was a part of his growth. 

“The day will come for us.” You reached for his hand, and his eyes stayed connected to the delicate movements of your small fingers playing with his ringed ones, as he situated himself in the intoxicating sparkling feeling that was igniting just from touching your skin. “You know, when we can properly go out… as friends who don't like each other.”

Eddie chortled a smile. “Totally platonic." He joked. "Buddies even. Like brother and sister-” Your suddenly scrunched face of cringe had Eddie immediately reeling back his words. “Wait! Wait, no! Too far- too gross, I took it too far, I’m sorry! Sweetheart, I’ve never spoken to a girl before!”

“Eddie!” Your cheeks burned with laughter.

-

Eddie’s chest was heaving heavily under your crying face, as he attempted to minimize his panic for your sake. He had just dreamed of a perfect reality in which you came back into his arms, filling in that empty hole in his heart with all your love and care that he fully intended to return three times greater. But this isn’t what he wanted- how he wanted it to happen. You, pained by some evil that hurt you to the point of sobs, he hated seeing it. His hands raked over your head, trying to smooth the shaking mess that you were, before cupping your hot face and maneuvering you away from the comfort of his chest. “Honey, you gotta tell me what’s wrong.” His thumbs smeared the tears that tainted your cheeks. “Okay? Are you hurt? Something happen? Did someone- did he touch you? Please!” His round eyes frantically roamed your face for answers, but he was only met with sniffling sobs. “C’mon, baby, please just breathe and tell me what’s wrong.”

You fervently shook your head. “I-I can’t go back- back home. P-please, Eddie, don’t make me go back.”

“No, no, no, no, I won’t.” He shoved you back into the warmth of his body, arms cascading around your trembling figure to ease you into peace and safety. “It’s okay, just stay here with me.” He cradled your head into the crook of his neck, where you simply let yourself get lost in the engulfing waft of cheap cologne and cigarettes. “Just stay here with me.”

Minutes had passed where he took responsibility of gently rocking your conjoined bodies side to side with ease in the middle of his living room. He didn’t prod any further, simply letting your emotions cry out in a safe environment, where they would be understood and appreciated for their strong efforts of being vulnerable. Maybe then, he’d ask. When your breathing settled, when your eyes didn’t sting with fuzzy vision, when air could properly heave in through your nose and out from your mouth, when you could gather your thoughts and articulate your words, when you could just be okay. 

Just as you always dreamed. 

It was devastating that a kind person like you couldn't be granted a simple ask: to just be okay.

Eddie felt your lips move, as you mumbled into his chest. He delicately pulled away to see your wet face, “What?” 

“I-I said, um, I didn’t bring- I don’t have anything with me, l-like clothes.” You sniffled, as you wiped your noise with your sleeve.

“Oh, uh, okay, that’s fine, do you want to borrow some of mine- it’s okay, really-”

“I promise it’ll only be for one night!” You worried interjected. “I-I’ll leave first thing in the morning, and I’ll figure something out by then-”

“Okay, no.” Eddie immediately stopped your rambling. “You have to tell me what the hell is going on, sweetheart, you’re scaring me.” His hands firmly gripped your shoulders, so he wouldn’t be tempted to bring you back into his embrace and possibly wash over the issue at hand because he had you in his arms again. As much as he really wanted it, he really needed to know what was hurting you to the point of sobs and desperation.

“Eddie, my dad…” You had begun to blubber with a sense of shame, because in all honesty, you were embarrassed about the unfolding events of your life. Normalcy, why couldn’t you just be someone normal, be someone with a normal life, with normal parents, with the stability of just being loved and understood and not followed by animosity? What- what could possibly be so wrong with you that people hated you? How terrible of a person were you that you were deserving of all this hatred? “He kicked me out, h-he doesn’t want me!”

In a matter of days, your progress- that progress you were so proud of for enduring, was taking a steep hit to rock bottom, where you felt you were just going to rot in the depths of nothingness, where no light of life could revive you. Everything you had ever worked on was slipping into the abyss at high speed, and the breaks were refusing to stop.

You were crashing into despair.

-

Two Days Prior

The balmy Thursday afternoon felt like a breath of fresh air in comparison to what was Tuesday’s scorching humidity that had been suffocating the small town since the coming of spring. Though slugging through Hawkins High’s poor excuse of a courtyard alongside Chrissy Cunningham to reach the end goal of the football field for practice felt exceedingly unbearable, after your confiding revelation brought forward an onslaught of urging requests from your bubbly friend: your father would be going out of town that Friday.

“Come on, just do it!” Her hand tightly gathered around your arm, where you became suddenly aware of just how strong she was, as her insistent movements left you shaking in her grasp. “It’s not like he’s going to say no, he's the one that asked you out first! I mean, your first date together, that’s so cute!” She swooned.

“Not a first date.” You quickly interjected. “Very much a friends hanging out thing.” It may have been easy to joke about it that earlier Tuesday, but suddenly reveling in the idea that it could very well be considered a date—hell, it was—had your tummy stirring with queasiness. 

“Oh, please.” Chrissy laughed. “You guys can tiptoe around your feelings all you want, but everyone knows it’s so obvious. What’s so wrong with admitting it?”

“Nothing’s wrong, it’s just…” Last time the admission of feelings came about, Eddie Munson had drunkenly confessed the entirety of his problems in your bedroom in the dead of night. And while you both have accomplished the responsibility of recognizing that moment of brutal vulnerability as a stepping stone to receiving help, it doesn’t derail from the fact that whatever was brewing between you and Eddie Munson was built on a foundation of troubled minds fueled by hatred and anger. The fear of potentially reverting back to the people you both used to be kept shouting at you in the depths of your mind. It was cemented that as a couple, your relationship couldn’t reflect that of a sweet high school romance- no, you and Eddie Munson were not granted that privilege of peace, and your relationship would be stalked into a corner where all the bubble worlds of Hawkins, Indiana would unite together to yell, stab, slaughter, and shoot you both down with the lasting promise that neither of you were wanted in their town, especially not together. And this wasn’t a matter of if it were to happen- this was going to happen, bound to by the reality of life, and when it does, would Eddie Munson stick by your side or run? “…I just don’t want anything bad to happen, Chris.”

“Okay, look,” she stopped you, and watched every other cheerleader in front of you walk with notice of you two behind, “I know what this is about.” She huffed with certainty. “You’re scared you’re going to end up like me and Jason.”

“Huh?” 

Oh, Chrissy Cunningham, she truly did have a caring heart. “It’s okay, I promise. But I can assure you guys are nothing like me and Jason, so that won’t happen.” It had just dawned on that she actually had no grasp as to what had occurred between you and Eddie. The yelling, the even more yelling after the cafeteria incident, the inebriated word vomit- nothing. She genuinely knew nothing about the gravity of the situation. And it truly was not her fault, in fact, you liked that she didn’t know the extent of it. What happened between you and Eddie stayed between you and Eddie.

So you simply nodded along. “Uh, yeah, I mean, I guess.”

And bless her, she was there to help you. “Look, Eddie is nothing like Jason, okay? He doesn’t care about what people think or say. He tried really hard to make it up to you for whatever he did, I don’t know, but either way he really tries. I mean, he literally hunted me down just to make sure you were okay. What has Jason ever done? Ask you what my favorite color is so he could act like he knows me and win me over?” She laughed with a scoff. “Please don’t let the people in this town dictate your happiness. Eddie likes you for you, and you two deserve to be happy with each other.”

She may not have had the clearest indications as to what was actually pestering your mind with fear, but her intentions of helping did place clarity on the uncertainty that was Eddie Munson. Her words and his actions truly illustrated the assiduous effort Eddie was enduring for the sake of his and your’s stability. Trust is a profoundly scary skill to embark on with another person, but the basis of security and love that would blossom from assurance in one another was a journey so devastatingly beautiful, it would heal the longing within both of you. 

Eddie Munson laid his cards out with a terrifying layer of vulnerability. If he was doing it- working through the painful excursion into trusting you, the least you could do was reciprocate the effort. You were ready to trust Eddie Munson.

“Yeah,” you nodded with a soft smile, “yeah, I know, Chrissy, thank you. I’ll be sure-”

“To tell him?!” She perked up with a squeal. “You’ll tell Eddie that you can go on the date?!”

You chortled in disbelief. “Yes, I’ll tell him, leave the energy for practice.”

“Do it! Do it now!” She begged you, once again, your limbs were taken into her grasp and she was shaking you into oblivion. “Please!”

“We’re literally on our way to practice right now, I’ll do it afterwards.” You giggled, as you dragged her to catch up with the rest of the girls.

“But what if he leaves before us?!”

Eddie Munson had surely not left before you guys. It had occurred in the split second after Coach Hannigan had aggressively blown spit through her whistle to call for a break mid session, that instead of running to the designated drink cooler that became quickly surrounded by sweaty cheerleaders, you instead ignored the blatant thirst that burned your throat to dedicate a couple seconds of your time to run to the football field’s gated entrance. It was then, you caught sight of the still parked van that belonged to your metalhead, heating up in the blistering sun in the same parking spot it reserved when Eddie first arrived at school that early morning. Now, assuming you saw correctly, Coach Hannigan’s watch had indicated the time in which Eddie’s scheduled meeting with Ms. Kelly was surely to be over with. Why was Eddie Munson seemingly hanging around the halls of Hawkins High, especially when he made his disdain for the school very public, you weren’t sure. And with complete honesty, there was a part of you that wished he would have just gone home, so you wouldn’t be faced with the nervousness of having to ask him out. In retrospect, you knew just how much Eddie would like hanging out with you, and that warmed your heart, but the chances of him potentially saying no still lingered on a low chance. And that, in itself, was terrifying. 

Practice had come to a hurtling end far quicker than you had anticipated, and Chrissy Cunningham was wielding all cheer captain authority to make sure you were placed in front of a shower head before they all got claimed by girls ready to leave. She’d even tasked herself with the responsibility of locating where the man was lurking, which evidently came to your dismay when her intelligent skills proffered her return in four minutes and thirty-seven seconds. Your shirt hadn’t even been placed on by then. And as wonderful as it would have been to discredit her “he’s in the drama room, I heard him playing music in there,” with your logical, “that could be anyone, Chris, you don’t know that it’s him,” you knew she was right. One day, you’d thank her for this, but right now, you were urging her to just let it go. 

Chrissy Cunningham had used that newfound strength of hers to all but push you into the direction of the drama room, the one you hadn’t stepped foot in in a little over four years when you were asked to build sets for A Midsummer Night’s Dream for your elective art class during freshman year. And Chrissy had been right. Music was drowning its way through the closed doorway of the prop room, where the distinct screaming voices of men surely indicated itself to be muffled metal music which was in particular interest to Hawkins’ local metalhead. There was no turning back now. Chrissy had even assured to lay your father out with an excuse of “girl problems” to explain your unwanted lateness to the punctual man. 

So you stood in the empty hall, long after the dragging time of school hours, with your fist hesitantly making your presence known to the man on the other side. You opened the door shortly after, where you came face-to-face with a confused Eddie, who’s features quickly melted into a sickly smile upon landing on you. His fingers worked quickly to turn down a dusty radio that had once been squashed under theatrical masks and vibrant feather boas in the corner of the room. “Hey, sweetheart.” And it was then you wondered why you had been nervous all along, when his simple greeting seemed to have placed you into ease with no uncertainty from your body. 

“Hi,” you closed the door behind you, as he stood from throne King Duncan once sat during Hawkins High’s very first—and last—remediation of Macbeth, when Kevin Kavaugh’s baby face held no grip to the fake beard that once belonged to a Santa Claus costume and it had slipped off during Act 1 Scene 2. Not to mention when Lady Macbeth had to die a scene early because Carly Bennett hurled her lunch due to the numerous eyes awaiting her to speak her line. “Um, sorry for interrupting.” 

Eddie Munson wasn’t having any of that, as he rounded the table he was once sat at to meet you in the middle. “No, no, my time has gotten much better since the mere second you walked your pretty self in here.” He smiled down, with a grin that just made your face heat and gain the inability to look him in the eyes.

And it was because you were shying away, refusing to meet his teasing stare, your eyes caught sight of the work he’d been displaying on the table behind him. “What are you working on?” You invited.

“Just settin’ up for my campaign tomorrow night.” He notified, as he sat half of his bottom onto the edge of the table with crossed arms. 

Taking in his words, you finally peered up at him with round, crestfallen eyes. “Oh.” You heavily sighed. “So, you’re going to be busy all night tomorrow?”

“Yeah, basically.” He nodded. “DnD campaigns can last for hours, which is why I’m settin’ up early. Still gotta meeting with Ms. K, so I don’t wanna waste any time. Figured putting everything up would be easier. Finish with counseling and head straight into DMing, y’know, Dungeon Master n’ all.” He proudly pointed at himself. 

And your obvious response of another despondent “oh” had clearly railed Eddie into a small frenzy of concern. 

“Hey, what’s wrong?” He suddenly stood again. “Are you okay? 

“No, no.” You quickly assured him into ease. “I was just, um- it’s stupid really, well, it doesn’t matter s-since you’re busy and I don’t want to disrupt your plans, but, um, I just thought it would be a good idea to go out- or hang out, you know, tomorrow, like, together or whatever to the Hideout like you wanted.” Mrs. Crosby, your Public Speaking teacher from the tenth grade, who used to parade you around as a model student who spoke so clearly and concisely with confidence, would surely be disappointed at the sentence you just uttered. 

Not Eddie Munson, though. No, in fact, Eddie Munson was grinning ear to ear with a teasingly amused smirk at your sudden shyness, something his insides were melting and reveling in, especially knowing he was the cause of your flusterness. So you surely didn’t appreciate his, “Holy fuck, that was the cutest thing I’ve ever heard.”

Refusing to let him see your heated face, you hid away in the comfort of your hands with a whine. “Stop!” But his snickering laugh was failing to cease. “You’re being mean!”

“Aw, no, c’mon, sweetheart, let me see your pretty face.” He smiled, gently grasping your wrist at an attempt to pull them away.

“You’re not helping by saying that.” Your muffled complaint had him chuckling, as he worked to pry your hands away, leaving your face vulnerable to his lovesick smile. 

“There she is.” And for a split second, everything was quiet. Neither of you spoke, but rather lavished in the couple seconds in which you both peered at each with mesmerized eyes, because though it was never verbalized, neither of you could believe that you had each other. Eddie cleared his throat. “Um, could you ask me that again?”

You giggled in disbelief. “Are you trying to torture me?”

“Of course, not.” Eddie laughed. “But this is quite literally the first—and probably only—time a girl will ask me out- let alone one as gorgeous as you, so c’mon, hit me with it. I wanna bask in the feelings.”

“Oh, god, you’re ridiculous.” You delicately chuckled, but Eddie was still awaiting your invite with a large smile to ease you into your words. You sighed with a grin that matched his, and gave him your full attention as you looked up into his dough eyes. “Will you, Eddie Munson…” you trailed off into a small giggle, “…go on a date with me tomorrow?”

“Yes, absolutely.” And that answer, you weren’t expecting. 

“What? No!” You quickly interjected. “Your campaigns tomorrow, you can’t go.”

Eddie laughed, “Isn’t there a game tomorrow you’re supposed to be cheering at? When exactly were you expecting to go out with me when we’re both busy?”

“Uh, well, yeah, but the game doesn’t start till six, I figured we’d go to the Hideout before then, you know, after school?” You reasoned your thinking, but Eddie still couldn’t contain his chuckles.

“Y’know, you really are so fucking cute, sweetheart.” He smiled. “Nobody goes to the Hideout in the afternoon, it’s a bar, more of a nighttime thing.”

You scoffed incredulously with a lingering beam. “Oh, well, excuse me, you’re the one that suggested it in the first place. I’ve never been, I was just trying to be nice and go along with your request.”

“Oh, I know, honey, you’re just the sweetest.” He softly spoke, as he stepped closer, leaving you to truly crane your neck to meet his smile. “So, after my campaign, after your game, we’ll go.”

“Yeah?” God, Eddie Munson was truly baffled by the idea that you, someone so utterly enthralling who had the purest heart of good and acceptance, was questioning the validity of his statement of wanting to go out with you. He should be questioning you- questioning the world of what granted him the right to get to know or even go out with you. But this was a part of his journey. Eddie Munson was deserving of good things, and so were you. And while the both of you could easily fall into an endless hole of overthinking your worthiness for each other, it would ultimately do no good. As the wise words of Chrissy Cunningham once said, you and Eddie Munson were deserving of happiness. And you both had been put through too much to let that chance slip away because of fear. Eddie was told to face it, and he was. You were strong enough to do the same.

So, Eddie Munson confirmed your questions with an affirming nod that spoke everything he needed to before he took a deep breath. “Are you sure it’ll be okay? I don’t want to put you in a dangerous position.” His fingers gently touched the tips of yours, where they met on the old wood of the table.

“Yeah, I’ll be okay.” You softly spoke with a delicate smile. “I actually wanted to tell you that my dad will be leaving town Friday for work, so… we can have our day.”

“Perfect.” Eddie whispered into the air, and you watched his large eyes flicker to your lips, where they linger just long enough to spark the atmosphere with palpable tension. It had dawned on you just how close he stood, chest puffed to yours, where his wrinkled band t-shirt gently caressed the basic top you had changed into, and this spark was heavily enticing your lips to just finally give in to all desires and crash into peaceful bliss- but not right now. As Eddie’s head slowly leaned in, you had to reel back. For now, at least.

“Um,” Eddie immediately halted his movements from the clarity of the moment, and drew back.

“Sorry,” he cleared his throat, “so, sorry. I didn’t mean to make you-”

“No, no, it’s okay.” You reassured him away from his worries. “But, um, it’s just my dad’s waiting for me.” And the silky curve of your lips proffered him the understanding that you wanted him, too. Just as much. And when it was right, the moment would come. 

“Yeah, okay, so, uh, after my campaign- or your game, whichever one ends first, just meet me by my car and we’ll go on from there. That sound like a plan, sweetheart?”

You could only muster a little “mhm” through your bitten lip before turning to the door. “Unless, of course, you’d like to stop by the game and actually see me cheer? I know there’s absolutely no way you’d actually rather play a nerdy little game surrounded by smelly props.” Eddie could visibly see your sarcasm oozing out of your teasing smile, and it truly made him battle his internal restraints to not run up and swoop you into his arms with a loving kiss. God, you were the one torturing him, and you had no clue in the world. 

He winced before pointing a stern finger at you. “Don’t make fun of me, sweetheart, you’ll make me lose all self-control, and there would be nothing stopping me from dropping down on my knees in front of you and-”

“Eddie!” You chastised with a flustered face of hot cheeks that had him dying of laughter with a shit-eating grin. 

“Oh!” He smiled, “By the way, my freshmen, way smellier than any props in here.”

Eddie Munson was truly a piece of work.

-

Your snotty sobs had deliquesced into the quiet hum of Eddie Munson’s shower, where hot water burned your skin, as it felt like a deemed punishment for what you had just put Eddie through. He had taken it upon himself to reclaim countless times that your visitation was something he welcomed with open arms, and to let out all that was needed for you to be okay, though his reassurance did little to distract you from obvious trauma dumping you just proliferated into his life. It was no different than Eddie Munson bawling his eyes out while his intoxicated mind spewed the pain and regret of his life, in fact, that may have been even more severe than what you had transpired, but it still didn’t derail you from the notion that crashing into him with all of your hurt couldn’t be well for his mental progress, and you loathed the idea of what you were doing to him.

When your tears had finally subsided into small whimpers, Eddie had still held you tightly in his grasp, processing the information of what your life had just turned to- probably thinking far more than you had been able to. 

“Look, I’m really sorry, Eddie, I don’t mean to-”

“Hey, sh, just take a minute, okay?” His hand continued to smooth down the back of your head.

Though, your rampaging thoughts were quickly manifesting into a jumble of words that were torpedoed out of your mouth. “No, really, Eddie, I’m sorry, I swear it’ll only be for the night, or I can leave if you want me to, I-I just- just- can we just be here for a minute?”

Eddie’s arm tightened around your waist, and his hand securely cradled the back of your head, where he just gently whispered, “of course,” into the air, and your arms finally linked themselves around his neck for the safest embrace either of you ever felt. 

Seven minutes had passed by with no interruptance to the peaceful quietness you and Eddie had cascaded between the both of you. Your tears had damped the warm skin of his neck into a sticky, itchy residue that had you wanting to pull back, yet you weren’t entirely ready to leave his body. And it was even more evident he had no plans of letting you leave, as his hands refused the budge from the firm hold they had against you. When you eventually made the decision to carefully move away, Eddie saw how the obliterating uncomfortableness you were currently suffering through: reddened eyes with humid skin that mixed terribly with your drowning tears and sweat from the spring mugginess of the night. Eddie had delicately brushed everything away from your hot face and neck, where he was finally able to see your beautiful face shining past the pain of your expressions. 

Being so exposed, you truthfully felt so gross. The moment of transparency, where you just stared at his concerned face that longed to keep you away from the troubles of the world, made you feel like an utter failure, because for once, you couldn’t solve your way out of a problem. No homework, quiz, test, or exam could amount to the complexity of mental and emotional health, and while you managed to keep your mind distracted from the issues of your life, your efforts ultimately could not lead you straight to being okay, and you felt like a failure.

“I’m sorry.” You harshly rubbed your eyes with a deep sniffle. “I’m such a mess, I don’t mean to drag you into this.”

“No, you’re not, honey please stop apologizing, everything is fine.” He cleaned your face with a heavy hand swiping your cheeks. “I want you here. I want you talking to me.”

With a trembling sigh, your sore voice croaked. “So it’s okay if I stay here- it’ll be just for one night, I promi-”

“Yes, of course, it’s okay.” He cut off your apologetic rambling, because even though you hadn’t explicitly spoken the words I’m sorry, he knew it was drenched in your cramped sentences. “But I’m gonna really need you to work with me here, sweetheart, and tell me if he laid his fuc- if he put his hands on you? Did he, baby?”

“No.” That was the succinct answer he needed to hear, and a small breath of relief washed over him for a second. “W-we, um, we just started yelling and-and got into this big fight, where I just screamed at him, you know, about everything, and t-then he just kept yelling back, and he got so angry.” You heaved heavily. “Eddie, I don’t have anywhere else to go, um, I-I’ll figure something out, I just- I really can’t go back there.”

“No, no, don’t go back.” He ran his hands over his face. “Please, just stay here as long as-”

“No, Eddie, I can’t do that to you or your uncle.” You pursed your lips with slumped shoulders, feeling awful for taking advantage of his living situation for your accommodation, but Eddie would be livid to hear you keep denying yourself safety.

“Stop, don’t even try it.” He firmly stopped you. “Just, for once, let me help you. You’ve done so much for me, you deserve to let me just fucking help you through this, sweetheart. Please.” You relented. There was no point in making this situation harder for yourself, and you desperately just wanted to have some tranquility in your life, and Eddie was offering the biggest hand to you. Closing your eyes, you just agreed to his loving aid with a soft nod of acceptance. You once laid your bed out for Eddie Munson when he was at his lowest, he’d be damned not to give you that in return. 

“What do you want right now? We can talk- or just, like, completely avoid it, but only for a little bit, don’t keep it inside, that’s what Ms. K said- oh, uh, food! Are you hungry? Have you eaten dinner yet? Maybe like a cup of water? I can order some food, you don’t really want me cooking anything, but I have like a shit ton of pretzels-”

“Is it okay if I shower?” You quietly interrupted.

It was hot, suffocatingly hot. The months of spring brought an awful draft inside trailers that were not equipped with the proper protection for the incoming heat wave that would engulf Hawkins, Indiana. When winter hit, freezing families bundled together dreaming of the day warmer weather would mitigate numb toes and shivering bodies, but when that dream would come, sticky skin of sweat and hot flashes that made it feel like you were burning in an oven made the poor civilians of Forest Hills Trailer Park yearn for winter to come back. Just stuck to suffer yearly.

And you were sweltering.

-

Twenty-Two Hours Prior

“Fuck, fuck, fuck…” Honestly, how crazy would it be for Eddie Munson to rub his Black Ice Little Tree air freshener onto his jacket to mask out any potential bad smell? It’s not like carried his cologne around with him at all times, let alone for dates he doesn’t even go on. Plus, he always wondered if that Old Spice smell was too much. Last time, he became oblivious as to how much he wore, and Gareth Emerson couldn’t stop the ongoing sneezes that occurred whenever had Eddie stepped within a two feet radius of the poor kid. Safe to say, Eddie Munson learned two sprits was enough. But he had only applied his cologne this morning, what if the smell was gone? What if he still terribly smelled like that cigarette he smoked just before Hellfire started? Or what if he smelled like the illegal greens that resided in his lunchbox, after having to spend an extra five minutes rolling joints for Naomi Rahman after she explicitly stated she thought his service came pre-rolled. He knew he should have charged her extra for the free labor. Shit, what about his breath? Was he going to kiss you today?! Were you going to kiss him today?! Does he even own chapstick? And his hair, how come it looked so frizzy in the murky reflection of his rear view mirror? Was it always this frizzy? Why the hell do people let him walk out of the house like this?! 

Eddie slumped back in the old seat of his van with a groan. This was going horrible- granted the date hadn’t even started, but still. He couldn’t do this. How are you even supposed to act on a first date? Shit! This is Eddie Munson’s first ever date with a girl- a gorgeous girl- the most beautiful fucking girl he’s ever seen for crying out loud! How the hell do people do this so casually? You were probably cool as ever.

“Oh, my god, Chrissy help me! I'm freaking out over here!” As much as you’d like to scream, your devices only left you whispering fervently, as you and Chrissy Cunningham had snuck away into the corner of the locker room, where your cheer bag had been precisely fitted with three pairs of earrings, two necklaces, two pairs of shoes, and three dresses; however, despite being intricately picked for the sole reason that they were the best dresses you owned, you began hating them upon closer inspection. It’s lovely how the mind works, isn’t it?

“Would you relax?” Chrissy huffed, shoving her frayed bangs away from her eyes. “You’re stressing me out, and I’m not even going on the date. And it’s not like this is going to be your first, you’ve been out plenty of times.”

“Three.” You sternly corrected, with the high wedges in your hands acting like a scolding finger, as you pointed them towards your friend. “Three is not plenty. And as if I cared what those guys’ thought, this is Eddie. He, I actually do care about.”

“Aw, that’s so cute.” She giddied out a squeal, which could only be met with your eye roll. “No, but seriously, Y/N, it’s Eddie, you know he’s, like, totally obsessed with you, I don’t think he really cares about what you’re going to wear.”

An underlying “I know” was spoken into your sigh, as you put down the shoes, and simply looked at everything laid out on the old locker room bench. “So,” you took a deep breath, “any of these will be fine for the Hideout?”

“Wait,” Chrissy’s eyebrows raised into her forehead, “you’re going to the Hideout? Why’d you bring heels? That place is totally, like, a rundown-beer-old man kinda place. Not a heels and dress type.” She stressed. 

Just when you were beginning to calm down... “Well, how was I supposed to know?!” Came the whisper yelling. “I’ve never been! How do you even know?!”

“That’s where Jason and Andy always bought their booze from for parties. The owner is totally like this desperate guy who always wants money, and, well, he sold so they bought.” She quickly explained, groaning at the memories of having to sit in the back seat with the numerous boxes of cheap beer, because Jason Carver was that much of a douche he made his girlfriend move to the back for his friend to claim the front. “But, anyways, just wear your cheer shoes, it’ll still look cute with your dresses, especially the green sundress one.”

“But my sneakers are so scuffed up, they’ll look messy.” You whined. If only Eddie Munson knew how much thought you were putting in just to see him. He would think it was so cute.

You were then met with a Chrissy Cunningham deadpan that had you snapping back to reality. “Y/N, get real, Eddie’s probably wearing that t-shirt he doodled on with markers. I highly doubt he’ll judge you for a scuff mark on your shoe.”

Eddie Munson’s wristwatch ticked at 10:25 p.m. The last straggle of students, teachers, and town goers were slowly evacuating the emptying parking lot, as the numerous cars prompted the small bit of traffic that would occasionally occur in Hawkins that wasn’t directly correlated to the Fourth of July Fair. With the tiniest bit of a pep talk that honestly made him feel a little lame, Eddie exhaled deeply before making his way out of the car. Four weeks ago, Eddie had walked in on Dustin Henderson intently watching “Sixteen Candles” in the comfort of his own living, after Hellfire’s designated room got invaded by a bombardment of paint cans and set designs for Ms. Kathey’s drama club, insisting that her “Our Town crisis” was far greater than any campaign Eddie’s club had to host. Wanting the brownie points, Dustin took it upon himself to impress his Dungeon Master by proffering his house as an alternative, though when Dustin had muttered the words “mi casa es tu casa” he hadn’t anticipated Eddie Munson to just meander in without a warranted knock, leaving the kid vulnerable with his movie playing loudly in the background. Now, Eddie Munson was still a proudly proclaimed asshole back then, so the situation gave him great leeway to blackmail the freshman into doing his dirty work- by that, he meant his science homework. But now, there was no science homework, and Eddie Munson was instead trying to replay the foggy memory that was Jake Ryan leaning against his red car in the coolest fashion, as Samantha Baker stared in awe. He wanted you to stare at him in awe. He wanted to be cool. With the exception of the cool sports car and confidence, of course. 

But when the back doors of the gymnasium had opened and the harsh light of the beaming lamp post illuminated your figure upon entrance, Eddie Munson had been apotheosized. Long gone was the air in lungs, as when his eyes landed on you, it felt like a sucker punch to his stomach, and any confidence he was trying to willed by mimicking the acts of Jake Ryan had abruptly slipped his mind, and Eddie began fidgeting in place. Chrissy Cunningham had completely gone unbeknownst to Eddie as she waved you goodbye, the janitor, Charlie, who was currently dumping a barrage of trash from the gym was left unnoticed by Eddie, everything- every little thing that wasn’t you didn’t matter in this instance. 

Just you.

You had shyly approached him with a soft smile to your lip that had Eddie’s heart fluttering in his chest. “Hi.” That simple greeting was enough for Eddie Munson to officially say goodbye to the conviction he once held when he flirted with you just yesterday. 

How you were able to fuel his charm with giddiness one day, and then have him melting into a puddled state of flusters the next day was beyond the knowledge of modern science.

“H-Hi.” His voice rasped into the night air, which had you softly giggling. 

“Um, I hope this is alright?” You smoothed down the creases of your dress. “I didn’t know- uh, is this appropriate for, like, the Hideout?”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t worry.” He cleared his throat, eyes following your body up and down, before reverting back to your eyes out of respect. “You’ll totally be, like, the prettiest girl who’s ever walked in there- well, I mean, way more than pretty,” he awkwardly corrected, “because, um, you look r-really beautiful. You are really beautiful, Y/N.”

Your eyes had lit up and twinkled under the night sky. Briefly looking away to compose the ever growing smile on your face, you finally peered up at him. “Thank you, Eddie.” You delicately spoke, following suit of eyeing him. “You’re really beautiful, too, you know?”

Unfortunately—or very fortunately for your entertainment—Eddie had sucked in a deep breath, far bigger than he had anticipated, out of shock from the words he just heard, leading him to hurtle into a fit of uncontrolled coughing. “Sorry!” *cough* “Don’t know what’s wrong with me.” *cough*

“Are you okay?” You laughed, your hand gently being placed onto his chest with small rubs to ease his derailment. 

“Totally your fault.” *cough* “Why do you have to be so- ugh!” Eddie heaved, as his back straightened, and the clearing of his throat helped alleviate his little fit. But how could someone blame him in the first place? Not once, in the twenty years that Eddie Munson had been alive, has he ever heard someone call him beautiful. It was the great juxtaposition of Eddie’s life, because that’s what society told him. Eddie Munson was far from beautiful. Freak. Criminal. Errant. Disgrace. What would be so wrong with believing the town’s word, that he really was everything terrible in the world? They believed, so he believed it. Eddie Munson spent the entirety of his childhood wondering where he went wrong to continue to be degraded, and then turned his early adulthood into becoming those things, because why try to change the people’s opinion. It was already cemented into the books. Eddie Munson was a shame.

And you had just casually waltzed into his life and ruined that. Ruined his pessimistic beliefs. Ruined is cynicism. Completely ruined the agenda placed against Eddie Munson, because, for once, someone outside of his personal friends and family wanted him.

You wanted him. And in the Munson Doctrine, the newly indicted rule states your word triumphs all. Because you gave him meaning. You gave him a chance. For redemption. For love feelings. For everything. 

“My fault? I have no clue what you mean by that.” You giggled against his blushing state. “But you’re lucky I didn’t have time to call you sexy before your little aneurysm. I was totally ready to sneak that one in there-”

“Okay!” Eddie clapped his hands to cut you off. “You are trouble. Into the car, before you fucking kill me out here.” He left the last part to quietly fuse into the night sky with mumbling lips.

Eddie Munson’s hand had lingered on the small of your back, where he guided you to the passenger side of his car, and opened his chariot for your voyage (his words). Your cheer bag had found the floor of the back side of his van, where remnants of trash you once saw when Eddie Munson graciously stole you away from your house as per your request still nestled in the same spot they were once discarded. Eddie was quick to appear on the driver's side, and his van lit up with the last bit of life it had within her, where he began trailing behind the last of students leaving Hawkins High.

Eddie Munson was going on his first date ever. 

“Wait, stop, go back.” Eddie’s finger halted on the knob of his radio, ending his knit-picking ministries of finding the perfect channel for his music taste. It was always a mystery why he continued this routine. Eddie knew anything from the local channels would never play his preferred choices, but the procedure always developed the same: switch between channels, condemn the local radios, reach for whichever one of his tapes was closest. Except for tonight, of course, you interrupted his precious routine. “Go back, please.” You sang with the most satisfied smile, as Eddie—with his skeptical, squinted eyes—begrudgingly gave in, turning the knob ever so slightly to the left.

It was David fucking Bowie.

“Yay! I love his music! Keep it there.” You gushed, as his voice began drowning into the small atmosphere of Eddie’s van, and he, so predictably, protested your personal taste in music. 

“Nonononono.” His hand immediately reached back for the radio. “I am not losing you to some British dude with weird hair. Pass me my Sabbath tape.” Now, full transparency, Eddie truly could no care to bash your taste of music. In fact, he, himself, occasionally bobbed along to the voice Bowie every once in a while. It was just something about bickering with you that made his tummy tingle, that he just couldn’t help himself. He liked your little offended face.

You gasped an offended gasp, as your hand playfully smacked his away from the premises of the radio. “Um, excuse me, isn’t Ozzy Osbourne just another British guy with weird hair?” You giggled. 

“Woah, woah, woah, now, babe, you better choose your words wisely here, alright?” Eddie chortled. “He’s British metal, it’s the only acceptable form, this though…” he exaggeratedly grimaced, as the lyrics to “Changes” belted out from the speakers, “This is just lame.” He teased, while you dramatically scoffed. “Sounds like it belongs in some weird cartoon movie with, like, ogres and shit.”

You guffawed at the oddity of his opinion. “That’s literally right up your alley, sir. And, in my humble opinion, Mr. Dungeon Master, I believe orcs are far more lame.”

If it wasn’t for your presence in the vehicle, Eddie Munson would have swerved off the road and crashed into the nearest tree. His wide eyes and flushed cheeks swiftly met your laughing face, before distracting himself with the attention of the road, clearing his throat to prevent the impending cough that was inevitable ever since he met you. Your name calling was now sparking another tingling feeling inside him. “You… ugh,” Eddie grinned with red cheeks, “You are trouble.” He bit his lip, as he just took in the sight of your head falling back with laughter. God, you were so comfortable. So comfortable with him. “And for your information, orcs are not lame, in fact, because you said that, I’m changing this terrible song-”

“No!” Your hand had seized his, fingers lacing tightly to prevent his movements, and you locked your entangled hands into the soft plush of your thighs. Eddie Munson’s mouth fell agape. You really were trouble.

“Yeah, okay, I’ll do whatever you say.” He rushingly mumbled out for your amusement. 

“Just enjoy the song, Eddie.” Your thumb caressed his hand, and you felt him tighten his hold on you. “Expand your horizon, and I promise to listen to all the screaming men you want me to.” You turned up the song, but Eddie didn’t have the heart to protest your want. Not when you looked so damn perfect enthusiastically singing your heart out, with your hand in his, with his skin grazing your thigh, with you in the front seat of his car, where he could picture you sitting to the end of time, because it looked so natural.

You and Eddie Munson were natural.  

Chrissy Cunningham had entirely been correct. For the past twenty years since its start up, the Hideout had indefinitely established itself as a rundown-beer-old man-kinda-place. There had been a reason why Jason Carver was so insistent with Chrissy Cunningham staying in the car during their retrieval for cheap beer. Eddie Munson had soon fallen to regret ever bringing you here. Unabashed stares from men had been glued to you the second you and Eddie had made your presence known within the bar. Eddie had wished they were merely targeted at him for the simple reason that the regular goers were shocked to see the metalhead, who dedicated his Tuesday nights playing loud music on the stage, with a pretty girl who they deemed to be out of his league. But it would be stupid to think of that, when the stares had obviously been directed to the young girl in a pretty dress, someone these men had grossly dreamed of. Eddie had attempted to shield you from the many perversions aimed against you, as he directed you to a table farthest away from the small crowd that lingered at the bar. 

He felt like a complete asshole when he watched you coil into yourself, arms cramping over your tummy once you situated yourself onto the rustic chair. “I’m so fucking sorry.” Eddie had leaned in to immediately apologize. “I should’ve put more thought into this, I just couldn’t afford anything like Enzo’s, but we can absolutely leave if you want.”

“No, no.” You assured him with a small smile. “If this is the place you like going to, I want to enjoy it with you, too.”

“You…” His head dropped in disbelief at the person you were- at the person he got to experience this moment with. “You’re too fucking nice to me, sweetheart.” He sighed. “Really, let’s leave if these assholes are making you uncomfortable.”

But you had sternly shaken your head. “I don’t know when it’ll be the next time we get to hang out like this. I don’t want to let anyone ruin our night, Eddie. I-It’s okay.”

Eddie could see right through your smile. You were devastatingly uncomfortable, but your words held so much truth, you genuinely did not want to leave, sacrificing your consolation for a special moment with Eddie. Because this was your chance- your opportunity to be with one another, and given the hardships of reality, who knew when something like this could be offered to you and Eddie again. 

He had immediately shrugged off his jacket, passing the heaviness of leather and denim over your shoulders for you to take lead in letting your arms get swallowed by the sleeve. “Take this, princess, at least.”

You adjusted his jacket around you, before sitting up and beaming at him. “How do I look?” You rhetorically spoke with a giggle.

Eddie Munson was about to cry. His fist clenched tightly out of sight beneath the table, and he blinked harshly to get rid of the invading tears that were about to come forth. Why did he have to react like this? What were you doing this to him? Why did you have to give him the time of day after everything he’s put you through? The sight of you- your hair, complementing the perfection of your features, because you meticulously styled it flawlessly just for him; your eyes, sparkling in the low light of the bar with such happiness, because you were looking at him; your cheeks, plumping with such liveliness, because your alluring lips were curled into a heavenly smile, because of him. Eddie Munson wasn’t deserving of good things, so why the hell were you opening your arms to him? Accept it, accept it, accept it, he forced himself as a reminder. Accept your care. Accept your passion. Accept your love feelings. You were putting your life at risk wearing the jacket that branded Eddie Munson. But you were doing it with the greatest smile he’s ever seen. 

You wanted him- you wanted Eddie Munson.

“You look beautiful, Y/N.”

Your lips folded within themselves to contain your beaming smile. “You’ve already said that.”

“Because it’s true.” He spoke with such conviction.

Your hand snaked under the table, where you met his tense fist, but your delicate fingertips ignited them to unfold and relax with comfort, where fingers just mindlessly played with one another. “Thank you, Eddie. And thank you for asking me out… first, at least.” You giggled. “You know, before you held me against my will to ask you out?”

Eddie let out a guttural laugh. “What are you talking about, princess? You practically hunted me down and begged me- no, pleaded with me to just finally take you out. I’m just for the food, of course.”

“As if.” You scoffed with a playful roll to your eyes. “But, you know, now that you mentioned it, I am desperately hungry for food. What is there to feed me?”

“Alright, Ms. Y/L/N, this fine establishment offers us some very stale nachos-”

“Sounds delicious.”

“Some burgers made with the fakest of meat, and just drenched in grease from a stove that’s never been cleaned-”

“Very appetizing.”

“And, of course, three-day-old cheese fries with, y’know, just a sprinkle of dust for flavor.”

“Ooh!” You perked. “That! I want cheese fries, please.”

“Then cheese fries she will get.” Eddie stood with a lingering chuckle, getting ready to place in your order. “You wanna pick your poison? I can get it for you.” He pointed towards the bar.

“Whiskey old fashioned.” You smiled confidently.

Eddie blinked back in surprise. “That really your usual?” He interrogated with a flabbergasted laugh.

“No, I’ve just always wanted to say that.” You giggled with amusement. “That’s what my dad and his friends say when they come over and invade his liquor cabinet. I’ve never drank before, so I’ll just have whatever is your favorite.”

Eddie Munson had instantly fallen back into his seat with a gaping mouth of shock. “Sweetheart, you let me bring you to a bar, and you don’t even drink?!”

You retaliated with a deadpan shot directly at him, and your hands finding your hips like a scolding mother. “Eddie, how hard is it to believe that I just really want to go anywhere with you, that I don’t care where it is?”

“Uh, very.” He answered too quickly. You could only laugh in return, gently smacking his bicep.

“Just go get my drink, please.” You failed to sternly convey, as your effusing voice spoke too bubbly to be austere. 

“I’d be a terrible influence to let you indulge in beer, and an even worse person for letting your first be from here. How about a soda?” He crooned affectionately.

But you, of course, protested so eloquently with crossed arms. “It’s never a bad thing to try new things.”

Bits of yellow liquid had toppled over the rim of the thick glass, as your cup of beer fell heavy against the wooden table with a loud clunk. Eddie stood smiling next to you, sliding the drink to be perfectly stationed in front of you. He had returned far quicker than you had anticipated. “Here you go, Evel Knievel, go crazy.” He jabbered, urging you with a nod to his head, as an act of support. Your round eyes peered through your lashes and connected with his. With a confident grip of the overly large cup, you brought the drink to your face, getting a whiff of something not too bad but not entirely pleasant, either. Possibly overestimating yourself, your lips engulfed a section of the rim and you happily accepted a hefty swig of the beer. Eddie looked down at you expectedly, because as he prophesied while ordering your beer, your nose had cutely scrunched into a multitude of creases, becoming the biggest telltale sign that you surely did not like it. Eddie had laughed but pitied you as if you were a lost puppy, “Aw, you want me to get you a soda, sweetheart?”

“Yes, please.” You grimaced, though ever so politely. 

“It’s okay, good thing I only got one, I figured you wouldn’t like it.” He chuckled, as he slid the beer over to his side, and brought the cup to his mouth, where his mouth rested upon the gloss stain of your lips. If this was the closest Eddie Munson would ever get to kissing you, he would take it. He gladly took a gulp with no reaction. You envied him. “I’m proud of you for at least tryin’ something you wanted, pretty girl.” He lovingly pinched your chin, before leaving to retrieve your soda.

-

Eddie’s pajamas felt soft in your hand. They were his finest pair—no holes, no stains, no loose threads—coming from the back of his dresser, because five months ago, Eddie had shrunk them in the dryer. Nothing too drastic, but they clung to his body in ways he was too uncomfortable with, and if a certain pair of pants or a t-shirt didn’t provide him the privilege to move about freely, the back of the dresser they went. But he honestly wasn’t kidding, they were his finest pair of pajamas. Entirely because they hadn’t been in Eddie Munson’s possession for too long to be worn to demise. And now they sat neatly folded on the toilet, awaiting to replace the soft towel that was wrapped around you tightly. 

It felt wrong. Having to leave your skin to dry out in the humid atmosphere of the Munson’s bathroom, as you truly left with nothing in your hands, but the clothes on your back and the shoes on your feet. Despite the shrinkage, his pajama pants had still managed to pool around your ankles, even with the stretchy waist clasping at your stomach at an appropriate height. And his t-shirt had been no different, sleeves long enough to get caught in the crease of your inner elbow if you ever chose to bend your arms. Dio, written boldly across and attended with an unsettling depiction of a creature to embody the tone of the album cover. You’d ask Eddie about it some other time. And he would gladly answer. 

Your hand had become coated with a warm layer of water, as it swept away the condensation pestering the hanging mirror. Red, your eyes had still been stained with the dreaded redness of tears and exhaustion. But at least, the last bit of hot water for the Munson’s managed to circulate your blood back to your drained face, and the tiniest sliver of liveliness could be detected if anyone chose to inspect close enough. Eddie Munson would be that person. He always had no problem staring at your face.

Turning the brass door knob, the waft of a cooler breeze from the trailer’s air conditioner cascaded goosebumps along your arms. It’s quiet. Your hands tightly clenched around your balled up pile of clothes, as you begin your slow movements to the kitchen. But the stove light continued to be the only thing keeping the kitchen company, as Eddie was still nowhere to be seen. The washer had been stationed to your left, where the clean clothes of Eddie and his uncle resided in a basket that had yet to be folded. Choosing to follow suit, your denim shorts were folded in half with delicacy, placed onto the metal washing machine, with your shirt joining soon after, ready to grab first thing in the morning. Because that was a promise you were holding, you were truly not ready to take up any more space in Eddie Munson’s life, not when he had his own issues to understand. He didn’t need yours as a cherry on top. Even if his persistence told you otherwise, that he’d have you living with him in a heartbeat. 

Hearing a muffled shuffle coming from the end of the hall, you paddled your way to the doorway of his bedroom, where Eddie had caught you through the creaking sound of his door opening up to your face.

“Hey, um, feelin’ a little better?” He finished up smoothing the wrinkles of the newly spread bedsheets, something he retrieved from the back of his closet. Though, they hadn’t shrunken. He honestly had just forgotten about them, until ten minutes ago. You nodded truthfully, the corner of your lips barely tugging upward, but enough to make your dry skin feel tight with the movement. “Um, oh, your room for tonight.” He opened his arms to showcase the myriad of posters that would be staring you down while you slept. “Clean sheets n’ everything. Hotel Munson, if you will, best service in town. Especially that continental breakfast, don’t miss it.”

That managed to turn your facade into a real smile. Something Eddie loved. “I can’t take your bed.” You spoke so quietly, someone could have thought you were whispering him a secret. “You’re already doing a lot by letting me stay here, Eddie.”

“No, please take it.” He walked up to you with an earnest voice. “Honestly, take anything- I’ll give you anything, Y/N, just please.”

You stared at him with longing eyes that just pulled at the string of his heart. “Will you sleep with me?” You sighed softly. 

Eddie Munson had fervently shaken his head with all purpose in the world. “I’ll give you anything, Y/N.”

“Thank you, Eddie. For everything.”

“You’re the only reason why I’m getting better, sweetheart. Thank you. I’m devoting my life to you.” He smiled solemnly at the breathy giggle he managed to squeeze out of you. Progress was progress, and this was the start. “Although, I checked, and I don’t have any ice cream here to help. But I can go to the store real quick-”

“Eddie, it’s okay.” You assured him with a tender hold of his forearm. “Really.”

“Okay.” Eddie accepted with a sigh. “Um, is it okay if we talk now? I don’t want you keepin’ anything to yourself, honey. I wanna hear your voice.” Eddie's hand had engulfed yours, urging you to follow his small steps to the made bed right behind him. He had dropped with ease, letting you stand between his spread legs, where his other hand had joined your united ones, and both sets of his fingers began toying with yours languidly. “Please.”

You slowly took up the empty space next to him. What was three inches of space closed to be touching thighs, when Eddie had snaked his arm to grasp onto your hip and pull you as close as possible. The worry of whether the move was a step over your boundaries had quickly dissipated in Eddie’s overthinking mind, as the close proximity had prompted you to lay your head comfortably on his muscular shoulder. 

But before Eddie could think of laying against your head in return, you had quickly chosen to turn your face to the wall where a large burgundy blanket had taken the place of an actual curtain over the window. It was behind him, where his back was turned to. Because you didn’t want Eddie Munson to see your face right now. You shielded away. And he would let you. As long as he got to hear your voice. 

“If I look at you I’ll start crying.” You quietly mumbled against his shoulder. Because you look at me with all the care in the world, and my father doesn't. 

“It’s okay, baby.” His lips fell onto the crown of your head and made no judgment to move, even long after his lips had already puckered to plant you a deserving kiss of compassion. “Take all the time you need.”

Come Monday afternoon, Eddie Munson would thank Ms. Kelly for guided lessons on how to be a therapist. Even if that was far from her intended goals with him. But as long as it was helping you, he’d facilitate his newfound skill. 

“Being with you, Eddie…” you took a deep breath,  “…you just make me realize so many things.” Both of your arms had bear hugged his bicep, keeping him as close as humanly possible. “My dad, I wish he would just get help from someone for me.” Like you did. “I wish he would get better for me.” Like you did. “I wish he would just care for me.” Like you did. “I told him. I told him everything. About what he’s done. How he treats me. How I feel. Everything, I finally said everything, Eddie.” Your voice began wavering with a stinging throat. Because even if you had chosen to peer away from Eddie’s sympathetic face, it wouldn’t steer you away from the hurt of losing everything you’ve ever known. “I stood up to him, Eddie.”

“I’m proud of you, baby.” He whispered into your head, his hand working to grab a caring hold of your thigh. “So fucking proud.” I wish I had the strength to do what you did when I was younger. 

But you had finally picked up your head and cried at him with glossy eyes and a frown so deep it felt like a knife in his chest. You harshly began shaking your head. “He yelled at me, Eddie. He screamed so much.” You began choking. “He didn’t want to hear about how I felt. Eddie, he was blaming me. Said it was my fault. For everything.” You agonized. 

“No, no, no, sweetheart, none of this is your fault, alright?” He cupped your hot cheeks securely in his hands. “None of it is. Don’t you dare listen to a word that asshole said, okay?”

“But, Eddie, he’s right.” You sobbed. “I just can’t- Eddie, I should have left you alone that night.” The club picture. Eddie couldn’t believe it. You were blaming yourself for everything that had occurred. You didn’t even have to verbalize it for Eddie to understand. He knew what was about to come out of your mouth. 

If I didn’t bother you, you would have lived your life. 

If I didn’t bother you, the school wouldn’t have been so disgusted with me. 

If I didn’t bother you, my dad wouldn’t have been so ashamed of me. 

Eddie Munson’s face had dropped stunned. So blankly, he just spoke, “Don’t fucking say another word, Y/N.” And maybe that had come out far harsher than anticipated, but he had indicated it with such love, he honestly didn’t care. Eddie Munson wasn’t going to tolerate another hateful word to be said about you. It was the reason Jason Carver still sported a faded yellow bruise on his cheek. It was the reason why he spent hours killing himself over the nasty words he once screamed at you. Eddie Munson wouldn’t dare be alive to hear you speak horribly about yourself. The men in your life had already terribly decided to do that to someone so far from deserving it. Including him. And processing the horrid regret of feeling appalled by his actions, he was going to be the first to understand that hearing these words come from yourself was going to hurt ten times worse. For him. But especially for you. The rage coursing through his body, he was desperately trying to handle it. But someone was hurting you. And Eddie Munson was fighting all restraints to not end up with a murder charge by the end of the night. “If you sit there and tell me straight to my face that he made you believe any of this was your fault, I’m killing him.”

You sat still, blanking your round eyes at him in disbelief. Though jarring, his words- his entire shift in demeanor had snapped some sense into you. Because you believed him. Everything he had just uttered came with a harsh truth. How Eddie had managed to speak the scariest words, yet so clearly convey his adoration for you was truly unbeknownst. To you. To anyone. But not to Eddie. No, because Eddie was beginning to understand his feelings for you were drilling deeper and deeper to the point where he’d jump to any matter to protect you. He would have done anything to go back in time and confess it to you the moment he first spoke to you. But it was too late. And now, all he could do was devote his life to you. Just like he said. It wasn’t a joke. 

So, you whispered, “It wasn’t my fault.”

“Do you believe that?” His eyes frantically scanned yours in search of certainty. “Because everything that's happened has been my fault, sweetheart. Not yours. And I need you to understand that. Do you?” His words were so firm, it felt like a parent lecturing a child. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you that first day in the cafeteria. I shouldn’t have been an asshole the night you took my picture. I shouldn’t have crossed the line when it came to Jason. I shouldn’t have called you those disgusting names. And I shouldn’t have fucking scared you, and dumped all my bullshit problems onto you.” Eddie’s eyes were beginning to burn with a gloss coat of tears, but his face remained stoic, not wanting to deter you from the purpose of his words just because of his emotions. Because he knew you would. Eddie Munson knew you cared about him. “You’ve done nothing wrong, and I’m so fucking sorry every piece of shit person in this fucking town has blamed you for my mistakes, Y/N. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay, Ed-”

“No. Don’t fucking make yourself believe that it’s okay.” He pleaded. “It’s not. None of it is. I know you’re happy that I’m getting help, I am, too, but if there’s any part of you that still hates me, then hate me, Y/N. That’s okay. It’s okay to be fucking angry and sad about everything me and everyone else put you through. You don’t have to be this selfless person who excuses everything that’s ever been done to you for the sake of normalcy, sweetheart. Don’t fucking do that to yourself. Be mad at me. Be mad at your shit excuse of a father. Be mad at fucking everybody. You deserve to have your feelings heard. And if your dad isn’t going to be the fucking one to do, I will. I swear I will, princess.” He swore with all urgency. “But only if you want me to.” Eddie huffed, as he longed into your sorrowful eyes, and cemented his proposition.  “You’re going to sit here and tell me if you want me to make it up to you. I don’t care if we’ve already been on a date, none of that matters, except how you truly feel. It’s your choice. You get to decide. You choose.”

Eddie Munson had laid out his cards. For once, the decisions of your life were in your hands. Not your father’s. Not anyone’s, but yours. And maybe that was the entire reason as to why you took Hellfire’s picture in the first place. Everyone had made their decisions about Eddie Munson and his friends. Exclusion. Ostracism. Rejection. Everything had been chosen for them. Eddie Munson’s life and character had already been set in stone by the people of Hawkins, Indiana. And you had recognized it when Principal Higgins made his decisions. So you took back that power. You disobeyed the expectations of a small-minded town that bred conservatism and conformity. You made your choice. You took his picture. You did what was right. Everything that has happened has been a result of you making your own choices. No one likes when a teenage girl is capable of breaking the decisions that have been set for her. Because that makes her a powerful woman. 

That makes her you.

So you made your decision. Firmly. “I want you to make it up to me.”

And Eddie Munson accepted it. “I will.” He so effortlessly agreed. “Now, c’mere.”

Eddie had taken a hold of your legs, and moved them around his waist, where your body crumbled into his lap, arms holding on for dear life around his neck. He moved until his back uncomfortably hit the frameless wall, where lumpy pillows only gave him support, but Eddie Munson wouldn’t dare to move. This was him listening. A large hand splayed across the canvas of your back to sooth, and another keeping your head secured in the solace of his neck. This was him making it up to you. Because though you weren’t speaking, your cries were articulating the anger you bottled. “I hate him. I hate him” You choked. 

This was your power. And Eddie Munson was accepting it with loving arms.

-

Nineteen Hours Prior

You’d been laughing for nearly three hours. 

Eddie Munson’s bottom was beginning to feel the numbing sensation of his ass giving out for having been sat for too long. But he couldn’t leave. He didn’t want to. Not when you were uncontrollably laughing at the stupid jokes he made, because he was bringing joy to your life. And it was a real laugh. Not a cute one that would be gently let out for fear of being judged for having experienced pure happiness. No, you were being loud. And sincere. And Eddie Munson loved hearing it. 

“That’s so not fair.” You whined finishing the last bit of cheese fries that stained the lined parchment paper with grease within the basket of stray fries—all too small and soggy to be enjoyed. And there was no dust. “You can’t just casually mention you turn up this place with your five fans cheering you on.”

Eddie had, of course, playfully exaggerated the weekly experience. When asked about Corroded Coffin, he had put on his bravado act, one like the most famous rockstars do during interviews in Hollywood, and braggingly told you how crazy the local five drunks act upon their arrival. “I mean, I’m a total smokeshow, babe, can you blame ‘em? Autographs, pictures, I even have groupies lining up at our tour bus.” Eddie Munson loved making you laugh. 

“What do you mean I can’t mention it, you’re the one that asked about it?” He crooned, as he took a large gulp of the water he ordered after he downed the beer you had discovered to hate. 

‘Well, yeah, but you’re just rubbing it in my face.” You laughed. “I’m bound to my room, I’ll never get a chance to see the Corroded Coffin live. I wanna be the sixth drunk to come watch you perform- well, with my soda that is.”

God, you were too fucking cute. “Don’t worry, baby, I got my sweetheart back home, I’ll bust her out one day for a personal live show from yours truly. She’ll love you.”

“Mh, feel like I’m meeting the parents.” 

Eddie’s face scrunched with a wince. “You don’t wanna meet my parents, babe.” He chuckled. “Everything that’s wrong with me is because of them.” Sometimes if he laughed about it, he’d forget how much the truth hurt. “But, uh, Ms. K, said I shouldn’t think like that- think that I’m like them, y’know?”

You nod your head to affirm him. It’s true. Eddie’s not like them. Even if you’ll never meet them. You know he’s not like them. “Do you believe that?” You quietly asked.

The tone of the night has shifted. “Tryin’ to.” He concisely answered. “I mean, every time I looked in the mirror all I saw was my old man, been thinkin’ I was like him for the last ten years of my life, so it’s not easy to just forget it, but I’m workin’ on it.” There was a small lingering smile on his lips by the end of the sentence. He was proud. Proud of himself. You could tell. 

“That’s good, Eddie.” You softly spoke with a caring smile to let it cement that you, too, were proud of the person Eddie Munson was becoming. “I also feel like I’m like my dad- well, actually I kinda just know I am.”

Eddie didn’t speak for a second. His hand had managed to sneak under your stool, where he had taken a hold of your cushioned seat—torn with its years of usage—and pulled you close until the legs of your chair screeched their way against sticky wood tiles that covered the floor and finally hit his chair with a clank. You were close. “I don’t know if you’re aware, sweetheart, but you’ve never chased me out of your house with murder on your mind.” And luckily his comment was lighthearted enough to keep you at ease with your underlying feelings, providing you laughter where you would usually cry. “I don’t think you’re like your dad, honey. Not even in the slightest bit.” He whispered closely to your face.

And surely, a smile was on your face. Not because this was a topic you loved to rave about, but for the mere fact that you wanted to tell Eddie. You felt comfortable- safe with Eddie. You wanted him to know your secrets, one you hadn’t even told Chrissy Cunningham. “I have a little brother.”

In retrospect, it had been an odd thing to simply blurt out in the midst of a semi-serious conversation, so you didn’t find blame in Eddie when he squinted at you with confusion. But out of respect to you, and with no judgment ahead, he chose to follow suit. “Oh, uh, I didn’t know you did.” 

“I didn’t either, until about two years ago when my cousin, Cassidy, told me.” You admitted, a tight lip smile being the only readable tell to your face. And with a heavy sigh puffing out of your cheeks, you had continued. “She, uh, she said his name is Levi, which I thought was pretty cute. And then eight months ago, my cousin also told me that my mom just had twin girls. Jasmine and Maddy. I know their names, but I don’t think they know mine.” Comprehension was quick on Eddie’s part, as it didn’t take a rocket scientist to dissect your words. Your mother had abandoned you. Started another family. “I’ve always felt like I was too much like my dad- too much of a perfectionist, too focused on work, that I just reminded her of him. It was probably why she didn’t bother coming back for me.”

And Eddie heard it. The small crack in your voice when you finished speaking. You were stopping yourself from explaining any further, because the thrush of abandonment was crashing into you at full speed, and you didn’t want to cry on your first date with Eddie. It was why you took the last sip of your drink as a distraction. It was why your eyes averted away from his gentle gaze and willed all strength to focus on the American flag that was nailed onto the wall above the bar, so your eyes could be strong enough not to bawl. 

But then you felt the warm metal of Eddie Munson’s rings touch the skin of your knee, before the rest of his hand followed soon after to hold a tight grasp of your body. Of course, you looked back at him. How could you not? “Y’know, you’re pretty fucking incredible, Y/N?” He spoke with a profound smile to his face that personified all his adoration for you. “You’re quite literally the smartest person I know, and I know Henderson, sweetheart- but don’t tell that little shit I think highly of him, it’ll get to his already big head.” Eddie smiled, as he watched your frown develop into a giggle he could listen to forever. “And you’re so fucking nice. Like the sweetest thing on this planet. Got such a kind heart, taking that photo of my club, putting us in the yearbook, having the patience for everyone, and…” His eyes burned into yours, as his heavy hand squeezed your knee, “…giving me a second chance when I sure as hell don’t deserve one. Don’t waste your time wallowing on the idea that you could be him. You’re not, sweetheart. And you know it. I was dumb enough to start acting like my old man, but luckily a pretty, little thing whipped me right into shape.” Your blood had circulated to your cheeks, and he could definitively see the effect his words had on you. He was grinning ear to ear. God, how you hated Eddie Munson. “And because of her, I’m not rotting in a jail cell like he is. And I sure as hell won’t be, either. You’ve got too much kindness in your heart, you’re nothing like you dad, baby. Just because you came from him, doesn’t mean you are him. And you’re much smarter than me, sweetheart, so I’m sure that beautiful brain of yours will figure it out faster than I did. You are nothing like your dad, Y/N.”

And you accepted his words with certainty, letting them play on your mind as a reminder that Eddie Munson didn’t see you as everyone else did. There was a time he did, but he’s learned. You’re far greater than the expectation placed upon you by everyone else. You were spectacular in the eyes of Eddie Munson. 

“Eddie,” his name lingered on your tongue for a bit, “um, your dad’s in jail?”

Eddie nodded. And then, he told you everything. 

On the night of January 1st, a mere hour into the new year of 1976, the Munson family had spent their holidays in the cold, sterile atmosphere of Hawkins General Hospital. Eddie Munson, innocent to it all, was supposed to hit double digits that year. Exciting, it was all he could rave about on the way to Aunt Shirley’s house. Something in Eddie Munson’s tiny mind had proffered the idea that turning ten meant he was a man. Someone who was strong, and could grow muscles overnight, and used their strength to fight. A real man. Fight like his daddy… fight his daddy. He was ready for it. But the older Munson, as it typically occurred, had fallen under the influence after he stationed himself amongst the other men of the family around a cooler of beer that was empty by the time the clock struck twelve. Eddie’s mother had been insistent on driving. But when she asked for the keys, his father had made a big show of how a woman oughta learn to stay in her place, and humiliated enough, she didn’t try again. No one stopped him. No one said anything. Then the arguing began in the car. Icy roads and intoxication was a death sentence that the Munson family would learn devastatingly quickly. Eddie remembered nothing of that night except for the last scene that played in his head: his tiny soon-to-be-man hands gripping tightly the worn seat belt, with fear wracking through his small body, as daddy was swerving into the wrong lane. But it was the stop sign that changed everything. Passed with no regards, a pick-up truck had collided into the passenger side. His mother’s side. It was five hours later when Eddie Munson had woken up with a gentle tap on his shoulder. “You okay, boy?”

Uncle Wayne. “Where’s mom?”

At the very least, it was quick. Pronounced on scene. The agony of her life wouldn’t have to continue any longer. “She said you could have a couple sleepovers at mine. How’s that sound?”

Arriving at 10:43 p.m, Eddie Munson hadn’t anticipated keeping you around until 1:30 in the morning. But that was the beauty of it all, wasn’t it? Laughing about the miniscule things in life, sharing interests that drastically revealed how different you were—he was dark, you were light—and confiding about the scariness of childhood that should have been happiness, like little children sharing secrets on the playground. Much to Eddie’s dismay, you began organizing the table, stacking cups with bits of residing beer, soda, and water; stealing napkins to dust off crumbs and soak up water rings; and finishing it off with throwing the numerous balls of paper into the empty basket of what was cheese fries. You were ready to go. And Eddie couldn’t blame you. You had just cheered through an entire basketball game, he should have considered the exhaustion you were fighting against just to see him. But you’re not entirely done with your moment with Eddie. It’s not likely you’ll have another one given your circumstance. 

Standing from your seat, you secured his jacket around you. “Ready to go to your place?”

You always found it amusing how your words could make his eyes bulge, just as they’re doing right now. This may have been Eddie’s first rodeo into the world of first dates, but he wasn’t oblivious to the actions that occurred after the date. In fact, he may have even rented a couple “movies” that followed the same plotline. And they always seemed to end the same way. 

“W-what? Uh- I, um, what?”

“Your place.” You reiterated with a teasing smile. “That’s where you said your sweetheart currently is, and well, I’m pretty sure I was promised a personal live show.

“O-oh, right.” He swallowed thickly. Eddie Munson felt like an ass for having his blood begin to circulate to a particular area of his body, when all you wanted was to hear him play. But also, could you blame him? He didn’t know what he was doing. “Um, you wanna hear me play?”

“Of course!” You beamed brightly. “Like I said, Eddie, there’s a lock outside of my bedroom door bounding me to my room. By the time I leave, you’ll probably be off giving actual autographs, and taking photos, with a long line of groupies waiting for you. You’ll forget about me then. And I want my show now.” 

You were insane. Eddie Munson could never forget about you. Not even if he wanted to. Not even if he tried. You were burned into his mind for life. Just like he wanted. 

Eddie wouldn’t know it unless he asked, but his assumption landed on the fixation that this was probably the first time you’d ever cruised down Mulberry Street to get to Forest Hills Trailer Park. I mean, genuinely, what reason would someone like you ever have coming down to this side of town? But Eddie stopped himself. He shouldn’t think like that. Still, the fear of judgment plagued his mind, as he anxiously took numerous glances to see your face- see your reaction. Because driving down Mulberry Street, there were no meticulously planted trees of uniform formation, but rather invasive species of plants and weeds that suffocated the dark woods. Where a sophisticated sign—lined with an array of beautiful rose bushes, and a bright light that spotlighted the fancy lettering of Pinecrest Acres—named your neighborhood, Forest Hills got nothing, only accounting for rusted trailers and dirt roads that the townspeople would use as an indicator for where you ranked in reputation. Apparently to the civilians of Hawkins, Indiana, poverty shunned you away from the title of an All American Perfect Community. 

But everytime Eddie had briefly gazed at your face, he was met with a small smile of bubbling excitement to the point where your teeth had sunk into your reddening lip for the majority of the car ride over. You seemed too occupied trying to find the perfect rhythm to head bop to the songs Eddie had chosen for the departure from the Hideout—especially after the whole Bowie debacle—to focus on the evident income gap between the two of you. Or, you simply did not care. Either way, Eddie liked both options. And truthfully, you were having a hard time head bopping to the blaring voices of Iron Maiden. One day, Eddie Munson would teach you how to properly head bang, and you would complain of getting a headache, but for now, you were simply arriving at his humble home for what would be the first of many times.

Eddie had huffed out a lung to reach your door before you could. Actually, you saw him ferociously sprinting, and slowed your movements for his awaited opportunity. And you’re glad you did. Because when Eddie opened the door for you, he met you with a beaming smile of proudness for his gentlemanly actions. “M’lady.” He offered his ringed hand. “This is my, uh, castle.” He showcased his trailer with a sarcastic chortle of amusement to the reality that his home was far from a castle, and surely you could see that in the flickering blue light of the wooden lamppost. 

“Thank you for bringing me, kind sir.” No grimace. No scowl. No look of disgust. You genuinely did not care for the elephant in the room. 

Of course, you wouldn’t. Eddie knows the kind of person you are. 

The creaking screen door was held open by the expanse of Eddie’s back, as he worked the house key of his crowded keychain into the doorknob of the front door. And upon the first step inside, you were inundated by the warmth of a cozy home, the snug smells of carpet and blankets infused by the obvious smell of lingering cigarettes, and glowing by golden lights of shaded table lamps. Had you spoken about it, Eddie Munson would have learned you envied his home. Because that’s what it felt like. A home. One where you could tell he had a lot of laughs over meals with the closest he cared for. Your house was like a museum. It’d been three years since you and your father ate at the dinner table together. And it was cold. He liked it cold. You were yelled at for touching the thermostat in search of warmth in an empty house. 

“Sorry, uh, maid took off.” He made a quick round disposing of the trash that decorated countertops. 

“Do you live alone, Eddie?”

“Uh, nah, my Uncle Wayne, remember I told you about him? It’s his place. But he works night shifts at the plant, so, yeah.” He smiled, standing by the trash can with his hands at his hips, watching your eyes circle around living space. Again, no judgment in sight.

“You guys have a lot of mugs.” You giggled, taking a minor step forward to peer at the array of colorful ceramics displayed by the handles with proudness. 

“Yeah, Wayne used to hit the interstates as a trucker, had a thing for hats and mugs. Used to take the piss out of him by just getting him more.” Eddie chuckles. “But then he started expecting them, so now the old man’s got a lifetime supply comin’.” 

Your heart warmed at the sentiment. “Which is his favorite? Yours?”

Eddie’s heart warmed at the question. “I gotta Garfield cup. He’s got an Odie one.” You wanted to learn about his uncle’s favorite. Eddie would one day eventually tell you over breakfast that he actually hates the taste of coffee, but doesn’t start his day without a cup full of that Garfield mug. Something about drinking coffee made him feel like an actual adult. Granted, he was still consuming it out of a cartoon character mug, but the irony is what made Eddie Munson so special. Because he still hadn’t catched on, and asked why that was so funny. A grown man wanting to feel like an adult by drinking coffee out of a Garfield mug.

“Aw, like the bobblehead in your car! You guys must really like Garfield.” God, you remembered. 

“It’s the one thing I would watch when I first moved in with him.” Eddie laughed at the memories. A lazy cat who was enthused about hot lasagna was wonderfully able to ease the pain of his life circumstances. Of course, Uncle Wayne would continue to put it on. 

You slowly walked up to Eddie with an endearing smile. “That’s really cute. I’m glad your uncle is a good guy.” Not a lot of people were in either of your lives. It was an unfortunate thing to be grateful for. But you were. And so was he. 

“He is.” Eddie nodded with a gentle smile. “Gave up his room for me.” He jerked his head to signal down the hall.

And gave him that sweet giggle that melted his worries away. “Is that an invitation?”

“C’mon, sweetheart.” He ardently agreed, as his hand entwined with yours and led you to his bedroom. 

And if Eddie Munson could be objectified as an element of interior design, his room would be the most fitting aesthetic for the Munson persona he loved to flaunt around. Though, if you ever told him that, he’d just laugh and say it was a standard metalhead’s room. But you liked the way you thought of it. How every poster—the ones you would admit were kinda scary, and he’d tease you about it—or clutter of amps and wires amongst the heaps of dirty or clean clothes were personalized to Eddie Munson and unique to his taste, even if it was typical in company with the scene he followed. 

And then you saw it. “Ooh!”

“Wait! Don’t touch her- it.” 

Fingers mid air, you stopped and turned around to face Eddie, who stood with a cringed face that was heavily targeted at himself. “Her?” You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” Eddie caught up to where you stood in front of his desk, taking the hand you were about to use to touch his precious guitar, and holding it firmly within his grasp. “No one touches the guitar unless it’s me- or unless you’re worthy.” He declared. 

“Worthy? Who are you, Thor?” You teased right in his face, that had him scoffing and rolling his eyes. 

“No.” Eddie childishly snided in your face. “It’s just that- wait, you read Marvel Comics?” His head tilted back, face churning with suspicion, as he eyed you. 

Now, it was your turn to snide at him, “No.”

Eddie laughed in your face unabashedly. “Oh, you so totally do, sweetheart.” He giggled. “Nerd.”

“Oh, whatever.” You crossed your arms with sass. “It was a long time ago, and they were my dad’s collection. It’s not like I roleplay practicing alchemy with my little gaggle of friends.”

Eddie Munson winced for you. “At least I have friends.” Your mouth dropped in disbelief, and Eddie guffawed loudly in your face. He was kinda right. But he was also kinda the reason why you lost them in the first place. 

Though, you had to hand it to him, you walked right into that one. “You are mean, Eddie Munson!” You joined in on his laughter. “So, so mean. I-” You stopped mid sentence, well, actually it was the faint thud you heard outside that stopped you mid sentence. A thud? Slam? Pound? You don’t know, but you heard it.

“What?” Eddie questioned your sudden confusion. 

“You didn’t hear that?” You hit him back. “The noise outside?”

“There’s lots of noise outside. It’s outside, babe.” He could only giggle at the incredulous look you threw him. “Probably just the neighbors, or Cronkers. It’s night, gets her zoomies n’ all.” But before the question of who Cronkers was could leave your mouth, the front door to Eddie Munson’s trailer pushed open, and that, you both surely heard. Eddie’s head snapped to the door of the bedroom, concealing either of you from the incoming sound of the living room. Eddie had surely made a hand signal to stay, but as if you would, you blatantly ignored his unspoken declaration, and followed right behind, fitting your hand within his with a tight grip. “Hold on, sweetheart.” He quietly whispered, as opened his bedroom door and entered the long hallway of the trailer.

“Ed, how many times do I have to tell ya to fix those damn hinges-” Wayne Munson had stopped.

You and Eddie Munson had stopped. Hand in hand. In the kitchen. Fully seen. 

“What are you doing here?” Eddie hadn’t meant for it to sound so disrespectful. 

“Last I checked, it’s my house.” Wayne huffed back, watching his nephew nod his head in an apology. “What are you doin’, son?” And though the simple question had been directed at Eddie, Wayne Munson’s eyes had fallen on you. Standing shyly behind Eddie, his hand in yours.

“I, um- after my campaign, I just went on, uh- Wayne, this is Y/N.” Eddie simply cut straight to the point. “Y/N Y/L/N.”

Wayne Munson had surely remembered that name. “The girl that nearly got you arrested?”

Your eyes had doubled in size. “What?”

“No!” Eddie immediately blurted out upon seeing your worried face. “No, you didn’t, I promise.” He directed to you before turning to Wayne. “She didn’t, none of that was her fault. That was all Jason’s bullshit- and mine. Not hers, Wayne.”

A pregnant pause linger amongst the three of you. It was painfully awkward. Eddie watched Wayne watch you, while you couldn’t muster a stare back, merely peered at your dirty sneakers where your toes were uncomfortably tensing inside, thanking god you hadn’t chosen the heels you proffered to Chrissy Cunningham. 

“So, uh,” Wayne had cleared his throat, “what are you two doing at this hour? Did I, uh, interrupt-”

“No, sir.” You interjected politely. Your hands had worked fast to peel off Eddie’s jacket, as it somehow felt incriminating, feeling as though it could have possibly alluded to anything inappropriate. It hadn’t in Wayne’s eyes, though as precautionary measures, you still shoved it back into Eddie’s hands.  

“Look, Wayne, um, why are you home so early?” Eddie managed to ask.

“Well, some incident at the plant occurred, just sent us all home until it cleared up.” Wayne shrugged off his work coat to hang along the rack of hooks by the door. The older gentleman had sauntered his way into the kitchen, standing directly in front you. “It’s awfully late, hon, you eat anything, yet?”

“Um-”

“We ate at the Hideout.” Eddie answered for you, grabbing the attention of his uncle. 

“Well, that surely ain’t food, is it?” He rhetorically asked, making himself chuckle with gruff, before turning back to you. “Ya like pancakes?”

“It’s two in the morning.” Eddie chided.

“I wasn’t askin’ you, boy.” Wayne tsked back. And like clockwork, he once again directed his attention to you, humming as a way to ask again.

“Yeah, um, I do, sir.” You meekly answered, attempting to conjure a nice smile that didn’t reveal how awkward you felt. 

“Great, let’s have us some breakfast, then.”

Wayne Munson had lost his intimidation in a matter of ten minutes. Much amusement came about witnessing the atrocity that was Eddie Munson attempting to crack eggs without stray eggshells, then complaining about the icky sensation of gooey egg whites when the inevitable occurred, and he searched for shells within the unmixed batter. You and Uncle Wayne had stood back to watch it play out, whispering teasing comments about the boy, as though he couldn’t hear. He did. Then proceeded to complain about that. Then the toppings debacle came about, one that had you reeling with laughter, as you played along with Wayne. You said “maybe blueberries.” He suggested  “a little cinnamon.” And in the background, Eddie’s small voice offered “chocolate chips.” But in the grand scheme of things, the joke came when poor Eddie was blatantly ignored for you and Uncle Wayne’s entertainment, so when you piqued “ooh, chocolate chips.” Wayne had smiled “that’s a great idea, you should come over more often.” Eddie’s mouth dropped to the floor with disbelief. But he loved it. Eddie Munson loved seeing you with his only family so much. 

“You sure your folks won’t mind you being out this late?” Breakfast had been served in the early hour of 2:27 a.m, and the small kitchen table within their residence had been bombarded with a stack of pancakes with all the fixings. 

“No, sir, they don’t mind.” You lied with a smile on your face, as Eddie watched you from across the table intently. 

“Good.” Wayne stuffed himself with a bite. “I’m not lookin’ to have the police roundin’ us up.” He laughed. “‘Specially not when my boy’s almost graduatin’ this year.” And watched as Wayne smiled at Eddie, providing a firm pat to his shoulder that had his nephew feeling gratified. 

“Y/N’s the real star.” Eddie pointed his fork at you. “Valedictorian and she’s finishing on her first try.” You giggled with a heated face from the sweet attention. 

“Really?!” Wayne turned to you. “That’s incredible, darlin’, I’m real proud of ya!” That felt nice. Too nice, to the point where your heart had suddenly stopped for a brief second to recuperate. “Folks must be real proud, too, huh?” No. They weren’t. Your father nearly screamed at you to tears the day you were suspended because the daughter he raised was becoming a failure. And your mother never cared to stay long enough to learn of the fear you were enduring. 

You could only extend a tight-lipped smile with a small nod, and Eddie’s face dropped seeing you seethe in the uncomfortableness of the reality of your life. Every passing minute that Wayne Munson spoke, your smile grew faker and faker, and Eddie watched it transform every time. But Eddie was helpless. Every diversion of conversation amounted to nothing, as the fact of the matter was that Wayne Munson was a good guy- a genuine one who shamelessly showed his support for nephew in every topic of conversation. Wayne cared for Eddie like a son. Wayne loved Eddie like a son. He showed it when he spoke. So clearly. And it cemented in you deeper that your father couldn’t bear to do the same with his own daughter. 

Eddie couldn’t handle the pain behind your smiling eyes. He called it the second you took the last bite of your pancakes. It was the first time Eddie Munson hadn't finished a meal. His priorities too focused on you to satiate his appetit. “It’s, uh, getting pretty late, I wanna get her home, Wayne, she’s had a long day.” He’d politely interrupted his uncle's question of wanting more orange juice. 

“Yeah, go on, and let her get some rest.” Wayne smiled at you, as you stood from the table. “I’ll take care of the dishes, hon, don’t worry.”

“Thank you for everything, sir.” You sincerely beamed back. “Really, I enjoyed meeting you.”

“Lovely meetin’ you, too, darlin’.” Wayne gathered the litter of plates and cups. “Hope to have you back soon.”

“Hopefully.” Hopefully. 

You hadn’t even been able to process the breath of fresh air you inhaled from the humid outdoors before Eddie began rushing out his apologies. 

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart, was that too much?” He rushed. “I swear I didn’t know he was coming back home early. And the conversation- if anything made you uncomfortable, I’m so fucking sorry-”

“No, Eddie, stop, don’t- don’t ever be sorry about that.” You smiled. A small one, but an authentic one. “I’m sorry that I worried you. You didn’t even get to finish your food.” Eddie sighed, shaking his head to refuse your apology that he felt was unnecessary. “The breakfast was nice- you guys were nice. I loved spending the day with you and your uncle. It made me really happy, Eddie.”

“Really?” He came out so strained with disbelief. But your fervent nod cleared all his worries. You loved it just as much as he did. 

“Your uncle is really kind.” You smiled. “I’m happy you have someone like him, Eddie.” Before he could respond, you took it upon yourself to throw Eddie into a secure hug that had him immediately snaking his arms around your waist tightly. “This has been the greatest night ever. Thank you for letting me learn about you.” Your lips brushed his ears in quiet whispers. 

Eddie closed his eyes, inhaling a sweet smell of your perfume, enclosing his arms stronger. 

Eddie Munson had just gone on his first date. 

-

“Sweetheart?”

Just as it occurred last Tuesday, when Eddie Munson had gone into his drunken hysterics of guilt about who he was as a person, where you once cradled him into a peaceful sleep to mitigate the pain of realizing who he had become, Eddie Munson was now doing for you. Your eyes had given up when stinging tears finally put them to rest in the comfort of Eddie’s neck. Your breath was steady. Where your lips gently grazed the sensitive skin of his neck, Eddie turned to softly place a delicate kiss to your hot temple. You were finally getting your rest. A sense of what stability could be like. With Eddie Munson. 

“Honey?” It was quiet as a mouse in Eddie’s room, the only sound to be accounted for was the whirring of the air conditioner that was working overtime. It would surely break by the end of the week. 

In truth, Eddie was hungry. You would probably complain of hunger, too, had you been awake. Dinner had been long forgotten. But even if the rumble of his tummy did place some discomfort, Eddie didn’t want to move. But what he did do was ever so slightly shimmy his body down his sheeted bed, until his back was finally within comfort, aligned to the mattress, and Eddie simply rested. With you clinging to his body like a lost child, Eddie laid back, and closed his eyes with rest. His hand had mindlessly found its way beneath his shirt that you wore, letting his fingertips graze upon your back with dainty touches that had you stirring against him. 

“Shh, baby, just go to sleep.” He whispered against your ear. “So proud of you for getting it all out.” His hushed voice felt like tiny kisses against your warm skin. “You’re doin’ so good, sweetheart. Don’t ever think that you’re not.”

Wavering between the boundaries of sleep and awake, you could hear Eddie loud and clear. Failure, the feeling that consumed you and sent you spiraling had all been wrong. All of it. You weren’t a failure for experiencing the inevitable setbacks of life. Though it may not be the explicit goal, one of the best accomplishments can be as simple as refining naivety. It was okay to profess. You’d become fixated on the achievement of results, that you blinded yourself to the repercussions of a grand high, believing it to be the end goal. Just like the great pioneers of science, physicists to biologists, the ones whose intelligence you aspiringly admired, they knew to recognize the failures of a hypothesis as discovery not a mishap. Because learning what didn’t work for yourself was a profound revelation of merit. Indulging yourself into a state of purgatory—eating three meals, decluttering your room, working your body to a purifying sweat—was great, and an admirable start, because it may have worked for the moment, but not in the long run. And you were learning it the hard way. But that was okay. 

That night, Eddie Munson wrapped a soft blanket around your clinging bodies, and for once, a restful night of sleep was casted upon you two, because two hearts of lonely children were experiencing the strength of love and recovery, and you two were healing. 

-

Two Hours Prior

It was the turning of locks and an abrasive single knock to your door that you had become accustomed to for the past week that told you dinner was here. It had also been the only form of communication your father ever cared to give you now-a-days. On either ends of the kitchen island, you both stand. You watch him intently, and like usual, he’s in a rush to leave, pulling styrofoam plates of hefty take-out from wet plastic bags of condensation. The question’s on the tip of your tongue. Maybe for once, things can change. Things can be like Eddie and Wayne.

“Hey, um, dad?” Not a word of acknowledgement. He didn’t even look at you. “D-Do you, uh, maybe want to eat together? Like, at the table?” That. That was all you were asking for. “Please?”

It was supposed to be simple. All you wanted was simple. Your father slammed his plastic utensils to the counter. “Do you really think someone like you deserves that?” Your face dropped. 

“I-I just wanted to have dinner with y-”

“After everything you put our name through, you think I’d want to have dinner with you?” It was supposed to be simple. “I’ve got men in my office, their kids who go to school with you, asking me what kind of nutcase I’m raising. Do you know what they think of you? What they think of me?! How you’ve ruined our reputation in this town?! Are you that inconsiderate?!” Your tears started welling. It was supposed to be simple. “Do you not realize how humiliating it is having a daughter like you?! I’ve done everything to give all that you need in life, and this is how you repay me-”

“You left me, dad!” 

The tense atmosphere fell silent with nothing but huffing breaths. 

“Excuse me?” 

“You. Left. Me.” This it was. You were saying it. You were going to say everything. “I- Being around you s-scares me, because it feels like you don’t care- I know you don’t care. You don’t care about me, dad.” Maybe it was something you’ve known all along, but simply refused to accept it. Downplaying the emotional hurt, because others had it worse. Who were you to complain? And your father even spoke it. Titling himself Father of the Year for never laying a hand on you. Some dads did that. But he was the villain for wanting what’s best for you. For the family. He was disgusted with you. “I-I just want you to care! Why? Why don’t you care about me?”

“I never left!” He heaved. “Your mother is the one that left us- gave up on us! Not me! I stayed when I didn’t have to! Don’t tell me that I don’t care when I fucking stayed!”

“You were never there, dad!” You cried. Anger, you wanted to be angry, show him how angry you were, but you were crying like a child, reflecting the one that had been abandoned for years. “When mom left, so did you! You were never here for me! You’re fucking gone to me, dad.” You whimpered the last words out, immediately hiding behind the comfort of your hot hands, as burning tears smeared against your face. 

“Don’t-” Your father scoffed with disbelief. He turned away, because facing the reality of neglectful actions would have put him at fault. Something he did wrong. He couldn’t be wrong. He just couldn’t. But his daughter was pleading with tears in her eyes, that poured out years of hurt by the hands of everyone. By the hands of him. So, of course, he couldn’t look at you. Not when his face began to strain with stress to control the stinging of his eyes. “I- You don’t know how much I gave up to give you everything! Everything I do is for you!”

“Locking me in my room was for me?! Never congratulating me for anything was for me?! Forgetting my birthday every year was for me?! Stop- I- you know, dad. You know that you were never here.” Your voice constricted with the agony of loss. “Y-You’re supposed to be here. For me. And I just want to tell you things, I want to tell you everything, but-but I can’t because I know you don’t care. And I just want you to. Even if it’s just a little, please, dad, please just care about me.” Everything had become horrifically pathetic. The desperation. The yearning. You hated the way you sounded. But it was how you truly felt. “I just want you to be okay. I just want you to get help- help me get help, so we can be okay together.”

Had your eyes given you a second of peace from the blurring pricks, you would have seen it. The slightest sight of a quivering chin from your father that could have maybe- just maybe given you the infinitesimal chance of hope for the best. Because it showed that he felt something. Even if it was minute to the onslaught of your escaping feelings, at the very least, it was something. Something to show that he might care. Deep down. Just might. 

But then he spoke. So calmly. So earnestly. And it made you want to vomit from the sickening impalement. “I was perfectly okay until you became my problem.” You were no longer a person to him. He cleared his throat, his reddening eyes penetrating you with the utmost frightening look of disconnection. He was gone. “I hope someday you realize your mother didn’t just leave me, she left you, too. And she didn’t care to come back, Y/N. Not even for you. So, go ahead and yell about how I don’t care, when she clearly didn’t care about you, either. Make me out to be the bad guy, Y/N. But when you do, I want you to stop and think for a second about how much of a problem you were to make her leave. But I fucking stayed.” That was the irreconcilable wound that burned into your skin. Changed everything forever. “If you think you have it so bad with me, leave. Nothing’s stopping you. In fact, I want you to. Let’s see how willing mommy is to open up her arms for you. Just don’t come back when she doesn’t. Because she doesn’t care.”

Your father was thirty-four when your mother left. A decade later, his daughter was taking the same steps through the front door. The slam of the heavy door finally ignited the single tear to stream down his face, before his fingers swiped away the vulnerability. Perhaps somewhere in the back of your mind, your dad had long died, alongside the dream of amends. And maybe you had known it all along, but refused to accept the ugliness of it all. But you didn’t regret it. You couldn’t find yourself too. Though, you couldn’t believe you finally said. Everything. You hated him. You hated everything about him. As each thought cemented, your legs took you closer to him. Eddie. Without thought. Without warning. Your mind knew where to take you. Your body trusted to follow. Because just as you saw him once, you knew he could see you. 

It was why his gentle words opened the busted seams of your heart, “Is- is everything alright, sweetheart?” It was why his arms held no hesitation to bring you to him. It was why he provided you the necessities to be comfortable. It was why he was making it up to you. 

It was why you woke up in the arms of Eddie Munson that Sunday morning. Because Eddie Munson saw you. 

-

You hadn’t blinked for three minutes. 

The stained linoleum of the kitchen floor were all your eyes could focus on, as the morning sun attempted to bleed through the curtained windows of the hot trailer. You had sat so stiff in the wooden chair. Where you once nearly choked on the tooth-achingly sweet bite of pancakes from a comforted laugh, you had now been stuck quiet in the depths of loneliness, attempting to find the right words to say. 

Eddie’s eyes had bleared open, despite the resistance of dryness, when his hand had clutched around air. Heavy hand patting around, all that caressed his palms were the wrinkles of his sheets, now cold where the warmth of your body had now rested. Eddie had felt gross to admit it given the circumstances, but it felt nice- so fucking nice to hold you so dearly. To have his nose be invaded by the smell of you. To have his hands squeeze the curves of your body for comfort. To have your breath fan him with warmth even if it was boiling outside. Eddie would gladly burn to death if it was at the hands of your calm breathing, so steady and tranquil, so angelic and beautiful. 

Rushing out of the containment of his strewn blankets, his knees had popped with the abrasive movements as his feet steadied themselves among the scratchy frills of the lining carpet. Had he given himself a second to ease the tiredness of his body, Eddie Munson would have had an alert mind, and wouldn’t have startled you with the deafening creaking of his bedroom swinging open. But he did, and he would soon apologize. But not before he showered you with the needed support for the conversation you were carrying. 

Phone tightened in the small grasp of your hand, you locked eyes with Eddie from down the hall. And he heard you speak, so soft and frail, closely into the receiver. “Something bad happened, Chrissy.” Eddie rushed to your side, once your face contorted to the pained scrunch that killed his soul to witness. Had you looked at the ticking clock on the wall, you would have known time was breaching seven in the morning. Chrissy Cunningham’s voice sounded so groggy with fatigue. You felt even more awful. But Eddie’s hand had landed on the small of your back, his rough finger maneuvering gently against your tense body to mollify the ache of tensity. You stared at him with big eyes, as you spoke weakly into the phone. “I can’t go home, something bad will-” Your breath hitched. “I just- can I please stay with you for a little bit, Chris, I’m so sorry.” 

Eddie had pulled you in until your head landed peacefully against his chest. “Don’t be sorry.” He whispered against your head. 

When Chrissy Cunningham had her first argument with Jason Carver, she was spending the night at his house, when she suddenly turned up at your doorstep. It was trivial. Teenagers arguing over the discomfort of one’s lab partner being of the opposite sex. Despite its inconsequentiality, Chrissy had wanted to cut her sleepover short after the petty bickering. You had let her take up the other half of your bed for the entirety of the Memorial Day weekend with no complaints. Chrissy Cunningham would be damned to not provide you the same safety. Of course, she said yes. No questions asked. When the last goodbye was spoken, you’d lazily dropped the phone back onto the hook, before collapsing into Eddie’s tight embrace for security. 

“Let me make you some breakfast.” He pulled back to see your face. “Wayne should be home soon. I’m sure he’d like to have breakfast with you again. Couldn’t stop ravin’ about you last time.” But the short chortle that fell out of Eddie’s lips was short lived, as you suddenly began shaking your head in refusal.

“No, I don’t want him to see me, Eddie. Not like this.” You sighed. “I shouldn’t even be here. I don’t want to be a problem. This is twice in a row that I’ve been here without his-”

“Hey, hey, hey.” His hands drew down the length of your arms. “Relax, sweetheart, you’re not a problem, I promise. It’s my place, too. I want you here, Y/N.” Your heart could barely handle the words Eddie spoke, how much they contradicted the torment your father instilled. “Let’s just sit for a minute, yeah?”

“I-I can’t, I have to get my stuff, I need to head over to Chrissy’s, I still have so much work to catch up for school, I can’t- Eddie, I can’t.” Your hands pulled around the skin of your forehead, believing it to be the only remedy to ease the aching throb of your head. 

“Okay, stop, honey, you’re going to drive yourself insane thinking like that.” His fingers took a firm hold of your wrist to pull them away from your harsh touch. “I know it’s a lot, baby, and I’m so sorry for this bullshit that’s being thrown at you, but please just take a second to breathe. We’ll figure this out, I promise. Just one thing at a time, we’ll take it one thing at a time.” You nodded your head with a heavy exhale to regulate the needed alleviation throughout your body. “I’ll take you to grab everything you need, I can drop you off at Chris’, and you’ll eat there- promise me you will, because you haven’t eaten anything in a while Y/N, and once you finally rest, you can catch up on a bit of work. I’m sure Chrissy will like to help. And I promise, Y/N, I’ll be home, near this damn phone, so if you call, I’ll be here to talk to you. For anything you need, I’ll be here.”

Eddie Munson’s designation brought you to quiet tears. How could you ever see yourself as a problem, when Eddie Munson wanted to be there for you? 

Begrudgingly, you’d lost the comfort of Eddie’s pajamas when you retrieved your folded clothes from the washing machine, having to be tainted by the outfit that reminded you of the haunting memories of last night. Eddie hadn’t realized the severity of you truly wanting to leave his house before his uncle arrived, until he trudged out of the bathroom with decent clothes, and found you nowhere, until he peeked outside to the foggy morning where you rested against his van within the mist. In all honesty, the humiliation of having to face someone as nice as his uncle was the only driving point to leave so urgently. Bombarding his home when nothing had even been concisely established between you and his nephew. That was another lingering issue that twisted your mind to mush. Surely the events following up to today had pushed you both beyond the heavy definition of a friendship, or maybe it hadn’t, and this was simply the newfound experience of gaining a friend who was genuine in comparison to the ones you once had. 

“You ready to go?” His hand stationed upon your shoulder, where you turned to meet his sweet eyes that couldn’t keep away from your face. The ones that fluttered to every feature with precise dedication to each one; your eyes, your nose, your lips. 

How could he ever be just a friend when he looked at you like that?

The ride over had been nothing but a palpitating heartbeat drumming in your ear, as the contents of your belly stirred rambunctiously. Eddie noticed it every time he looked over. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Lips mouthing the words like a command to be followed, as you stared at the passing landscape as a distraction to the fear bubbling inside. Eddie’s hand snaked over to yours, stealing your attention, as his fingers interlocked with yours to never be let go. He smiled at you, a reassuring one, one that dissipated the heat that was consuming your body to a suffocating degree. Eddie was here. Your empty driveway had been the first sight your eyes landed on. Dead. You thought he was dead to you. But a gnawing persistence of disappointment crashed over you when you saw he was gone. Just a little bit. Because maybe on the off chance of believing he could change, you would have seen your father’s car parked in the same position it once had been when you left, because who would genuinely go to work the next day after their only child left them for good? But that was the ego of a man. That was the reality of your father. 

“Take all the time you need, or be as fast as you want.” Eddie squeezed your hand, as you stayed seated in his van. “Your choice, sweetheart, okay?” 

You nodded your head surely. 

The third stone to the left that lined the large bush of pink rhododendrons had housed the spare key to your house. Imprinted into the wet dirt, the key had embarked you into the coldness of your house, where Eddie followed closely behind. In the case of not being hounded with the threats of murder by your father, Eddie had taken the moment to really stare. Stare at the whiteness. The blandness. The minimal decorations. The large staircase. Uninventing as a house could be, Eddie felt unnerving about the thoughts of being stuck in such a lifeless place for years, proffering much needed appreciation to the cozy trailer he called home. 

“I just, um, I’m only going to get clothes, and some important papers. I won’t be long.” Your fingers curled around the cracked door of your bedroom, still opened from when you stepped out to have dinner. Still opened from when you just wanted to be together. When it was supposed to be simple. 

Your room looked different. Drastically different from the drunken eyes Eddie once scanned of your room. Gone were the miniscule details that defined the person you were. Eddie didn’t like it. At all. “Everything’s gone?” He hadn’t meant it to be perceived as a question, but the implications of confusion had taken over, and Eddie surely was looking for answers. 

You were quiet with your speech. “I was just trying to get better.” Given you had reached within the depths of your closet to recover a beloved suitcase, Eddie hadn’t seen the pain of admission to your wrongdoing. Just like your father, the reality of acknowledging where you had gone wrong burned your throat as you spoke. But you weren’t like him. Just like Eddie wasn’t like his. And you were strong enough to recognize your wrongs. “But, um, I don’t think it was enough… to actually help.” You weren’t like him. 

“You did something.” Eddie chimed in sincerely. “That’s more than most people do. You’re really fucking incredible to try something without having a shrink tell ya.” His finger circled to himself. And that’s what he wanted. A laugh, even if it was small, the corner of your lips were tugging to the sky. Even if he had to take a jab at himself. 

“Ms. Kelly is not a shrink. She’s a counselor. Genuinely a vast difference.” And even if it was stated with a little sass, he’d take your rebutting comments with ease, because Eddie Munson truly loved it coming out of your mouth. 

The offering of a hand had fervently been rejected by you, feeling as though you’ve sacrificed enough of Eddie’s time with the rampancy of your life. So, he sat back. With you by his side on the floor of your bedroom, Eddie quietly watched you fold items of clothes, each tailored to the style that suited you best. Shirts; small, large, short-sleeve, long-sleeve, of all patterns and colors. But you softly told him green was your favorite. And sweaters, my god, did it appear you love them most. While you ransacked your dresser, the very least Eddie insisted on was retrieving all that hung in your closet. Tight dresses, sun dresses. You’d briefly went on a tangent explaining how you loved the look of strapless ones, but the lack practicality really peeved you off. Eddie laughed when he heard you say peeve with all seriousness. And the shoes were the easiest. Sneakers, and, well, just mostly sneakers, they were the most important. Not very often will you find yourself sporting any form of stilettos while living at Hawkins. If those had to stay to be forgotten, it’d be okay. And ever the gentleman, Eddie noticed your hesitant approach to the last drawer, and quickly turned his head away to appear as if to be occupied by the minimalistic flower patterns of your wallpaper. Whether you realized his actions, or merely thought it was perfect timing, it didn’t matter, because Eddie Munson saved you the awkwardness, and you freely were able to stuff the last of your suitcase with the needed bras and underwear of your life. 

A moment of quietness rested upon you, as Eddie momentarily left your house to follow the back and forth momentum of loading his van with your personal belongings. Books. You had a lot of books, special ones that once lined your bookcase with perfect clutter. Eddie had seen the small lingering smile etched to your face, as your finger traced the spines of novels, big and small. So hearing you disheartenedly admit donation or selling to be the best options stung his chest with a residing ache. He mumbled with a small smile. “You should keep ‘em, sweetheart. They belong with you. And when you get your own place, they’ll be the first thing I’ll help you put up.” Eddie Munson had a delicate way of evanescing the affliction of reality. 

You had told him you’d be just a minute. And you had been. Sitting in the driver seat of his van, cool air blasting through the dusty vents of the AC, Eddie wondered what you did for that minute. Following the cliches of just about every coming of age movie where the main character leaves a childhood home, Eddie would have imagined you reminiscing through the various rooms you once stepped in throughout the stages of your life. But surely, that would take more than a minute. And you were out quickly. Because the reality of the matter was that you simply did not want to reminisce. Anything good of remembrance had been taken away from you by the tainted realization of what you meant to the people you cared about the most. 

It was cold. It was blank. It was lifeless. 

So, all you needed was a minute, and as promised, Eddie watched you close the door to leave that life behind. This was your beginning. Even if it wasn’t ideal, you wanted it- needed it. You let go of the deep breath that resided in your lungs the second your bottom met the cushioned seat of Eddie’s van. It was the first words he spoke, the only words he needed to say, “Are you okay?” You looked at Eddie solemnly. It was such a disgustingly polarizing question. One that had been haunting you for a lifetime. One that brought you to the precipice of collapse. One that felt as if you’d been driving yourself to delirium just to dissect. 

A small smile appeared on your face, as you softly answered. “I will be.” And for once, you could be sure of that. 

As a student of Hawkins High, Chrissy Cunningham had been all too familiar with the rampant yells of metal music that emanated from the grumling car of Eddie Munson. The student parking lot had been no different than her neighborhood street. So, Chrissy emerged on cue. It didn’t take you two seconds to jump out of Eddie’s car the second he parked along the curb of Chrissy’s house. Pacing off her porch, Chrissy met you halfway down her driveway before you crashed into her arms. Your arms had smushed into the straight strands of her hair around her neck, as she secured you firmly in a hug. It became helpless to try to fight the bombarding tears, and they came quickly, sinking into the cashmere collar of her sweater. Not a word was said between the two of you, as she merely held you in a tight embrace that provided the comfort you needed to relinquish the torment of your home life. “I told my parents.” Chrissy mumbled into your body. “Of course, you can stay with us.”

A choked sob escaped your throat. It was acceptance. 

Chrissy’s eyes opened to land on the man standing back. Leaning against his rustic van that was on its last leg, but he paid no mind, as long as it got you to the places you needed. To the places you’d be okay at. To the places you could run away and be together. Eddie’s heart lurched at the sight. Seeing you understand that you were cared for. No matter your parents, you had people. Even if it was just two. Chrissy Cunningham and Eddie Munson loved you. 

Shit, Eddie Munson genuinely, authentically, certainly, absolutely loves…

He swallowed the large lump in his throat. “Just hold her.” His lips mouthed, as Chrissy watched him. And she listened. Arms tightening around to safety. 

Stability.

-

Monday. Following in the footsteps of the lazy, pessimistic cat that Eddie and his uncle loved, you were beginning to revel in the same sentiment of despising the first day of the school week. Sunday had you were drained of all emotions. You wished you could put blame on sore muscles after having to move your items into the spare bedroom, though Eddie took that away from you when he told you to sit down, and did the dirty work himself. And Chrissy, of course, did the due diligence of multitasking between the playing chef and best friend. French toast was fried and topped with syrup and powdered sugar with a side of strawberries, while providing a shoulder to cry on, because it dawned on you that you had never been taken care of like you had been during the mere twenty minutes of that particular Sunday morning than you had been during the last eighteen years of your life with your own parents. 

The notion had solidified when all of that sunny Sunday, you received no call from a worried father about their gone daughter’s whereabouts, as one would expect. Nothing. Not even a knock at the doorstep just to make sure of your security. Absolutely nothing. 

And surely, a tumultuous home life would be reason enough to garner someone a day off from school to prolong the chaotic weekend, but most weren’t returning from a suspension due to insubordination, so that Monday you were playing catch-up. Exhaustingly. 

The myriad of conversations surrounding you within the main hall of Hawkins High was becoming discordant to your tired state. Your eyes blinked harshly to try to mitigate the drowsiness of the day. The clunking of your stubborn locker finally opening was enough to bring you just a sliver of energy to switch out a history textbook that truly looked the historical part for an agonizing book about calculus that was becoming your sworn enemy. 

“You tired?”

Your eyes turned to lock with his brown ones you’d grown heavily fond of. Eddie had sported a sly smile that played into his bravado, as he leaned against the lockers next to you. 

You winced at him. “Is it that obvious?”

“I woke up to your pretty, little, tired face yesterday morning, sweetheart. I’ve burned it into my mind forever. Of course, I’m going to notice.” Eddie liked that small shy face you pulled, attempting to hide your heated face away from his stare. But with your face peering away from him, you caught a glimpse of what reality was for you in school. Eddie followed your eyes to the sight that made your smile fall. Across the hall, Blake Decker had eyed you with a flagrant smirk after whispering to his buddy that if the freak could get you, so could he- the whole baseball team could. You were up for grabs. It was just a matter of who could score first. Three lockers down, Stevie Martinez had laughed at the question of how much substance the freak was supplying you after getting in your pants. Would enduring a little flirting with him get her a discount? He had to be desperate. And pointing at you from the water fountain was Carmen Mitchell, identifying you to her posse of youth group kids that were ready to snitch to Hawkins’ local pastor of someone needing Jesus. In a couple days, your father would be receiving advertising mail of encouragement to join the church. Luckily, you didn’t live there to countenance the proselytism from evangelical Christians. Eddie despondently sighed. “Do you want me to leave you alone?”

Your head snapped at his contemplative face. So somber, but a tight-lipped smile was attempting to cover it. So, you smiled at him. Dignified. “No.” You told him firmly. “I want you right here… with me.”

His teeth found his bottom lip, as his cheeks became flooded with blood that rosied his pale skin. “I, uh-” Your giggling did nothing to satisfy the coughing he had to conjure to compensate for his dry mouth. Because you… you were squeezing his heart without realizing the severity of it. This was dangerous. Dangerous territory Eddie Munson was crossing into. But running away would be worse. He did it once, and it killed him. “Um, w-would you want to be with me Saturday night? Like, another date? A second one? I promise I’ll plan it way better than the first one.” He chuckled. “No more skeezy bars, I swear! And it’ll be the weekend, so I’ll obviously not be doing my homework, and I know you’ll be done with yours…” He shrugged with a teasing smile.

You laughed. “You should really be doing your homework, Eddie.”

“I will, I will.” His conspicuous stare to the far right let the fact be known that he was blatantly lying without a care. “If I do it, can this potential date be my little treat?” He perked. 

“Depends, what does this little treat entail?” You interrogated with a smile on your face. 

“Ah, well, unfortunately, sweetheart, details will not be disclosed for anticipation purposes.” He smirked. “Y’know, surprises n’ all.”

You playfully rolled your eyes. “Mm, the last time you concealed such details I almost wore heels to a rundown bar full of old men.”

Eddie blenched. “Sorry ‘bout that again, sweet girl, but I promise this time is different.” He assured. “I may be a sulking asshole who can’t handle my emotions and lash out at people because I’m too pathetic to deal with my own problems, but I definitely keep my promises.” My god, how far you and Eddie have come was mind blowing. Had you told your past self that the man you had a screaming match with just outside of school a couple weeks prior was asking you on a second date, you would’ve laughed in your own face. 

“Are you still hanging that over my head?” You giggled. “Because if I remember correctly you said far worse-”

“No, no, I know, sweetheart!” He adamantly agreed. “You’re wholeheartedly correct. And are you kidding me? That one-liner was the second greatest thing that’s ever come out of your mouth. I’m genuinely considering getting it tattooed right across my chest with no regrets.” He laughed. “That one sentence set me straight, honey.”

“Wait,” you invigorated, “if that’s the second greatest thing I’ve ever said, what’s the first?” Your head tilted with curiosity.

“Agreeing to go out with me. Twice.” He simpered. 

“‘Twice?’” You tittered. “I don’t remember saying yes to the second date.”

“What do you mean?” Eddie laughed. “I’m totally finishing my homework for this week, that’s a guaranteed yes from your part, trouble.” 

You pointed a stern finger at him with squinted eyes of skepticism. “Only if you finish your homework.” 

Thursday. Amidst the bustling thirty minute break from class, the cafeteria had flooded with an amass amount of students that proffered the freneticism that was Hawkins High’s lunch period. Chrissy Cunningham had been persistent to encourage your prospective application to Claire’s after Hannah Walsh was set for a nine month leave—whatever that meant. And Chrissy was resolute on the fact that working at the Starcourt Mall had far more perks than babysitting the Johnson’s circus of kids, especially after popping out their fifth. Insisted on the matter that it was aging you. Lovingly, though. And it happened to fall during her harangue about the employee discount that a book report was slapped in the middle of the table that stole your attention away from your friend. “The Last of Mohicans.”

“Wear something casual.” Eddie smiled, as you peeled your eyes from his homework and looked up to meet his satisfied grin. “I don’t recommend heels, but wear as you please. You’ll look perfect regardless.” But before you could get a word to even formulate, Eddie had turned his attention to an equally stunned—more so confused—Chrissy. “Will your folks mind if I pick her up at your doorstep Saturday night?”

“Oh.” Chrissy blinked. “Uh, no, they have a dinner party that night.” She smiled, and looked at you. 

“Perfect.” Eddie beamed. “I’ll see you Saturday night at seven?” Taken aback by his charm, you made the right decision to save yourself the embarrassment of trying to speak, and settled on a firm nod and beguiling smile that had Eddie flushed with giddiness. “Perfect.”

Saturday. It was the locker room scene all over again. Yes, being taken in by the Cunninghams had been something of extemporized means, but a week of residing in their guest bedroom—something they encouraged to just call yours—surely would have given you enough time to settle, right? No. Very much, an extremely hard no. Clothes of all sorts had been strewn about in a chaotic mess, made only worse, when you flung about shirts, pants, and shorts to find the perfect outfit. Chrissy had been defeated in a pile of cotton, cashmere, and silk as you dwindled your choices to two shirts that in Chrissy’s words “looked great, just choose one, he won’t care.” And she’d been right. Upon opening the door to his meticulous knocking, his eyes had brightened just as it occurred on the night of your first date. Your face- your everything had been magnetized to the golden rays of the setting sun, that just highlighted everything beautiful about you. And that was… everything. 

“Are you going to finally tell me where we’re going?” You elated, as you settled into the front seat of Eddie’s van. 

“Patience is a virtue, my darling.” Eddie smiled, as he took peeks to his right side. “Trust me, it’ll be better than the Hideout.”

“Benny’s?”

“Not Benny’s, but I’ll consider it for the third date.” He smirked.

“If you make it that far.” You joked, as your soft giggles infiltrated his ears lovingly. 

“Don’t worry, Y/N, I have firm plans of completing all of my homework for the rest of the school year. So, hate to break it to you, babe, but you’re kinda stuck with me.”

“Mm, wouldn’t be entirely opposed to that idea.” You teased. “Ooh, wait! Enzo’s?” You were beginning to catechize him, but were only met with a barking laugh from Eddie. 

“Sweet girl, I’m still terribly broke, but I appreciate your guessing.” He chortled. “Now, no more questions. Just sit back and relax, and let me handle things, okay?” 

And you did just that. Attempting to adjust to the loud music Eddie’s ears had already been accustomed to, he had taken it upon himself to provide you all the formation of said bands that played. Ozzy Osbourne of Black Sabbath once bit a bat’s head off on stage. Eddie claimed it was the most metal thing he’s ever seen. Oh, and Derek Riggs, the dude who made the album cover for Powerslave—declared the best album by Eddie, himself—for Iron Maiden liked to stick silly messages into the artwork. Eddie affirmed to show you whenever it would be the next you came over. Which then segwayed into a conversation of how Wayne Munson had been insisting on having you over again. He liked meeting one of Eddie’s “friends” as he put it. Eddie would never tell you, but all of Sunday, he had been teased relentlessly for having a pretty girlfriend. And despite his inexorable shield of “we’re just friends, she’s not my girlfriend,” Wayne Munson’s old ears were able to pick up on the mumbled “yet” that his nephew so hopefully spoke to himself. And thankfully, before any interrogation could progress from your part, you both had reached the outskirts of Mulberry street, and neared the woods. 

“Lover’s Lake or Skull Rock?” You asked, as Eddie’s van tracked over tire trails from previous cars who took the familiar succession. “Because one would show you have sentiment.” You smiled. “The other would show you definitely have a motive.”

“Definitely the first one.” Eddie laughed. He parked his trusty van at a small clearing, where twenty steps south, Lover’s Lake glistened under the illuminating sunset. “Because- well, last time we were here we cried like babies over ice cream.” He sniggered quietly. “And, uh, even though it was… heavy, it was still one of my favorite times with you.” Eddie had shyly began to play with the rings on his fingers, as he felt your eyes dawn on him. “Y’know, it was the first time I got to talk to you- actually talk to you. Explain everything to you. So, um, as part of making it up to you, you deserve to be taken out. Properly. Not a bar. No tears. Just you and me. Where we can just clear our minds together.”

When he finished, Eddie finally found the courage to peer his round eyes at you that searched for any validation that this was okay- that he was okay- okay to be with. And he found you smiling sincerely at him with devoted eyes that gave him all the tender care of the world. “I love it, Eddie.”

He smiled. You, you, you, you. How great would it be to hear the word “you” instead of “it” in that sentence?

Eddie whispered. “I packed a totally metal picnic.” He nodded to the basket that resided in the back of his van. 

And packed a totally metal picnic he did. Three feet away from the cooling waters of Lover’s Lake, a small patch of grass and dandelions had been covered by the soft blanket that lived in Eddie Munson’s van, as it’d been the only clearing that wasn’t smeared with muddy clay infused with dirt—an hour prior, Eddie had played landscaper to get rid of the dirt and sticks that claimed the best spot he found. Though, he had kept that part a secret from you. Something about hearing you gush about fate giving you the perfect area was too innocent to kill in his eyes.  

“Okay, so we have some totally cool beers, and by that, I mean one for me.” He pulled out. “And for you, sweetheart, a nice cold soda, because I care about your liver and taste buds.”

“Why thank you so much, kind sir.” You laughed, as you grabbed the drink. 

“No problem, princess.” He winked, before continuing his ministration. “Oh, and, uh, I saved you the future food poisoning I would have given you if I cooked anything, so Mrs. Latrowski kindly offered to make us some Fettuccine Alfredo.” Not kindly. He was now stuck fixing her hunk of junk excuse of a car for the next week. Without pay. “Don’t know if it’s really picnic-y, but I hope you’ll like it.”

“Of course, really, thank you so much, Eddie.” You scooted closer to have his thigh touching yours. He licked his lips, and focused his attention to the basket to conceal his reddening cheeks.

“But Mrs. Latrowski doesn't get all the credit, because I packed pretzels.” Two bags. Two comically large bags full of pretzels. “And, uh, Pringles, sour cream n’ onion, because that’s the only acceptable flavor. Oh, don’t worry, I balanced it out with some of Wayne’s watermelon that I stole. Don’t tell him.” He laughed, pulling out the tupperware of the uniquely cut fruit. “And I made us some PB&Js. And to top it off, some chocolate chips.” The half filled bag of Nestle's chocolate chips that were once used to make pancakes with you and his uncle were now being pulled out of his basket as an appetizer for your date.

And you loved it all.

-

The obnoxious door bell had rung for the second time that night. 

“Ugh.” Chrissy Cunningham groaned, as her plans of taking advantage of her newly single night were now being disturbed. Pausing in the middle of Sandy Olssen’s hopelessly devoted number to Danny Zuko, Chrissy begrudgingly removed the bowl of popcorn from her lap to wake her legs from being sunken into the couch. And then, some knocking. “Alright, I’m coming!” Her socked feet slid her across the glossy wood of the floor, as she dragged herself to the front door. “Yes-”

It was strange how much you looked just like your father. 

Chrissy’s face had been drained of all the blood in her system, and she closed the door to lessen the gap between her and the house. “Chrissy.” Your father cleared his throat. “I apologize for interrupting your night so late. Are your parents home?”

“N-No.” She softly answered. “But, uh, my b-boyfriend is.” Her heart beated out of her chest. For safety. 

“Well, um, is my daughter here? I’d imagine Y/N would most likely run away to your home than anywhere else- well, at least I would hope.” His mind reeled back to the morning he chased Eddie Munson out. 

“She’s not here, sir.”

“Right, well, if you’re ever in contact with her, please give her this.” He handed over an envelope that stuck to a folded piece of paper with tape. This was it. This was his goodbye. Chrissy cautiously took the hefty envelope, and nodded her head, speechless to it all. “Have a good night. Tell your parents I said hello.”

Not even a hello to you.

-

“Fuck, I shouldn’t have eaten all those chocolate chips!”

The dramatics of Eddie Munson truly played their part, as he laid back with his arms stretched out, and a groan to accompany his complaints. “I told you to slow down on those.” You laughed, placing a delicate slap to his bloated belly that simply elicited more moans. “Don’t die on me, you're my ride.” You joined him on the ground, where he turned his head to meet the tip of your nose. 

“Wow, nice to know how much I mean to you.” He playfully scoffed. 

“Are you kidding me? You mean the world to me, Eddie. Best chauffeur in town!” You laughed, as he rolled his eyes. “Even better since you can’t complain. You know, since you’re making it up to me?”

Eddie guffawed. “I asked you to let me make it up to you, not exploit me.” 

When the giggles had simmered down, you and Eddie were left simply staring into each other's eyes. You could see his stare soak up your features, following the contours of your face, and stationing at your lips. “You know you mean more to me than just a chauffeur, right?” 

Eddie nodded his head, his hair getting smushed in the space between his head and the blanket. “I know, sweet girl.” You both could feel it in your bellies, that stirring feeling of sparks igniting whenever you looked at each other. The excitement, sure, it was incredible to revel in, but the security, the security of when that spark would slowly die out, but not to a point of resentment, to a point where the nerves were gone, and you could be comfortable. Comfortable with the piece of mind that you had him and he had you. His shoulders scooted closer, nose rubbing against yours, and his breath fanned warmly across your mouth. “Y/N…?” Whispered into the air, the question didn’t have to be verbalized. You shook your head to give him permission. And Eddie leaned in.

That is until you screamed. 

“Ah!” You shrieked, jumping up to your feet. 

Eddie sat up with urgency. “What?! WHAT?!”

“There’s a worm by your head!”

“WHERE?!”

Your second date with Eddie Munson was ended by a stray earthworm that managed to squirm its way onto the blanket. But it’s okay. In the future, it would be a cute story to tell. And the car ride home was made even more entertaining when your jabs at Eddie became endless. The humidity of the night had frizzed his hair far more than usual, and watching his hands swat the strands crazily in fear of a worm creating a nest in there had your stomach cramping from laughter. Eddie would allow the teasing to continue if it meant hearing your laugh for just another minute. But he vehemently countered that you screamed just as loud in the first place, so you were in no place to poke fun. Arriving at the familiar doorstep of the Cunningham house, Eddie had sighed realizing another perfect night was ending far sooner than he wanted. But it had also been a reminder. The biggest sign of that two story suburban wet dream of a house was your newfound freedom. No longer were you shackled to the barbaric severeness of perfection that your vile father had subjected you to. You were liberated to live your life. Make your own decision. Be your true self. 

So dropping you off at your new home wasn’t exactly the worst thing for Eddie to endure, because he knew you were safe. He knew you were going to be okay. Eddie held your hand up the stairs to the porch, where the small, yellow light bloomed your features in the night. Staring down into your face was the single greatest thing Eddie felt privileged to experience. God, he loved it. He loved y-

“Thank you for another perfect date.” You beamed up at him. 

“Anything for you, princess.” He sighed a breath of relief, as he felt at ease in your presence. Preparing to have you leave was another thing to handle. “I’ll be sure to finish my chemistry homework to get you on a third.”

“It would be quite nice to see you walking for graduation.” You squeezed his hand. “Maybe your uncle and I can celebrate you with a late night breakfast.” 

“God, you really are the sweetest.” Eddie bit his lip, as he peered down at you. “I really hate that worm for ruining our moment.”

“Poor guy, we were probably crushing his home with our picnic.” You giggled. “Can’t blame him for seizing it back.”

“I can if he stopped me from kissing you.” Eddie allured you, as his large hand found your cheek to cradle in his palm tenderly. Thumb swiping your supple face, he had dragged you close against his chest. “But the bastard’s not here to stop me again.” 

“No, he’s not.” You softly laughed. 

Eddie smiled, as he whispered to your face. “So, can I kiss you, sweetheart?”

You delicately nodded. “You can kiss me, handsome.”

Nose brushing, your lips were colli-

“Y/N!” You jumped back with a squeal, as Chrissy Cunningham had abruptly opened the front door with exigency that caused you to separate from Eddie’s incoming face. Eddie knew what this was. This was the universe testing him. Seeing how fast he would resort back to his asshole ways, and yell at Chrissy Cunningham to fuck off for interrupting his kiss with the one girl he’s ever wanted to be with. But he bit his tongue, and fought the anger to subside, and simply chose to sigh dejectedly. “Sorry to barge in, but I really need Y/N.”

“Is everything alrig-”

“Yes, just come on!” She grabbed your hand. “Sandy just caught Danny dancing with Cha-Cha DiGregorio, come on! Eddie, you have our number, just call Y/N tomorrow, okay? Bye!” 

“Wait, can’t we just get a minute-” Eddie attempted. 

“No!” Chrissy Cunningham was using that cheer strength to hall you into the house. 

“I’m sorry.” You quickly looked back. “Call me later, I had so much fu-” The door was slammed right on your sentence, and Eddie’s head fell against it utterly crushed. “Chrissy, what the hell? I was literally about to have my first kiss with Eddie-”

“Y/N, your dad came by.”

Your face had fallen like a sad child. “What?”

Chrissy had respected your wishes to leave you alone in your room. Alone with his envelope. You couldn’t even bring yourself to look at the note attached to the delivered mail. Your fingers had a tight grip on the paper, your heat causing the thin material to crumple from the clamminess. Eventually, your shaky hands managed to attentively tear the taped letter away from the envelope. Just a folded notebook paper. The unusuality of the situation came about as the paper had been torn. Your father once yelled at you for not tearing a sheet by the imprinted seam. This was rushed, a message written with urgency. For once, not prioritized on perfectionism. You unfolded the frail paper.

“I know you’re angry, but everything I’ve ever done for you was exactly for this moment. I did all I could. Your mistakes determine your success.” - From, Dad

Your brows cinched with confusion. Setting his note aside, you harshly reached for the thick envelope, turning it around to read the address. Your heart sank to your stomach. Written in its bolden letters, there it was, the determining factor to your future: 116th and Broadway, New York, NY, 10027 Columbia University Undergraduates Admission Office. Far, far away. You wanted to go far, far away. Frantically tearing the sealed envelope open, your hands worked absentmindedly quick to unfold the professional letter. It was there. Right in your hands. But your eyes couldn’t fathom moving past the formal greeting that simply stated your name, and possibly seeing the rejection of your life. You knew how your mind worked. You knew how you were conditioned. A rejection is a failure. You would be a failure. And your father would be right. 

Columbia University

Office of Admission

Dear, Y/N Y/L/N,

No matter how close Chrissy Cunningham smushed her ear to the door, it was dead silent. Nothing. She was beginning to worry you may not have even been breathing. She may have respected your privacy, but she wasn’t oblivious. She knew better than to read your father’s personal note, but she very clearly read the return address of the envelope, and she knew what was about to unfold. Three years ago, sitting in the comfort of her bed with you by her side, you both stared at the ceiling with smiles on your face, and talks of the future. At the time, a young Chrissy Cunningham had gushed about going to Indiana State, because that’s where Jason Carver had prioritized to attend, after frequenting all their college basketball games with his dad as a kid. It’s where Jason Carver took Chrissy Cunningham on their first date. In the moment, she laid out the plans of her life: attend college, study pharmaceutical medicine, and graduate with a ring on her finger. Specifically his great grandmother’s. An heirloom so beautiful and of high value. And Chrissy Cunnginham would have wished it to occur on the night of their graduation, where both families met to celebrate the young adults on a new chapter of their life, and Jason Carver would have declared his chapter to begin with his wife. Chrissy had turned to you and asked “What about you?” And you answered honestly. “I just want to go far away.” You’d asked her if it would be possible. And she smiled and nodded her head. “I see you being successful. Somewhere big. Like New York. Where you can be you. I don’t think you’re meant to stay here.” And you had hugged your best friend tightly that night. Far away. That’s where you’d go. 

Chrissy flinched, as the door to your bedroom slowly opened. And there you were. She stared at you with big, wandering eyes. Yours had been stinging. Stinging with tears, and Chrissy's mouth was beginning to open to try to formulate a word. But then you spoke. Quietly.

“I got in.”

Chrissy gasped, as she brought you into a tight hug, arms securing you in place, as she began screaming in cheers and jumping up and down, forcing you to follow suit. “Oh, my god! Oh, my god!” You released your tears of joy, crying in laughter, as you began your intimate celebration with your endearing friend. “That’s incredible! I knew you could do it!”

“I can’t believe I actually did.” You muffled into her embrace. “My suspension-”

Chrissy pulled you away. “Hey, forget about that! You did! What Principal Higgins did holds nothing to how incredible you are! And they see that!” She effused loudly. “I’m so proud of you!”

This was you. This was your accomplishment. Not your father’s. This was all entirely you. 

“I’m proud of myself.” You giggled through the sniffles of a stuffy nose, as you wiped your eyes. 

“We have to tell everyone- my parents, they’ll be so happy for you! Oh, Eddie! You have to tell Eddie!”

Your smile became small at the realization.

Eddie…

You sucked in your lips, and simply nodded along to the rambling cheers she shot out a mile a minute. Eddie. That night, despite Chrissy's encouragement, you hadn’t told Eddie of your acceptance when he called you at 10:43 p.m. You just relished in his voice, humming along to the stories and thoughts he excitedly shared with you, as you savored his over-the-phone company. Because in a couple months, you would be gone. And the budding relationship that you and Eddie had worked so hard to come to terms would be gone alongside your presence. And that made your eyes well with tears as Eddie sweetly confided how much he loved spending time with you. Eddie claimed that night he couldn’t wait to do it for as long as you’ll have him. What he didn’t know was how quick that reality would come shattering in. So you just let him speak. Because no one had ever given Eddie Munson a chance to talk. And the one person who did would be gone soon.

So, you smiled through the ache and told Chrissy that Eddie was happy for you.

And you softly cried that night. Alone. Both happy and sad tears that wet your pillow before you fell asleep for the day. 

-

The next morning, Eddie had followed the sound of the patterned clink of his uncle’s spoon hitting against his valued Odie mug, as the older man stirred his morning cup of coffee to accompany the scrambled eggs and toast he’d just served himself. “Mornin’.” Though his back was turned, his nephew’s feet patting their way against the tile of the kitchen had become all too familiar. And like clockwork, a tired groan was the greeting in return. “What’s got you up this early?” He asked, as he turned around to see Eddie’s slumped body lean against the cold counter, as he did little to fight off the weariness. 

A single sock with a hole that let his toe peek out, while his other foot stayed completely exposed. But in Eddie’s defense, he was in no control of the insanity that was his sleep state, and that left sock was most likely tangled into his rumpled blankets. But the boxer briefs were entirely his fault. If he’d only learn how to properly use the dryer, his plaid underwear wouldn’t be constricting his thick thighs right now. But as much as Eddie didn’t know how to correctly do laundry, he also hated attempting, and he was down to his last clean pair. So, unlike his pajamas, he actually had to wear the shrunken boxers after scavenging for them in the back of his dresser. And for once, Wayne could see his nephew’s large forehead, as his bangs had lost the battle of Eddie’s sleeping movement. 

Examining his nephew’s look wasn’t something Wayne partook in on a regular basis, but seeing his state, and thinking of you- well, you liked Eddie. You liked Eddie like this. In the most abominable condition Eddie could be in, Wayne Munson could still picture you crooning so lovingly at him like the early morning of your communal breakfast. You liked Eddie for Eddie. 

“You.” Eddie’s voice cracked with dryness. “Why are you so loud?”

“Ah, well, I didn’t know it was a crime for me to make breakfast in my own home after workin’ the graveyard shift.” Wayne gruffed. “And what were you doin’ last night? Oh, yeah, havin’ fun with your little girlfriend, while your poor uncle worked.”

Eddie shot him a tired glare. “She’s not my girlfriend.”

“I like you better when she’s around.” Wayne chuckled quietly. “Far less grumpy.” And a small smile managed to crack through Eddie’s fatigued face, as the home phone began to ring from the wall. Setting his breakfast onto the small kitchen table, Wayne sighed before picking up the call with a strong “Hello?” And then a hum. And then another. And then he turned to Eddie. “It’s for you, boy.”

Slapping the sleepiness from his cheeks, Eddie meandered his way over to the phone, where he took over for his uncle. Sporting the same fashion, Eddie could only give a hoarse “Yeah?”

“Hey! Good morning, Eddie!” Chrissy Cunningham. He had suddenly flinched the phone away, as her effused voice startled him awake. 

“Jesus, yeah, hi, Chris.” Eddie managed to grumble politely. “What’s up, everything alright?”

“Absolutely!” The bubbly cheerleader being a morning person? Oh, how Eddie envied her. “I just wanted to call you, because I think it’ll be a fun idea to plan a surprise party for Y/N.”

“Oh, yeah, sounds totally fun.” He sarcastically spoke. “But is it a normal thing to give Y/N a random heart attack in the middle of the year, or are we actually celebrating something for her?”

“Duh! It’s for her acceptance to Columbia.” She stated matter-of-factly. “She’s always dreamed of going to New York, and now she finally is! It’s incredible! And given everything that’s happened to her, I think she really deserves it, you know?”

Eddie Munson stayed quiet for a moment. “New York…?”

“Uh huh! Isn’t it great that she finally has a chance to leave this town! Really, I think a party is in need.” She laughed so casually. You were leaving? “Well, actually, that’s what I wanted to call you about, Eddie. See, when I thought about it, I realized she really only has me and you, so it can’t technically be a party. But maybe you could bring your friends around. You know, your club members? Is she also friends with them? I remember one of them came up to our lunch table one time. So, do you think-”

Eddie’s head began to pound, as Chrissy’s words were pacing through his mind. “Okay, okay, stop for a second, Chris.” He heaved out to rashly interrupt.

“Is everything alright, Eddie? Do you not think it’s a good idea? Maybe it’s too early?”

“I, um-” His throat felt heavy with constriction. “We’ll just talk about this later, I gotta go.”

Chrissy Cunningham stood no chance to Eddie’s rapid movements, and the phone was hung up before she could mutter another word. His hand had stayed tightly clutched to the phone, as he placed it on the wall. He was frozen. His eyes blinked oppressively, as he attempted to digest Chrissy’s words. Eddie’s heart pounded. You were leaving him. Oh, no. This is where the spiraling began. Ms. Kelly warned him of the possible triggers. He hadn’t expected one to occur so suddenly. Like everyone, you were leaving him. Suddenly, Eddie Munson was an eight-year-old hearing his father’s threats of abandonment because to his dad, he and his mother were no good and not worthy of anything. Then he was a nine-year-old walking in on his mother quickly packing a bag of her clothes. Her clothes. Not his. But his father came back before she could finish. And Eddie was stuck with the realization that his mother was ready to leave him behind for safety. 

“You alright, son?” Wayne’s voice brought him back to reality. “Want some breakfast?”

“I’m not hungry.”

And that slam of his nephew’s door was all Wayne Munson got from Eddie for the rest of the day. 

Monday, you’d received the same fate. Hopping out of Mr. Cunningham’s car in the early hour of the school day, you peered around the bustling parking lot in search for a particular van alongside a particular metalhead. But your efforts came up empty, and the commencing bell stole you away from further prodding. By lunch, your neck was beginning to cramp with how many times you turned around to take a peek at the Hellfire lunch table. But the head seat was empty. And the rest of the boys continued their conversations. Perhaps he was sick. You managed to convince yourself of the idea to ease the disappointment of not seeing him today. But that became short lived when a call to his trailer after practice went unanswered, and the other line rang and rang until it cut you off. 

Tuesday, you followed the same routine. And you were left with the same nauseating feeling. Accompanying Chrissy Cunningham to her locker, you had carelessly interrupted her diatribe against Jessica Lewis’ ploy to turn the rest of the cheer squad to voting her captain. It’s almost the end of the school year, did she really think that would work? Ugh. But you had cut her off to ask if she’d talk to Eddie recently. Two absences in a row wasn’t particularly unusual for Eddie Munson, but your overthinking brain could ameliorate the gnawing feeling that something was wrong. You’d just gone on your second date with him, had he suddenly had a change of heart about his feelings for you? But Chrissy was useless. When interrogated, she quickly brushed it off as part of his usual antics of being against the school agenda. 

But Wednesday, you put your foot down. Three days absent. Four calls unanswered. And you were ready to panic. Marching past students, unwavering to their bumping shoulders and looks of disgust, you sat yourself in the chair in which Eddie Munson’s ghost was residing. The boys stared at you wide eyed. “Where’s Eddie? Why hasn’t he been here?” You had cut straight to the point. Mike Wheeler had reminded you of the fact that your boy toy wasn’t exactly fond of attending school, so it probably wasn’t a big deal. You rolled your eyes at him. Grant Goodman had suggested the idea that maybe his time was being taken up by the work of Reefer Rick to move sales. Ever since he’d been in jail, someone had to replace his position. And while plausible, the idea didn’t exactly satiate that agonizing fear. Then, Dustin Henderson proffered the idea that maybe he was just sleeping the days away. That’s when you realized the boys were just as useless as Chrissy Cunningham.

That afternoon, your fifth call was finally answered. 

Right before the start of practice, you wasted any lingering quarters from your bookbag to dial the numbers of the Munson household with the payphone provided by the courtyard of Hawkins High. When it picked up, you gasped of relief. When it was Wayne Munson, you felt awful for wanting it to be Eddie. You could only answer with a disheartened greeting when his uncle asked who was calling. 

“Oh, hey, darlin’.” He was so sweet. Wayne Munson was dwindling down to your last hope. “Nice hearin’ from you again, been pesterin’ my boy of when we can have you over again.” He smiled. “Everythin’ okay?”

“Hello, sir.” You attempted to pick up your tone of voice to not sound so crestfallen. “Um, yeah, everything’s okay with me, but, um, I’m more so calling for Eddie. I just- I haven’t heard from him or-or seen him, and, well, I just want to make sure he was okay. Is he?”

Wayne’s long sigh did nothing to aid your concerns. “Uh, yeah, kid, not entirely sure what’s up with my boy.”

“Is he sick?” You questioned. “Like, did he come down with something?”

“Nah, nah.” Wayne quietly confirmed. “Not that kinda sick, but he sure ain’t feelin good. Been in his room most of the time. This isn’t somethin’ new. Not the first time he’s gone through this cycle.”

“What do you mean?” You softly asked.

“Every once in a while, sweetheart,” he began, “Eddie gets these moments… these feelings that he locks himself in his room. It’s hard to speak to him. He doesn’t wanna talk. Most of the time, I can figure out that somethin’ is bothering him, but other times, these moments just happen. And, well, I just gotta wait for him to speak on his own terms.”

You swallowed thickly. Were you the thing that was bothering him? Did you send him into a depressive cycle? “Is he- is he okay?” In retrospect, it felt quite a redundant question to even bother with. 

“I think things are gettin’ better, kid.” Wayne earnestly answered. “He left his room today. Went to get some fresh air. It’s a start.”

“Wait, where did he go, sir?” 

“Not sure, didn’t say. Just told me he’d be back after clearing his mind.”

Clearing his mind.

Your brain perked with realization. “Uh, th-thank you for telling me, Mr. Munson.” You quickly thanked. “I’ll try my best to make sure he’s okay if I see him. Just thank you so much.”

Wayne released a breath of consolation. “Thank you for carin’ for my boy, darlin’. It really means a lot. To the both of us. To him especially.”

Lover’s Lake. Cheer practice had been entirely lost of care the second you hung up your conversation with Wayne Munson, and your mind had prioritized a journey to Lover’s Lake. Chrissy Cunningham would eventually tell Coach Hannigan that you were feeling sick when fifteen minutes passed, and you hadn’t shown up for practice. Because car-less and quickly exhausted, your trek to the sentimental location had become a near hour and a half long trip. One once thirty minutes with the most below average car became to feel like an eternity on tired legs. Having to run laps for practice tomorrow would become your death. Skipping through the center of town had proven to be easier, as sidewalks were provided for the entire purpose of walking. But turning into Mulberry street, a lack of pavement that wasn’t a cracked road made the experience worse. Your sneakers crushed the overgrown grass that met the street, as you willed all strength to persevere through the ache of sore legs. Not to mention, the slight ping of fear that would shoot through you whenever a single car would drive by. The scary decade of the 70s was enough to instill a precautionary guard. Eventually, the wooded trail that Eddie Munson once took you down came into sight, and your legs managed to exert underlying energy to guide you through the wooded path. About five hundred steps north, Eddie’s van became unconcealed through a horde of trees. 

Conscientiously stepping away from branches and newly sprouting weeds of tiny flowers, you quietly walked alongside Eddie’s van to approach the back doors that had been shoved open to let in the spring zephyr of the lake into his vehicle. 

And then, you delicately made your presence known.

“Hi.” Laying back against the shag carpeting of the back space of his van, arms crossed behind his head with eyes closed in peace, Eddie had automatically shot up at the diaphanous sound of your sweet voice. 

And he hadn’t meant to sound so rude, but he did, and your brows creased sadly. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“What are you doing here?” You reiterated back with concern.

Eddie opened his mouth to speak, but his voice could speak up. But you could visibly see his urge to tell you all. One cautious step forward, Eddie hadn’t protested, so you continued your slow movements until you took a seat next to him. An evident gap purposely placed between the both of you. “I- um, how did you know I was here?”

“Kinda got the idea when I talked to your uncle.” You answered.

“My uncle? You called my- wait, how the hell did you even get here?” Eddie attempted to wrap his head around. 

“I walked-”

“You walked?!” Eddie abruptly interrupted, perturbed by the endangerment of your safety that was put at stake just for him. 

“Well, you scared me, Eddie!” You hit back, and Eddie had quickly quieted. No, no, no. Eddie promised himself- promised you that he’d never put you in a position to be scared again. And here he was screwing everything up, because his emotions were becoming too much to handle. It was so easy to resort to his old ways. So comforting to do something he was familiar with. And he hated it. Hated everything he was doing, because it was such an easy outlet to write his progress off as bullshit, and affirm the fact that he was an asshole, because he deserved nothing good in life. Before he could apologize, you began speaking softly. “You haven’t spoken to me since Saturday. Since our date. Why- what did I-”

“No, no, no, sweetheart.” He knew where you were about to spiral. “Don’t blame yourself, this is all me, please don’t- just please don’t think you did anything.”

You eyed him worriedly. “Then what’s wrong, Eddie? Can you just talk to me?”

Eddie took a deep breath, and his hand found his way toward yours, where he squeezed it tenderly. And then he looked at you. So longingly. “Y/N, I will always, always be so thankful that I met you and had you in my life.” Your heart began beating rapidly out of your chest, you were sure he could hear it. “Genuinely, you are the most beautiful person I’ve ever met. You’re so fucking kind. And you care- you care so much that for once in my life I actually feel wanted. You make me feel so good, Y/N.”

“Of course, Eddie, of course, I want you-”

“But that’s what’s so scary, sweetheart.” Eddie stopped you. “When you leave me, I’ll feel fucking destroyed. And I- it wouldn’t be good to depend my happiness solely on you, because I’ll be so awful.” His eyes stung. 

“No, Eds, I wouldn’t leave-”

“I know about Columbia, Y/N.” He simply inputted, that had your face scrunching with confusion. “Chrissy accidentally told me, she hadn’t meant to. But I know. And I know you deserve to leave this fucking town and go live your special life in a place where these bullshit people can’t hurt you. Leave me, sweetheart. You need to leave me.” He tried to smile through his tears, but it was ultimately failing. And you dropped your head to hide your hot face from seeing the man that was tearing your heart. “Before any of this gets serious, you need to leave me. I-I won’t have the balls to leave you, so just end this right here, sweet girl. Please.”

And maybe this is simply where the story of you and Eddie Munson was meant to end. In a matter of weeks, both of your lives and perspectives were altered for the better, as you navigated the heartbreaking moments of learning to be strong. Learning to seek help. Learning to listen. Learning to accept. Learning to love. Because when Eddie received that monumental call from Chrissy Cunningham, he felt as though his world came crashing down, because the thought of losing you became too severe to imagine, and he couldn’t feel that for someone he didn’t love. Experiencing the privilege of learning how to love you was the single greatest thing Eddie Munson had ever felt. Even if he couldn’t say it, he could feel it. He could feel it in the tight squeeze of your hand. And he’ll pay the price of having this moment with you even if he knew it would end far sooner than he wanted. Because it was for the best. You would get to live your life free from restraints, and Eddie Munson could look back at the incredible girl who endured hell with him and shaped him to be the better man he was today. Everything great about Eddie was only amplified ten times more because of your appreciation to his authentic self. You were so unfathomably beautiful, Eddie would forever hate himself to be the man that held you back from blossoming into the real world. Eddie never wanted a thousand admirers, he just wanted you. 

Pulling his hands from your hold, they moved their way upward to cradle the cheeks of your head, and he pulled your hiding face to expose itself right in front of his. Your wet tears burned the pads of his thumbs, because it hurt so badly to make you hurt. No, Eddie Munson never wanted to experience the pain of seeing you leave him, but for once in his life, he would just like the control of choosing who hurt him. And he liked his choice of it being you. You would do it so kindly. Eddie Munson willed himself to picture a world where you weren’t in his life, and what a worthless world it would be. But you were leaving regardless. And that worthless world would be an inevitable reality, so Eddie was choosing it on his own terms. As much as it killed him, you were meant to leave. And he wouldn’t place himself into a position to stop you.

His forehead landed against yours, and he shakingly smiled down at you through his tears. “You’re so beautiful, god you’re so fucking beautiful. I could never get tired of looking at you.” Oh, my god he loved you, he loved you so much, Eddie felt so lucky to love you. “You deserve greater things than me, Y/N. Everything’s going to be okay.” He whispered. “Leave me, and go get what you deserve, sweetheart.”

But your head began to softly shake no in the hold of his hands. “You don’t get to decide that, Eddie.” His faltering smile fell in an instant. “I know you’re doing what’s best. I know you’re making your own decision, but it’s my life, too, and no one- not even you can get a say as to what I deserve or what I should do.” Eddie’s eyes screwed shut. He knew who you were. He knew the perseverance you harbored. He knew the intelligence of your incredible mind. “How could you ever think me going to college would ever equate to me leaving you? How could you ever think I’d do that?” You asked. “You’ll still have me, Eddie, you’ll always have me. Even when I’m away.”

It was this time Eddie began fervently shaking his head against yours. “No, no, please don’t give me hope.”

“I’m not giving you hope, Eddie, I’m giving you my word.” A heavy breath released itself from his quivering lips, and pressed his nose against yours. “Make it up to me, and give me your word.”

He nodded vehemently. “I give you my word. I’ll never hurt you, just please don’t leave me.” A nine-year-old Eddie Munson cried out to you.

You smashed your lips into his wet ones, tasting the coating saltiness of his raw emotions becoming embedded into your body, as he firmly pressed your face into his to happily suffocate into. The spark, it had blown up into a blaring firework that screeched its way into the night sky and glowed its vibrant colors like the sun that once set. That was the excitement. But then the remnants of the sparks cascaded down tranquilly into the warm waters of a lake named after couples like you and Eddie, and had sizzled into peaceful nothingness. That was the stability. 

That was Eddie Munson. That was you. 

His lips had so tenderly massaged yours, as his nostrils opened up to breathe you in heavily. His thumbs had pressed into the plushness of your heated cheeks to keep you like this forever. Just in his arms. In his hold. Where you were safe to be yourself. Safe to make mistakes. Safe to be that mesmerizingly beautiful human being you were. The one Eddie Munson loved so much. 

Though much to his dismay, you were a human that needed to breathe, and Eddie had gut punched all the wind out of your lungs when his devotion poured into your mouth. You needed the tiniest bit of air. And gently pulling away, you and Eddie were left heaving against each other’s lips. 

“Eds.”

“Holy shit.” He mumbled, voice too congested with snotty tears, it made you giggle. “Don’t laugh at me, baby, I just had the greatest kiss of my life.” Eddie whined, which truly prompted more soft fits of titters. “Y’know, I’ve always thought New York was a cool place? Diverse city. Great job opportunities. Pretty gnarly bars to get my music some exposure. Wouldn’t be such a bad place to visit and stay periodically.”

Your sinking teeth did nothing to suppress the ever growing smile on your face. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He smirked. “But, I mean, it totally has nothing to do with you. I’m not even your boyfrie-” Your giggling mouth fell onto his once more, lips molding against his with such synchronicity, it felt like second nature to have his mouth on yours so lovingly. When you pulled away, Eddie groaned with a deep setted breath. “Mm, please let me be your boyfriend, sweet girl?”

You spoke against his lips with a smile. “Of course. Make it up to me, Eddie.”

“Anything for you, Y/N.”

-

One Week Later

“Um, what about “The Rocky Horror Picture Show,” will that take your attention away from math?”  

Chrissy Cunningham had playfully smacked your swinging feet, as they moved absentmindedly to distract you from the dulling ache of your elbows sinking into her mattress and the headache that was AP Calculus. “Uh huh.” So distracted. Chrissy rolled her eyes, as she sat against the headboard of her bed, thumbing through movies.

It was a never-ending sleepover. 

“Weren’t your exams a week ago? Shouldn’t you be done with classwork? Or has this become your new definition of fun? Wouldn’t be surprised.” She laughed. 

“My exams may be done, but I was still gone for a week, and Mr. Fitzgerald was persistent with work during that time. Almost done making it up.” Your hand wrote and wrote, as the indent on your ring finger became deeper with every stroke of your pencil.

“Okay, well, will you just take one break for a second.” She pleaded with a mewl you knew would only get louder. 

You looked back at her with a knowing smile, before slamming your textbook shut. “Fine.” In true Chrissy Cunningham fashion, she offered you a small cheer. “Gonna go pee, be right back.”

Your friend nodded, as she watched you make your trip from her bed and out the bedroom door. And the second it clicked shut behind you, Chrissy was springing from her bed, and toeing to her window. Popping the latch, the night’s breeze flooded inside her room, and choosing to stick her head out of the window became a terrible idea, when Eddie’s face shoved its way into view, scaring the poor girl to death. 

“Jesus Christ, Eddie!” She whispered-yelled at the metalhead, as his sneakers secured him onto the tiles of her roof. The man was beginning to have a thing for roofs. 

“What the hell took so long?” He complained. It had felt like an eternity just waiting for the signal to arrive. Eddie Munson just hadn’t anticipated the signal to take over forty-five minutes to come. “The food’s going to get cold.”

“Well, sorry, but your girlfriend has a freakish obsession with schoolwork.” She protested.

And Eddie flashed a love sick smile. “She’s real smart, isn’t she?”

“Just give me my food.” Chrissy insisted.

“Give me a blanket.”

And the muscle of her arms had harshly hurled the balled blanket from her bed into Eddie’s face that had him stumbling on his kneeled legs with a huff from the impact of the hit. Eddie met her deal, and reached into the grease spotted Benny’s bag to pull out a double cheeseburger with extra pickles ordered directly by the cheerleader herself. Satisfied with her dinner, Chrissy ran back to her bed, allowing Eddie a moment to lay the blanket onto the roof and station the hefty bag of fast food alongside. Within a couple seconds, Chrissy could hear your incoming footsteps from the hall. 

“Okay, I’m back.” You strutted in, heading straight to her bed. “Ready for some-”

“Wait, wait.” Chrissy abruptly halted your movements, leaving you frozen mid climb. “Actually I have a change of plans for you.” She smiled. 

You peered down to her lap. “Where’d you get a cheeseburger from?”  

“Alongside being a chauffeur, I’m also a great delivery man.”

Turning around, Eddie stood confidently—hands on his hips, with a shit-eating grin shining from his face—with your impromptu date awaiting you. You smiled, and made your way to him. “What are you doing here?”

He shrugged nonchalantly. “Figured a pretty girl needed the experience of a third date.” He gave your chin an endearing pinch. “Greasy food from our first, picnic setting from our second, perfect combination for our third. And most notably, no worms around.” He climbed out of the window, and stood perched with a proffered hand out to whisk you away. Of course, you gladly took it, and Eddie helped you over the window ledge, and guided you onto the roof, where the moonlight descended like a mystical spotlight. 

“You know, some day, I’m going to have to plan one of our dates.” You teased, as you took a seat next to him. “Can’t have you do all the work.”

“Oh, no, I’ll absolutely do all the work, sweetheart.” He beamed a radiant smile at you. “Got a lifetime supply of dates set just for you.” 

Your arms circled around his neck, as you placed doting kisses to his cheek. “Thank you so much, I love it all.” Eddie had turned his head to meet your lips to enable his newfound addiction of kissing you deeply. It was tooth-achingly sweet seeing you both smile into your kisses. Your hand had managed to snake its way down his broad neck, getting caught in the chain of necklace, where you fingers toyed with guitar pick that accessorized his entourage of leather and chains. It was then, you felt it. Pulling away from his chasing lips, you took a better hold of his necklace, turning it to the side that stayed concealed against his chest, where your thumb rubbed your senior picture. Torn by the hands of Eddie Munson from Dustin Henderson’s yearbook, and meticulously cut to fit the backside of his guitar pick and stuck on with the tackiest of all glues for security.

“You still have this?” You crooned, as you peered into his eyes. 

His had never left yours. “Of course, baby.” He kissed your tilted chin. “Too corny?” He smiled.

“Absolutely not.” You laughed. “But I’m becoming quite jealous of the fact that I don’t have a photo of you- oh, wait, Chris has a polaroid camera!”

He groaned dramatically. “No, no! I’m not modelesque like you, pretty girl. It wouldn’t serve you any good.” He laughed, as he pinned you down to keep you from attempting to flee away for a photo opportunity. 

“Well, I still have the yearbook Nancy gave me, so should I use your senior picture or your club picture?” You giggled.

You and Eddie Munson had rescued yourself from the narratives that were propagated against you both. In the middle of nowhere, under a constant state of judgment from the breeding suburbia of perfection, Hawkins, Indiana had weaponized a young girl’s kindness to dehumanize the body that worked so hard to keep her full of life. A decade ago, you were running topless on the white sands of the beach, so liberated from the world’s retributionist opinion of what it meant to be a woman. But the bumps, curves, and expansion of your own growing body had been pitted against yourself forcefully by the nastiestness of society that reminded you you were a sexual thing, as you dealt with the first moments of womanhood at thirteen alone in your bathroom with an aching belly and a confused mind that couldn’t understand what changed so suddenly that you had to cover up the body that connected you to nature. Why was being a teenage girl something so terrible that other’s of all ages demeaned you? Why were you told to be so kind to everyone, but have it twisted to make you out to be something you weren’t? Why when you voiced your anger of being lied to by the world were people so freely allowed to label you with the dramatics of “being a woman?” Why were you left to wonder all these questions while everyone got to live their life?

Eddie kissed the creasing of your furrowed brows.

You and Eddie Munson had rescued yourself from the narratives that were propagated against you both. In the middle of nowhere, under a constant state of judgment from the breeding suburbia of perfection, Hawkins, Indiana had denigrated a young boy searching for acceptance, and villainized the enthralling qualities that gave him beautiful uniqueness of what it meant to be human. He was uncomfortable. He was nervous. He was ashamed of his own feelings, unable to not see the grossness of society that made him feel embarrassed to be alive. To show character. Forced into a dangerous pipeline to destruction, because horrid people—one’s meant to love him the most—enabled the environment where vile words of unworthiness were encouraged upon a growing boy who was being attacked by the cruelty of the world when he just seeked to be loved. So low in the hierarchy, it became so easy for the town to discard a living body to the ruins of society with no mercy. How horrible could his differences be for everyone to hate him? How terrible of a child could he have been to be left with bruises that never healed and tainted him to be a lost cause? Why when he played the part of a no good freak that they casted over him did everyone become disgusted with him? Why when he chose to seek help from the destructive patterns of his life was his worthiness still stepped on by his peers. Why was he left to wonder all these questions while everyone got to live their life?

“Are you okay, sweetheart?”

But as noted, you and Eddie had rescued yourselves. Your time was not devoted to force the world to see you both as you truly were. That was not your labor. They saw you both for how they wanted to see you. But it wasn’t in your concern to care.

Not when he looked at you like that. Not when you looked at him like that. 

“I’m okay.”

"...𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐭 𝐨𝐧, 𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐭𝐫𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝𝐬, 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐢𝐦𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐥𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬, 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲'𝐫𝐞 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲'𝐫𝐞 𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡..."

- 𝐃𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐝 𝐁𝐨𝐰𝐢𝐞

𝐓𝐚𝐠 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭 | If you are someone who has followed along with my series and you'd love to place your input, please feel free to! Any critiques, comments, suggests are all heavily appreciated! Again, thank you so much!

@sierrahhh @harrysgothicbitch @niallerlover8022 @aunicornmademedoit @spring-picnics @sleepy-bunnie @eggo-segual @bambi-horror @aheadfullofsteverogers @sademoloser @freakymunson @princess-eddie @vxnilla-hxrddrugs @negativity4you @nope-thanks @allsortsedits @callingmrsbarnes @f0rgggg @hurricane-abigail @sweet-sunflower64

@redlovett @goldstars-to-all @eddiesguitarskills @goslytherin @sashaphantomhive @maxinehufflepuffprincess @emeritusemeritus @angel-upon @middle-of-the-earth @scarletwitchwhore @my-tearsricochet @pixiepaintt @ericasdumbworld @animechick555 @gewrgia-black @hookandchain @roseanddaggerlarry @prestinalove @sebismyhubby @maddsunn

@zoeymunson @corrcdedcoffin @sweetmariihs2 @thefemininemystiquee @monserat @findmeincorneliastreet @sheneedsrocknroll92 @silent-stories @batkin028 @btbabyy

#stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x fem!reader #the yearbook: club pictures

[answer2jeff]

when it rolls in like thunder: teaser.

dad!carmy x hispanic mom!reader series teaser!

warnings : dad!carmy x mom!reader, reader is implied female and hispanic, tooth-rotting fluff, mentions of childbirth. obviously.

authors note : guys i know i'm late to the dad!carmy train.. but give me a chance!!! i tried so hard to not absolutely love the idea of carmen being a dad and i failed miserably. take this as an apology. and shout out to my hispanic girlies bc we deserve some fics made specifically for us !

"Levántate, princessa mia," you gently raised her chubby arms and sat Valeria up in her barred crib, the golden finish complimenting her collection of hand-me-down stuffed animals from your childhood.

You reached for her soft beige pants that rested on her little dresser next to her crib. She'd only recently grown into it, going up a size or two now that she finally turned 8 months old. You and Carmen saw them at a thrift shop in Chicago during your, although beautiful, excruciatingly long pregnancy.

He knew he had to see his little girl in them, rocking them beautifully just like her stylish and tasteful mother.

—

"What do y'think, honey? I like 'em. I think she'll look so cute. Cheap for the quality, too. Damn."

Carmen felt the thickness of the fabric with his finger tips, rubbing them together through the cloth. He nodded his head in approval. He raised them up to let you get a closer look as he beamed with a grin.

"Oh, these are adorable! They're gonna take a little while for her to grow into 'em, though, no? Parasen un poco grande, amor."

You raised an eyebrow, unsure if an article of clothing that you weren't even sure would fit would be worth 8 precious dollars in your joint bank account.

"Well, we don't know how big she's gonna be. She'll grow into 'em."

Carmen was pretty convincing. His voice soft and persuasive and his pure excitement for fatherhood was enough to reel you in to every proposal he made. How could you say no when he was just so enthusiastic?

"What about you, sweet girl? Huh? What do y'think?"

Carmen set the pants back down on the clothing rack, kneeling down just to slightest bit as he raised a hand to your belly. You peered down at him in awe, the sight of him already bursting with love for your child making you go weak.

And as if you couldn't be more angelic, Carmen thought you were more beautiful than ever carrying his child. He moved the palm of his hand into a slow and gentle circle.

The kick of your soon to be newborn daughter against his hand was reassuring. The two of you nearly gasped, laughing in unison at her comedic timing.

—

Valeria let out squeals and babbles of impatience as you rolled her little lace socks over her small feet. The hassle of getting dressed in the morning, even after she got the leverage to make an absolute mess of her onesie while she ate breakfast in her high-chair.

Even bibs couldn't catch the sloppy mush of crushed strawberries before she'd wash it down with the liquid gold that was your breast milk. Valeria had a tendency to try and bite down during feeding when her mouth was all gums. But now that her teeth were nearly done coming in, it was an even more frequent offense. It startled you every time.

You tried switching to bottles: the ones with realistically covered and textured silicone nipples with a stopper to avoid the possible spills of milk, but they never sufficed. Valeria had to have the 'real thing,' or she was hardly ever satisfied. Carmen wondered how you did it. Well, he knew how, logistically, but he knew that it had to be emotionally and physically exhausting.

"Yes, yes, I know. I'm tryin' to hurry. Geez, you've been spoiled since birth, mija," you sighed dramatically, nodding your head and placing a kiss on Valeria's forehead, her hair tickling your philtrum.

Suddenly, you could hear the sound of the front door opening and closing. Valeria immediately squirmed vigorously and smiled ear to ear as you scooped her into your tired arms. It was like she could smell him, the way she knew immediately that it was her dad.

"Who's that? Is that Daddy?" you turned to Valeria and bounced her up and down, her little hands already flaying around as giggle after giggle escaped her mouth. Your beloved husband called out for you once or twice, quickly realizing you'd been in the nursery when he heard the sound of his girls.

"Hi, hone—Oh my goodness!" Carmen gasped, peeking his head into the heaven-like bedroom. It seemed like he was immediately drawn to Valeria like a magnet. His white t-shirt stuck to his skin from the summer heat, his baseball cap casting a shadow on his face. He almost looked a little out of breath.

He walked in while gushing at the sight of Valeria all dressed in her mothers arms. The off-white, soft lettuce-cut top paired perfectly with her socks. The white ribbon in her hair literally tying the look together.

"Dada!" Valeria pointed her little finger to him, trying to escape your embrace and jump into Carmen's arms if she truly could. She'd become especially talkative lately. But she hadn't quite figured out to greet you with a sickly sweet 'mama' whenever you came around to pepper smooches on her head and smooth, chubby cheeks. You rolled your eyes playfully as you stood beside him, planting a kiss on his cheek.

"Did mommy get you all dressed up this morning? Hm?" Carmen smiled sweetly at his daughter and scrunched up his nose, just to hear her laugh at his expressions. He held her close against him with his right arm so that Valeria could rest her little head against his shoulder.

"Yep, I sure did," you chuckled, letting Carmen wrap his arm around your waist and draw you in for a quick kiss. Your hand lied on top of Carmen's. Every vein and knuckle was caressed by the pad of your thumb.

"Sorry I took a while. Jus' wanted to pick up some groceries down the street,'" Carmen mumbled into your hair before planting a kiss on the top of your head. "Thank you for bein' with 'er, baby."

You only nodded your head, leaning into his touch as your eyes fluttered shut. Last night was quite a riot. But Carmy, being the gracious hero he often was, arose the moment he heard sweet Valeria crying out for touch and attention from her crib. That baby monitor was the only thing that could help Carmen's anxieties calm and let him sleep at night, but was also the only thing waking him up nowadays.

"We got a real princess on our hands, huh?" you smiled at Valeria, her head rested on Carmen's chest and her hand pressed against his peck. She looked just as content. Her curly hair was thick and full of life. Those Italian genes ran strong. With the face of her mothers, friends and family raved about your resemblance everywhere you went with her. But those bright blue eyes and small smile of hers? All Carmy.

"Two princesses on our hands," Carmen corrected you.

With the angelic face of her mothers and fierce, yet tender eyes of her father, she'd be unstoppable.

"My princesses. My girls."

She already was, actually.

#AGH this turned out so cute #i'm so excited for this series!!! #let me know what you guys think<3 #carmen berzatto #dad!carmy #dad!carmy x mom!reader #carmen berzatto x reader #mom!reader #hispanic!reader #the bear

[rubra-wav]

Vox HCs #4: Theories about how he works like biologically

Cw: Sfw - but discussion about non-sexual anatomy type stuff

A/N because I've thought way too much about the logistics of him and robotic/tech demons and how they work/could work way too much. 💀 These are just some of the things I've thought about

- The main thing I see people wondering about is his face and how he drinks stuff, kisses people, etc.

- I think that the screen of his face is a full screen in its resting state, but he can influence the way it kind of functions/presents. ie. Manipulating the area around his mouth so he actually does have a mouth and its not just a projection on his screen.

- I don't think his mouth is a constant actual 3 dimensional thing though and is rather something he can change at will whenever he sees fit.

- If you were to touch it just in casual day to do life, his mouth would just be the screen / 2d.

- Also, I don't think his mouth feels like a normal mouth. If you were to kiss him I feel like his lips would not feel exactly like normal lips, and that his lips and tongue would kind of have that kind of static electricity sensation to them.

- Like if he were to lick you, I feel like you'd get that kind of static electricity sensation that makes your hair stand on its end.

- I'm not too sure about the rest of his face though. Maybe he can manipulate the rest of his face to become more 3 dimensional, but I don't think he would do it often as it's not necessary.

- Due to him being seen drinking during season 1, I think it's safe to assume that the way his internal functions are designed are relatively similar to normal humans.

- I believe he'd also have a somewhat similar body system as well. However, it just would be like metal parts, wires and artificial stuff underneath his skin rather than actual muscle, veins, ligaments, organs, bodily fluids, etc. Etc. That mirror those bodily systems.

- Having said that though, I do think parts of him are sensitive to being damaged by water. He may be just fine drinking water and liquids, but if they got in his ports (like on the back of his head), that would be bad.

- Because he prides himself on being up to date tech wise, he'd likely be waterproofed to a degree, but it still wouldn't be good. I can imagine him being damaged by it and bluescreening and forcefully shutting down to prevent any further damage to his less human reminiscent systems. (Do you think he lays down in rice when that happens? 💀)

- Also, I do not think he technically needs to eat or drink stuff. Judging by the fact he can plug into things (like how in the Stayed Gone video he plugs into all the computers and stuff), I think his main energy source would actually be charging using electrical wires and stuff.

- I think that him eating and drinking is just a preference of his, and that other demons who are similar to him wouldn't need to eat or drink. He can still get energy that way, but it's less efficient and more of just a preference/reminiscent of his past life as a human that he's held onto all this time.

- I also don't think he really 'sleeps' in the traditional sense or needs to sleep? He can likely regain power that way, but he wouldn't really need to sleep and could just stay awake all day and night if he's connected to a suitable charging source every couple of hours.

- I do think he would like powering down/switching off for a bit to rest though - just to not go crazy. Even if you wont die from lack of sleep, it's still nice to not have to think about things for a couple of hours.

Now I'm thinking about him laying down in rice after trying to go swimming without water proofing himself properly while bitching lmao.

#vox #vox headcanons #vox x reader #hazbin hotel #ive been thinking about this for quite a bit both for him and also my OC haha. i hope i articulated it well enough #I also want to write a short exerpt of him and what I think he was like while alive/ maybe even what his death was like in my own hcs? #Ive got part 2 of Snap in the works as well 🙏 #lots i wanna do but no energy to do it with rn sadly

[merakiui]

Fwb Vil "let's set soke ground rulea" and some "lets keep this secret"? He seems like the type of guy to lay down a bunch of rules and try to keep things way too professional

Oooo yes yes!!!! And the deeper you stray into the fwb, the more those rules seem less and less viable. <3 setting rules only to later break them... >:D

(fwb dialogues)

Somehow you've found yourself in Vil's bedroom.

Well, perhaps somehow isn't the right word to use in this instance, considering you knew this was coming. You can't just go from practicing lines to kissing like fools in love with the Vil Schoenheit without proper acknowledgment. It was slightly more complicated than that, sure, but the fact still stands that both of you got carried away. In the aftermath of mutual lust, you proposed a deal. Surprisingly, Vil agreed and now you find yourself discussing logistics in his room.

Not the trajectory you were expecting, but it's exciting nonetheless.

"If we're going to make this work, we'll need to establish a few things first. So with that in mind, let's set some ground rules," Vil declares, eyeing you sternly.

"I'm all ears."

"No marks of any sort. That includes bruises, scratches, and bites."

"Can't you cover them with makeup?"

He narrows his eyes at you, unimpressed. "Can't you mind your teeth? I'd rather not waste my supplies touching up marks that could have been avoided."

"All right, sure. No marks."

Nodding his approval, he issues you a pleased smile. "We'll schedule our meetings in advance. My days are busy and I can't afford to fit spontaneity in at my leisure. I trust you have no issues with this?"

"Fair enough." You suppose sex isn't much of a priority for either of you. Academics and work should come first. Or, if you're irresponsible, it'll be you before any of that.

"As for locations, we'll limit it to my room or yours at Ramshackle. Absolutely nothing else outside of that."

"Not even an empty classroom?"

"Especially not an empty classroom. Do you not realize how easy that makes it for anyone to catch us? The gossip practically writes itself."

Your lips droop in a pout. That's no fun. But you suppose it makes sense. In a school where gossip travels fast and far, the last thing you want is to be shoved into the limelight over something so shamelessly carnal.

"Most importantly, this relationship is strictly confidential between the two of us. Let's keep this a secret. Do I make myself clear?"

"Crystal clear," you agree with a smile. That seems to reduce some of the tension in Vil's shoulders, for he assumes a posture less rigid than before. Still just as perfect, but now he appears comfortable in your presence. Relieved, almost. "I get it. The media would eat this up if they knew. You're trying to avoid that."

"Precisely."

"All right. Now that that's taken care of, let's make it official. Shake on it?" You extend your hand, but he holds his up to stop you.

"One more rule."

You tilt your head, curious. "I thought we went over everything. What more could there be?"

"This is strictly physical. We're already well aware of where we stand in terms of emotional attachment, so I should hope I needn't clarify again."

You blink at him. Of course. Romance. Right. The forbidden line.

"There's no need to worry about that. I don't plan on falling for you anytime soon," you tease, taking his hand in yours and shaking firmly. "My heart's not that weak, Vil."

His lips lift in a proud smirk. "How coincidental. Neither is mine."

And thus the deal is sealed.

#twisted chit chat #meraki dialogues #spoiler - the two of you fall in love despite that >:)

[venus616]

I- OKAY, THE STREETS FIC DESTROYED ME😭😭😭! Sooo i had this idea where both peter compete who'd get her pregnant.....but ofc there's no way to know cuz they're identical but it's just very very exciting iykwim

(this is first time me requesting it lol, I'm sorry if it's awkward)

Feel free to ignore if you're not comfortable with this tho <3

not awkward at all!! i had fun playing around with this :) i just can’t believe how much y’all are feeling this double peter parker shit omg djjfnfjnjd

the bet (streets ?.?); {tasm!peter parker}

Pairing: tasm!peter parker x f!reader (you can interpret this as any peter parker if you so please)

Summary: in addition to this oneshot, this ask and in response to this even hornier ask

Warnings: established relationship, smut, vaginal fingering/sex, still dubcon (dubious consent) bc reader is unaware of their intentions, breeding kink, unprotected sex, squirting, oral sex, 18+, NSFW, can this count as kinktober?

Word Count: 4.2k (only smut (LOL))

A/N: okay let's pretend that they decided to live together and that logistically it makes sense… then this is my take on the request

ALSO just to make reading this easy: multiverse!peter is past tense + the shower; husband!peter is present tense + the kitchen counter

previously: streets | the aftermath

Living with two Peter Parkers was not necessarily the dream you’d thought it’d be. Sure, it was really convenient when you needed help around the house and one was busy patrolling, but it seemed like it was of more use to them when they got to have you to themselves a s individuals. 

Through this living agreement, your husband didn’t mind you sleeping with his inter-dimensional self, which was only right since he practically begged you to let him stay despite knowing the feelings he had harbored for you. 

But what you didn’t realize was how intentional every single time they came in you was, since it was something you never minded, in fact preferred or encouraged.

“But I’m so tired,” Is what you whine out when you turn off the stove, knowing that Peter wouldn’t be able to leave you alone unless he fucked you senseless at least once, or five times, tonight. 

You noted to order takeout later instead of cooking since he was so adamant. 

You could feel his hardon from behind and his large hands were engulfing your sides. You arch your backside onto his crotch and hear a soft moan escape his lips and know it’s your husband. He was a little more submissive than his counterpart. 

Especially compared to how he treated you earlier today, it could only be your Peter peppering your jaw and neck in kisses, rubbing your ass through your sleeping shorts and grinding up against you. 

Almost in juxtaposition to how the other Peter had your back pressed against the cold wall of your shower, thrusting hastily inside of you while your legs remained wrapped around his hips and his hands carrying you by your ass. You almost feel bad for how loud you were being from his brute force, only muffled by how your head would dip into his shoulders while your arms wrapped around his neck. 

Your body gets hot thinking about it, especially reminiscing the steam of the shower dizzying you first thing in the morning. You were initially alone until you looked through the screen door, seeing a figure of Peter, not knowing which one even when the towel dropped. 

You made space for him to get in and stepped back closer to the shower head, faced towards where he’d enter, picking up the soap to lather him in. Once he stepped in, you knew it wasn’t your husband for the lack of tattoo, thankful he didn’t end up getting it after all. 

The water began to hit him, and it was a delicious sight that you focused on as the bubbles began to pile up on your hands. Instead of asking for the soap you were about to offer him, Peter got on his knees and pulled your leg to rest on one of his shoulders. Your lips parted, feeling the hot water begin to hit your back from the new position and feeling his mouth ghost your pubic area. 

You throw your head back at how his mouth latches onto your core, lapping up your folds while rubbing onto your clit with his other hand. His tongue had already memorized you, running up and down your entrance while your clit rolled underneath his thumb. You reached down to run your fingers through his hair but ended up pulling at it when the pressure on your clit increased. 

You’re brought out of your memories when you feel the current Peter trail his hand down your shorts to examine your wetness and play with your clit at the same pace. You’re breathy when you shake out of your distraction and feel his hand play with you. 

“Did you hear me?” He asks. You shake your head, turning your head slightly to look at him hanging his head in the crook of your shoulder, still kissing your collar. 

“I said,” He chuckles lowly, almost as if he knew what you were thinking about, “but I miss my wife,” He’s high pitched and breathy when he repeats himself, inserting his large fingers, both the index and middle into you making your body curl into him. 

Your hand clutches onto his much larger forearm that remains on your stomach, clutching at your flesh to keep you in place and your shirt above the seam of your shorts for easy access. You feel his wedding band and lace your fingers with his all while shuddering at his quick and skilled movements. You bite your lip embarrassed at how quick your pants are. 

“I thought you like sharing me,” You rasp out, feeling Peter’s fingers thrust and scissor into you effortlessly. Your wetness coats his fingers easily from the attention he was giving you and the memories of how you started your day.

Peter nibbles on your ear before lowering your shorts further on your hips with his free hand. “Sometimes,” He reminds you. 

You let out a soft sigh, liking the honesty. 

The possessiveness.

“Other times,” He starts while curling his fingers further into your pussy, the wetness dripping out onto his palms. “I just want you filled up with my cum,” He reminds you, before inserting another finger. You become almost too sensitive and recoil in his grasp, almost tightening your legs around his hands before he stops you. 

“And only mine,” He continues, growling in your ear knowing you’re close by the way you’re clenching around him. You struggle to hold it, feeling the familiar tension in the pit of your stomach while Peter’s cock flexes against your back. 

“Mhm,” You nod in understanding, being held against his body for dear life only to get you to stop squirming under his touch. 

“Cum for me baby,” He exhaled, getting just as impatient as you. You held tightly onto his arms for leverage and clenched around his fingers, feeling more than stretched out for whatever he had in store for you tonight. You feel yourself continuing to pulsate around nothing when he removes his hands and pulls your shorts down, pooling around your ankles. 

You step out of them and remove your shirt, revealing yourself to be entirely bare. You arch your back over the counter, feeling especially bold when you lift your knee over the granite to make it easier for him to enter. (Not that he ever had an issue before)

He grins before lowering the waistband of his sweats and raising his t-shirt to reveal his aching cock to line up to your core. He slips in with ease and you moan immediately, encouraging him to go deeper when you lean forward. “Fuck me Peter,” You breath out, with your hands clutching at your counter top. 

“Such a filthy mouth,” Peter taunts. You scoff out a humorless laugh when you remember how the other version of himself said the exact thing earlier, it almost felt like deja-vu.

When you recall it, it was when he had first slammed your back against the wall, causing you to curse out in pain and impatience. But in Peter’s defense, at the moment you had the mouth of a sailor. It didn’t help that he entered into you while you were still sensitive from your first orgasm, caused by him eating you out like you were his breakfast. 

“You’re so mean to me,” is what you responded with that morning. You shook your head when you said it, pouting a little hoping it would make him feel inclined to go a little softer on you. 

Your hands wrapped around the back of his neck desperately, while he rocked his hips from beneath you, still causing your back to grind against the tiles behind you. 

Peter leaned into your ear, arms fully flexed from hiking you up to fuck you like there was no tomorrow. You couldn’t help the quick moans escaping your lips at the sight of his body underneath the water. Feeling his cock hit the depths of your pussy each time he thrusted felt like torture, knowing you couldn’t do much in return while in this position. 

He continued to moan in your ear before meeting your forehead with his own, making you keep eye contact with him. He smiles before he says it, the shower water turning lukewarm when it hits your sides. 

“Only because you make it so easy,” He grunted out before thrusting particularly hard into you. You whimpered, feeling your body jolt from his strength. 

The water dripped down both your faces, and you admired his dark glare into yours while the droplets streaked down his hair. You went in for a passionate kiss, clashing onto his face and holding onto his shoulders while he almost bruised your thighs. 

You ignored how uncomfortable it was being held against this wall because of the pleasure that came with Peter practically splitting you open. He repeatedly hit your cervix making it harder for you to bite back the screams that would surely be heard by your husband.

“You look so good bouncing on my cock like this,” He praised, detaching himself from your desperate kisses. You nodded, locking eyes with him and ran your hands through his wet chocolate locks. 

“Gonna look even better with my cum inside you,” He added before going back in for a kiss, getting sloppier with his thrusts. One of his hands latched onto your breasts, rolling your nipple in between his fingers. 

You didn’t pay any mind to it until your husband echos the same thing the other Peter did earlier. 

Peter pulls your neck back to his chest while you’re still clutching on the kitchen counter and whispers into your ear, “Gonna have my babies,” he continues. 

You’re brought back to reality when your breathing is compromised under his touch. When you inhale a large gasp he lets go so you can lean forward to arch your back, laying your hands flat against the counter. 

Peter then holds onto your hips to maneuver you to repeatedly slam onto his pelvis, the loud smacks echoing in the kitchen. If you thought better of it you’d be embarrassed at the idea of his other half walking in on this scene but you then realized that’s probably part of the thrill for Peter at the moment. 

“Babies,” You repeat, barely of a sound mind still not understanding why they sound identical today. 

“You’re taking me so fucking well,” He grunts out, “I wanna knock you up,” He adds right before sending a sharp smack to your ass. The ring left an imprint on your ass that you’d never get used to. You yelp out a whimper from how it shot sensitivity right up your spine and into your abused core from all the orgasms throughout the day. You swore these boys were fucking with your tolerance at this point. 

“Knock me up?” Peter doesn’t miss that it comes out as a question and drags your body to come back up at its previous position by your breasts, massaging the both of them while your back is pressed up his chest again. 

Your hands are over his hands, playing, almost teasing your boobs while he questions you in your ears. “Do you wanna have babies with me?” 

You’re caught off guard by this. Obviously it was one of the many things you spoke with Peter about before you two got married where you agreed that if the time was right, it would happen. But in the greater scheme of things, it just seemed a little abrupt to bring up. Still, you were so intoxicated off of him all you could do was nod, turning around to meet his eyes lustfully. 

“Yeah?” Peter’s eyes lit up, his thrusts getting sloppier when you moan out what is barely a ‘yes’ through a heavy “Uh-huh.”

When you turn back around and close your eyes, all you can see in your head is earlier today when you watched Peter fuck you from the angle he held you in the shower and the string of curses that escaped both your lips when you were close. 

“Fuck, you’re so tight, I’m gonna get you pregnant in no time,” Peter muttered so low you almost missed it. You were too distracted to say anything though, mostly because you weren’t necessarily opposed to it when you were being fucked so well.

All you remember is that your breasts felt like putty in his hands, similar to now, and he took advantage of it in this position as they were practically begging for his attention. 

He raised you a little higher from his cock and lifted you up from the wall, knowing he didn’t need the support. Peter then slammed you onto his hips, making you throw caution to the wind and yelp out. 

“Peter,” You tried moaning out for him to slow down but he doesn’t listen as his teeth latched onto your chest now. You sensitivity was at an all time high now, feeling sharp shots of pain sent through your nervous system when your nipples were being suckled on top of being fucked senseless.

“Let go, let it go for me,” He begged you when he felt the frequency of your clenching pick up. He relished the feeling and started to slow down as your movements stuttered throughout your body on top of him. When you felt his cum shoot into you shortly after, he fucked it into you until you started to feel his cock soften. 

Peter eventually relaxed on your tits and looked back up at you inbetween the valley of your breasts apologetically, as if to say that he couldn’t help himself. 

He finally let you step back down on your own feet but you could barely stand. He supported you by holding onto your lower back but his fingers found his way to your folds and fingered you. You instinctively flinched from the overstimulation but he forced your legs to stay open. 

The cum that ran down your thighs, he managed to fuck back into you through his fingers, but you didn’t note it as he engulfed you in a kiss as soon as you were able to stand up on your own. It was cute to Peter really, you sounded so desperate for him to be gentle, clueless to the entire ploy he and his other self cooked up. 

Still unaware while your husband’s pacing starts to get sloppy, the smacks filling the air while your lower stomach feels tense.

“Peter,” You cry. You’ve lost track of the amount of times you’ve been getting fucked in the last week alone, it almost felt like you were in more pain than pleasure. 

“I know, just hold on a little,” Peter grunts before thrusting even harder a few more times, “longer,” His voice is getting unsteady, you know he’s close. You try to fuck back again knowing it’s one of his bigger weaknesses, seeing how your ass bounces onto him. Peter felt the force of your ass meeting his hips and looked down, knowing he was a goner. 

Seeing the skin of your cheeks ripple off of his and onto his cock so perfectly, while feeling your desperate cunt clench onto him was more than enough. His deep moans praise you while he couldn’t form coherent words, obviously drunk off of your movements. 

“Cum in me baby, give it to me,” You rasp out and turn back around to meet his eyes, knowing that would really send him over the edge. 

“Fuck,” He says it repeatedly, while he thrusts a few more final times. You can feel his hot cum shoot inside you, cock pulsating in your sensitive core which just makes your knees shake but you remain still, or rather, Peter makes you remain still. He moves himself only slightly, trying not to let too much cum seep out and you shake your head mostly out of exhaustion, but also out of disbelief. 

When he fully slips out of you, he repeats Peter’s earlier motions to keep the cum inside of you. You barely have the energy to lift yourself up from the counter and just crave the warmth of your husband. 

Eventually you manage, and then you kiss him gently, while he smirks. You pull away, tiredness written all over your confused expression. 

“What is it?” You ask, fully turned around to face him. 

Peter shakes his head, but what you didn’t know was that he was thinking back to a conversation he had with his other half the other week. 

Peter thinks you read his mind, but it’s really because you finally had enough reason to ask as they lack subtlety: “Care to tell me why you and the other Parker have baby fever all of a sudden?”

He only grabs your smaller hand in his, before leading it to your stomach and rubbing it. “Why, you don’t wanna have my baby?” He pouts, obviously deflecting the bigger question. 

“Of course I do,” you roll your eyes at the accusation before removing both your hands from your stomach.

“I just want to know why now,” You clarify before sitting at the counter. You feel how sore you are when your hands find their way to your cunt again. 

Looking down at how your fingers trace your wet folds, mixed with your cum and his, you ignore how Peter is watching you, cock twitching at the sight of your spread legs and left over sweat trickling on your boobs. 

His eyes flickered from the sight of his cum seeping out of your pussy back to your eyes, still figuring out how he should answer. 

Peter watches your middle finger graze your clit and how your body reacts to the feeling. He loves how sensitive you are. His cock is already half hard watching how your fingers collected the cum that seeped out of you. 

You eventually look up at him and you catch his eyes darken. Round two is about to happen. 

“We have a bet,” He lets the words run together on his tongue, before moving the heels of your feet to the edge of the counter.

There’s a couple of things that go through your mind when he says that while he continues to readjust your body.

One being that you’d definitely have to disinfect this counter before you go to bed tonight. Second is the conclusion that you really can’t leave two Peter Parker's alone together for more than 24 hours. 

“A bet?” 

You know you shouldn’t be as calm as you’re being about this. At least from a rational standpoint. However, none of the decisions made up to this point were rational. 

“We love you so much,” 

Here he goes, you think, 

“We just wanted to see who could get you pregnant first.”

Oh.

When Peter closes the distance between your bodies and kisses your neck you know he has easy access to fuck you. Once his cock is standing against his stomach again he readjusts your legs, one around his waist and another over his shoulder. 

It would’ve been more of a pain if you weren’t used to being put in less than comfortable positions for him by now.

You inhale sharply, trying to be mad at him. “Peter,” You try to say as his hands remain on your hips. One of them snakes back down to his cock to realign with your entrance, and he shoots back up an apologetic look to you, reminding you that you were no match for his brown eyes. 

Either of them really. 

You both hiss when he re-enters you effortlessly but you repeat yourself. 

“Peter, you can’t be,” You moan, but try to keep your voice steady. You failed but you weren’t backing down now. “Fucking serious,” You stutter when the curse leaves your mouth, mostly because of having to readjust to his size at this position. 

He has a guttural groan that shoots arousal down to your core the moment it hits your ears. “Ungh, I, fuck,” He quickens up his pace, obviously not listening to you. “I know but hear us out,” Peter dips his head into your shoulders, kissing the sensitive spots of your neck as if it would make the situation better. 

“Regardless of what happens, we'll take care of you,” He whimpers. His thrusts get sharper when he picks back up his head and your jaws are both slacked at the new pace. 

You’re looking at where your bodies meet while Peter is focusing on your flushed out face, motivating him to go faster. 

You shut your eyes out of the pain mixing in with pleasure, also frustrated by his attention, biting your bottom lip to stop the flow of curses from flowing out. 

Peter studies your reaction and almost feels bad.

Almost.

“You feel so fucking good around me, I can’t help myself,” Peter adds, cooing into your face when his forehead rests yours. You pinch your eyebrows together and shake your head as if to disagree but he only shakes his head with you. 

“We can’t help ourselves,” He corrects, panting along with you.

“Pete,” You whine, arms wrapped around his neck as he fucks you on the edge of the counter, and you can feel him reaching so deep into your cervix repeatedly it makes you want to scream. 

He notices it and starts pulling out far enough to tease you, just to slam back into you. If he wasn’t careful enough you’d definitely hit your head on the cabinets.

You cry out from his increasing speed and feel your thighs burning up from the snapping of his hips against yours from this angle. 

“You’re so fucking good to me,” Peter says, he almost sounds like he’s about to cry when he thrusts into you. 

“Good to us,” He adds, still slamming against your sensitive, sopping pussy.

Tears threaten to spill out of your eyes when you feel how deep he’s going inside of you, feeling his balls smack against your cunt.

Peter notes how you tighten around him when he says it, and decides to use it against you. He brushes stray hairs behind your ear before continuing.

“You’re our good girl,” His hands find his way to your throat, gently holding it while you try to stay still as his movements only stretch your leg further. He uses his free hand to hold onto one side of your hips

You whimper and nod, knowing he already won. 

“I’m your good girl,” You repeat, hardly audible from your lips from how hard it is to speak.

“So fucking good,” He reaffirms and matches his thrust to every syllabus in that statement and you feel like you could almost pass out. You don’t even warn him, immediately cumming around him and mewling out at how abrupt the tension snapped in your stomach. 

You look down and realize there was more than cum being released and that a viscous, clear liquid was trickling down the counter and all over his t-shirt, the liquid glistening over his lower abdomen and still hard cock. 

“‘M sorry,” You gasp out, “I couldn’t help it,” your voice is hardly above a whisper. Your chest is heaving from how much energy that took out of you, but Peter was just surprised to see that you were so overstimulated you squirted. 

His eyes only light up with mischief before he goes back and inhales you into a kiss. He holds his cock to enter your pussy and his hips stutter at the wet, hot feeling before slowing down. He removes himself off of your lips to grunt into your shoulder, telling you he was close. He quickly  shoots a smaller load than before into you. 

Seeing you surrender to him, feeling your heat suction around him with no warning, added onto how how fucking hot it was for him to see you squirt onto him? It’s no wonder he came immediately. 

He leans in to kiss you again, this time you’re too exhausted to return it with the same passion. Only gently kissing back while his tongue begs for entrance.

Peter reaches down to rub your clit to garner a reaction and you part your lips out of over stimulation, but you immediately reach for him to stop. Your hands lace when you do, before you meet his eyes again. 

“Too much.” You shake your head, knowing you didn’t have it in you to say more at the moment. 

He grins and chuckles at your fear before listening to your objections.

You pout and furrow your eyebrows before your hands reach down to cover your cunt, closing your legs to tease him. 

“Don’t be mean,” You remind him. 

“Sorry, baby.” He leans in to kiss you again, without the foreplay and this time you let him in. Only caressing your scalp, to help you lean into the kiss. 

Soon after, he swoops you up over the threshold to take you into your bedroom for the night. You yelp out but he covers it up by smothering your face in kisses. You giggle your protests all the way through before you bounce on the shared bed he threw you on. 

And while you struggle to believe that either of them thought this bet through, you let Peter cum into you as many times as he wanted to that night.

#peter parker #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker fic #tasm!peter smut #tasm!spiderman x reader #tasm!peter fanfiction #tasm andrew garfield #tasm!peter x reader #tasm!spiderman x you #andrew garfield smut #andrew garfield x reader #andrew garfield x female reader #andrew garfield x you #tasm!peter parker #tasm!peter one shot #peter parker smut #peter parker oneshot #andrew garfield peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #tasm!peter parker x reader #peter parker x black!reader #peter parker x black reader #dark!peter parker #dark!peter x reader #dark!peter parker x reader #dark fanfiction #dark smut #the writing’s on the wall

[bugs1nmybrain]

YESSSS PLSSSS l x reader smut 🙏 maybe they work together or smth and it gets a little frisky??

Admittedly, I don't know the logistics of being a detective outside of Death Note and crime documentaries, and I can't picture my self in that occupation. However, I like thinking of the idea of L and the reader sitting alongside in each other's company while he works on his cases via his computer, and the reader working on something else such as college homework. So I'll work with that ;).

Distraction

Minors Do Not Interact

Warnings: Heteronormative sex and relationship, L uses pet names like "my love" and "darling," desk sex, established relationship, reader is neurodivergent-coded, reader is a college student, reader is heavier than L, nipple/breast play, L uses clinical terms during sex, oral (fem-receiving), unprotected sex

L could not for the life of him keep his eyes off of you.

He was slightly confused, considering that today wasn't different from any other day. You sat next to him on your computer, doing work for your classes, and he worked on his cases, at least anything that wouldn't expose too much information around you.

Maybe it was that ridiculous wet dream he had of you last night. L doesn't sleep nearly as much as others. Not only did he see it as a wedge in his schedule, but his dreams sometimes distracted him because of his analytical perspective on everything. Sometimes he dreamt of his parents, sometimes about the cruelty of his job, and other times...you.

You weren't helping the situation. Of course you had to choose to wear a very form fitting outfit today. L almost had an issue with how revealing your outfit was, but he knew he shouldn't dictate things like that. But if anyone else looked at you the way he was right now, he wouldn't be happy.

Your shirt practically hugged your torso, giving L a perfect view of the shape of your breasts. Your shorts were also, indeed, short, showing off your gorgeous thighs and their beautiful complexion.

It wasn't only your body, though. L wasn't that shallow. It was also the cutest expression you made while you focused on your homework. How you'd scrunch your face when you didn't quite understand something. Your hair fell in your face and you'd tuck it behind to see your notes better, but then it would just fall back in your face. Even the way you sipped on your drink was turning him on. He felt animalistic.

L wasn't the type to get lost in temptation like this. Sure he indulged in any sweets he wished without the consideration of the toll it would take on his body. And yes, he'd take some almost impulsive, bold decisions when he was determined to take a step further in an investigation. Perhaps he was someone who was swayed by temptation, now that he thought about it.

"L?"

Oh god. Now your voice.

"What is it, love?"

The most insignificant terms of endearment always made you blush or giggle. And it was adorable to him.

"I..um..I'm having a bit of trouble with this part of my homework. Would it..? I don't mean to pry for answers, but-"

"No need to apologize. What is it you're confused about?"

L took this opportunity to move his rolling chair directly next to yours. He leaned over your shoulder, peaking at the laptop in front of you. Lucky for him, he now had a wonderful view of your breasts.

You perked up at his close proximity, and L could've sworn he saw you squirm a bit.

"I'm having trouble with using Excel for the Goodness-of-fit test (you were taking a Statistics class). I checked my data and it's all correct so I'm really confused why my answers aren't coming out right."

L took a look at your screen and in a matter of two seconds knew what was wrong, "You have to round up your expected values to the closest whole integer. It should come out right if you do that."

You smiled beamingly and returned with a, "thank you."

"Of course, darling." L leaned in to kiss your cheek, eliciting a bright smile and blush. You were avoiding eye contact with him, but he knew that was your signal of enjoying his affection. L noticed early on that you were easily charmed by displays of affection, whether that be words of endearment or physical affection. L was not one for touching anyone before you. He had begun to learn how touch-starved he also was when you two had begun your relationship.

The look on your face and your body language was enough to make him hard. Your reactions are what got him the most.

L brought his hand to stroke your hair around your neck gently, making you tingle under his touch.

"Do you have anything else planned for the day?"

"Not really. This is the last bit of homework I have for the day. I don't know what I want to do after that."

"Mm.." L leaned closer, and wrapped his arms around your waist (as much as he could manage with you being in a chair).

You laughed playfully yet again but leaned into his touch. L took it upon himself to make a move, having an inclination that you wanted him to be more affectionate with you. He gently kisses the back of your neck, sending shivers down your spine, and a delightful hum from you.

"You're so beautiful, did you know that?" L teases.

You laugh and blush at his compliment, "You must be lying."

"Not at all. The truth is, you're gorgeous. I'm having a hard time keeping my eyes off of you today because of your beauty and charm."

"I noticed."

Of course you did. You were an observant person, which is something L admired about you. Though maybe it wasn't too hard to tell, for he hadn't necessarily been sneaky with his glances at you.

"Does it make you nervous when I look at you like this?" L probes.

"No. Well, I feel a little embarrassed, but I'm not uncomfortable by you."

"There's no need to be embarrassed, I'm merely admiring how adorable you are. I don't want you to feel self conscious."

But deep down, L found your shyness cute and he often took advantage of it. L begins trailing soft kisses along your neck as he held you.

"Mmfmm."

Your voice was going to drive him crazy. If you two weren't in separate chairs right now, you would be able to feel L's prominent erection through his pants. L moves his hands from your waist to the sides of your arms, touching them in a feather-like motion in an attempt to make you feel just as aroused as he is. You sigh desperately at his loving affection.

"You're distracting me from my homework..," you say playfully.

"Good. You've been distracting me all day," L retorts.

An instinctive breathy laugh comes out from you but quickly turns into a pleasured yearn. L takes this as an invitation to turn your chair around.

"Sit in my lap."

"Um..."

"I don't want to hear the excuse that you're too heavy. I insist."

L's look of lust and need makes it apparent that he's aching for this. You oblige his request and rest yourself on his lap, trying not to put your whole weight down. L places his hands on your hips, though, and pulls you down. You underestimated his strength sometimes, because of how light he is.

L initiates a deep, romantic, and passionate kiss. His lips embrace yours tenderly, yet full of yearning. You grind your hips along his crotch, feeling his very obvious boner, which causes a spike of arousal in your pussy.

The kisses between the two of you quickly become much more heated. L slips his tongue to search for an entrance, and you allow him to explore yours as he gropes your breasts, though not too rough. L was a very meticulous lover and not very aggressive. No one would've been able to tell that he's a very tender, sweet, and loving boy. He only let you see that side of him.

He tweaks your left nipple through your shirt, causing a surprisingly powerful response from you. Sounds of pleasure exit your mouth and you hold onto your boyfriend close for comfort. He continues to run his thumb along your sensitive bud, and makes sure to begin to give the other just as much attention.

"Aaahh~"

"Hmm..does this feel good, my love?"

"Y-yes.." you whine.

L continues his treatment as he kisses you. He then removes his hands, which makes you somewhat disappointed, but he proceeds to pull your shirt over your head. He looks at you unapologetically and is unable to help raising his pointer finger to his lip as he gandered at you. You were so beautiful, so perfect for him. Just for him.

His face was dusted a light pink, evident that he was aroused. Though, the continuously growing and grinding of his boner made that much more obvious. L continues to care for your tits, leaning in to suck on your right nipple as he played with your left with his finger. The reactions you gave him was enough to make him go absolutely mad.

You gasp and moan, a bit embarrassed by his fixation on your chest, though it wasn't exactly a bother. It felt very good, as you were quite sensitive there.

You tug at the back of L's shirt, attempting to pull it over his head. He removes his latch on your breasts and allows you to take it off. He shuddered a bit at the cold air against his bare skin, but when you press your own nude torso against his, he feels a sense of warmth and comfort.

The kisses continue, and you begin rocking your pussy on L's groin, causing a grunt to exhale from his mouth. Your crotch moves directly up his shaft from what you can tell through the fabric, and L's hold on you tightens. You lower your head to kiss the nape of his neck, teasing up to the most sensitive spot that you're aware of.

"Ah..Y/N...."

"Mmm," you hum against the kiss on his neck as you simultaneously tease his bulge.

"Y/N..it hurts.."

You look up, scared that you did something wrong.

"What does?"

"My..my penis. It aches, I want it out." L sounds entirely desperate at this point, as his words are becoming jumbled. It made you so horny that you were allowed the privilege of observing him in this manner.

You raise yourself from his lap, which draws out a whine from L, that indicates his need for you. You lower yourself down on your knees in front of him. You realize that the chair he is in is too tall for you to do anything, so you crank the setting so that the chair lowers. When it does you unbutton L's pants and drag them off of him. All that remained was his underwear, that had a wet spot forming along the tip of his cock. It looked so tight around his boxers that you were sure it was somehow painful.

Wrapping your fingers around the hem of his underwear, you pull them down and watch as his cock springs out. It was a little funny, but you held back the laugh in case it made him insecure. You take his pretty cock in your hands and begin stroking it.

"Aah..love.."

"Does it feel good?"

"Yes..but, please, I...I need you."

"Hm?"

"I know what you want to do to me but...I need you. To be inside of you. If you do that, I'll cum too fast and won't be able to penetrate you later."

"I thought I'd help you out with my mouth."

"I know, darling, but I can't wait."

You smile, flattered by his desire for you. You supposed a blowjob would have to wait for another time. Standing up, you leaned closer to kiss him again, and he practically pulled you into his embrace. While he cups your face with one hand, he finds his way to the button of your shorts with only his one hand. He was skilled like that. L pulls your shorts down your legs and is taken aback by how wet you were. He couldn't bare to not touch you.

His diligent fingers grazed your pussy, teasing it in a back-and-forth manner, causing you to whimper. He circled two fingers around your clit lightly, drawing the most pretty sounds from you. His cock was leaking from how seductive you were. Arching your back for him, pushing your pussy into his touch to encourage him to be rougher. He then stands up to place you on top of his desk, and he knelt before you.

L passionately places kisses along your inner thighs and proceeds to the outer labia of your pussy, neglecting your starving clitoris.

"L...please.."

"What's that, love?"

"Please..my.."

"Your what?"

URG. He was such a tease, and he most certainly did it on purpose.

"Please, my clit," you whine desperately.

"Of course, love. Who am I to deny you of that?"

Then, just as you had wanted, L wraps his tongue and lips around your clitoris and sucks it with eagerness. He was so perfect at what he did. L knew all of your sensitive spots, and how to touch you in such a way that makes you absolutely crazy. Your clit continues to be pulled by L's skilled lips, and he proceeds to flick his tongue up and down it.

"AaAH!"

"That's it baby, make all the sounds you need to."

L attacks your clit with his mouth some more, and his gentle demeanor dissolves as he doesn't hesitate to bring you to complete ecstasy. He was determined to make you cum all over his face. His sucks and licks become aggressive, almost overwhelmingly pleasurable. You weren't going to last much longer.

"L-I'm.."

"I know, love. You can do it for me, I know you can."

"MMfmH! Aaa~" and in a matter of 3 seconds, you clit spasms and slick fluid gushes out of your pussy, drenching L's face in your cum. Both of your breaths are heavy, and L briefly observes your pussy twitching. He reaches over to his pants and wipes your arousal off of his face.

L hovers above you, looking you in the eyes, to which you avert your gaze. It isn't that you didn't love looking at him, you were just bad with eye contact. He gently tilts your face to look at him, not so much as to force you to look at him, but because he wanted to see your facial expressions.

"I want you, Y/N..I want to fuck you so bad."

"You can. I want you to.."

He kisses the side of your neck and grabs your thighs to lift your legs, giving him full access to your pussy. He lines himself up to your entrance and sinks himself inside. The both of you are immediately struck with pleasure at the contact.

L thrusts at a moderate pace, making sure he figures out the perfect angle to hit your g-spot. It doesn't take him long at all, as you are moaning in complete pleasure, causing him to become entirely engrossed in arousal. L can't help but to quicken his pace, fucking you passionately as he kisses you. He watches your face intently, discerning what makes you quiver the most, but also just for his own personal amusement.

Seeing you like this. Completely cocksick for him and needy. Your warm, wet, soft, and tight walls drive him beyond enjoyment. Your face as he thrusts in you perfectly, the way you furrow your eyebrows and part your lips is so alluring and beautiful. It makes him addicted to you.

"I love you.." L mumbles.

You grip your arms around his shoulders and allow him to thrust deeper. "I love you too."

L holds you tight, fucking you carnally. Right now, he needs to cum inside of you, to claim you as his own lover. No one else but him can feel how gooey you are and see how vulnerable you become from his attention.

Your tight walls clench and he knows that he's not going to last much longer. He can feel the initiation of an orgasm coming, and he buries his face into your neck.

"Y/N...I'm going to cum.."

"Cum in me.."

You didn't have to tell him twice. With a few more fast thrusts, L finishes by bucking inside of you and cumming deep in you. Surely his seed was entering your womb. It's a good thing you're on birth control.

"Awh..darling, you're.."L's breath is heavy, "you're perfect. I love you so much."

"I love you..I love you more than I could ever tell you."

"Is that so?" L teases.

"Yes," you giggle.

"Hm..well, perhaps we should clean up. I'm sure Watari isn't going to want to take care of all of this."

"Yea, haha. You're right."

L kisses your forehead tenderly, and you both get dressed and clean up the mess you two made.

Lucky for L, he got just what he wanted.

#l lawliet smut #l lawliet #l lawliet x reader

[kaeyx]

corrupting pm dazai

when he was in the pm he was already pretty fucked up, but he was way more vulnerable and i love the idea of taking advantage of that

you liked the idea of pegging him, but he definitely wasn’t. but in the end, if you wanted him to do something, he didn’t really have a say in it. he would complain with teary eyes about how it hurts, and it’s too much for him, but you’re dead set on making him cum this way. dazai sobbed the entire time, but ended up cumming pretty quickly. after he came, he looked up at you while you were pulling out and asked for another.

Okay so I got a little carried away uhh

Warnings: Reader is gn, mentioned as having a penis but it could be a strap, "cock" is always strap inclusive on this blog. Manipulation on reader's part, it's assumed that all parties are of age and this is strictly fantasy.

Yessss he's so fucked up but also so lonely. He had Chuuya, he had Oda and Ango, but who else? We know Chuuya had other friends, but Dazai is the demon prodigy, the youngest executive, one half of double black. If you read the light novels he's always described as a demon, a strategist, someone smart, cold, calculating. And then you look at him and he's... 16, 17, 18. That's a child. At his age I was skipping classes and crushing on Sans Undertale, and he's out there living on his own in a dump and killing people. He can't help but latch onto anyone who'll treat him normally. He wants to be a dumb teen, he wants to try new things, he wants to explore the world, and his body too. And if you're there, treating him decently, laughing with him and fussing over his injuries, he's already eating out of the palm of your head. I'm not sure about experience since he's had to have tried to kiss Chuuya at some point. Maybe they got smashed and had sex that one time, but I digress. He doesn't really know what he's doing. He knows he gets off to some weird, fucked up shit but he doesn't know anything about boundaries or safewording or the traffic light system or anything.

Logistics and morals aside this means you can pretty much convince him to do whatever you want. Treat him well, or just decently, kiss him and pet his hair, call him your good boy while you make him cum for the third time and he's crying into your chest, he'll love it. Whatever things he's nervous about trying you can just gently coax him into. He doesn't like to be naked? Okay, just take the coat off then. Just pop a few buttons open, lose the tie. With enough time he'd be scrambling to rip all his clothes off, eager to feel your hands all over his bare skin. Nervous about you sucking him off? Guide his hands to the back of your hair, kissing his hips and thighs and edging him a few times until he's pulling at your hair and rutting mindlessly into your mouth. It's just so cute to watch his hesitation turn to eagerness, all those soft limits becoming turn ons.

Dazai would be so nervous about pegging, poor baby. It's dirty, he's never had anything inside him, he doesn't think it would feel good, he doesn't want to. But you sigh and shush him, promising you know best and you'll make sure he feels really good. Working him up first until he's desperate, clinging to you and pouting, cock slapping against his tummy and leaking, painfully hard. You'd use just one finger first, being nice and letting him cum, praising him for doing so good, behaving so well, taking all your finger up to the knuckle. The next day it's two, and you spread him open a little while you edge him, kissing his chest and cheek. By the third day he's not protesting at all, lying back and obediently spreading his legs so you can work him open. He squirms as you press the blunt head against his entrance but you remind him that it'll feel good, that there's nothing to worry about and he wants to make you happy, doesn't he? Dazai pouts a little but nods, relaxing and letting you in.

You take it very slowly of course, since your cock is far larger than your fingers. Rocking slowly back and forth, sinking in more each time until your hips are flush with his ass and he's trembling, clenching around you. You lean over and kiss him, brushing the hair out of his eye, reassuring him that it's okay, he's doing so well, taking all of you so perfectly. Waiting for him to decide when you can start moving, sliding slowly along his walls until you find that one spot that makes him gasp.

You hadn't gone for his prostate before, just focusing on getting him used to something inside him before moving onto pleasure. Dazai cries out in surprise every time you move, his legs trembling, eyes rolling back, unused to the feeling. You decide to be nice to him and touch his poor cock, jerking him off in time with your thrusts until he's grabbing onto your shoulders and clenching around you desperately, spilling over himself. Once he catches his breath he looks up at you, face still flushed, and finally agrees: you really do know better.

Next time the goal is to not touch him at all, make him cum just from the fucking.

#asks.answered #dazai.bsd #dazai x reader #dazai smut #dazai x y/n #pm!dazai

[illdowhatiwantthanks]

Empty House

Casey Novak x autistic fem!reader Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI. Graphic sex, fingering, language. Word count: 1,702 You were more at peace than you'd felt in weeks as you settled into your office chair, a cup of coffee steaming beside you. You always got your work done, of course, but it was harder and took longer with the girls running in and out of your home office, not to mention King's constant needs. For the first few weeks of your foster placement, Casey had taken some time off work so you could all get settled. But when she'd gone back to work, the lion's share of childcare had fallen to you, for the pure, logistical fact that you worked from home.

It wasn't that you minded, exactly. You loved the kids, each in their own particular way, and loved taking care of them. You still got your work done, after all. But you missed the days where it was just you and the work, where you could be completely focused, without King waking up early from his nap or Imogen and Laylie badgering you for grilled cheeses. But today was Imogen's first day of fourth grade. You and Laylie and King had dropped her off at her new school, and you hoped with everything in you that the day would go well. Imogen's school day wasn't over until 3:00 PM, and Casey's mom had graciously offered to take Laylie and King for the day a few times a week, so you could have a break and get some work done. You'd had Carol fill out the foster care respite provider paperwork during the kids' first week at home, when she was nearly bursting with excitement to meet them. You and Casey had decided to wait to introduce the kids to anyone else until after the first week, which was almost more than Carol could bear. She texted Casey incessantly. And when Casey stopped responding, Carol moved on to you. Partly to keep her at bay and partly because you knew it'd come in handy later, you'd sent her the respite paperwork. Now, sitting peacefully in the office, lo-fi beats thumping softly through the speakers, you congratulated yourself on your foresight. You were about halfway through your work day, enjoying your uninterrupted Zoom calls and the steady flow of working well, when you got a text from Casey. How's your day going? ❤️ Good! You? 💖 Same old, same old. Murderers, etc. 🔪 Are the kids driving you crazy yet? No, they're actually with your mom for the day. 🙏🏻 You waited for a response, but when none came you assumed she was in court or an interview or somehow otherwise occupied. Being left on read was pretty par for the course with Casey. It came with the job. You knew it wasn't anything personal. You got back to work and, a few minutes later, were on a Zoom call with one of your favorite coworkers, discussing a new advertising campaign for a healthcare company. You were outlining deliverables when you heard the door to your apartment open and shut. You turned your head and furrowed your eyebrows."You good?" your coworker asked.

"Yeah..." You waited a beat before continuing. "Hey, let me hit you back in a little bit, I think my wife–"

Your office door slammed open, cutting you off, and revealing a very flushed and frazzled Casey in the doorway, presumably having biked here at top speed.

"Hey," she said, panting, leaning against the wall to catch her breath.

Your coworker waved from the computer screen. "Hey, Casey!"

"Hi!" she called back. "Can I borrow her for a few minutes?"

"Sure!" He gave you both a thumbs up before signing off.

You closed out of Zoom and swiveled to face Casey, concerned. "Are you okay?" you asked. "Why are you h–"

Casey's lips slammed into yours, her legs straddling your lap as she kissed you hungrily, desperately. Your stomach somersaulted, and you tried, mostly failing, to keep your bearings about you as her tongue moved into your mouth, her hips grinding into you. When she slipped a hand into your waistband, you pulled away.

"Woah!" you said, grabbing her hands and holding them back. "I'm at work!" You squinted at her. "And you're also at work, right? Don't you have court today?"

She pressed her lips to yours again, breathless. "Not for another hour."

"Casey," you protested, always the more realistic one. "It'll take you half that time to bike back."

She whined, sinking her teeth into your neck. You moaned a little, despite your better judgment. "I don't care," she stated. Casey looked at you with such need, such desperation, like you were something to be devoured–you couldn't help but smirk.

You bit your lip, weighing when your coworker expected you back on Zoom and how quickly you could get Casey off.

"Come on!" she pleaded, wrapping her arms around your neck and running a hand through your hair. "The kids are gone! Please, it's been so long!"

You laughed, eyes sparkling as you basked in her neediness. "We literally had sex two days ago!"

Casey was getting more and more turned on, continuing to push her hips into you. She pressed her head into your shoulder as she sought more friction. "Yeah," she said breathily. "But we have to be so quiet when the kids are sleeping."

You sighed, running your thumbs up and down Casey's waist, and glanced at the clock. "Alright," you relented. "But it's gonna have to be in the shower because I don't have time to fuck you and shower after."

Casey nearly tripped lunging off your lap and sprinting to the bathroom, leaving a trail of clothes strewn behind her. You grinned and followed her, pretty damn pleased with yourself that she wanted you this badly on a Monday at noon.

When you walked in, Casey was already completely undressed, running a hand under the shower head to gauge the water temperature. You pulled off your clothes and folded them carefully, placing them on the counter.

Casey stood impatiently next to the shower, arms crossed over her chest, clearly trying and failing not to pressure you into moving faster.

You nodded at her, and she smiled–a huge, goofy grin–and stepped into the shower. You followed, resting your hands on her hips and pulling her to you.

Her breath caught in her throat as you ran your tongue across it. "I don't have much time for extracurriculars," you told her, biting her earlobe. She groaned, grabbing your ass and pulling you into her.

"I don't need anything extra today," she said, planting kisses across your collarbone. "Just fuck me."

"As you wish," you said, shoving her against the shower wall. She gasped as her skin hit the cold tile, moaning when you maneuvered your thigh in between her legs. "You're gonna have to work with me," you said, taking one of her breasts in your mouth and swirling your tongue around the nipple.

Casey didn't need any encouragement. By the way she was rutting against you, her breath hot, brows scrunched in concentration, you could tell she was already close.

You reached a hand down and slid your fingers through her folds. Already wet. And not from the water. She bucked into you, almost pushing you off balance. You repositioned your leg so that you were more solid, and so that Casey's clit would push directly into your leg. As you slid two fingers into her and curved them toward you, she gasped, wrapping her arms around your neck and laying her head on your shoulder.

Casey did most of the work; all you did was hold her up, keeping a steady rhythm with your fingers, pumping in and out. Her body clenched around you as she chased her climax, her nails pressing half moons into the skin of your back. She growled and bit you–hard–and you knew it'd leave a nasty bruise on the back of your shoulder, which would drive Casey mad later.

Her breath came faster and faster as she bucked wildly against you. It was everything you could do just to hold her, just to keep her from falling. You could tell she was close to the edge. You pushed your fingers back into her, back as far as they could go, gently scraping the soft edges of her, and she jerked into you, emitting something between a cry and a squeak. She came loud and hard, moaning into you, moaning your name, her walls pulsing around your fingers. Her chest heaved, sticky and slick and steaming with the hot water that poured over you. Eventually, she quivered into silence, her hips still jerking into you as the last of her orgasm left her.

Casey shook slightly, her head resting on your shoulder, body wrapped tightly around yours. "Thank you," she breathed.

You kissed the side of her head, pushing wet strands of hair out of her face. "Any time."

When she found her balance again, she tipped your chin up and kissed you passionately, with the same intensity and verve with which she'd just come. When she pulled away, it was you who were breathless.

"Can I return the favor?" she asked, smiling cheekily.

You nodded quickly. "God, yes."

Casey had just begun kissing her way down your body when her phone alarm went off.

"Fuck!" she yelled, running a hand through her wet hair.

"Court?" you asked. You already knew the answer.

"Sorry." She slunk out of the shower, apologetic.

"It's okay. I can take care of myself."

Her eyes widened as she toweled off. "Don't do that! I'll do it later!"

You threw up your hands in mock frustration. "As in, hours later after the kids go to bed!?"

"Oh, come on." Casey needled you, pulling on her bra and pantyhose. She bit her lip and smirked at you. "No one makes you come like I do, not even you."

"I hate that you're right." You squirted shampoo into your hand and scrubbed it through your hair, pointing a soapy finger at her. "But for the record, you started this!"

Casey collected the rest of her clothes from the hallway, pulling them on as she went. She checked her appearance in the mirror once and shrugged, then quickly pulled your top half out of the shower stream.

"Thank you," she said, kissing you quickly and rushing her words. "I love you so much. I promise I'll make it up to you later."

She ran out of the bathroom, and you called after her, "You're gonna go to court with wet hair!?"

"It'll dry on the way!" she yelled, the door slamming shut behind her.

You shook your head, lathering your body with soap, trying to come down from how much Casey had turned you on. One thing was for sure: it was going to be a lot harder to focus on work this afternoon.

#casey novak #casey novak x reader #casey novak drabble #casey novak one shot #casey novak smut #law and order svu #svu #autistic #neurodivergent #casey novak x autistic reader #x autistic reader #novak family chronicles

[ladylooch]

ur doing gods work! can you write about nico & the reader crossing paths again after not seeing each other for a long time? <3

Crossing Paths with Nico Hischier

A/N: Ya know, the fan fic won't write it's self ( I know I've tried to convince it), so I'm happy to do it!

Word count: 1.0k

Warnings: lil angsty, swearing

Breaking up with Nico Hischier was the single hardest and most devastating thing you’ve ever done. 

You didn’t want to. 

But you didn’t see how this was going to work.

You were being promoted to the DC office of your advertising firm. It came with a private office, a huge pay bump, and a whole portfolio of dream clients.

The only thing it wouldn’t come with was your boyfriend. 

When you told Nico, he was ecstatic for you. He urged you to take it. He refused to listen to any of the concerns you had because he assumed you would stay together. Every night the month before your move, you agonized in your bed next to Nico while he slept. The logistics were starting to feel too difficult. Nico was sure you would find ways to see each other, but you knew the reality of life in DC was going to monopolize your time. Nico was used to you giving because his jobs took so much.

So you gathered up the courage to sit him down the night before you left and told him your concerns.

“Babe, this distance is going to be nothing for us. It’s temporary too.” The corporate office for your firm is in Manhattan. Nico has latched onto the idea that DC is a stepping stone for you. A temporary fork in the road until yours both meet again.

“Neeks.” You quietly say, squeezing his hand. Nico freezes, sensing where this is going. “I love you, but-“

“No, don’t say it. Don’t do this. Let’s just try and see how it goes.”

“I can’t.” Your voice breaks as you watch the tears fill his eyes. He sucks in a deep, unsteady breath through his nose. His mouth crumples and you feel a piece of your soul die on that brand new leather couch he bought so you would have more room to cuddle together. “I’m so sorry.” You cry as he stands up, dashing his fingers through his hair in despair. He begins to pace before he whirls back towards you.

“You said forever.” Nico spits. “When did you turn into such a liar?”

If your heart had any intact pieces left, they shattered at those words.

Two years later, you’re snapped out of the memory from the building across the street by the barista calling out your name. You’ve moved back to Jersey and are at the local coffee shop in Hoboken you frequented when Nico lived in that building. It’s been so long, you don’t think it’s possible he still lives there anymore. You grab the latte, bringing it over to the station by the window to grab a straw and a lid. 

“You know, most people grow out of adding extra sugar into their lattes.” A voice murmurs to your right. You turn, choking on your breath when you see Nico.  “But I guess you’re not most people.” You snort out a laugh, eyes squinting excitedly at how good he looks. 

“I just can’t quit big sugar. Keeps me employed.” You joke, stepping forward into his stretched out arms and giving him a hug. You both linger together. “Wow, do you still live here?” You point to the building.

“No I moved up a few blocks, but still walk down here from time to time.”

“Best espresso in the city.” You quote him.

“Yeah, still not Switzerland though.”

“Maybe you should open your own shop.” 

“You gonna do the advertisement for me?”

“Sure, I’ll even give you the friends and family discount.” He chuckles. 

“You look… wow.” He finishes in a whisper, taking in your professional dress, tights and heels. You’re decked out in blacks and reds, like he used to love on you. “My colors.” He would grin before kissing your lips.

Nothing about Nico has changed. He’s still sweet as honey.

“You too. Looks like you put some muscle on. Maybe Luca has finally stopped teasing you about growing into your pro body.”

“No, he’s never going to give that joke up. Not when he can still lift more than me.”

“Well, the work never really ends.” Your phone dings in your hand. You look down, seeing the reminder that you have 15 minutes to get to your client’s office. “I, uh, have to go.” You show him your phone. You could stay here with him for hours, truthfully, even though it wouldn’t be good for your heart. The one that never quite stopped loving him.

“Yeah, me too. I’m on my way to practice.” 

“It was really good to see you, Neeks. I still watch Devils games all the time. The team is really turning into a premier contender.” You both walk together towards the door, then outside, pausing on the sidewalk.

“Yeah? You cheer for me?”

“Yeah, but sometimes I cheer more for Jack.”

“He misses you.” He confesses.

“I know; He calls.” Nico closes his eyes with regret, shoving his free hand deep into his jacket pocket. He adjusts his grip on his cup.

“Look… Ah.. I know you gotta go, but I want you to know I’m sorry about the way we left things.” 

“Me too. I should have stayed here with you.”

“No. But it would have been nice if you had wanted to try long distance.” He winces after he says it, like he’s worried he crossed some imaginary line on the sidewalk. I slowly nod, stepping backwards towards my destination. 

“I’m back in Jersey now.” You’re not sure why you tell him, except that you want him to know you’ll be around. His eyebrows raise in surprise.

“You’re a year ahead of the plan.”

“I had some extra motivation.”

“Money?” He tilts his head, coy smile on his face.

“Yeah. We’ll go with that. I’ll see ya.” You wave. He returns yours, staying rooted to the sidewalk. He’s still there watching you when you turn back around for one more moment.

“Hey Nico.” His brown eyes are curious. “My phone number still works. Ask Jack if you need it again.”

“You gonna answer if I call?”

“Yeah. On the first ring.”

#nico hischier #nico Fischer x reader #nico hischier blurb #New Jersey devils #hockey writing #my writing #nhl fan fiction #writing request

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

“Tomorrow we'll worry”

when tomorrow came?????? Omg this is such a mess

Despite telling you worry was for tomorrow, once you'd fallen asleep, Bruce hadn't been able to.

The reality was, this was not a good time. No matter how much he wanted this. He didn't know if it would EVER be a good time... not with your job and his work. And once the elation had had time to temper, all he could do was plan.

You were going to be fragile. This was a weakness someone could exploit- not to mention the time that you were going to have to take away from your work to heal. The logistics of needing a nanny when you went back to work...

It was dangerous. That alone was enough to make him hold you tighter.

"I can feel you thinking," you murmur sleepily.

Bruce felt his cheeks heat and he stroked your back. "Go back to sleep, sweetheart," he murmured.

"Brucie I-"

"Shh," he hushed. "I'll figure it out. You leave the worrying to me. You just focus on not getting shot at and making a healthy baby- preferably with your eyes."

"It took both of us to get-"

"And I want you to relax and let me take care of you," he said, smiling tenderly when you look up at him. Stroking hair out of your face and kissing your nose. "I love you. And I'm gonna make sure you've got everything you need- you're doing the hard part. Let me worry about the other things."

"Other things is an understatement, Brucie."

"As long as you're both healthy and happy when it's all over, that's all I'm worried about."

"Dick-"

"Is finally gonna stop asking about getting a little brother," Bruce snorted. "We'll tell him and he'll be excited. You'll see-"

"And Alfred and the rest of the household-"

"Have been walking in on us fucking or about to fuck so long that they're probably wondering what took so long."

"You're horrible."

Bruce slid a hand down and smacked your ass affectionately, chuckling. "I like what I like," he said unrepenant. "If you want me to ravish you I'm not gonna tell you 'no'-"

"So if I want you one more time before breakfast-"

"Any thing you want, baby girl," he purred. "All you have to do is ask.

#Bruce Wayne #Bruce Wayne x reader #doting husband!bruce #ask answered #minors dni #reader insert

[musings-of-a-rose]

Pairing: Mickey "Fanboy" Garcia x f!reader

Word Count: 1500+

Rating: Mature - 18+ ONLY!

Warnings: Just like ao3, “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the age to handle mature themes. Also by clicking Keep Reading, you understand warnings may not be complete in order to avoid spoilers for the story. 

Notes: Look, I know this would never happen and the logistics are a nightmare. But this is fic and I do what I want. Thanks to @mermaidxatxheart for reading this over! And thanks to @wyn-n-tonic for the equipment line. Pure genius, as usual!

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**Reader is not described

Main Masterlist

Mickey “Fanboy” Garcia Masterlist

"Are you sure we're allowed to be here?" I whisper, looking back over my shoulder like I expected someone to be there, following us. 

Mickey shrugs. "Captain Mitchell brings his girlfriend all the time."

"Yeah, but he's Maverick. He can do whatever he wants."

My boyfriend, who thinks he's so funny, chuckles, his fingers laced between my own as he pulls my hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to the back of it. "You've been asking me for damn near a year to see the planes I fly. You really gonna back out now?"

"I don't want to be arrested."

Mickey laughs. "You won't be. Kicked off base, maybe."

"Ok, maybe we should go back to the bar, Mick."

He spins me around, pushing my back against the hanger wall, the metal cool on my back as he presses his body to mine, his fingers gently tipping my chin up to face him. His lips are soft on mine, a slight neediness behind them before he pulls back. "Do you trust me?"

I sigh, my fingers trying to grasp the tight fabric of his uniform as I pull him back down towards me. "With my life."

He kisses me softly again before pushing away from the wall, offering me his arm. I take it, my cheeks warming under his smile as he guides me out of the building and onto the tarmac. 

I gasp, fighter jets all in a neat line glisten in the setting sun, each of them just as powerful as the next. They make me feel small but not in a bad way. More like, I'm in awe of their presence and the skill it takes to master one. 

"Which one is yours?" 

"It's not really mine. They belong to the Navy."

I punch his arm lightly. "You know what I mean."

He leads me over to a jet a few down from the front and tells me all about it. What all of the markings mean, what it's made of, how fast it can go. His eyes light up, a proud smile always tugging at the corners of his lips as he continues talking. 

"Hey baby?" I ask.

"Yeah?"

"Can I see you in it?"

"You wanna see me in the jet?"

"Very much so."

"Alright. Wait here." Mick reaches up and pulls a ladder out from the side of the jet. He gives me a quick kiss and a wink before he ascends the stairs, opening the cockpit and lowering himself inside. He waves a hand to me, beckoning me to him.

"Come on up!"

I take a breath and ascend the narrow stairs, my hands slightly sweaty against the metal handrails. But then I'm at the top, looking down into Mick's upturned face, those espresso eyes waiting expectantly. 

"There's a lot of buttons."

He laughs, shoulders shaking with it as his smile makes me warm. "Yeah there are."

"Do you know what they all do?"

"Of course." He starts pointing and explaining each of the buttons, his face lighting up with each explanation. I watch him, the small movements he makes to point to another one of the thousand buttons on the console, a smile stretched across his face as he keeps glancing at me to make sure I'm paying attention. 

As if I could look anywhere else. 

"You look hot as fuck, Mick."

He stops mid sentence, the tips of his ears heating up. "What?" 

"You're so fucking hot." I glance around and see no one. We're completely alone on the strip. "Sit back."

He does as I ask, his eyebrows raised in silent question. But as I lower myself carefully down onto his lap, his eyes darken, hands settling on my hips. 

"What are you doing, babe?" He asks, his eyes darting down to my lips. 

I scratch my nails lightly at the back of his head, loving the feel of his shaved cut under them. I kiss him, slowly moving down his neck, my hips moving of their own accord. 

"I need you, Mick."

He pants in my ear before pushing me a little to get me to sit up, making sure I'm looking at him. "This is a serious piece of equipment, babe."

"You're a serious piece of equipment."

His eyes glance down at my lips and for a moment we don't move, me waiting for him to accept or say no. 

"Fuck it." He grips the back of my head, pulling me to him, the hand that had been on my hip now sliding up my bare thigh. I moan into his mouth when his fingers brush against my wet cunt. 

"Fuck, babe you're so wet."

"Watching my extremely hot boyfriend sit in his fighter jet while he Ted Talks me about it with giddy excitement really turns me on." 

"You're such a slut." He kisses me, sliding his fingers under my panties and I gasp at his touch. 

"Only for you."

He inserts a finger and then another, guiding my hips down on them as I moan. But it's not what I want. I grip his wrist and pull him from me, feeling my wetness on his fingers as they brush past my inner thigh. Sliding my hands down his chest, I kiss him again, my fingers fumbling with his belt, moving his zipper down and cupping him. He gasps into my mouth, hardening even more the longer I hold him. 

I push down the top of his boxers, gently pulling him out as he slaps against me. Our breaths are steaming up the windows, his soft whimpers filling the silence as I push my panties aside and line him up, sinking down onto him, my mouth hanging open as I stretch around him. We waste no time, my hips moving over him as he thrusts up into me, pulling his favorite sounds from me. He wraps his arms around my back, holding onto my shoulders as he thrusts faster, harder, and it's all I can do to hold on, one hand gripping his arm and the other splayed across the window. 

"Oh fuck, Mick! I'm gonna…" my orgasm comes on quick, my body tensing as I chant his name over and over, my hips rocking against his to get as much pleasure as I can. I see he's close, so I look down at him, meeting his dark gaze. 

"Come inside me, Lieutenant Garcia."

"Fuck!" Mick groans, whimpering as he spills inside of me, hips thrusting a few more erratic times, his breaths panting out across my face. Mick looks up at his girl, the last of the days sunlight on her face, sweaty and fucked out and he thinks he's never seen anyone so beautiful before. 

"You ok, Mick?"

"I love you."

"Of course you do. I just fucked you in your jet."

"No. I mean it. You're the most beautiful person I've ever met and you love me for me. I love you."

His eyes are bright and wide as he looks at me and it's then I realize that I love him too. I lean down to him, pressing my lips to his before cupping his cheek, pulling back just enough for him to see me. 

"I love you too, Mickey." 

—----

An hour later, we walk into the bar, Mick's arm around my shoulder, pressing a kiss to my temple as we walk up to his group of friends. They all greet us, shaking hands and cracking jokes. Only Bob seems to notice my slight limp, looking from me to Mick, the way he holds me close, his fingers playing with mine. When I look at Bob he winks, giving me a small smirk before taking a drink. When we pass by him later, Bob grabs Mick's wrist and pulls him closer. 

"I hope you cleaned up the jet when you were done. I don't want to fail inspection." 

My cheeks heat up, but then Mick is speaking quieter. "At least I made sure not to leave her panties behind, Bob."

My mouth falls open as I look at Bob, whose cheeks are warming, his ears turning pink. He just smirks and nods, lifting his glass to us. "Touché." 

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[toomuchracket]

Mads tonight was so “girlie surprising matty on tour” (well that is what is was) but a tmr universe girlie

birthday party girly, maybe at one of the gigs they did in ireland or paris last year, somewhere not too difficult to get to from london? like you've said to matty that you can't make it because of editorial commitments, but when they get pushed back you sneakily call one of the boys or jamie and they help coordinate you flying over to surprise your bf.

or... the flatmate/dad universe. i'm not sure how this would work logistically, but sneaking in with your daughters (when they're a lot older, like 12 and 10) and not telling matty - mark prob gets you to barricade after matty's nightmare, so he genuinely doesn't expect you to be there, and he gets SO excited when he sees the three of you. like, waves very enthusiastically, blows kisses, copies elena's dance moves, and then once the song's over he jumps down in front of the barrier to properly say hi and kiss all of his girls - also think he'd talk to the people around you like "thank you for letting them in with you. take care of my girls for me, yeah?", bless him. and then when he gets back onstage he's like "my wife and daughters have just surprised me by materialising right at the front. and it's great to have them here, of course, but now i have to worry about being extra cool tonight so i don't embarrass my eldest. actually, dyl, sweetheart, you and i both know there's no point in me trying; just look at uncle george if you need to look at someone cool, yeah? but not uncle adam. obvs", and dylan shakes her head and shouts "you ARE cool, dad!", and matty's like "OH ok. thanks for the validation, munchkin. hell yeah"; he's riding the high of that compliment the whole night lol. after people, security get you and the girls safely up to matty, and they both just launch themselves at him in a hug before you all huddle together and walk out - well, elena breaks the huddle so she can high-five everyone she walks past as if it's her show they just watched. diva lmfao <3

#mads answers asks #matty asks #fluff asks #into the birthday partyverse #dad!matty

[according2thelore]

Hi hi hi. I was rereading through everything that you’ve shared with the es/ls verse (bc why not!?) and I had a thought and I wanted to share bc it’s a very typical me consideration about time travel and I wanted to know if you’ve marinated on it?

So es!boys are not together yet, right? But ls!boys are. So is there an inevitable conversation between late season Dean and Sam’s about not pursuing anything with early-season boys so as to not steal first times?

Because I can kind of hear Sammy be like look Dean, we don’t know if they’re going to keep all of these memories and experiences when we send them back, we don’t know how to send them back yet and this more than anything could change everything!!

If those firsts are given up when es boys are so much younger, and then to possibly even ls version and not each other, will that fuck over the timeline?

And then finally late season Sam and Dean kind of acknowledge that it’s not even the timeline worry that makes them talk about this so much as the jealousy aspect of, these were things that were ours and Dean especially would want to guard and protect that as much possible. Though he kind of has resentment and dislike for his younger self, I don’t think he would dare steal it from him either.

And so at this point, I can see that adding like this immense extra level of tension for the ls!boys, because early season Dean especially won’t give a fuck. Maybe the only argument that would sway him is like the idea of early-season Sam, losing out on the firsts he was supposed to have?? Maybe.

So at some point, it’s like literally a boiler room ready to explode with tension between the four of them and I just like that idea a lot.

Anything like that gone through your head or have you been letting that be the problem for even further in the future boys? Lol.

hi!!!!

omg!!! our minds! the last few posts deal with this exact theme, but i haven't really laid it out. so lets roll out a blanket and lay! this! thing! out!

FOR SURE!!! because while LS!Sam&Dean are very much together, ES!Sam&Dean are not! they haven't had those experiences, they haven't had those moments or those talks or--frankly--that sex.

so while kissing dean is an everyday activity for LS!Sam, he has to consciously catch himself before he kisses ES!Dean good morning, because that poor boy is not used to that!

i actually think LS!Dean would be the first to bring this up out loud (despite his aggravation w his younger self) because he's very conscious of how protective he is of their relationship. i'm sure he just comes out and says it, a "we can't do anything with them." and while LS!Sam agrees, and has already been operating on this rule, he's still gotta throw out the hypotheticals, like maybe they won't even remember this. i knew i was in love with you when i was that young. they already know we're like this, so further damage can even be done? our existence in their lives has altered the future. if they already know this is inevitable--

and LS!Dean very firmly says, "april 19th, 2009. detroit. in that motel with all the hubcaps on the walls. that's when--that's when it happened for me. so."

and before LS!Sam can interrupt (because he absolutely is going to interrupt, holy shit?? the date?? sam remembers the night itself, but dean clearly has marked this out in a calendar in his mind.), dean keeps going, "that date is important to me, so his is going to be important to him. it's probably not going to be in 2009 anymore, given what they know now, but his sam should be the first sam he kisses. it'll...i mean, fuck. it has to be his sam."

it makes sense to me that LS!Dean's consideration of it is primarily emotional/instinctual (this first was important and it was mine), while LS!Sam's protestations are logistical/practical (we can't do this because of the implications for the future, for how this will impact the timeline of our lives). (LS!Dean can of course see the practical, and LS!Sam is NOT immune to ES!Sam watching LS!Dean w hungry, possessive eyes and getting pissed; but primarily, they rationalize differently)

and of course LS!Sam has already implicitly agreed with this, but they make an official Thing about it--no stealing firsts. kisses, fucks, hand jobs, hell, even overlong hugs. none of it.

because even speaking in terms of life events, LS!Dean is 100% sure that he WILL kill himself if he and sam are a thing when sam dies at cold oak. and now that sam thinks about it, if he and dean were together when dean was ripped apart by hellhounds, it would have ruined him beyond recovery. he would've been a shell of a person, carrion for birds.

they don't want to be the thing tipping them over the edge in any concrete way, because if ES!Sam&Dean get together now, they're together through all of it. and that has the real potential to be deadly.

you are incredibly correct about this just adding to the powder keg. because they all want each other so badly! we've established ES!Dean is a yearn machine, and even if he understands, it doesn't make it easier. he needs to be ES!Sam's first only a little more than he wants to choke on LS!Sam's dick until he passes out.

i'm sure LS!Dean has to pull ES!Dean aside like, hey, i will kiss your sam and be the first dean he touches and that's a fucking wake up call. ES!Dean understands the stakes immediately.

so we've got a pin-less grenade of tension sitting between all four of them, and none of them are going to jump on it. it'll kill all of them, or it won't go off, and those are the only two possibilities.

because knowing and wanting are two different things, and they want.

it's a constant tug-of-war of leaning too close, knowing you're doing it, and forcing yourself back. it's a sustained inhale with no exhale, just pressure in your lungs building and building and building.

and i think more than anything this is difficult for the LS!boys because they're literally looking at these younger versions of each other, versions that they loved and can't have, boys they had daydreams and nightmares and sex dreams about. and catching yourself in the reflex of doing something is harder when--finally being allowed to--loving your brother is habit.

the tension and pressure must be torture! but they're also so possessive/crazy about each other that it makes sense they want to protect the divinity/religiosity of their first moments--this is the most rational course of events, despite the fact that they're frothing at the mouth.

yours was so much more eloquently explained and written, and i agree with you 100%! this ask was awesome! i have thought about this so much!

thank you sm for marinating on this w me! we are well-seasoned, i believe. ;)

i loved this ask--thank you again! you picked up on that tension/potential immediately--in awe of your humongous brain!

kissing you on both cheeks! mwah!

-lizzy

#ask box #lizzy answers #ES/LS verse #quietdiscerning

[maybeimamuppet]

i'll be there for christmas III

hello everyone!! ahh i've missed you all so much i hope you've had a lovely day!! merry christmas to all of you who celebrate :)) sorry i didn't quite manage to post this on christmas. turns out making an entire christmas dinner and all the cookies/sweets for four people and trying to spend some time with family is a lot more time consuming than you would think!

anyway i've spent the last. eight straight hours (whoops) hammering this out as my christmas gift to you!! if you don't celebrate then i hope you enjoy anyway and you've had a wonderful december.

this was loosely requested by @ghosthooman who mostly just wanted to see janis pregnant for a change and tbh i did too!! so here's another little sequel chapter for ya. hope you all enjoy!!

tw for

pregnancy and c-section delivery (both as non-graphic as possible)

miscarriage

panic attacks

postpartum anxiety

and as always if i've missed something please let me know. it is 4am rn so it's. quite possible.

anyway!! enjoy!!

—————

"Janis?" Cady calls from the kitchen one day. Janis groans quietly to herself as she stands from their bed and pads down the long hallway and down the stairs.

"Yeah?"

"Are you busy?" her wife asks, looking up at her with a soft smile. Janis returns it and pulls a chair out from the table to sit on.

"Nope," she says. "What's up?"

"We need to have a... um... a conversation," Cady says hesitantly. Janis quirks an eyebrow.

"Are you making me sign another NDA?" she asks. Cady immediately says no, but in such a way that has Janis wondering if she really means it. Cady does have a lot of papers in front of her.

"There'll be no more of those if I can help it. But... we've been married for five years now. My mother has been pressuring me about this for three of them and I can't take it any longer."

"What is it?" Janis asks, reaching a hand across the table to hold Cady's fidgety ones. Cady looks at her with a relieved smile and places her hand in hers.

"My... my family wants to know when we'll have children," she says softly. Janis blinks.

"Children?"

"It's always been the expectation, and I know you said you wanted them previously but I wasn't sure if you still do, and I haven't known what to say but my mother just will not let the topic rest, and I-"

"Cady," Janis interrupts, squeezing her hand with a chuckle. "Breathe. Yeah. I... I still want kids. Especially with you."

"You do?" Cady asks, blinking at her with those huge blue eyes. Janis nods.

"Of course I do," she says. "Do you?"

"Yes," Cady says quietly. "I do."

"Then what's the problem?" Janis asks, scooting her chair closer.

"We're both women, baby, there are some logistical things to figure out," Cady explains with a chuckle.

"I'm not getting pregnant," Janis says immediately. "Ever. You can do anything you want to me except that."

Cady nods. "That's the problem. I... I finally have the job I've dreamed of since I was a child. I've spent my entire life working for this. And as much as I want children, I... I'm not ready to get pregnant and lose that. I'd have to take a leave when they're born, and there's so much that might go wrong that would take me away for even longer. I'm fine taking a long time off if it means getting to spend time with our baby, but... I'm worried about the long term effects carrying a child might have on me. And how they'd affect my ability to work."

"I know," Janis says. "I completely understand. I don't want that for you either."

"Then... what do we do?"

"We could adopt?" Janis proposes.

"Adopt?" Cady asks.

"Babies are exhausting anyway," Janis says. "We could see about getting a kid that's a little older. Someone who really needs a home."

"That sounds lovely," Cady says. "My mother won't be happy."

"Oh my god, is she ever?" Janis says with a bit of a huff. Cady laughs and kisses the corner of her lips.

"You hush, she's gotten much better," she chides.

"I know," Janis chuckles, winding her arms around Cady's neck and kissing her. Cady wraps her arms around her waist and smiles up at her. "We'll figure it out. I'm sure once she meets the kid she'll be fine with it."

"We'll figure it out," Cady echoes.

—-

Unfortunately, there are some things nobody can figure out. They tried for nearly two years, but every foster agency rejected their applications. Every foreign orphanage did too. All of them said the same thing. It wouldn't be fair to allow one child to live in such splendor for a while and then take them back, or while the rest of them are adopted out to normal families. They tried and tried and tried again, but they were shunned at every turn.

"We got rejected again," Cady sighs, plopping on their bed as she hangs up the phone. Janis puts her book down and reaches for her. Cady lies on her stomach with a huff. Janis chuckles and strokes through Cady's auburn hair.

"I think it might be time to call it, Cads," she admits. "I hate to say it, but it's been years and we haven't gotten anywhere."

"Who'd have ever thought you could be too rich to adopt a child?" Cady grumbles.

"I get where they're coming from," Janis says. Cady nods.

"I know. I do too," she says. "...But I really wanted a child."

"I do too," Janis says. "Maybe... maybe it's time to revisit some things."

Cady leans up on her elbows and looks at her with a puzzled expression. "What do you mean?"

"We both want kids," Janis begins, almost not believing the words coming out of her mouth. "Your mom won't get off our backs until we have them anyway. So... why... why don't we just do it?"

"You mean..."

"Let's knock one of us up," Janis shrugs.

"Janis, I still don't want to-"

"Then we'll knock me up," Janis says. Cady gawks at her.

"What? But you said you never-"

"I know," Janis replies, pulling Cady closer. "But... I've been thinking, and it... it kind of sounds like it might not be so bad. Once. I can take nine months of hell if it means a lifetime raising a little munchkin with you."

"Really?" Cady asks with tears brimming in her eyes. "You'd do that?"

"Yeah," Janis nods, stroking Cady's cheek with her thumb. "We're talking about it first. But think about it. We could have a little baby. With your eyes and your smile, and my hair. And my height."

"Hey!" Cady says indignantly. Janis laughs, and Cady eventually does too. They're quiet for a moment before Cady whispers, "A baby."

"And maybe someday things will be different and we can still adopt. But for now... let's... let's have a baby," Janis says. Cady cups her face between her hands and stares into her eyes.

"Let's have a baby."

—————

"I'm home!" Cady calls the next day as she enters from work. She kicks off her shoes and heads down the hall to the living room where Janis is waiting with a series of documents spread on the coffee table and a pen in her hand. Cady freezes in her tracks.

"My turn to make contracts," Janis says with a smirk. Cady hesitates before she sits down. "Miss Heron."

"Miss Heron," Cady echoes with a smile. "What can I do for you?"

"I have some terms. I think we should get them all... on the table, so to speak. And you can bring up anything you have to. I just don't want us arguing or worrying over anything once we've already gone through with everything."

"Good plan," Cady nods, reaching for the documents to read over. They all turn out to be blank, but Janis pulls out a notepad and writes RULES FOR BABBY in capital letters on the top. "What are your terms, Madam?"

"To clarify. I'm getting pregnant," Janis begins. Cady nods, so Janis writes that down. "I am only getting pregnant once. I want a kid with you, and I'm more than willing to do this so we can get there. But I am not doing it more than once."

"That's fine," Cady says. "I think one baby is plenty for us anyway."

Janis writes that down too. "Since I'm carrying them, I get to accept or refuse any procedures I want."

"Like what?" Cady asks.

"Like if I'm feeling really really sick and I think the gestational diabetes test is gonna make me hurl I get to say no or reschedule it if I want to," Janis explains. Cady nods.

"If you're carrying it I suppose that's only fair. But I get an override if we have medical evidence that either you or the baby are in danger," she insists. Janis considers this point and nods.

"Fair enough. Point three, the baby will be vaccinated on the normal schedule once they're born." she says.

"Obviously," Cady responds. "What else?"

"We both have equal say in picking a pediatrician, but if either of us find anything, the smallest thing, that we don't like about them, we're out of there no questions asked and we find someone else."

"Okay," Cady says.

"Names are a two yes thing only. If one of us doesn't like it the kid doesn't get it," Janis continues. Cady nods. "I don't want to find out the sex until they're born."

"No parties?" Cady pouts. Janis shakes her head vehemently.

"No parties."

"We can't even find out just for us?" Cady asks.

"You know your mom is gonna find worm it out of us if we know," Janis says. "I love her, but the idea of being pregnant around her is exhausting enough without her trying to suggest names and buying an entire nursery for them and everything."

"No, you're right," Cady agrees. "Surprise it is, then. What else?"

Janis adds it to the list. "Um... do you have anything?"

"Uh..." Cady hums. "I want it in writing that I get to come to all of your appointments unless you don't want me there for some reason. And... I don't want to use my eggs."

"You don't?" Janis asks in shock, putting her pen down. Cady looks at her lap and shakes her head. "Hey. Time out, come here. Why... why don't you want to use yours?"

Cady moves to sit next to her wife on the couch and leans into her side with a sniffle. "My... I... I just can't, Jay."

"Why?" Janis asks gently as Cady starts to cry. Janis pulls her closer and squishes her cheek against Cady's head.

"I... I love my family," Cady says hoarsely around a thick lump in her throat. "But-but they have done some-some despicable things in the name of money. That-that's in my blood, Janis. I-I-I don't want to... to pass that down."

"Oh, baby," Janis says as Cady dissolves into sobs against her shoulder.

One of Cady's first orders of business when she became co-CEO of Heron Enterprises with her father was completely revamping their ethics. It's been a slow, and expensive, process, but seeing how Janis was treated gave Cady enough ammunition to be able to talk the board into at least paying their employees a living wage, which is a good first step.

"They have, but you haven't," Janis says. "You've done the opposite, if anything. Even after being raised by your father, you've changed everything. You've basically changed the way the world works, baby. That's in your blood too. That's in you. Just because we use your eggs doesn't mean I'm gonna pop out the next Elon Musk."

"Do not mention that name in this house," Cady growls, wiping her nose with a sniffle. Janis laughs and wipes her tears for her.

"Noted. Should I add that to the list?" she hums. That gets a laugh from her wife.

"Maybe," she hums haughtily. "You... you really want to use mine? You're not worried?"

"Not in the slightest," Janis replies quietly. "Having my own kid would be boring anyway."

Cady laughs again. "I... I guess so."

"I know so," Janis says. "Anything else you want to add?"

"We're both taking off of work two months before and after you're due, at least. I do all the actual work on the nursery, but you can help pick designs and things. No visitors in person for the first month, and we avoid sharing their face in the media as much as we can."

"All good," Janis nods, adding them to the list.

"And no horseback riding lessons when they're old enough for them unless they absolutely beg for them."

"Um... okay," Janis chuckles, knowing her wife's horse phobia still runs deep. Cady hugs her left arm as Janis continues writing.

"Do you have anything else?" she asks. She feels Janis tense beneath her, and she frowns. "What?"

"I want a home birth."

"Absolutely not," Cady says immediately.

"I knew you'd say that," Janis sighs.

"Of course I would! Janis, do you have any idea the number of things that can go wrong during childbirth? Hemorrhaging and-and you could bleed out, you-you-you could die, Jay! And the baby, what if the cord is around their neck, or-or they get stuck? And you could tear, or get hurt otherwise, and we might not be able to get you to the hospital in time-"

"Hey," Janis interrupts. "Stop catastrophizing before I even have the kid in me, hm?"

"Janis, it's so dangerous! I won't allow it," Cady insists.

"It's not any more dangerous than it would be in a hospital," Janis says gently, squeezing Cady's hand. "I'm healthy and... a good size. If we go through with this, the chances of anything going wrong are incredibly slim. I know they're there," Janis continues, cutting Cady off as she was about to interrupt. Cady deflates back against her side with a small huff. "Unless the pregnancy turns out to be high risk for whatever reason, I want it to be here."

"But why?" Cady pleads desperately.

"Because I am going to be in an incredible amount of pain and discomfort no matter what we do, and I don't want to be somewhere I've never been before that smells like disinfectant and bodily fluids while I pop a whole kid out of my body. I trust my body to know what it needs, and I trust you to keep me and the baby safe during it. I want to be able to choose what happens during the process. I want you to be able to be involved as much as you want. We won't get that in a hospital."

Cady is quiet for a long time. "I just don't want you to be in pain."

"I'll still be in pain in a hospital," Janis responds quietly, resting her head against Cady's. "But it's worth it."

Cady cuddles a little bit closer. "We'll do what you want."

"Thank you."

"But," Cady says, and Janis sighs. "If... if it comes down to it, heaven forbid. I'm... I'm picking you over the baby."

"If we ever get there, I trust you to make whatever decisions need to be made," Janis responds just as quietly. "I'll make plans for everything I can. And if it's a situation like that I'll never hold anything you choose to do against you."

Cady nods with a sniffle. "I'm sorry. This should be happy."

"It should be important, and it is," Janis says. "We... we're doing the right thing."

Cady nods. "For us."

"For us," Janis echoes. She tears the list of rules off her notepad and hands it to Cady. "Can you... make this legal, however the hell you do that?"

"'Rules for babby' as the title and all?" Cady says with a watery giggle.

"I'll settle for nothing less," Janis insists. Cady rolls her eyes lovingly and rests her head on Janis' lap.

"You're strange."

"So are you," Janis echoes, gently tapping the tip of her nose. "And we'll have a strange little munchkin before too long."

"Hopefully," Cady sighs.

"We will," Janis insists again. Cady smiles wistfully.

A strange little munchkin.

—————

Cady absolutely insists on hunting down a decent sperm donor for them. Janis would've been perfectly content with an anonymous one so long as they didn't have any genetic conditions, but with everything else going on, she decided this was not the hill to die on.

Cady returned after about six months with one that had as clean a bill of health they could hope for, similar ancestral roots to Janis, and dark hair and eyes almost the same shade as hers. Janis just blinked when she was confronted with all the information and nodded.

Then came time to retrieve Cady's eggs. Janis decided spontaneously that she had changed her mind several times over, watching her poor, needle-phobic wife cry anxiously before her daily shots. Hormones, then the release, and the actual retrieval process itself isn't painless either.

"It'll be worse for you, and you said you'd do it," Cady always sniffled after the rounds were done for the day. "I can handle this."

Before long, they had everything they needed, and it was time.

—-

"You lot have some strong genes," the doctor says as a greeting. "You have seven impressive quality embryos and more that aren't quite so strong. Your chances of a healthy little one are much higher than most we see in here."

Cady smiles down at Janis and squeezes her hand. Janis squeezes back. "We're not putting seven in."

"No, no, heavens no," the doctor laughs immediately. She washes her hands and rolls over a stool to sit on while they talk. "I wouldn't recommend more than three at the absolute most."

"How many do you recommend?" Cady asks.

"For you in particular I would say two. Without wanting to dumb things down, that... doubles your chances of successful implantation. Of course, one alone could also always implant too. I'd just prefer not to see you back so soon if we can help it. And you're strong and healthy, your body can handle two embryos at once until they sort themselves out."

"Two," Janis says. "And what if both... both stick?"

"Then you have twins, and we can discuss what you'd like to do should that happen," the doctor says with a small shrug of her shoulders. "But again, that could also happen with one. Just a matter of fraternal versus identical. Your chances of twins with two embryos aren't all that much higher."

Cady and Janis look anxiously at each other. Twins was a bit more than they bargained for, but... they both have always wanted at least two. And like the doctor says, the chances are low.

"It's up to you, my love," Cady says quietly. Janis has been staring silently at the ceiling since she asked her question, mulling over the realities that are setting in now.

"Do two," she says with a strange lump in her throat, after about five minutes of pure silence.

"Are you sure?" Cady asks. "There's no going back from here."

Janis squeezes her hand and nods. "I'm sure."

The doctor nods and the clinic prepares two embryos. They're implanted a week later.

"And you are now pregnant until proven otherwise, congratulations," the doctor says. Cady tackles her wife in a hug as soon as it's safe to.

"I love you," she says softly.

"I love you too," Janis responds.

—————

It's an anxious few weeks from there. Janis goes from delighted to terrified roughly every thirty seconds, and Cady isn't faring much better.

"What if it didn't work?" she asks anxiously, pacing around their bedroom in the middle of the night. "Or what if it went wrong and damaged your uterus? Or-"

"Caddy," Janis grumbles sleepily from bed. "It's gonna be fine."

"You don't know that! What if you have to get more implanted? You looked so uncomfortable," Cady hums, wringing her hands in front of her.

"I'm gonna be uncomfortable either way. If we lose these then... we'll take some time to process and go from there," Janis says.

"But-"

"Baby," Janis sighs, sitting up and turning on the light. Cady pauses and squints a little bit as she looks at her wife. "Breathe, please. You're stressing me out."

"Sorry," Cady whispers, taking a few deep breaths. "I'm... I'm just worried."

"No shit?" Janis asks with a chuckle. Cady rolls her eyes in her general direction and starts pacing again, albeit much slower. "It's gonna be okay."

"But what if it isn't? What if- what if we're making some terrible mistake? What if we're not ready?"

"Baby, you're just... you... this is just what happened on our wedding day, okay? Even though it was what we both wanted and we knew it would all turn out, we both had cold feet until we were at the end of that aisle holding hands. I'm sure we'll have a few learning curves and whatnot. But... I'm really excited, too."

Cady pauses and looks at her again. She gives Janis a smile warm enough to melt her heart. "I am too."

Janis smiles back. "Yeah?"

Cady nods. "Yeah."

"Come to bed," Janis says, beckoning her over with outstretched arms. Cady sinks into them willingly and nuzzles in close. Janis flips the light back off. They lie together peacefully in the dark for a long, long time.

Janis thinks Cady's finally gone to sleep until she feels her inhale a little bit more heavily and Cady quietly asks, "You're not scared?"

"Are you kidding? Of course I am. I'm fucking terrified," Janis chuckles. "But I'm... not alone."

Cady leans up a little bit and grabs Janis' face between her hands. They have to get quite close to be able to see each other, but she leans in close enough that Janis can see a few vague details of her face in the darkness. "Never. You're never gonna be alone."

Janis smiles and rests a hand over Cady's. "Neither are you."

————-

It's an agonizing wait to find out whether their embryos stuck. It's barely two weeks, but they still don't even make it that long. Cady got so wound up that Janis ended up doing a few tests just to assuage her, but Cady was also too anxious to even look at them. Janis sighed and tucked them away without checking them for the doctors to see the hormone progression.

But, two weeks finally comes, and their tests are almost sure to be accurate at this point. They're both somehow more nervous this time. It feels much more official, even though they're just hanging out in the restroom together while the test sits waiting on the counter.

The timer goes off, and Janis and Cady lock eyes.

"You ready?" Cady asks, taking Janis' hand. Janis takes a deep breath and grabs the test with her free hand. Cady leans into her side, pressing against her arm so she can see the results too.

"It's positive," Janis whispers, biting her lip as delighted tears flow down her face.

"Pos- oh my god!" Cady squeals. She pitches herself at her wife and grabs her face, kissing all over it. Janis laughs and gently grabs Cady's waist to pull her back. "Baby, you're pregnant."

"I'm pregnant," Janis whispers before she gives a shocked laugh. "Holy shit."

"We're having a baby!" Cady says happily. Janis catches her when she throws herself at her again and hugs her so tightly, squeezing her close and resting her chin on her shoulder with a deep sigh.

"What if it's twins?" she whispers.

"Oh my god, can you imagine?" Cady chuckles.

—————

Janis can count on one hand the amount of times her feet touch the floor over the next few weeks. Cady either dotes on her hand and foot herself or gets hired help to do it, much to Janis' dismay. Short of going to the bathroom or walking herself to bed, she's treated like a princess in a tower.

It's nice for the first week or so, but after another, things get old. "Cads, I can get my own grapes. They're grapes."

"You're meant to be resting," Cady protests.

"I am! I haven't done anything but rest for three weeks," Janis huffs. "I'm meant to be exercising and stuff, too."

"Lightly," Cady retaliates.

"I haven't even been able to do that," Janis grumbles. "I need to be able to do a few things for myself or I'm gonna go crazy."

Cady sighs. "I'm sorry."

Janis leans against the counter. "It's okay. Just channel your worry in another direction, please."

"I will," Cady promises. "I'll stop chasing you back to the couch, at least."

Janis comes up behind her and kisses the side of her neck. "Thank you."

"I'm getting these grapes for you, though."

"Fiiiine."

—————

The next few weeks go much smoother. They still have a few small arguments, barely enough to even be called such, but Janis is feeling much better at finally being allowed to move around. She actually spent a whole day refusing to sit down just to make up for it all. Cady had a few things to say about that. They spend their time settling into their new rhythm, having blood work done to confirm Janis is actually officially for-reals pregnant, and relishing in the early days together.

Until one day.

"Caddy?!"

Cady goes running into the bathroom when she hears Janis' panicked yell. Janis jumps a bit when she slams the door open and looks at Cady with anxious tears brimming in her eyes.

"I'm bleeding," she says quietly. "Like, a lot."

Cady looks a little closer. Janis is, indeed, bleeding a fair bit. They'd been told a bit of spotting is normal, but this seems like... more. "Jesus, honey..."

"I think I'm miscarrying," Janis chokes. Cady shakes her head, both in denial and to clear it.

"Don't say that. Not yet. Let's get you cleaned up and go to the hospital," she whispers through her own tears. Her mind went there immediately, and she's almost positive Janis' words are true. But she can't let herself believe that yet. Can't let herself believe they've lost their baby.

She helps Janis get herself situated and into the car. Janis is quiet the entire drive to the hospital. She doesn't cry, she doesn't speak. She barely moves.

Cady bursts into tears halfway there. Janis looks at her and gently takes her hand off the wheel. Cady sniffs and drives with the other. "I'm so sorry, honey."

"For what? It's not your fault," Janis murmurs, holding Cady's hand to her heart and kissing her fingertips.

"I barely let-let you move for three weeks, you've only gotten two to-to really feel like you're pregnant and-and now we're losing them," Cady sobs.

"You were just trying to keep me safe," Janis comforts.

"Yeah, fat lot of good that did," Cady huffs through her tears. "Does it hurt?"

Janis shakes her head. "It's not... comfortable. But finding the blood was a surprise, I'm not hurting or anything."

"Good," Cady says. She takes a breath in vain and trills her lips. Janis squeezes her hand.

"It'll be okay."

"How-how are you so calm?" Cady murmurs.

"Panicking now won't do anything. Might make it worse, actually. And I'm worried about you," Janis shrugs. "There's... always a chance they're okay and this is just a weird thing."

A low chance, Cady insists in her head, but she doesn't say it out loud. "What if it's not?"

"Then we'll figure that out when we find out."

"...You're not really okay, are you?"

Janis' lip quivers and she chokes out, "Not even a little."

-

Cady pulls into the hospital parking lot and pays an amount of money Janis would've balked at had she not been married to a billionaire for seven years for a spot. People stare at them and point as Cady rushes up to the counter and Janis trails slowly behind her. Neither of them care.

"I think my wife is having a miscarriage," Cady pants, trying not to break down in front of the poor hospital receptionist. "She's almost eight weeks pregnant and she's bleeding a lot, I-I'll pay whatever it takes for her to be seen as soon as possible, we-we just need to know-"

The receptionist passes over a box of tissues and pages a doctor. Luckily, they wouldn't have had to wait anyway. They're called back to a small room and a curtain is tugged shut around an examination table to make it even smaller. Cady grips Janis' hand hard enough to nearly break both their fingers, but Janis doesn't even so much as breathe differently, let alone mention it.

A nurse comes in with a mobile ultrasound cart. Cady can't hold back more tears. They were supposed to have their first real ultrasound next week, to see their baby for the first time and make sure they were growing properly. Now they're having one to make sure there's even a baby at all.

They both wait with bated breath as the wand shifts every which way and the nurse frowns at the screen. Cady looks down to see Janis' fingers on her free hand are crossed tightly. She does the same.

"You're not having a miscarriage," the nurse says after what feels like a year, but can't have been more than five minutes. Janis and Cady both let out relieved sobs.

"They're okay?" Janis chokes. "You swear?"

"I swear. Your babies are both fine."

"Our what now?" Cady asks, suddenly very much not crying. Janis freezes beneath her.

"They're both kickin'. Not literally, of course, they don't really have legs yet. But their heartbeats both look steady, and they're charting properly for how far along you are."

"Both?" Janis echoes. "There's-"

"Oh my god, did you not know?" the nurse gasps. "I'm so sorry, I thought you had found out already! Um, you're having twins! Congratulations!"

"Twins?" Cady whimpers in delight. She looks down at Janis. Janis looks back. "They both stuck?"

"They sure did," the nurse chuckles. She turns the screen around so they can see, and sure enough, there's two little black orbs floating in grey static. "You kinda got the Cadillac of twin pregnancies, here. They each have their own placenta and amniotic sac, so they're the least likely to have any complications and things like that. And it means they're almost definitely fraternal. There's a small chance they're identical, but with you having had two embryos implanted and everything, all the signs would point to you having fraternal twins."

"And they're both healthy? I swear if something is wrong with them I will shut this hospital down so fast-"

"Caddy," Janis chuckles. "She knows what she's doing."

"You can see for yourselves. Let me zoom in a bit," the nurse says. She does, and Cady and Janis both look to see what she's doing. "This little blob thing here is baby A's heart, you can see how strong and steady it is. Oh, here."

She fiddles with the machine for a second, and suddenly an echoey pulsing noise can be heard in time with the rapid pulsing on the screen.

"That's their heartbeat?" Cady whispers, quietly sobbing again. The nurse nods with a huge smile on her face.

"Man, I thought I was gonna have to do the sad part of my job today, but I get to do the best part," she says to herself. "Let me find B for you, too."

They wait while she shifts a little bit, and then they watch the other blob's heart and listen to its steady beating for a long time. "Congratulations. I'll go get you all the boring pamphlets and stuff about twins."

"Thank you," Janis chuckles and sniffles at the same time. She wipes her eyes and leans back on the table. Cady watches as she bursts into hysterical laughter, and she can't help but join in.

"What's so funny?" she asks when they've calmed down a bit.

"I don't know," Janis giggles. "We just went from thinking we didn't have any babies to having two, my nerves are totally shot."

"Yeah, mine too," Cady agrees with a smile. "Twins."

Janis stops giggling suddenly, looking at Cady with a remarkably sober expression. "Do... are you... are you okay with twins? Do you want two?"

Cady squeezes her hand for the umpteenth time since they got to the hospital. "I was afraid of it when we put two in."

Janis just blinks at her, with more tension in her body than Cady's ever seen a human hold. Including herself, and that's saying something.

"But now that I know," she continues. "I've never wanted anything more."

Janis smiles. Cady smiles back and bends down to kiss her.

That's how the nurse finds them, so she just quietly leaves the pamphlets and ultrasound photos on the table next to them and ducks back out of the room. Janis is barely in the realm of reality enough to break away from her wife long enough to say, "Thank you."

"You're welcome," the nurse responds, shutting the door behind her.

"Let's go home," Cady whispers against Janis' lips. Janis nods and gives her one last good smooch.

———

"You should still lie down, baby. I know they're healthy, but you've still had a stressful day," Cady says as Janis enters their large house, both of them heaving a sigh of relief.

"...Will you come too?" Janis mumbles, like a small child asking for a hug from their parents. Cady chuckles.

"Of course. Let me get settled, I'll be right there."

Janis nods contently and pads off to the bedroom. Cady grabs her work laptop from the study and a snack for them from the kitchen before she follows her.

Janis is curled up under the covers in their huge bed when she enters, remote in her hand and browsing on the TV for something good to watch. She hesitates on Tangled for a minute before she pulls a face and moves away from princess movies.

Cady swoops in next to her and kisses her cheek. Janis squeals in surprise as Cady gently pushes her backwards onto the bed and pins her down. Cady hovers on her elbows so she doesn't put any pressure on Janis' stomach before she leans down and kisses her soundly. Janis hums in surprise, but she quickly winds a hand into Cady's hair and tilts her head to the side to kiss her back.

"I love you," Cady whispers between long kisses. "The gorgeous mother of my babies."

"Plural," Janis whispers back.

"Thank you," Cady murmurs against her lips. "For doing this."

"You're welcome," Janis chuckles. "But this does mean you're probably gonna have to take a little more time off work than we planned."

"I am anyway, whether something happens or not. Three months both ways, at least," Cady says immediately.

Janis frowns in confusion. "But your dad-"

"Is my boss. If he gets mad at me for taking time off to care for his daughter-in-law and grandbabies he can suck eggs."

Janis laughs and twists little pieces of Cady's hair together. "But you love your work."

"I love you more," Cady says with a shrug. "You're pregnant with twins, darling, it's going to take a fair bit out of you. I want to spoil you as much as I can throughout this. And if that means taking some time off earlier than I need to or working from home, then... so be it."

"Such a devoted mama," Janis grins. Cady pulls back a bit and looks into her eyes. "Baby, why are you crying?"

"I'm gonna be a mama," Cady sobs quietly.

"Yeah," Janis chuckles, reaching up to wipe her tears away. "Did you just notice?"

"No, it's just... it's the first time we've said it," Cady laughs with a sniffle. "We're going to be mamas, Jay."

"We are," Janis agrees.

Cady slides down a bit and gently tugs Janis' shirt up. Janis tips up on her elbows to look at her confusedly. Cady doesn't give her any response before she leans in and carefully presses kisses all over her tummy.

"That tickles," Janis laughs, squirming under the pressure of her wife's lips.

"I'm kissing my babies, it's not my fault they're in you," Cady retaliates, pressing another just above her belly button.

"It kinda is, though," Janis responds. "Dork."

"Hmph," Cady hums, continuing her onslaught of kisses. Janis simply chuckles and accepts her fate.

————-

"Janis!" Cady says, eagerly running into the room about a month later. Janis jumps so hard she nearly falls out of bed.

"What happened? What's the matter?" she asks frantically. Cady is panting like she just ran a marathon and brandishes her phone.

"Guess what?"

"What?" Janis asks desperately, rolling out of bed and going over to her wife.

"The babies are the size of figs!" Cady squeals like this is the most exciting news in the world. Janis pauses.

"Figs?"

"Uhhuh! Look," Cady says, showing Janis an image on her phone. Janis looks at the screen and chuckles.

"I thought someone died," she sighs in relief. "How big even is a fig?"

"Uh... this one says they're as big as brussels sprouts," Cady offers, switching to another app and allowing Janis to see she has about twelve. "And this is what they really look like, aren't they cute? They have little legs now! And it says they're already kicking but you probably won't feel it for a few more weeks."

Janis tilts her head as she looks at the graphic of the little fetus on Cady's phone screen. She thinks it looks a little more like some kind of alien shrimp creature, but she's just glad Cady's excited. "Does it say anything about when I'll stop vomiting every day?"

"Well, you're out of the first trimester after next week, so hopefully then," Cady says, gently cupping Janis' cheek. "I'm sorry you've been so sick."

Janis shrugs. "Two little goblins in there pushing on my insides. Kinda makes sense."

Cady giggles. "Hey, those are our little goblins."

"And they're gonna be goblins until they're about eighteen," Janis snorts.

"Cute goblins, though."

"They better be. Least they can do," Janis replies.

Cady laughs again. Her smile gradually softens and she leaves her hand cupping Janis' cheek. Their conversation fades for a short moment before she murmurs, "You're so beautiful."

Janis feels herself blush and tries to look away. Cady follows her gaze and shifts her hand to rest on the small, but steadily growing, baby bump.

"And this is the cutest thing I've ever seen in my life."

"Stop it," Janis whines. "I'm too hormonal for this."

Cady giggles and shakes her head. "Hm-mm. I'm gonna tell you every day. You're getting that glow, and seeing you with this little tummy makes me so happy. And I know you're gonna be the most amazing, beautiful mother."

"Nah," Janis hums, pulling Cady in closer and pressing her lips gently against the curve of her jaw. "You are."

"No way," Cady scoffs. "You're the one doing all the work. You've got all the chemicals and hormones in there making you even prettier than you were before."

"I really am gonna start crying if you keep this up," Janis warns. Cady laughs and fiddles with the ends of her hair as Janis rests her head on her shoulder.

"Fine. Then can I talk to the sprouts?"

"The sprouts?"

"The babies," Cady says like it's obvious.

"Oh," Janis laughs. "Um... sure. I don't know if they can hear you yet, but-"

"I don't care, it's a good habit to start forming," Cady says immediately.

Janis sighs lovingly and goes to lie back down. She lies on her side, and Cady lies facing her, scooting close enough that her lips brush against Janis' tummy. Janis smiles and runs her nails gently through the roots of her hair. Cady gives the babies a proper greeting, and explains her entire side of the family. She tells them how she and Janis met, and about what dating her was like, how their wedding went, and how excited they were when they found out about them.

Janis smiles lovingly the whole time, chuckling occasionally at the seriousness with which Cady is talking to their unborn children that may or may not actually have ears.

Cady ends her softly spoken tirade with, "And I know you have a lot more growing yet to do, and I want you to do that. But your mother and I are so, so, so excited to meet you. You're going to be the most perfect babies ever. And we're gonna love you so much. We already do."

Janis sniffles, prompting Cady to look up at her. Cady wiggles so she's actually at her eye level and leans in to give Janis a comforting kiss. Janis whispers, "I love you."

"I love you so much," Cady echoes. "All three of you."

—————

"I'm worried Maddie's going to faint," Cady says anxiously as they get ready for her family's Fourth of July celebration. Janis laughs from the bedroom where she's finishing getting dressed.

"She might," she agrees. Madeleine always at least gets teary when one of her sisters-in-law announces a pregnancy. Twins might be too much for her. "Callum's still strong, he'll catch her."

"Maybe I'll stand behind her," Cady says, fussing over her lipstick. Janis enters the restroom behind her, and they lock eyes in the mirror. Cady can't help the wide smile that splits across her face.

"What?" Janis asks, sheepishly adjusting her overalls over her red shirt.

"Nothing," Cady replies.

"What?" Janis insists with a whine. She's gotten much fussier during her pregnancy, which Cady is weirdly delighted by. It's almost endearing, and she's more than happy to assuage whatever is plaguing her sweet wife in the moment.

"You're just so cute. The overalls and the belly. I can't take you," Cady giggles, turning around to face her. She rests a hand on either side of her wife's tummy and leans in for a kiss. She has to lean a little further every week. Janis happily kisses her back.

"You messed up your lipstick again," Janis whispers when they break apart to breathe.

"Worth it," Cady breathes back before leaning in again.

—-

Not all of Cady's siblings made it to the celebration. Christmas is a priority for the family, but most often they spend other holidays scattered around the world with various other loved ones. And, though she'd never admit it, her favorites did make it. Clark is here, Callum and Madeleine are here with their four children, and Clifton and Hannah with their two daughters.

Janis stands behind Cady to hide her belly while everyone mills around on one of the docks waiting for burgers and hot dogs to be grilled. One of the house chefs is making them, but Cady's dad is thoroughly supervising as though he has any idea what he's doing.

Janis gently winds her arms around Cady's shoulders and kisses her neck. She shifts her lips higher and whispers, "You ready?"

"Are you? Everyone's gonna want to touch your belly, are you okay with that? I'll fight them off," Cady whispers back. Janis chuckles and kisses her jaw.

"No, it's okay. I figured they would, I can handle it for a while," she replies.

"Remember the signals. If you change your mind. I'll throw someone in the lake if I have to," Cady says insistently.

"Even your mom?"

"Especially my mom."

"Damn. You're committed," Janis chuckles.

Cady shrugs and gently leans back against her. "I'm kind of surprised nobody's noticed yet."

"We're being totally inconspicuous," Janis chuckles sarcastically. "I'd like to tell them before I start eating for three so I don't get stared at, though."

Cady laughs out loud at that. A few of her family members look at her and she freezes, but they just smile and return back to whatever they were doing. "You'll be fine. Should we just do it now?"

Janis shrugs. "Up to you."

Cady kisses her for strength and takes a deep breath. "Hey, uh..."

"Did you say something, dear?" Cady's mother asks. "Speak up."

"Yeah, but this is kind of for everybody to hear. We have a little surprise," Cady says. Her mother helpfully takes over.

"Everyone! Gather 'round, please, Cadence has something for us," she yells. Everyone except the chef puts down what they were doing and circles around them.

"What is it? Do we get presents?" the youngest child, Zacharias, asks eagerly. Cady laughs and reaches to ruffle his hair.

"Not this time, kiddo, sorry," she says apologetically. Zach pulls a small face and seems visibly disappointed, but he cheers up when his big brother Lennox wraps an arm around his shoulders and rubs his knuckles through his hair.

"Ow, Lenny!" he says eventually.

"Boys, settle down," Madeleine scolds gently. "What is it, Cades?"

Cady freezes. She's not even the pregnant one, and she can't get the words out. Janis frowns in concern for a moment and gives her a little squeeze.

"We're pregnant," Cady says hastily. "Well, mostly her. But, yeah."

Pandemonium is not a strong enough word for what breaks out. Confused children get shoved out of the way by older siblings and parents screaming in excitement, and Cady and Janis are wrapped in more arms than they can count within seconds.

"Oh my god, congratulations! My little Cady's all grown up!" Madeleine says around happy tears. "Having a baby of her own, I can't believe it!"

Janis smiles widely. "About that."

Madeleine snaps to look at her, and her eyes widen. "No." Janis nods, her smile growing. Madeleine screams in delight and runs in to hug her alone. "Twins?!"

"Triplets," Janis replies. That gets her. Madeleine collapses in her arms, and she barely has the strength to pass her to Callum. "Kidding. Yeah, just twins."

"Congratulations," Callum says, tapping Madeleine's cheeks as he tries to revive her. "And thanks for breaking my wife."

"You're very welcome," Janis replies with a mischievous smile. Cady gently whacks her arm. "Hey!"

"You stinker," Cady giggles. She squeaks as her parents both tackle her in a hug. She looks at Janis with eyes wide as saucers. You'd think she'd just been bitten by a shark.

"Congratulations, dear," her dad says. "Twins?"

Cady nods. "Twins."

"Why aren't you carrying them?" her mother asks.

"Because Janis wanted to," Cady responds.

"Are you planning on more?"

"Not at the moment."

"When is she due?" her mother asks.

"December," Janis replies. "But they'll probably be early, so we don't really know."

"Are you planning on breastfeeding?"

"Mother! Enough with the questions, please," Cady pleads. "Please just be happy for us, let us do this the way we need to."

Her mother humphs a little bit, but she does smile and squeeze her the slightest bit. Cady relaxes ever so slightly into it. Janis watches with a proud smile, and jumps when she's beckoned over to join the hug. "Oh, but you must let me throw you a baby shower."

"A small one," Cady says. "Like, brunch group small."

"Oh, bah," her mother says. "You're no fun."

"Mother," Cady says warningly.

"Fine, fine. No more than thirty people. Janis, I'll need contact information for your people so I can get things arranged," she says.

"Of course," Janis chuckles. "You'll finally get to see Damian again."

Damian and Cady's mother had met for the first time at their wedding and, somehow, got on like a house on fire. Apparently they still text regularly with party planning tips and quiche recipes, and have semi-regular coffee dates.

"Oh, that darling," Cady's mother says eagerly. "I can't wait. Congratulations again, loves."

"Thanks mom," Cady says with a smile. Her mother smiles back and kisses her cheek before she goes on to join in the suddenly much more lively celebrations.

"Surprised she hasn't already insisted on doing the nursery," Janis hums as she wraps Cady in the closest thing to a hug they can manage around her belly. Cady laughs.

"She only just found out, she's got to have enough time to come up with a theme and things," she replies. Janis laughs with her.

"Do you have any theme ideas?"

"Do you even want a themed nursery?" Cady retaliates, looking up at her with genuine interest. Janis considers this quite valid point.

"...Depends on the theme."

"Circus?" Cady suggests. Janis looks at her incredulously.

"I'm terrified that that was your first suggestion," she says. Cady laughs.

"I wasn't really serious," she says, saving herself in the eyes of her wife. "Dinosaurs?"

"Dinos might be cute," Janis agrees with a nod. She herself absolutely loved dinosaurs as a kid. It's definitely something to consider. "What about, like, just animals? Or safari or something."

"Oh, that would be adorable," Cady coos.

"Yo, mamas! Come eat," Clark hollers at them, interrupting their discussion. They both jump a bit and laugh as they head to join the line for cheeseburgers and hot dogs.

"We'll figure it out," Janis says as she sees the gears still clunking around in Cady's head.

"I know," Cady says. "I just like knowing things ahead of time."

"I know you do," Janis chuckles. "We have plenty of time. I'm only eighteen weeks."

"Almost nineteen. We're nearly halfway through, and the babies will probably be early, there's so much to do-" Cady says, getting progressively more frantic.

"Caddy," Janis interrupts, putting down both their plates so she can take and squeeze Cady's hands. "It's gonna be fine, okay? The babies aren't even gonna be in the nursery for a few months. They could come tomorrow and we'd be able to figure it out. Even if they come early, they'll be okay with a nursery that isn't perfect."

"They'd better not come tomorrow, you're not past the viability point yet," Cady mumbles. Janis laughs.

"There's my girl."

Cady smiles and tucks herself into her wife for a quick hug. She takes a detour when she pulls back to kiss Janis' belly, and then leans up to kiss Janis too. She bats Janis' hands away from picking her plate back up, and piles it high with all the delicious sides and carries it to the table on her behalf.

"Thanks," Janis says when she sits down next to her. Cady just nods and takes her hand under the table. Janis gives her a squeeze, and Cady squeezes back.

They stay like that throughout the meal, absentmindedly eating with their free hands and making casual conversation with relatives. Zach is very excited now that he knows he's getting two new little cousins soon and lovingly pesters his still-recovering mother with lots of questions about where babies come from and things of that sort. Janis snorts into her potato salad when he incredulously asks, "They're gonna come out her vagina?!"

Everyone else returns to their various activities once the meal is done and digested. Kids leap into the lake, parents stand anxiously watching from the shore or join in themselves. Cady's parents go inside for a nap, and Cady and Janis spread out a blanket on the sand and lie down together. Cady leans in and presses her lips against the top of Janis' rounding tummy a few times before she nuzzles in a little higher. Janis wraps her arm around her and holds her close, kissing the side of her nose as Cady also drifts off for a quick little cat nap in the sand.

Janis smiles to herself as she rests her head down against her other arm and watches her wife sleep.

God, I hope they look like you.

—————-

The next morning, Janis gets the wits scared out of her by Cady sitting bolt upright in bed next to her with a quite dramatic gasp.

"Jesus, what happened?" Janis gasps herself. Cady turns to look at her with a stricken look.

"We forgot to tell Damian!"

"Oh," Janis sighs in relief. "Don't do that, I thought you were having a heart attack or something."

"Oh. Sorry," Cady says sheepishly. "I can't believe we forgot to tell him, though!"

Janis chuckles and pulls her wife back against her. "Cads, it's not a big deal. We only told your family yesterday."

"But we told yours a week ago, we should've told him then!"

"Let's just do it now, hm?" Janis offers. Cady nods. "He's gonna scream, watch out for your ears."

"Just turn the volume down," Cady says. Janis pulls her phone out and texts Damian asking if he's available for a Facetime. She grabs one of her positive tests from her nightstand drawer and holds it, figuring that'll be the simplest way to get him to understand.

"Hey babes," Damian greets when the call connects. "Ugh, look at those pretty faces."

"Hi Damian," Cady greets with a giggle.

"Angel, how are you?! It's been too long," Damian says.

"It has! You have to come up to see us sometime soon. I can't believe it's already been a month, usually we can't even make it a week!"

"I know, I know, I'm sorry. My show schedule has been crazy," Damian says. He'd been cast in a production of The Wedding Singer and unfortunately had to devote too much time to that to be able to visit them on their normal schedule. "I miss you guys."

"We miss you too," Cady says. Janis nods.

"You guys should come see the show!" Damian offers. They usually do, but Janis wasn't up for the traveling, being so sick most days.

"We want to," Janis says apologetically. "I don't think we'll be able to this time. But we're cheering you on in spirit, baby boo."

"Thanks," Damian says, striking a remarkably homosexual pose. Cady and Janis both laugh. "Bummer you guys can't make it."

"Yeah, we're sorry," Cady says. "I'm sure you're great, though. And it'll be more than worth it."

"Worth it? What do you mean? If you guys can't come you can't come, it's no... big..."

Janis held up the test in the middle of him speaking, and they watch him take a few seconds to process before they have to mute him entirely to save any scrap of their hearing. When they see his mouth start to move in recognizable shapes again, they turn the sound back on.

"-baby! Holy shit, congratulations! I can't believe it! A baby! I'm gonna be an uncle!"

"It's twins," Cady says. Janis has to mute her phone again. Cady recognizes his lip movements partway through. "No, we're not fucking with you, we're really having twins."

It's a solid ten minutes before they can unmute him this time.

"My mom wants your help throwing her baby shower, she'll be in touch about that soon," Cady says when he's gone from the screaming phase to the hysterical sobbing phase.

"Of course! Oh my god, I'm gonna be a twuncle!" he sobs.

"No. New word," Janis says immediately.

"Twinkle."

"No."

"You have plenty of time to think of something tolerable," Cady interrupts. "And we'll be sure to bring them along to your next show. Well, once they're old enough."

"Yes! Oh my god, I can't wait. Okay, I have to go now or I'm gonna be late for work. I love you both and those little babies blossoming in your uterus very much. Have a wonderful life."

"Bye, weirdo," Janis snorts, hanging up on him and dropping the phone somewhere to be lost in the duvet. "There. Everyone is told."

"That's a relief."

—————

"Caddy!"

Cady goes tearing through the house and crashing into the room when she hears Janis yell for her. It sounds panicked. We can't be going through this again. They were fine the first time. Not again. "What happened?! What's the matter, are you bleeding again?! What's wrong?!"

"No, no, come here!" Janis insists eagerly. Cady pauses and reassesses when she sees her wife is actually... laughing. No bleeding, then.

Confused, Cady heads over to her wife. Janis grabs her hand and rests it right on the front of her belly.

"Feel," she says.

"Feel what?" Cady asks.

"Just keep your hand there," Janis says. Cady frowns at Janis' belly, but obediently keeps her hand where it was placed. After about thirty seconds, there's a little bump right against her palm. Cady screams and jerks her hand away before she realizes what it was and quickly puts it back.

"Oh my god! They're kicking!" she squeals.

"They're kicking," Janis agrees, laughing and crying at the same time.

"That means they have feet!" Cady says eagerly. Janis laughs harder.

"I- yeah, it does," she nods. "Doesn't it feel crazy?"

"Yeah," Cady agrees quietly. Janis frowns sadly when she suddenly lets out a sob. "That's our baby. Our baby's in there. Kicking you."

"And there's another one too," Janis hums, brushing Cady's hair out of her face and kissing her cheek. "We're getting pretty close now."

Cady nods again, but doesn't say anything. Janis is perfectly content to let her rove her hands all over her tummy, feeling for every little motion their babies make. Eventually, little jolts start happening at regular intervals on the other side.

"I think A has the hiccups," Janis giggles. "That's where they were on the last exam. B must've been the kicker then."

"They're so cute," Cady says with a sniffle, feeling each little jolt caused by each hiccup.

"Says you. You try having something with the hiccups inside you," Janis chuckles.

"Does it hurt?"

"Nah. It's just... really fucking weird, Cads," Janis replies. Cady laughs.

"I can imagine." She leans down and presses her lips to the right side of Janis' belly to talk to that baby in particular. "Hey, hold your breath! You're making your mother uncomfortable!"

Janis laughs again. "He can't help it."

"He?"

"I think we have at least one boy in there," Janis hums as Cady straightens back up.

"Really?" Cady asks. Janis nods.

"I'm almost positive," she replies. "What do you think?"

"I... I don't know," Cady replies. "I haven't had any... feelings."

Janis smiles and wraps her in as tight of a hug as they can manage. They slowly sway around their bedroom as they continue speaking. "I guess that makes sense. It's probably harder when they're not inside you."

"How crass," Cady giggles.

"I'm a heathen, remember? It's in my job description to be crass," Janis chuckles, kissing Cady's neck. They're quiet for a moment before she asks, "What do you want?"

"In what way?" Cady whispers back.

"Do you want sons? Daughters?" Janis asks. She doesn't sound like she's particularly fussed with whatever Cady says. She sounds like she genuinely wants to know.

"I just want all of you to be healthy," Cady replies.

"Come on, we both know that's a load of shit," Janis says. "As long as you know you'll love them even if they don't turn out that way, what do you want?"

Cady laughs. "In that case... I really hope you're right. One of each would be so sweet. But even if we have two boys or two girls, they'll be perfect. But I really, really just want two healthy babies and my healthy, beautiful wife."

"One of each would be fun," Janis agrees. "I guess we'll find out."

"And we'll find out soon!"

—————

"Ceiling would be a good name," Cady says quietly one night. Janis leans up on her elbows to squint incredulously at her wife in the darkness.

"You want to name one of our babies Ceiling?"

"I didn't say that. But if it didn't mean what it does, I think it would be a nice name. It has a good sound to it," Cady says, suddenly sounding much more sheepish. Janis laughs and cuddles into her side.

"I guess it does," she agrees. "But we're not naming our baby that. I know we're rich and famous, but we're not that rich and famous."

"No, of course not," Cady says immediately.

"Ceiling would be a good name, though," Janis agrees now that she's given it more thought.

"There's lots of words like that."

"Like what?"

"That would be nice names if they didn't mean what they mean," Cady says.

"...Like what?" Janis asks again.

Cady thinks for a moment. "Basket."

Janis considers this and nods. "I guess it does sound kind of name-ish."

"I told you! There's all sorts," Cady says.

"Cardigan," Janis says. Cady nods eagerly.

"Yeah, exactly!" she says. "I'm so relieved you understand my nonsensical ramblings most of the time."

"Most of the time they're actually pretty sensical," Janis chuckles. "But your ramblings are always my favorite."

"Hush," Cady scoffs quietly. Janis laughs and shakes her head.

"Nah."

She can almost hear Cady rolling her eyes, even though she can't see it in the dark. Janis can't help but continue thinking of words that could fit as names in alternate universes.

"Paper," she says quietly. Cady nods.

"Sofa."

"Enough," Janis continues. Cady deflates a little. "No, like, as a name. It has a fun sound."

"Oh! Yeah, you're right," Cady giggles. "Carrot."

"Carrot is great," Janis chuckles. "Ceiling and Carrot."

Cady laughs so hard she nearly pushes Janis off her. Janis can't contain her giggles either, and they spend a frankly concerning amount of time giggling at nothing in the darkness together.

Janis wipes tears of laughter from her eyes. "Android."

"Band," Cady says.

"Prophecy," Janis says with incredible drama.

Cady gives an oooh and thinks quietly for a moment. "...Chlamydia."

"Wh- Caddy!" Janis splutters out a shocked laugh.

"What?! I'm not saying anyone should name a baby that! I'm just saying that if it wasn't... that, it has a pretty sound!" Cady defends. She's laughing more at Janis' near-uncontrollable laughter than the actual idea of naming a baby after an STI.

Janis presses her forehead to Cady's shoulder and continues giggling into the blankets. When she calms down again, she says, "I love you."

"I love you too," Cady says softly.

"I'm glad we still know how to make each other laugh," Janis continues, ghosting a touch over Cady's collarbones with her pointer finger.

"I am too," Cady replies, tucking her head against Janis'. "I'm glad I have you to keep me smiling."

"I'm glad I have you to give me some excitement," Janis murmurs.

"I'm glad I have you," Cady says plainly.

"I'm glad I have you too," Janis murmurs. Cady adjusts them to such a position that she can lean in for a sweet, soft, lingering kiss. "And I'm glad I get to do that whenever I want."

Cady smiles and gently flicks her ear. "Goof."

"Oh, I'm the goof for being glad I have the hottest wife in the world that I get to kiss whenever I want?"

"Yes, because you don't have the hottest wife in the world," Cady giggles. "I do."

Janis scoffs. "Maybe before you knocked me up. With twins, might I add."

Cady shakes her head. "Especially now."

"...Really?"

"Of course, really," Cady giggles again. "You've always been beautiful. And you always will be beautiful to me. No matter how you feel about yourself. You're beautiful now, even though you're not happy with your body. You're carrying our babies. I don't know if you've ever been so beautiful. You always were, of course, but now... I can't stop looking at you. And you'll be beautiful when you're all wrinkly and your hair is all grey and we're sitting in rocking chairs together somewhere and we can only eat soup."

Janis chuckles and leans in for another kiss. "You really think you'll wanna be with me when all I can eat is soup?"

"Of course. Don't you?" Cady asks.

"Yeah. You'll be a cute old lady," Janis says immediately. Truth be told, she's always pictured the same thing. Every new line or scar on Cady's body is a revelation. A sign that she's changing. She's aging. Janis is always excited to get to know the new her with the new changes, slight as they are. As terrifying as it is, she's excited to be an old lady if it means she gets to know Cady as one too.

It's nice to know she feels the same.

Janis kisses her one more time. "Do you have any, like... real ideas for their names?"

Cady shakes her head. "Not really. I've had a few that sounded nice, but nothing has really given me that definite yes sort of feeling yet. Do you?"

"I have one I'd really like if we have a girl," Janis says quietly. "But I kind of want to wait until they're born and name them when we see them."

"I'd like that," Cady says. "What's the name?"

"You'll find out if we meet her," Janis hums smugly. Cady scoffs.

"Stinker."

"Hey, you were the one just going on about how excited you are to see me as a grandma," Janis retaliates with a giggle.

"I take it back," Cady sighs lovingly. "You're such a goofball."

"I'm not the one who wants to name a baby Chlamydia."

"I said I don't!" Cady insists before they break into peals of laughter again. Janis joins in, pressing her forehead against her wife's and laughing against her lips.

"God, we're gonna be parents."

—————

The next day they giggle about it all again on their way to their ultrasound appointment to see that the babies are still developing on track. Janis is used to it all by now, but she still shivers at the chilly gel rubbed onto her stomach.

"Aww," Cady coos when one of their babies' faces is visible on the screen. Janis smiles and watches too.

"That's B today, getting that sweet little face growing just fine," the doctor says as she shifts the wand all around and takes measurements of their limbs.

Janis and Cady chat while the scan continues. Little things, like what they want for dinner; they really should call Damian, it's been so long; look how cute the baby's little fingers are.

"Hm," the doctor hums softly, looking at the scan with a small frown before referring back to her notes. Cady and Janis' conversation halts in its tracks, and they both turn to see her. "You're planning on a home birth?"

"Yes," Cady says, squeezing Janis' hand.

"I'm afraid that might not be possible," the doctor says in concern.

"Why not? Are the babies okay? What-what's the matter with them?"

"As far as I can see, they're both still perfectly healthy," the doctor soothes immediately, noticing both of them starting to panic. "But you have a little troublemaker in there."

She shifts the wand a bit for another angle to confirm her suspicions, and she nods gravely. "Your baby A in here is the issue. They're in what we call the frank breech position."

"But they're okay?" Cady asks desperately.

"I can't see spectacularly well, but they've been doing just fine in all your previous scans, I don't think anything could've gone terribly wrong with them in the meantime."

"But what does that mean? Why can't I have a home birth?" Janis asks, sighing in relief now that she has reassurance that the baby is okay.

"Well," the doctor sighs and rolls over to a cabinet, pulling out a baby doll. She curls it gently in on itself. "Ordinarily babies are sort of curled up like this, and then they straighten out during delivery to come out safely. B is like that, you can see them here."

"Okay," Janis says. "Doesn't breech just mean they're upside down? Won't they flip over before I go into labor?"

"Ordinarily, yes," the doctor explains. "But frank breech means that your baby is... like this."

Cady and Janis both blink in shock as she folds the doll sharply in half.

"Their legs are up in front of their face, in this sort of V-shaped position. Look here," she says. Cady and Janis both look at the screen. "Those are feet, and that's their ear. At about the same level."

"Oh," Janis says. She can't hold back a giggle, in spite of the bad news.

"For pregnancy it's perfectly fine, even if it does make it harder for me to check on them. But for delivery... it's, er... well, to be frank with you ladies, the baby would likely come out bum-first. With a vaginal birth, that puts an incredible amount of strain on both the baby and you."

Janis can imagine delivering a baby bent in half would indeed be considerably more painful. "So... I-I have to have a C-section?"

"I don't want to dash all your hopes just yet, but I'd expect so. With you carrying twins, they're very cramped for room in there, so I don't expect they'll straighten out in time for you to deliver naturally. You'll be having weekly scans from now on anyway, but if they don't unfold before you're about 36 weeks it's almost a definite, unfortunately."

"Damn it, kid," Janis tuts under her breath. "As long as they're healthy. They can come out however they want to."

"B is doing just fine, A's heart looks great. And their legs are clearly growing on schedule to be so long. Anything else isn't really an immediate concern, just keep an eye on how you're feeling and make sure you get here every week for those scans."

"We will," Cady says, squeezing Janis' hand. Janis nods.

The doctor wipes the gel off of Janis' belly before she leaves. Janis pulls her shirt back down and sits up with Cady's help.

She's almost silent again as they walk to the car, and most of the way home. Every time Cady looks at her she seems fine, almost content, but Cady has reason to believe otherwise. "Are you okay, my love?"

Janis looks at her, and she seems almost confused. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"...Because your entire birth plan has to change now? You were very adamant about what you wanted and now you're being forced into practically the opposite."

Janis shrugs. "I kinda figured I wouldn't be able to have a home birth once we found out there were twins. I've had plenty of time to prepare for the possibility of things changing. I'd still prefer that, but if I have to have a C-section then I have to have a C-section. I don't think trying to fight it will do any good."

"I'm still sorry you're not getting your... is dream birth a weird thing to call it?"

"Yes," Janis laughs immediately. "It's really fine, Cads. As long as they're out of me by the end of the day, at this point I couldn't give a flying fuck how it happens. And this way I won't have to work so hard."

"You'll still have to work very hard," Cady says in concern.

"I know. But hopefully I won't get all sweaty," Janis says. Cady chuckles and takes her hand.

"That's what you're worried about?"

"I don't have anything else to worry about right now," Janis says with a shrug. "If we find something else to worry about then I'll worry about it. But I hate being sweaty, so hopefully that won't happen now."

"I love you," Cady says. Janis turns to look at her and smiles.

"I love you too."

Cady continues driving, and they're silent until they're nearly home. Cady fidgets with Janis' fingers with her free hand and quietly says, "We get to pick their birthday this way."

"Exactly," Janis chuckles. "You're getting it."

—————

After much discussion, they pick November 16th to be their babies' birthday. They were told to pick a day in mid-November to avoid Janis going into labor as best they could, and to give the babies enough time to finish growing. They didn't want it close to Halloween, but also not too close to Thanksgiving. And Cady likes even numbers, so the 16th was a quick pick.

The weeks fly by, the hospital bag is packed. Cady dances around the house the morning of as they gather all their things and drive to the hospital. "We're having babies today!"

"This is really not a we thing," Janis grumbles crankily.

"We get to meet our babies today!" Cash amends. Janis chuckles and squeezes her hand. "How are you feeling?"

"As well as I can knowing I'm about to be sliced open and have twins removed from me," Janis replies. Cady blinks, but she nods.

"Okay. That's... definitely one way of putting what's about to happen," she replies. "Are you scared?"

Janis nods. Cady pouts.

"I'm sorry, honey. I'll be right there with you, I won't let anything happen to you. Or to them. I promise."

"I know," Janis says softly, squeezing her hand again in thanks. "That's the only thing keeping me from totally spiraling right now."

"If they do anything I will shut that place down so fast. Everyone's getting fired, I swear to god," Cady says. Janis laughs.

"Caddy, it'll be fine. I know it will, but knowing I'm about to be numbed from the tits down for like, multiple hours, and again, have babies removed from my stomach just isn't the most pleasant idea."

Cady is quiet for a moment. "I'm still gonna fire them all. I'll hire new better doctors myself and get the best ones to make sure you're okay."

"You've already gotten me into the best hospital for C-sections in the state, babe, we'll be fine," Janis chuckles. "Calm down a little. Rage later if you need to, but don't get yourself all worked up now."

"I'm just excited," Cady mumbles sheepishly. Janis smiles.

"Good."

"Are you?"

"God, yeah," Janis chuckles. "Our little munchkins are coming today. And I don't have to be pregnant anymore. I'll probably be able to sleep on my stomach again by tomorrow night!"

“That's what you're excited about?" Cady giggles."You don't know, man. You try being pregnant with twins sometime," Janis huffs.

"No, I'm alright, thank you," Cady says immediately. Janis laughs. "I think one set is plenty for us."

"Definitely," Janis chuckles. "God, I saw in the news the other week that this couple did the same thing we did but both their eggs split and they ended up with quadruplets."

"Heavens," Cady shivers. The idea of the two of them raising two babies, even with all their money, is frightening enough. She can scarcely imagine four. At a stoplight, she bends over and kisses Janis' belly. "Thank you for staying how we put you."

Janis laughs again. "How are you feeling?"

"I have never been so afraid in my life," Cady says honestly. "But I've never been so excited either."

——

They both have the jitters by the time they pull into the hospital parking lot. Janis waddles slowly behind Cady as they head inside. Cady pauses at the door, knowing they'll be leaving with their babies. This is the last door they'll enter as a family of two, before their two and two make four.

Cady gets them all signed in, and then they have about an hour to get used to things before their surgery is scheduled. Cady cracks some very weak dad jokes, but Janis laughs all the same and gives her adoring smiles with each one. "You gotta step up your game, babe."

"I know," Cady whines after a particularly bad one about blankets for the babies to be kept at 'womb temperature'. Janis smiles and pats her hand.

"You'll get there. They won't be able to understand them for a good few years anyway," she says comfortingly. Cady smiles and leans in to kiss her.

That turns out to be the last practice shot she gets. Doctors come pouring in to get Janis dosed up and the both of them into sterile clothes. Cady is suddenly hit with the realization that this is all happening, like, right now as Janis is wheeled to the operating room and she's left to run after them.

It takes a very

very

very

long time.

Janis doesn't exactly look comfortable, but she doesn't complain of any pain. She does mention offhandedly that it feels like she's being squashed by an elephant, but that's the extent of her complaints. Cady is the one with most of them.

"This is taking forever," she whines into Janis' shoulder behind the partition. Janis tries not to laugh and risk jostling anything while someone has the fancy equivalent of a knife held at her gut.

"I don't know about you, but I'd prefer they take their time," she responds. "It can't be much longer. You've waited eight and a half months, we almost get to meet them now."

"The anticipation is killing me," Cady huffs. "I want our babies out and you safely put all back together and I want to take all of you home and love on you until they're in college."

Janis smiles. "I love you."

Cady smiles back and leans down to kiss her. "I love you too."

"Oh!" the doctor suddenly exclaims, and Cady is on her feet in a flash.

"What happened?! Are they okay? Is she okay?" she says desperately.

She freezes as she hears a shrill cry split the air. She looks down at Janis, who smiles dopily back at her. Tears start pooling in her eyes as she looks back and forth between her wife and the doctor.

The crying continues for a moment as the people on the other side of the partition handle the situation, and then a tiny baby is held over it for them to see. "Here's your baby B."

"B? What happened to A?" Janis asks.

"Apparently this one decided he wanted to be born first. Kicked A out of the way!" the doctor chortles.

"He?" Cady says with a quiet sob. The doctor nods, and Cady immediately leans in to kiss Janis. "A boy."

"I had a feeling there was at least one in there," Janis chuckles. Their son is passed off so they can get the other twin out and Janis closed up before too much longer. Another shrill cry rings out, and Cady and Janis both start sobbing again.

"Here's little A," the doctor says. "Miss Troublemaker."

"A girl?" Cady whimpers, looking at the little pink squirming thing. "We-we got both?"

"Certainly looks that way!" one of the nurses says cheerfully. Cady hesitantly steps around the curtain to cut the cords, trying very hard to focus on that and not her wife's insides on the outside. The surgeon gets to work handling that, and the babies are taken to the counter in the room to be measured, weighed, and cleaned off.

It feels like hours have passed before two swaddled little babes are carried back to them, still crying about all they've been through today. Cady sits back by her wife and smiles as one baby is tucked against her face on either side.

"Hi," Janis whispers through her tears, bringing up a hand to rub each soft little cheek. "Hi, babies. Thank fuck you're out."

"Hey," Cady laughs wetly. "Mind your profanity."

"They're crying so loud they can't hear me anyway," Janis chuckles. "Shh, I know. I know. I'm crying too, I know. We're all okay."

Cady sobs again and leans across their son to kiss her wife soundly. "You're all perfect. Absolutely perfect."

"They're... they're not missing toes, or anything? They're okay?" Janis sighs heavily.

"They're both just fine," one of the nurses says with a chuckle. "I'm new, but they're the healthiest twins I've seen so far."

"I told you," Cady says with a laugh.

Once Janis is put back together and stitched up, they're wheeled back to their room to rest and bond as a family for the very first time. Cady props Janis up with pillows and crawls into bed behind her. Janis winces as she has to move, but she leans back into Cady with a relieved sigh and finally gets a good look at their babies.

Cady kisses her neck gently and looks at the little ones over her shoulder. "They're so beautiful. And you're so strong. I... I can't believe they're here."

Janis smiles at the sleepy babies in her arms. "They're here."

"I love you," Cady whispers. "So much. Look at them. Look at what you brought into this world. They're perfect. You're the strongest person I know. And you're so beautiful. Thank you."

Janis blushes and feels tears start pooling in her eyes. "Don't make me cry, I just got Frankenstein-ed back together."

"I'm sorry," Cady laughs. "But it's true. Thank you for doing this. And I'm sorry you didn't get the experience you wanted."

"We have them," Janis says quietly. "That's all I wanted. They're safe, and they're here."

"And they're perfect," Cady murmurs. "These are ours."

"Our babies," Janis echoes with a smile. "The girl is bigger?"

Cady nods. Janis had been in the process of getting stitched up when the nurse told them, so Cady took in everything she could on her behalf. "She's six pounds and four ounces. This one. And our little boy is six pounds even."

Janis looks at their daughter in her left arm and son in her right. "They look just like you."

"You think?" Cady asks softly, resting her chin on Janis' shoulder. Janis nods and leans even harder back against her.

"They do. They look more similar than I thought they would, too."

"They do," Cady agrees. Both babies have impossibly full cheeks, matching little button noses, pouty mouths, what would be wide eyes if they were open, and Cady's dainty little ears.

Janis pulls off their little beanies, and Cady can feel her sigh.

"What's the matter?"

"I had two blonde babies?" Janis says in exasperation. "Two? Blonde?"

"That's exactly what my hair looked like when I was born," Cady chuckles, looking at the tiny tufts of strawberry blonde hair on each perfect little head.

"I guess I can live with it then," Janis sighs, but Cady can feel her smile. "They need names."

Cady nods. "What do you think?"

Janis looks back and forth between the babies, trying to decide which of them to start with. "He looks a little bit like a Charles."

Cady almost knocks everyone out of the bed in her shock. "You want to name him after my father?"

Janis shrugs. "Why not? Your dad and Charlie are some of the most important people in your life. And how often do you get to bring the fifth generation of a name into the world? Come on."

Cady blinks in surprise as she considers this. She looks down at the little burrito sound asleep in Janis' arms and considers this. "Charles Jacob Heron. The Fifth."

"Jacob," Janis murmurs. "You guys have too many Charles' already. We'll call him Jacob. Jakey."

"Jacob," Cady echoes. Janis gently brings him up to kiss his nose. His eyes flutter open as she brings him back down.

"Hi, baby boy," Janis greets with a smile.

"Hi Jacob," Cady echoes quietly, reaching around her wife to gently stroke his hair. "Happy birthday, handsome."

"Baby Jakey," Janis says. "You like your name?"

Jacob's response is an impossibly wide yawn. Cady and Janis laugh. "Goodness. Being born is hard work, huh?"

"He's such a Jacob," Janis says fondly as she kisses his forehead again and he's asleep once more. "Jakey suits him."

"It does," Cady admits. "You're sure about the name? My father hasn't-"

"I'm sure. Your father has made a lot of progress too. And we can always say we named him after Charlie instead."

"I'd have preferred Clifton," Cady chuckles. "But I guess you're right."

"What's Clif's middle name again?"

"Joseph."

Janis looks back at the baby and wrinkles her nose. She shakes her head. "Nah. He's not a Joey."

"He's a Jakey," Cady says with a smile. "What about our beautiful girl?"

Janis shifts her gaze to the other baby, and finds her awake. She gazes up at them with unfocused little eyes. "Oh, hi. Nice to meet you, sweet girl."

"They really do look so similar," Cady breathes. "Both their eyes are that color."

"What color is it?" Janis says quietly, tilting her head to look. "If I had two blonde, blue-eyed babies I'm going to scream."

"They look more grey to me," Cady says soothingly. "That's exactly what Elsie's eyes looked like when she was born, and they turned brown as she grew. I think they'll get darker."

"They'd better," Janis grumbles sarcastically. "God, she's cute."

"She is," Cady agrees. "Little stinker. You had to be all bendy in there, huh?"

Janis laughs as Cady gently tickles the baby's little chin. "She didn't have much room in there."

"That's true," Cady says. "You never told me that name."

"What name?"

"You said you had a name you really wanted if we had a girl, but you didn't want to tell me until we saw her and knew for sure if it fit her," Cady says. Janis tries to remember that conversation, and she laughs.

"How do you remember that? That was, like, four months ago," she responds. Cady shrugs.

"Naming our babies is important. It stuck out to me."

Janis looks at the baby. "Isla. I fell in love with you on that island that first Christmas."

"Isla," Cady breathes. "It's perfect. Hello, Isla."

"She's looking at you," Janis chuckles. Cady smiles and gently rubs the pad of her thumb up and down the bridge of the impossibly tiny nose. Isla's eyes flutter and it's not long before she's sound asleep. "What about her middle name? You should pick it. I chose all the rest."

"No, we chose together," Cady protests.

"From my suggestions."

"Yeah. That's fine."

"Cads," Janis insists. "Pick a damn name."

"Stop swearing in front of them!" Cady huffs.

Janis turns as best she can to glare at her. "We have, like, at least eight months before they can talk. One damn isn't gonna hurt them."

"You said fuck too," Cady grumbles. Janis laughs and groans at the pain it causes. Cady gently adjusts her wife and peers back at the tiny baby.

She barely has to look at the baby before a name comes to mind.

"Joy."

She can feel Janis smile as their cheeks are pressed together. "It's perfect."

"You think?" Cady asks shyly. Janis nods, and Cady can feel a few tears streaming down her cheek.

"Isla Joy," Janis whispers thickly. "It's beautiful."

"But you really think it suits her?" Cady asks worriedly.

"I think it's perfect for her," Janis nods.

"Really?"

"Caddy," Janis chuckles. "Trust me. Joy is a perfect middle name. I love it. She looks exactly like an Isla Joy. It's just right."

Cady smiles and kisses Janis' neck, looking at both their peacefully sleeping babies. "Isla Joy and Charles Jacob."

"The most precious babies there ever were."

———

Janis is totally dead to the world less than an hour later for a much deserved nap. Cady helpfully deposits the babies back in their... storage containers, she decides to call them, and lingers by her wife for a long time. Long after Janis is asleep, she's still gently tracing shapes on her bicep, murmuring thanks and love into her hair, peppering ghost-light kisses on her forehead.

Janis snuffles at the last one, and the one thing Cady does not want to do is wake her up. Carefully, she removes herself and leaves her wife to nap in peace, and goes to introduce herself to their babies instead.

"Hello, sweet babies," she croons softly as she scoops the tiny new little ones back into her arms and holds them properly, all by herself, for the very first time. "Hi. I'm your mama. Well, one of them. Your other mom is asleep right now. Isn't she beautiful?"

She wanders in circles around the room, pausing frequently to check on Janis or to look at the same view of the random field outside their window.

"I love you so much," she whispers down at the babies. "I've loved you from the moment I found out you existed, and now I finally get to hold you and see your sweet little faces."

She takes a shaky breath as delighted tears start streaming down her face.

"I might not make a very good mom. I definitely won't be perfect. But I promise you both I'm going to try so hard to make your lives amazing. And I'll always, always, love you both," she continues. "You two and your mother are the most precious things I've ever had, do you know that? I'm not going to risk letting anything happen to any of you. I'll keep all of you safe. I promise. And I'll love you your whole lives long."

She jumps as she turns around for another lap around the room and finds Janis awake, smiling at her with a few tears streaming down her face.

"Hi."

"Hi," Janis echoes. "How you doing, Mama?"

"I should be asking you that," Cady says, handing her their daughter while she keeps and smiles at their son.

"I'm fine, Cads. Do you have any idea the amount of drugs I still have coursing through me? I got, like, another good few hours before I really start feeling anything," Janis chuckles. "Ow, shit."

"Exactly," Cady huffs.

"I'm fine, though," Janis insists as she winces through adjusting her position.

"I can get you more meds if you need," Cady says, carefully putting the baby down to help her before she scoops him back up and cradles him close.

"I'm fine," Janis says for a third time. "I promise. Come love on these little munchkins with me."

Cady smiles and sits in a chair next to Janis' bed. "His eyes are so big. And he's got such long eyelashes already. And those chubby baby cheeks."

"They're only gonna get chubbier," Janis says happily. "She has the cutest little ears."

"He does too," Cady smiles. Jacob wraps his tiny hand around her finger, and she kisses the tips of each tiny baby finger. "And his hands are so small."

"Their nails are so tiny," Janis says. Cady nods.

"I can't believe they're actual people. They're so small, there's no way a whole human can fit inside there," she says absently. Janis laughs and groans again.

"Somehow. I'm not sure either," she says. "I'm still not sure how they both fit in me."

"I'm not either. No wonder you've been so sick, your body must have done a whole lot of rearranging to make room."

"You're telling me," Janis hums. "But it was worth it, huh Isla?"

"Now everyone gets to recover," Cady tells Jacob. He blinks at her. "Yeah. You're gonna stay here for a few days, and then Mommy and I get to take you home to rest. And you're gonna barf and poop all over us and scream your little head off at us, and we're still gonna love you! Isn't that wild?"

"Stop making me laugh," Janis groans from the bed. Cady smiles sheepishly.

"Sorry."

"It's okay," she says. She hands Isla back and smiles as she sees her little family all together. "You're so sweet with them already."

"I'm terrified, Janis," Cady whispers, staring into their son's unfocused little grey eyes. "They're so perfect. I can't mess them up."

"We won't," Janis promises. "We have each other."

"But they're... they're like the first snowfall, right now. I can't be the one to mess that up. I don't want to be the first footprint in it," Cady continues desperately.

"We can't help making mistakes. But I know how much you love them, babe, we're gonna do okay. I can't promise we won't fuck them up somehow, but I know we'll do everything we can not to and everything we can to fix it. You've already done so much for them. You took incredible care of me through my whole pregnancy, and you still are. We're gonna figure this out together."

"Together," Cady breathes shakily.

"Always together," Janis promises. "Especially because if you ditch me with these two now I will sue your ass so hard."

Cady laughs. "No, never. You're never ever getting rid of me. I might be one of those mothers who tries to move into the college dorm with her kids."

"Your mom didn't-"

"Of course not, she didn't even know where I was," Cady hums. She looks down to explain to the babies.  "I'm talking about your Nana. She won't treat you that way, I promise. She's done a lot of work on herself. She's already bought you two tons of presents. She can't wait to meet you."

"Oh, shit," Janis says.

"Stop swearing!"

"You're just gonna have to learn to live with it, babes," Janis says with a smile. "We gotta call Damian. I forgot to tell him. Again."

"Yay!" Cady squeals. She looks down at the babies again. "Are you two ready for the loudest phone call of your life? I hope so."

Janis can't help but laugh again, keeping a hand on her pained stomach. They get the four of them situated together on the hospital bed, the babies face-to-face in each of their arms, and Janis holds the phone facing the sleeping babes as the call connects.

As expected, Damian's answer is a shriek as soon as he processes what he's seeing. Janis smiles and turns the camera around to face herself and Cady.

"Those are babies!" he says.

"No shit," Janis says.

"Hey!" Cady insists.

"Hi Caddy!" Damian says eagerly.

Cady laughs. "Hi Dame. Surprise!"

"They're so cute," Damian coos as Janis puts the camera back on the twins. "Oh, they look just like you, Cads."

"They might have Janis' eyes," Cady explains eagerly. "Aren't they perfect?"

"Yes," Damian coos.

"This is our little boy. Charles Jacob, after Caddy's dad. But we're calling him Jacob," Janis says proudly.

"You had a boy?!" Damian squeals.

"We did! We had one of each," Cady confirms. Damian shrieks again.

"Oh my god! Oh, how perfect! Look at them, oh my god! Oh my god, oh my god! What's your girl's name?"

"Isla," Cady says with a smile. "Isla Joy."

"Jacob and Isla," Damian says, testing out the names. "Excellent. They sound like rich people names but not pretentious."

"Perfect," Janis chuckles.

"Have the media hounds swarmed you yet?"

"The media hounds don't know we scheduled a C-section for today. But I'm sure they'll be filling the parking lot before too long," Janis sighs. Cady leans into her comfortingly.

"It'll be okay," she murmurs. "I'll protect you."

"Aww," Damian coos. Cady blushes as she remembers he can, in fact, hear them. Janis leans in for a kiss and elicits yet another shriek from their friend. "It's too cuuuute! I can't stand it!"

"Hang up then, coward," Janis says, like she hasn't just had the softest moment possible with her wife and newborn babies.

"Hey!"

"Janis!" Cady scolds.

"What? I just had two babies cut out of my gut, I get a free day to say whatever I want," Janis hums. Cady shrugs.

"I suppose that's fair," she says. "Sorry Damian."

"It's fine. Lemme see them again," Damian insists. Janis chuckles and obliges, allowing their friend to coo over his niece and nephew for as long as he wants. They stay on the call for almost three hours, talking about the babies and them and everything in between.

"You're still coming for Thanksgiving?" Janis asks before they hang up.

"Yes! And if you try to do a single goddamn thing I swear to god I will drag you through the town square and throw you in the river," Damian says. "Bye. Love you."

"Love you too, D," Janis chuckles. She hangs up and flops back against the pillows with a sigh. "What a day."

"A good day," Cady says.

"The best day," Janis agrees, handing Isla to her and cuddling into her side.

"Get some rest, my love," Cady murmurs, bending at a strange angle to kiss her forehead. "We'll wait for you."

Janis yawns and smiles. "I love you."

"I love you too."

—————

They're all released from the hospital three days later. Cady carefully carries the babies out the doors of the hospital in their top-of-the-line car seats while a nurse wheels Janis behind them. Janis gets in the car first, and then Cady struggles through trying to get the car seats in place for the first time with babies inside.

After a solid hour, the seats are both snapped in where they go, and Cady gets to drive her family home.

They have a crazy first month trying to adjust to having twin newborns. Damian comes and provides them with an excellent but unbelievably chaotic Thanksgiving, and stays for a week afterwards to help them handle everything. Even with a maid and a chef hired on so they could focus almost exclusively on the babies and themselves, it's still unbelievably hard.

Cady is adamant about the two of them being the only ones to raise their babies and absolutely refuses a night doula. She drags both bassinets over to her side of the bed and declares she'll handle all the nighttime bottles and diaper changes. Janis is only woken up when one of the babies is truly desperate for some snuggles from their mommy. Otherwise Cady insists she get plenty of rest and time to heal. Janis doesn't complain.

—-

A week after the twins' one-month birthday, they brave the outside world for the first time. It's Christmas time, and time to take the babies to the annual Christmas celebrations hosted by Cady's parents in one of the Heron Enterprises hotels. Luckily, this year's is close to home, and they only have a few hours' drive instead of an international flight.

Cady smiles as they cross the threshold, and Janis sighs. She's only been out of the hospital for a month. Traveling is hard on her body.

Cady carries the babies in and gently sets them down before she turns to her wife. "You wanna go nap?"

Janis nods. "But they'll want to meet the babies."

"And they'll have plenty of time to," Cady soothes. "Let's go get settled in."

She can see the relief on Janis' face as they head to the elevators instead of right in to greet everyone.

"You feeling okay, baby?" Cady asks, gently cupping Janis' cheek. Janis smiles softly and nods.

"I'm just tired."

"Are you sure?" Cady insists. Janis nods again and takes her hand off her face to hold it instead.

"Promise. Cross my heart and whatnot," she says. Cady smiles and leans in for a kiss.

They both jump the slightest bit when the elevator dings, and freeze when they hear someone inside sigh. The doors open, and out comes Madeleine. She seems rather shocked to see them there. "Hi. I was never here, I saw nothing."

"You don't have to do that, Maddie," Cady chuckles. "Come up with us, you can meet the twins."

Madeleine looks to Janis. Janis smiles and nods, to which her sister-in-law squeals and wraps her in a gentle hug. Cady picks the babies' car seats back up and they all go into the elevator together.

"How are you feeling, Janis? You look incredible, absolutely unfair," Madeleine says, pointedly not looking at the babies so she gets the surprise properly. Janis laughs and winces a bit.

"As well as I can be," she replies, resting a hand over her healing incision. "Considering Cady was positive I'd die on the table."

"Your intestines were outside your body! You need those!" Cady insists frantically. Madeleine laughs.

"I'll make her go easy on you while we're here," she tells Janis. Janis smiles at Cady.

"No need," she says softly. "She barely lets me do anything now."

"Because you need to rest," Cady says.

"They're a month old and you're already spoiling them," Janis chuckles.

"All the siblings do, I think it's genetic," Madeleine chuckles. "When Lennox was little his feet never touched the ground. Callum absolutely refused to let him go."

"How is he sixteen?" Cady sighs sadly.

"He was born sixteen years ago," Janis replies. Cady rolls her eyes lovingly at her.

"I know that. But I still remember holding him in the hospital," Cady says.

"And now you have your own little ones," Madeleine smiles. The elevator reaches the right floor, so everyone trails out and down the hall to their room. "Now let me at 'em."

Cady rests both seats on the bed and carefully undoes their buckles. "Who do you want?"

"Both!" Madeleine says as if it's entirely obvious. Janis laughs and picks up Jacob, so Cady gets Isla out.

"This is Jakey," Janis says as she gently hands him to his aunt. "Jacob. And that's Isla."

"How beautiful," Madeleine coos. "God, I miss babies. These two are dangerous."

"Maddie, you had four, that's plenty," Cady chuckles.

"But mine are all big now. These two are still in the smushy little baby stage," Madeleine sighs.

Janis chuckles and gets herself comfortable in bed. Cady leaves Madeleine to coo over the gingerbread man-patterned onesies the twins have on while she sees to her wife. "Do you want me to stay?"

"Do you want to stay?" Janis replies. Cady pauses and considers this. As soon as she's downstairs, she'll be bombarded with questions about Janis and the babies. Part of her wants to go so Janis doesn't have to deal with that on top of healing and struggling through keeping twin babies alive. But the rest of her is just very tired.

"Yes... please. Is that okay? That leaves you with more to handle," she says anxiously. Janis chuckles and scoots over to make room for her to nap too.

"That's just fine. We'll do it together," Janis whispers. Cady nods and cuddles into her.

They're long asleep by the time Maddie gently rests the babies in their cribs and tiptoes out the door.

—-

A few hours later, they enter the foyer hand in hand with babies in arms. You'd think Jesus himself had just walked into the room.

Everyone turns to look, everyone gasps and starts chattering all at once, everyone rushes up and starts coming over the little ones, touching their hands and little cheeks and asking if they can hold them.

They both say yes and watch anxiously as their twins are passed from relative to relative. Cady swoops in to follow one around as Hazel, Charlie and Violeta's surprise daughter and the youngest of the kids (until now) at just seven years old peeks over her big brother Henry's shoulder and asks if she can hold baby Jacob.

Janis bites her lip as a ten-year-old Naomi and her nine-year-old brother Zacharias fight over Isla. The fight is broken up by Cady's mother, who takes the baby and kisses her before Janis can get a single word in about not doing that, please and thank you. She starting to get dizzy, looking desperately back and forth between both of her babies and trying to keep track of where they are. Isla's with her Nana- no, now Fiona has her. Now Jacob's with Hazel and Isla's been moved to Lana and-

"Hey, are you okay?"

Janis jumps and looks to see Madeleine next to her. Janis blinks back tears and shakes her head. Madeleine frowns in concern and takes a step closer so nobody can overhear them.

"What's the matter?"

"I need them back," Janis chokes. "I-I... I..."

"Say no more. Leave it to me," Madeleine says. Janis watches through teary eyes as she swoops around the room and returns with her wife and a baby, then sends the two of them out of the room and meets them in the hall with the other.

"Thank you," Janis sobs quietly as she finally has both her little ones back in her arms.

"Baby, what happened?" Cady asks in concern, cupping Janis' face with a hand and brushing the tears from her cheek with a gentle swipe of her thumb.

"I don't know," Janis sobs. "I just... there's so-so many people, and-and... I couldn't see them both and-and-and... I don't know!"

Madeleine gently wraps an arm around her shoulders and rubs her arm soothingly. "Cads, do you remember that time when Lennox was a baby and I had a panic attack because I couldn't find him? And it turned out you just had him in the bathroom and were trying to give him pigtails?"

"Yeah," Cady says in confusion. "Why?"

"This is that," Madeleine replies. "But worse."

Janis somehow hasn't heard that story before and releases a strangled sort of half-sob-half-laugh. "I... I trust ev-everyone, but I-I-I panic every time they're out of-of my sight, and-and I couldn't see-see them at the same time, and I-I just... I don't know."

"You don't have to explain, my love," Cady hushes. "I'm sorry, I didn't even think about how overwhelming that would've been for you."

"It's okay," Janis sniffs, leaning into her.

"You take your time. I'll go make something up, come back in when you're ready. Cady will make sure this happens on terms you're okay with," Madeleine says comfortingly.

"Thanks, Maddie," Janis sniffles again. "Did Lenny ever get his pigtails?"

Madeleine smiles. "He called her Auntie Piggies until he was four."

"He liked them!" Cady defends.

"Tell that to Fiona. Your next victim," Madeleine chuckles. She heads back into the room, leaving Cady, Janis, and the twins alone in the hall. Cady looks at the little ones still asleep and curled up in Janis' arms, and Janis' chest shaking as she tries to calm down.

"Come here," Cady coaxes gently. Janis sniffles and follows her down the hall to the parlor. Cady sits on one of the sofas that's there more for decoration than actually to be sat on, and Janis sits next to her. "Are you alright, love?"

Janis nods, but she doesn't say anything. She keeps her eyes firmly on the babies and firmly off her wife.

"No, you're not," Cady insists with a furrowed brow. "Talk to me. Please."

Janis looks up at her, her eyes watering again. "I'm sorry."

"No, honey," Cady says desperately.

“I'm sorry," Janis repeats. Cady watches in concern as she starts sobbing again.

"Baby, you have nothing to be sorry for," Cady murmurs. "I just need to know what's been going on. I need to know how I can help, that's all."

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you," Janis sobs quietly. "I-I didn't know how, and everything just... it just..."

"I know," Cady hushes. "Will you tell me now? Or try? I'm your wife, you don't have to justify yourself to me. Just tell me how you're feeling."

"I don't even know," Janis chokes. Cady shifts off the couch and crouches in front of her, squeezing Janis' hands and looking deep into her eyes.

"Just try, please?"

Janis sighs and takes a long time to collect herself. Cady just squeezes her hands and lets her. Janis takes a deep breath before she begins, "I-I don't know what's wrong with me."

Cady frowns as she sees tears welling in her eyes yet again. "Nothing, baby, absolutely nothing is wrong with you."

"I can't... I can't breathe when they're out of my sight," Janis whispers. "Every time, even if you have them and I know they're okay, I just... I... I get so freaked out worrying about if they're still breathing or if they're hungry or hot or sick or even if they're just... I don't know, itchy, or something. I... I know in my head that they're fine, but I always just run through the worst-case scenarios and I just get myself even more worked up, and..."

She trails off, but Cady doesn't need to hear anything more. "How long?"

"Hm?"

"How long have you been feeling like this?" Cady asks. Janis is quiet again.

"...Since we found out she was breech."

It's Cady's turn to be quiet. "Three months?"

"I-I guess, yeah," Janis sniffles.

"Three months?!" Cady repeats. "You've been suffering like this for three months and you didn't tell me? Why?! Why wouldn't you-"

"I didn't know how!" Janis says pleadingly.

"I could've done something so much sooner if I had known-"

"What was I supposed to say? That I turn into a neurotic, jittery, anxious pile of garbage on the brink of a heart attack every time I blink?!"

"Yes!" Cady insists. "Yes, you were! Because then we could've had this conversation before bringing them to meet my entire family and I could've understood before you had a panic attack! And I could've put together that you've clearly been suffering from postpartum anxiety much sooner and gotten you the proper help for it!"

Janis looks down again. Cady takes a deep breath.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said it like that. This shouldn't be an argument."

Janis shakes her head. "It's my fault."

"No, baby, it isn't," Cady insists, shifting to hold Janis' face instead. "You've been struggling, and you didn't have the words to let me know. I wish you had tried anyway, but... this has already happened. All we can do is go forward. And going forward, I need you to tell me when things aren't right, please. Even if you can't figure out how, just tell me something is wrong and we'll figure out what it is together, okay? I hate seeing you so upset."

"I should've told you sooner. I knew this would happen."

"Maybe, but there's nothing to be done about it now. I know now, and I can help."

Janis nods her head to signal she wants Cady next to her again. Cady sits down, and Janis leans into her. "I need help."

"I know," Cady whispers.

"Finding out that she was breech hit me harder than I thought it did. And knowing there was always a chance with the way she was positioned that something could've gone wrong and they'd miss it. I-I wanted to be a chill mom, and I thought I was, but it just turned my world upside-down and I haven't gotten back. I just feel that... loss of knowing, I guess. Of control. And I'm terrified every time I can't see for myself that they're okay that they're actually... not. Even if they were a second before."

Cady lets a few of her own tears slip into Janis' hair. "I'm so sorry, my love. I should've noticed."

Janis chuckles softly. "You've been mighty sleep deprived."

"Is that why you've been so insistent on helping with their night feedings?"

Janis shakes her head. "That's because I'm worried about you. I still get it when they're with you, but not anywhere near as strong as when they're just in their cots or whatever."

"Or with other people?"

"Apparently," Janis sighs.

"I'm getting you a therapist," Cady says softly. "That's a non-negotiable."

Janis nods. "Okay."

"I'm so sorry."

"For what?" Janis asks, looking up at her.

"I can't believe I didn't see how much you've been struggling," Cady says. "I should've noticed."

"Don't beat yourself up about it," Janis says softly, tucking back into her. "I kinda made sure you didn't."

"Don't ever do it again," Cady begs. "Please. I want to know. I want to help."

Janis nods. "I won't."

They both look down when they feel a wiggle, and see Jacob wriggling crankily before he releases a shrill cry. "Oh, pumpkin."

Janis carefully adjusts him to check her watch. "It is lunch time, huh?"

"I'll get their bottles," Cady says. "Gimme this one. Practice."

Janis chuckles as she passes Isla to her wife and smiles at them together. Cady gently scoops Isla beneath the shoulders and kisses her nose before cradling her in her arm. Janis sees to hushing Jacob and waiting for them to return.

Cady carries Isla into the kitchen to prepare the twins' bottles. Janis tries not to laugh as she hears Cady talking to the baby. Hearing the woman who talks like she's straight out of a Dickens novel cooing, "Hello, my sweet little princess babykins, are you ready for a baba? Are you hungry? Yeah? My sweet widdle pumpyumpykins. Let's get your baba." in a ridiculously high pitch is comical in a way few can describe.

After about five minutes and the terrible, deafening sounds of the bottle machines going off, Cady returns with their daughter and two bottles to feed them.

“He back to sleep?" she asks when she sees Janis gently rocking their son. Janis nods with a soft smile and gently strokes one of his chubby cheeks with the back of her index finger. "Good."

"How's our pumpyumpykins?" Janis asks with a small giggle. Cady flushes a remarkable shade of scarlet and looks down at the baby with a whine.

"You heard that?"

Janis nods and giggles again as she slowly stands and heads over to her. "Yeah, I did. But I think it's cute."

"I can't help it," Cady whines. "They're both so precious."

"I do it too," Janis chuckles. "It's just funny when you do."

"It is? Why?" Cady asks, tilting her head like a confused puppy.

"Because most of the time you have a transatlantic accent and use words like shan't and chauffeur and legality and clams."

Cady laughs outright at that. "Clams?"

"Hey, I'd never had one before I met you, far as I'm concerned they're a fancy food," Janis chuckles. She kisses Cady's forehead, and Cady smiles up at her.

“I love you," Cady says.

"I love you too," Janis replies. She doesn't quite know where that came from, but she'll always say it.

"Are you ready to go back in? We can just call it if you're not. I'll handle everything," Cady asks gently.

Janis inhales heavily and looks between the babies. She wants to go back in, wants everyone to have their proper chance to meet their grandchildren and niece and nephew and cousins, but her body is still tense and her mind is still racing. Cady notices her hesitation and takes her hand again.

"What if we did one at a time? You can keep your eyes on the one being held and keep the other with you," she suggests. "We can give Isla her bottle now and wait a bit on Jakey, since he's asleep. And you can just say you want to feed and burp him yourself. And by the time he's done everyone will probably have finished with her and we can swap them."

Janis considers this, and she nods. "That would be great."

"And I'll mention not kissing them again," Cady promises. "Just to be safe."

"Thank you," Janis whispers, kissing her wife soundly. Cady just smiles into it and kisses her back.

They linger on the bench outside while Cady gives Isla her bottle and they both have a chance to coo over and focus on her. Janis braces as she swallows the last of her milk away and Cady props her up to be burped.

"Ready?" she asks when Isla's all situated. Janis nods, and they head back into the living room where everyone is waiting.

Janis was expecting people to stare, ask questions, have noticed what happened, but nobody seems to. Whether they're pretending or genuinely just absorbed in their own conversations, Janis is relieved.

One person did notice, however. Hazel comes up to the two of them looking very sheepish. She quietly says, "I'm sorry I held the baby. I saw you crying."

Janis frowns. "No, kiddo, it wasn't your fault. You guys just looked so sweet together I got emotional. And the babies needed their lunch, so we just went to get that, see?"

She gestures vaguely with Jacob as he's eating his bottle. Janis smiles down at her son as he makes a little coo around it that sounds vaguely affirmative.

"See? He says he's okay too," Janis comforts.

"Oh," Hazel says, visibly brightening.

"Would you like to meet Isla?" Cady asks with a smile. Hazel bounces up and down rapidly and nods. "Go sit down."

Hazel runs back to her brothers on the sofa and plops herself down, eagerly holding out her hands. Janis watches Cady prop her arms with pillows before she ever so gently lays their sleeping little girl in her cousin's arms.

"Remember not to kiss them, please," Cady says softly. Hazel nods and looks down at her other new baby cousin.

"They look the same," Hazel says, making sure to be quiet. Cady laughs softly.

"They do. Auntie Janis and I weren't sure how similar they'd look, but sometimes even we have a hard time telling them apart," she says.

For all her loud and bold personality, Hazel is remarkably still and quiet as she holds and looks at the baby. "Would she fit in my baby doll clothes?"

"Maybe," Cady giggles. "If it's a very big baby doll."

Hazel considers this and shakes her head. "It's small."

Cady chuckles and continues watching like a hawk. Isla just snoozes, and Hazel just watches.

"Can I kiss her on her foot?" she asks after a while. Cady looks to Janis. Janis chuckles and nods.

"Go ahead," Cady says. Hazel happily picks up Isla's leg and carefully kisses the bottom of her tiny foot. She smiles contently and gently pats the baby for good measure.

She stays there a while longer before she asks, "Can I go play now?"

Cady laughs and gently removes the baby from her lap. "Of course. Go have fun."

"Bye!" Hazel says to the baby in a quiet but eager voice before she runs off to try to cajole Zacharias into playing with her. Cady carefully hands Isla to the next relative wanting to meet her, her brother Clifton, and smiles proudly as she stands protectively nearby. Janis smiles faintly from her spot nestled in the couch as their son finishes off his bottle and she props him up to burp him.

Surprisingly, nobody tries to take him. Hannah sits down next to them and coos over him for a bit, and Janis happily lets her hold him while keeping a sharp watch on their daughter. After about the fifth check in, she realizes her wife has everything handled. Isla is safe.

Before too long, everyone's met and held both babies at least once. Introductions have been made, uncles have been pooped on, big yawns have been tossed around at aunties, and many a stretch has happened in the arms of grandparents.

"You're gonna get a lot of loving from all those people," Cady informs the babies as they're in the elevator on the way back up to their room to prepare for dinner. "That went well, I think."

"It did," Janis agrees. "Other than me having a panic attack."

"Of course, other than that," Cady says hastily. "How are you feeling?"

"Better," Janis promises.

"Good," Cady says. "Let's skip dinner."

"What?"

"We've already seen everyone, they can live without us for one night," Cady insists.

"But it's Christmas Eve," Janis says, frowning in confusion. "Don't you wanna spend it with your family?"

"That is exactly what I want," Cady whispers, gently pressing her against the wall for a kiss once they're on their floor and being very careful not to squish the babies between them. "Let's have our dinner sent up and snuggle our babies in bed and watch Christmas movies."

"That sounds amazing," Janis whispers against her lips. Cady kisses her once more before leading her back to their room to get cozy in their huge bed.

—-

"These movies are so unrealistic," Janis huffs at their third Hallmark movie. "There's no way a princess would just ask some schmuck into her palace like that!"

Cady looks between her, herself, their babies, back to her, around the room, and back to her.

"Shut up. I'm not a schmuck."

"I never said you were!" Cady laughs. "I do think you're right, though. We must be an anomaly."

"Not everyone gets knocked on their ass by a hot billionaire," Janis agrees. Cady giggles against her shoulder.

During the Muppet Christmas Carol, Janis feels Cady's head shift to peek down at the babies, as they sleep side-by-side in a special basket all bundled up together. Jacob's forehead rests just against Isla's cheek, and their arms are as linked as newborn babies can manage. Cady whispers, "They're so precious."

Janis looks down at their little ones and smiles. "Yeah, they are."

"You made these," Cady continues softly, gently adjusting Jacob's Santa onesie away from his neck and ever so gently patting his belly.

"I made them out of you," Janis hums contently. "Those little button noses are all yours, and their lips, and their ears. And their skin is really fair, so they'll probably get a few freckles as they grow. And their hair is yours, and their eyebrows."

"I think they'll have your eyes, though," Cady says happily. "Pretty brown. And I think they have your lips, not mine."

"Really?" Janis asks. Cady nods happily. Janis chuckles and noses into her hair. "Maybe."

"Definitely," Cady says. She's quiet for a moment before she softly says, "I've been a billionaire all my life. My play jewelry when I was a kid had real gold and gems. And these are still the most precious things I've ever had in my life."

Janis smiles even wider and kisses Cady wherever she can reach. "Good thing you get to keep 'em, then."

She can feel Cady smile, and Cady shifts to ever so gently straddle her at her hips. She takes special care not to aggravate Janis' still healing belly and gently leans down, cups her face between her hands, and kisses her soundly. "Thank you."

"For what?" Janis gasps in between kisses.

"Them. You," Cady replies, kissing her hard again. "Everything. You're just as precious to me as they are. You're the best thing that ever happened to me. The best thing I ever ran over on the sidewalk."

"So you admit you ran me over now, hm?" Janis laughs, threading her fingers through Cady's hair and smiling into a much more gentle kiss.

"You carried my twins for almost nine months, it's kind of the least I can do," Cady replies haughtily. Janis chuckles again and pulls her down harder against her. Cady happily leans in and kisses her again, and again, and again.

"I love you," Janis whispers when they take a pause to breathe.

"I love you," Cady echoes. They both turn their heads to the side when they hear a sort of squawk, and find Isla wriggling crankily before she lets out a shrill cry. Cady pouts and quickly scoots off of Janis to scoop her up before she can wake Jacob. "Oh, pumpkin, what happened, hm? We love you too, you know, you don't have to be so sad! Oh, what's the matter, come here. Mama has you, you're alright."

"You're so good with them," Janis murmurs, leaning into Cady's shoulder as she carefully cradles the baby's neck and tucks her into her chest. Janis strokes her fingers up and down the baby's back to help soothe her as Cady gently pats her little bum and hushes her.

Cady chuckles like she doesn't believe her and shakes her head.

"You are," Janis insists. "Look how quick you got her calmed down."

Isla gives a couple more half-hearted wails before she changes her mind and contents herself with being held. Cady smiles and pulls her back a bit to see her little face. "There we go, hi, baby. You just needed a little love, huh?"

"You just needed to hang out with Mama for a second, hm? Mama makes it all better," Janis coos. Isla coos back. "Yeah. She's the best, isn't she?"

"Nooo," Cady hums at the baby, holding her close again to kiss her cheek before she passes her to Janis. "Your mommy is the best. Yeah, there you go!"

Janis adjusts the lot of them, so Cady is half-sitting against the headboard, Janis is reclined with her back against Cady's chest, and Isla is carefully propped into a sit against Janis' bent legs. Janis holds her hands to keep her steady and makes sure the baby doesn't really have to hold up her own head all that much. It's hard work when you're only a month old.

"Hi, pretty girl," Janis coos when they're all settled. She gently combs a hand through Isla's little tuft of strawberry blonde hair. "Did you have a good nap with bubby? Yeah? Good sleep?"

Cady smiles and rests her head on Janis' shoulder. "Hi pumpkin. Sweet baby girl."

Each of them take turns cooing over their daughter, both of them already knowing one-on-one time with either of their babies will become a progressively more rare commodity. Jacob is perfectly content to continue his snooze by himself in the basket for now.

Isla's still-unfocused little gaze gradually shifts back and forth between her mothers, and she makes little happy grunts every now and again in response to their adoring words being poured over her.

After about their fifth turn each, it's back to Cady again. "Our little munchkin, look at you! Don't you look so sweet in your Christmas jammies, huh? Yeah, you do! Our pretty little sweet baby girl. Mama loves you so much."

They both gasp softly as Isla's little lips twitch and her face splits into her first-ever real smile.   Cady starts crying, and Janis feels a few tears slip down her cheeks too. "Look at that pretty smile!"

"That's a very good smile," Cady agrees tearfully. "Jay, she smiled at us."

"That she did," Janis agrees with a sniffle. She gently tickles under Isla's chin to see if she'll do it again, and they both giggle as she smiles at them again. "Yeah! Oh, we love that smile."

"So much," Cady hums. "We love that whole little smushy baby."

"Her first smile," Janis hums with one of her own.

"She's so beautiful," Cady sniffles. "Both of them are. I love them so much. I love you so much."

"I love you too," Janis echoes. She scoops the baby up higher and kisses her nose. "And you." She leans down carefully to kiss Jacob's cheek, causing him to give a little twitch in his sleep. Cady and Janis both giggle. "And you."

"Merry Christmas, my love," Cady says quietly. "Thank you for the best presents ever."

"Merry Christmas, baby," Janis replies. "And Merry Christmas, babies."

—————

tadaaaa i hope you enjoyed!!

tbh the only reason these two are twins is because i couldn't pick who i wanted to be older so i did a little fun thing with that lol. and also some of you may notice the babies did not in fact exit janis' vagina as i said in the last chapter of this series and the reason for that is i changed my gotdang mind. this'll probably be the last time we see these versions of them, at least for a while. it's been fun getting to play around so much with an au but we'll be back to your regularly scheduled cadnis in the new year (finally with picking teams again too aaah!) i also want to thank you all for being so patient with me this year. i'm painfully aware i haven't posted very much, but thank you all so much for all the love on what i have been able to put up. this year has been incredibly painful for me. people i'm close with have passed away, my works have been stolen, and my disability and mental health have gotten worse on top of it all. unfortunately that makes writing really hard, but seeing all your comments and hits and reactions have been the shining lights through it all. thank you <33 thank you all so much again for all your love and support this year. thanks for sticking with me :)) i hope your christmas was merry if you celebrate and if not i hope your day was amazing. see y'all in 2024 <3 lots of love, ezzy

#cadnis #paint by numbers #space safari #cady heron x janis sarkisian #cady x janis #cady heron #janis sarkisian #mean girls #mean girls the musical #mean girls on broadway #mean girls musical #mean girls broadway #mean girls 2004 #mean girls 2024

[vidavalor]

Hi! I'm the anon who asked about the logistics of together-the-whole-time twist back again. Firstly, thanks so much for your response! Secondly, sorry, should have worded that better! It's not the sleeping together part that would be the twist for me - I actually was confident we'd get the romance canonised, either with a kiss andor with an outright declaration and some hand-holding-forehead-kisses-type tenderness, though not necessarily until the 3rd season, I'm definitely on board with 1941 part 3 and now that they've kissed I have a pretty good feeling about some shape or form of implied, innuendoed or faded-to-black sex scene, or even something like Newt and Anathema, if it fits, in the next season - it's more about the fact that a first kiss an insanely long time ago and a secret, coded, largely unspoken romance since then that's been happening mostly past the audience's nose would put a pretty dramatic spin on everything else we've seen so far. A change our entire perspective and everything we thought we knew spin. Because that would mean that the story we thought they're telling is not in fact the story they're telling after all, that we've gotten the first 2 seasons in a completely wrong context, and that's where the feeling that this might be too much of a rug pull comes in. You don't need to respond again if you don't want to, after all you've already laid out your thoughts excellently as always, just thought I'd give you a follow up. Anyways, hope I'm wrong and you're right!

Hi. I appreciate your follow up. Please help yourself to cookies... Apologies for the delayed response. I save Asks as drafts in my folder to reply to if I'm going to and I somehow overlooked this one for awhile so I apologize. Let me add a few things here about why I really, really, really disagree with the idea that an ancient times vavoom would be "a rug pull" as you put it and "not the story they're telling." (I'm also not sure how you're okay with one happening in 1941 but not millennia ago when, really, both would mean that you'd have been "fooled" by the story? What's the difference, really?) This is actually exactly the story they're telling and there are plenty of suggestions of that.

I recently wrote a meta that I'll link at the bottom listing all of the things that Good Omens has shown you and then provided context for you later and I didn't get through a third of them... that I've even noticed so far. I'm sure there are more. What this does is recontextualize what you've been watching. It deepens it. You call that a "rug pull" with a tone that hints you might think it deceptive in a negative way. I see it as literally brilliant sleight-of-hand storytelling that's innocent in its intent. It's trickery in a magic show sense. Part of my argument to you is that a show where one of half of the couple we're talking about is a magician has a theme of narrative sleight-of-hand lol. It is very much intentionally not giving you all the information you need to have a complete picture of any one scene from only that one scene by design. It's been doing this all along and it is a way of building layers into the story and your understanding it. There is no reason not to think that this would not be the case for scenes related to the central relationship of the show that is between its main characters because every single one of them to date has already been about them.

I don't think the audience would find this complicated so I don't see it as too much of a deception. I think people would kinda go nuts for it, actually lol. You're already watching a show that keeps telling you things later that have you recontextualizing what you've already seen so don't sell yourself or the audience short. All it does is then allow the audience to see what a bunch of us expect is already there anyway. It'd make rewatching the show even more fun. If you ever want to already get a taste of that, theorize for a bit that I'm right and that this has been going on for ages and then go rewatch the show a bit and see what you spot in places. You'll be surprised by how much it all just sorta slides into place. That's because they've built it that way. You're reading a novel that's written out of chronological order and you're only two-thirds of the way through it... are you not expecting a few surprises and some deepening of your understanding of what's going on before the end of it? This show is no different.

I guess I'm saying that ain't no way that the show that keeps making scenes that change your understanding of scenes you've already watched and, as a result, your understanding of Crowley & Aziraphale's relationship, isn't planning the mother of all those scenes that will completely recontextualize the whole damn thing. They are absolutely going to have kissed before 2.06 but the way they recontextualize the whole series at once is if they make the first one near the start of the timeline.

S3 audience during The Ancient Times Vavoom lol:

#ineffable husbands #good omens #crowley #aziraphale #good omens meta #aziracrow #good omens 2 #good omens speculation

[thedeal-if]

Helloo! The ROs love languages? 😊

Hey!! This has already been answered but I think I'm much more detailed with my asks now so I'm redoing it 🧍

Receiving: Words of Affirmation

•“You’re great just the way you are” “I appreciate you.” •Endless and unprompted praise. Encouragement, just talking for the sake of talking. •Being listened to and validated. Having someone entertain his silly whims, his need to keep doing something— anything.

Gives: Gifts

•Spoiling his partner rotten to the best of his capacities, lavishing them in gifts, seeing the way their eyes light up. •Willing to take things slow, sit back and relax for his partner. •Elevating his partner art-wise, thinking of them as his one and only muse.

Receiving: Physical Touch

•Plain and simply put: sex. Being kissed, having her hands held. •Very soft and intimate physical moments: sleepy cuddles, kisses on her cheek, the warmth of life and innocence. •The knowledge that a future between her partner and her is possible, making a family.

Gives: Physical Touch

•Kisses on the cheek, warm hugs •Prepares her partner's favorite foods, dotes on them and showers them in validation and affection. •Brags about her partner often and very openly, would love to show them off shamelessly. The entire world needs to know of her devotion.

Receiving: Quality Time

•Domesticity, lazy mornings together, the cohesion of two compatible people living together. •The assurance that he's making someone proud, that he's listened to—and not only heard. •Whenever things get overwhelming—and though he often gives the impression that he wants space—having someone check on him, even if it's just through an standard text of ‘Are you okay?’.

Gives: Quality Time

•Planning dates and outings, including his partner in all his plans and ideas. •Often checks on his partner when he can't meet them as easily. •Celebrating his partner's achievements like they're his own. Remembers every little detail since he met them until today.

Receiving: Quality Time

•Going on adventures, spontaneously. Be it a long walk, a dinner out or even skydiving, she is always willing to spend time with her partner. •Sudden dates after work—hanging out in her shop, too—staving off the boredom. •She enjoys anything that involves food especially. Having someone who cooks for her would be a dream come true.

Gives: Gifts

•Impulsive little gifts: flowers, tea, plushies, handmade crochet scarfs to protect her partner from the winter. •Tarot readings, borrowing and lending books with her partner. •Pep talks, she'd love to be her partner's personal and very enthusiastic cheerleader.

Receiving: Acts of Service

•Small gestures, having someone to shoulder his burdens with him (without fully taking responsibility for them, that's Victor's job). •Having his partner consider him a part of their long-term future, within realistic paradigms. He'd find overly idealism naive. •Someone who vocalizes what they want and doesn't beat around the bush.

Gives: Acts of Service

•Cooks, does chores, goes out of his way to be two steps ahead and get things done for his partner's comfort. •Makes plans around his partner, makes sure to include them on his every idea. Asks his partner what they want to do on an specific date and takes responsibility handling the logistics. •Teaches his partner how to defend themselves.

Receiving: Words of Affirmation

•Genuine praise, having her God Complex stroked without her partner being a yes-man or kissing her ass constantly. •Having her bluntness being met with equally blunt honesty in every aspect and topic. •“I’ve got your back” “You’re doing great”

Gives: Quality Time

•“Tell me what’s wrong and I’ll fix it” •Joins her partner and keeps them company even if she's completely uninterested in that specific hobby. Watching any media together. •Roasts her partner, playfully teasing them without crossing the line and hurting them.

Receiving: Physical Touch

•Having his back stroked, nails slowly dragging up and down and scratching his skin. •Being massaged, holding hands, cuddling. •Someone whom he can make cry with laughter.

Gives: Words of Affirmation

•Teases mercilessly, speaks very highly of his partner. •Leans on his partner, drapes an arm around them, bites them fondly, kisses them out of the blue. •Could speak for hours and hours about all sorts of topics, enjoys debating and listening to his partner's opinions.

Receiving: Quality time

•A moment of brief silence and companionship, knuckles brushing against each other, enjoying the sun and peacefulness. •Casual and impromptu get-togethers. •Sharing hobbies and interests, finding excuses to meet and spend a few hours in her partner's company.

Gives: Acts of Service

•Small tokens of appreciation, woodcrafting statues offered casually. •Fixing anything that's broken for her partner: their car, their electronic devices, etc. •Though she might not understand the extent of her partner's problems, she's always ready to listen and solve them as best as she can.

#the deal if #the deal #inferno #ask #ros #dante #lilith #josh #villanelle #victor #aliyah #nathan #eden