#the colour looks green but its a minty colour

[eddiernunson]

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He melts. “Sure.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Payback?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Eh, ten.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Absolutely!”

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Um Chrissy. Chrissy Cunningham?”

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

“She asked you out?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We’ll do it on Saturday, yeah?”

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

Your heart shatters. “That good?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“She’s such a cool girl, you know?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sure.”

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

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

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

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

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

That, and it’s right beside Steve Harrington.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You hesitate. “Is this a trick question?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Because it turned into hell.

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Right?

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes please!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Where she’s a friend.

You have to try.

“What are we watching?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hawkins looks a lot different from Eddie’s backseat.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She nods.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“When did you start coming?”

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

“Why didn’t you want to go?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hmm?”

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

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

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

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

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

That was when you changed from sweetheart to slugger.

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sweet.”

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

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

“Oh,” she mutters, curling into him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh. He’s not going to.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

You shrug. “It’s fascinating.”

“To who?”

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

“Any plans upcoming for next Wednesday?”

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

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

That, you agree with.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey. How was the cupcake?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…that never happened.

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Another sip. Another gulp. Make it go away.

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

Daniel.

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

“Retribution.”

“Huh?”

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

What the fuck?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He stands there, blankly watching.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Anything after that?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Eddie.

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

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

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

“Is that all?”

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

That’s why your breath tastes like vomit.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s me.”

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

-

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

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

You would think.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck this guy. Fuck him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That conversation goes as well as can be expected.

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

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

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

“Is she okay?”

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

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

“Physically?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Should Eddie have called the ambulance?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Excuse me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

“Do you wanna come over for a movie?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Uh, three movies. Pick one.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

He’s more than willing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Probably.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What was that?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mm, almost there, baby.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Cum–cum in me, Eds. Fill me up.”

“Fuck-you, y’sure?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

Taglist For I Can Do It With A Broken Heart:

@mopeymopeymouse @fracturedarkness @mmunson86 @capricornrisingsstuff @georgeweasleyslostearhq @gagasbee @birdysaturne @empathyroad @unsureofthe-future @remuslupingf @evacraft1 @eddiebanishedmunson @mewchiili @trixyvixx @take-everything-you-can @streamafterlaughter @tlclick73 @fhsbsvy @micheledawn1975 @munsonmecrazy @harrysgothicbitch @honeyedstar @sadangeltingz @ali-r3n @hereforshmut @cooljadejacksonthings @emma-munson @bl1ssfulbaby @costellation-hunter @mysticpeachobject @thisisktrying @idcandimscared @mel119g @them-cute-boys @bl0ssomanddie @baileebear @luahmeeks @shaybahs @ribbitribbitquack @stephanie-nicks76 @sheneedsrocknroll92 @kennedy-brooke @ezzynf @pretendthisnameisclever @padf00ts-l0ver @boinkybarness @maedesculpaeusoubi @skyfullofsong123 @cruwushes @cloudroomblog @yourdailymemedelivery @daisy-munson @wolfstarsimpxx @haruari

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

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

[ikoarts]

November 2023 Art

as u can probably tell i did not pump out much art this month and the little i did do besides the big project is a lil basic or just working shit out, but erm, it's not Nothing, so thats good...!

vvv dates + info under the cut vvv

1 - 01/11/2023 : my half of an art trade with @toxicbunny from last year, i never posted it here oops, but its of her OC Luan <333 he was so fun to draw and im super happy with the results, esp playing around with texture a bit

2, 3 - 18/11/2023 : some random headshots of Heidi n Jasmine, think with Jasmine i was trying somethin a lil different with her hair

4 - 18/11/2023 : pen doodles.... a bit of trying to figure out some more human ttte designs, not perfect ofc, still naawt concrete on any kind of James design, like i know how he looks, but drawing hard </3 Thomas is also there hehe

5 - 18/11/2023 : another Heidi :D i think i wanted to draw her with her hair up like that, erm, i forget, but hey JTHM shirt, very epic, it was on my mind, i had the silly idea post-drawing this that she has insomnia and the shirt is an inside joke, coz she thinks shes funny

6, 7 - 18/11/2023 : (only by a margin coz i was drawing late again) lil human Diesel pen doodles again, this time we're doing the REDESIGN!! almost there anyway. mostly just a redesign of his hair somewhat, also Philip is just there (much like the show (jk i kinda love Philip for no reason other than hes a little guy)) not much to say here other than drawing bad on purpose is fun x

8 - 25/11/2023 : was thinking about book covers, forgot why, but also on the name of my story for Ru, Toni, those fellows, usually i just call it Violet, but i feel maybe its a bit, nothing, idk, like its not catchy enough, so i have another idea of expanding it into You, me, & Violet, and heres a quick mockup of what a book cover for it could look like.. u can tell i got graphic design qualifications from the late 2010s x (shut up i luv this doodle)

9-11 - 25/11/2023 : Robin redesigns.. again.. just some concept doodles, mostly just a change to his hair and his top, i thought adding more colour was essential, so, he'd usually wear like minty green colour trainers, i made those and, by extension, his jumper, the same blue colour, which isn't Too blue, it's still a little bit greeny, very slightly, just for some harmony in his design.. will need to draw more of this concept to really get a concrete final design

#iko's shit #2023art #Nov2023 #don't tag as kin/id/me #digital art #fine art #original art #fanart #original character #ocs #ocs:heidi #ocs:jasmine #ocs:rushada #ocs:robin #ttte #ttte humanised #thomas and friends #thomas the tank engine #ttte thomas #ttte james #ttte diesel #ttte philip #james the red engine #devious diesel #philip the diesel boxcab #WCBF #YM&V

[ask-sebastian]

Upon arriving at your dorm, you find a small parcel on your bedside table, wrapped in green cloth and tied neatly with a silky silver ribbon. A small folded note is tucked carefully under the ribbon.

Inside the box sits a heart shaped pancake

Dear Sir Minty Python, 🍃🍫🍇

My sincere apologies for the lateness of both my official Valentine’s owls (which I assure you is on its way) and for Pancake Tuesday. Please accept this gift as a small token of my appreciation. I hope it serves you well in all of its deliciousness.

Yours musically & mischievously,

Eva 🐍

Inside the box sits a small heart shaped pancake surrounded by an artistically placed assortment of raspberries and after eights.

Dear Eva,

As always, there is no need for apologies. Thank you for the very thoughtful and heartfelt gifts. Everything looks positively delectable and I shall waste no time in enjoying it.

After such generosity there is certainly no need to send anything more, but I have a feeling that my words will be of little deterrent.

Please accept a few small tokens of my appreciation as well. Enjoy them whilst taking a relaxing moment for yourself.

Affectionately, Sebastian

[Included with the owl is a small parcel festively wrapped in Slytherin colours. Inside you find a generous selection of quality chocolates, a new sketching set and freshly bound parchment notebook, and a small tin of your favourite tea.]

#ask-sebastian #sebastian sends valentines #eva

[slightlydensedragons]

We're taking a dive today friends and fam, to the underwater lair of Raire's, where its pretty sights and even prettier dragons. Admist all the coral and the no doubt amazingly gorgeous fish, I have taken a moment to browse the selection of dragons, and boy howdy, if I didn't limit myself, there'd be a lot more. Shall we get started?

I am such a sucker for Mint, there's no doubting that but Mint AND the purple colour from the clothing choice? Raca is an amazingly coordinated dragon. Something about the Spiral's energy instantly drew me to her, and I must say, she is just a sight to behold. A fantastic combination of colour that has me just enamoured for who knows how long. I'm going to end up with a minty dragon of my own, just you wait.

I would be a terrible member of the Ice Flight if I didn't pick Uru from the confines of the other flight reps that were present. He's simple, but sometimes that's all it really takes. The Irishim is nothing to sneeze at, and it works on him amazingly with the added Ringlets as well? And the free Underbelly to boot? There's only so much to fawn over he is an stunning dragon and deserves to be adored.

Something about this funny little guy just had me attracted to his appearance. Haemo probably appeals to my sense of dark shades and reds, that make up my own corner of my flight and beckoned me to come closer. Simple and rather effective, just something about him had to make me look closer at him.

Geos is gorgeous and I am goddamn sucker for her colours. I am notorious for making characters and just, slapping shades of brown on them. "Karlos once again, making a shades of brown character." But when you look at it, what's not to love. She's inviting and so very warm. I feel as if her hugs could melt so many worries from my life. If she offering? Because I would take it up in a heart beart.

I swear I was going to do only 4 dragons. 4 became 5 when Azalea showed up. The green and pink shouted at me to come see him, to embrace the wonderfulness that is his gorgeous appearance. And who was I to refuse an audience with him. I personally would not place the carousel apparel upon my dragons, but damn does he do it some justice with how nice it looks. Chef kiss all around.

#flight rising #flight rising lair review #fr dragon share #flight rising dragon share #fr lair review #Okay but like LISTEN #THEYRE ALL PRETTY AND 5 WAS MY LIMIT AAAA #The primals are so bloody cool as well #Theyre such nice dragons to look at and suit their flights so darn well youve done amazing!

[fyeah-tmnt]

OH YEAH ANOTHER ASK GAME

📷 🍪🐸?

📷 : Answered here

🍪 If you were a cookie, what kind would you be?: damn, what a weird question lmao. i really really love macadamia nuts cookies, especially the ones from subway, so i guess i'd be that

oh

oh wait

these:

🐸Describe your aesthetic:

thats SUCH a hard one. i'm still looking into the aesthetic that pleases me the most

it also depends if you mean in general or like fashion or decor wise and that really complicates the question way more than it needs to be lmao

So i do have a sense of fashion (... i hope) but i'm often too tired to do anything or i get overwhelmed when i go out (like, the few times i go out is to go to the office or do shopping/groceries, i absolutely need to be as much comfortable as possible

i do tend to go towards the "kawaii" aesthetic. i love soft pastel colours and putting a lot of bracelets and hair accessories in a very oldschool decora/decora kei (harajuku) fashion. ("kidcore" is also a very similar aesthetic honestly. they have different roots, historically speaking but they are similar visually)

but i'm also pretty punk, i just don't have much punk clothes lol i used to dress up more like this in college. right now its mostly what i have and what i can afford, especially because plus size clothes are either inaccessible in the fashion i desire, or very expensive lol

anyway

most of my kitchen accessories, counter appliances and pans are a mix of minty cool green and pastel pink (except my coffee machine but it's accessories match the kitchen aesthetic, and blender because it's impossible to find a decent blender that is also cute lol)

and a lot of my things are also pastel like my keyboard and mouse pad or the current mug i'm using right now lol

Thank you :3

Main post here: X

#asks #emoji game #contribution #supersleepyslowpoke

[thomas-and-the-chocolate-factory]

Thomas and the Chocolate Factory - Chapter 10

A Sanders Sides / Charlie and the Chocolate Factory Fanfiction

Summary: Remus Duke is the greatest chocolatier of all time, and after living the past few years a recluse, he decides to finally open his factory once again. And it's young orphan Thomas Sanders' dream to win a ticket and get to go! Will he win a ticket? And if he does, will he make it out alive?

Masterpost

----------

A meadow. A gorgeous meadow with lush green grass. There were all sorts of trees and plants, all bright colours and unusual and fun shapes. And through the middle of the meadow ran a thick, creamy brown river, flowing from a waterfall, down through to a tunnel in the wall. The ceiling was glass, sunlight from outside streaming in and coating the room in a beautiful golden glow. A strong sweet scent hovered in the air, and the five children all immediately felt very hungry as they caught it.

“Welcome to the Chocolate Room!” Remus announced, leading the group further into the room, towards the open centre past most of the trees. “Everything you see here - every flower, every tree, every single blade of grass, even the birds you can hear singing - is edible. You can eat everything you see! Except each other, of course. Unless cannibalism is your thing… But anyway, here we harvest and collect some of the more classic candies that we sell. As well as that, we have the single most important thing in the factory: the chocolate river! This is where all the milk chocolate we use in the factory comes from. The waterfall is most important, the secret as to how we make our chocolate taste so good. It mixes it up, making it light and frothy. It’s my secret method for making it taste so good. No other factory in the world mixes its chocolate by waterfall.”

As he explained, he led the tour group further into the room, walking on a rock candy path closer to the river. Thomas pinched himself to make sure he wasn’t dreaming. He wasn’t. This candy paradise was real…

“Now, I figured to start off our tour, I’d let you all have a little fun,” Remus grinned, turning to face the tour group. “You can all feel free to wander and explore this room, and try whatever candy you would like!”

“Really?!” Patton gasped, eyes practically sparkling.

“Mhm! Eat whatever you’d like. The only boundary is that you’re not allowed to have any chocolate from the river. Apart from that, you can all go wild.”

Patton grabbed Thomas’ hand, “Come on! There’s so much we have to try!”

Thomas giggled a little as he was practically dragged, “Okay, okay, I’m coming!”, before eagerly following Patton away.

The other three children didn’t hesitate to run off as well, heading towards what most looked appetising to them. Roman ran towards a patch of lollipops that were growing from the ground like flowers. He knelt in the grass, before plucking a pink lollipop from the ground, and happily licking it. Logan, on the other hand, headed towards a patch of candy pumpkins, breaking one open to reveal it was full of jam. Before digging in, he pulled his wad of gum from his mouth, sticking it behind his ear. Virgil was the only one who didn’t run, just walking away as he slipped his headphones back on and pulling out his phone.

Thomas just stared around himself in awe as he wandered through the room with Patton, following a path into the trees. He had no idea where to start, everything looked so tasty! Maybe that cotton candy tree by the river? Oh, or he could taste the candy cane arches over the section of path over there!

While Thomas was overwhelmed by the amount of choice, Patton was embracing it. He was trying every single candy they walked past, even down to the grass on the ground, which held a distinct minty taste. His shirt, hands and around his mouth were already messy and stained with chocolate, cream and caramel.

He was in the middle of eating a chocolate choux bun that he’d picked from a bush, when he let out a gasp, dropping it. “Thomas, look! Giant gummy bears!”

He took Thomas’ hand again, pulling him over to a tree from which the oversized confections were hanging. The two boys shared an excited glance, before jumping up and grabbing bears, pulling them down. Patton immediately dug in with no hesitation, while Thomas took a smaller, slower bite from the gummy bear’s ear.

And oh goodness. It was delicious. Sweet, with a fruity strawberry taste, a practical explosion of flavour in his mouth. He chewed slowly, savouring it like he would his single birthday chocolate bar.

He took a couple more bites, humming happily, while Patton had already very quickly polished his off. “Mm, that was great! Come on, let's go find more stuff to try!”

“Mm!” Thomas nodded, swallowing his current bite and putting the partially eaten gummy bear down. 

The two continued wandering, Patton still picking and eating, while Thomas tried to find something else that caught his eye. Eventually, his eyes landed on something that looked particularly delicious: in a small ditch, a tree growing candy apples! He ran over, stepping into the ditch and reaching the apple that had the most sweet candy coating-

Only for another hand to suddenly snatch it from the branch before he could take it.

He turned, finding Logan standing above him out of the ditch. “Guess you should’ve been a little faster,” Logan smirked, before smugly taking a bite of the candy apple.

“Hey, no fair! That was Thomas’!” Patton frowned, jogging over.

“He didn’t touch it, and I got it first,” Logan shrugged, turning to walk away. He raised the apple, going to take another bite-

“Logan! What have I told you about watching what you eat?” Anton had been trying to find his son, and quickly came over, frowning. “Gorging yourself on that jam was enough, you don’t need any more. Just because we’re in a chocolate factory doesn’t mean you get to let yourself go and have all this sugar.”

Logan dropped the apple to the floor, seeming to shrink a little under his father’s stare. “Sorry, pa. I won’t eat anymore.”

Anton nodded, “Good. Remember, your focus has to entirely be on winning that prize at the end.”

“I know, pa, I understand.”

Anton, still frowning a little, nodded before turning and walking away, snatching a candy apple for himself as he went.

There was a moment of silence, before Logan glanced over at Thomas and Patton, seeing them staring from where they were in the ditch. “What are you looking at?”

“Your dad doesn’t seem very nice…” Thomas climbed out of the ditch, stepping closer to Logan. “You put a lot of effort into finding a ticket, it seems unfair you aren’t allowed to enjoy the reward.”

“Yeah,” Patton followed. “There’s nothing wrong with treating yourself.”

Logan stepped back, glaring a bit. “He’s making sure I stay healthy, like a good parent should. Better than your mom, letting you become an overgrown butterball,” he snapped, before turning and walking away. As he went, he took his gum from behind his ear, putting it back in his mouth.

Thomas frowned, watching him go, before hearing a small sniffle. Patton’s fists were balled tight, his eyes a little watery. “Patton, are you alright? Don’t listen to Logan, he was-”

“I’m fine! Don’t worry about me!” Patton reassured, a bright smile being forced onto his face - though his fists were still balled, knuckles white. “H-hey, um, I’m gonna go have another one of those gummy bears. You can keep going and trying other stuff in the room, don’t wait up for me, okay?”

“Oh, okay…”

“See you later!” Patton turned, quickly hurrying off before Thomas could say any more.

Thomas sighed a little. Patton was clearly upset… Thomas wanted to go after him, but he didn’t want to put pressure on the other boy. He’d give him some space for a bit and check on him later.

In the meantime, exploring the room wouldn’t be as fun on his own… Thomas decided to go and find Larry; he was probably trying to find where Thomas went anyway.

Thomas followed the path the way he came, leaving the small clearing he was in, and going back towards the open centre of the room. As he stepped out from the trees, his eyes glanced around the room, trying to spy Larry. It seemed, however, that Larry and the other parents were all preoccupied, talking with Remus. Thomas didn’t want to interrupt the grown ups…

Instead, his eyes landed on Roman. He was still sitting in the patch of lollipop flowers, though he seemed to have collected a pile of other candies and treats that were now gathered next to him. Well, Thomas guessed it was more likely Roman’s father who collected the treats for him.

Thomas went over, stepping into the patch of flowers, “Hello,” before sitting down besides Roman.

Roman looked at him, raising an eyebrow. “Where’s the fatty?”

“Patton hung back to try some more candy.” Thomas pulled a lollipop from the ground to try. “You shouldn’t call him mean names.”

“It’s not mean, it’s just true. He is fat.”

“And there’s nothing wrong with that. Logan already made fun of him, don’t make him more upset…”

“Well, he’s not here right now, is he?” Roman gestured around them vaguely. “He’s not gonna hear what I say.” He turned back to Thomas, finding the other boy giving him a hard stare. “... Ugh, fine, I’ll be nicer.”

“Good.” Thomas smiled. He popped his lollipop in his mouth, sighing a little as he looked around the room.

It was so peaceful here… Hearing the chirping of chocolate birds, the rushing of the waterfall; smelling the delicious sweet chocolatey scent; looking at the beautiful pastel colour of all the candy… Thomas almost felt like he was in heaven.

“You two having fun?”

Thomas jumped at the sudden voice, turning to see Remus standing behind him and Roman.

“Jeez, you didn’t need to sneak up on us…” Roman muttered as Remus sat down in the grass too.

“Life is full of surprises, kid. If you can’t handle a little jumpscare, you’ve gotta learn to. So, what’s the answer to my question: are you two having fun? I saw Logan and that Virgil kid looking kinda miserable. And here I thought kids liked candy…”

Thomas nodded. “I’m definitely having fun! This room is amazing, Mr Duke!”

Remus grinned. “Glad someone’s enjoying it. I was just talking to all your parents, and god they are boring! It’s all ‘what’s the point, why make a room like this when you could just make candy the normal way, how does it make you more money?’ They don’t get it.”

“Get what?” Roman asked.

“It. The fact that nothing needs a point. The fact there’s some things we feel we need to do, not really for any reason, but just because it’s second nature. I mean, that’s where fun comes from. You two get it, right?”

“I guess I kind of do…” Roman hummed. “Acting and performing is kind of like that for me. But it’s also so I can become famous and make a lot of money when I’m grown up! Then I can buy whatever I want.”

“That’s the exact issue! Adults get in your head! They tell you that you’ve got to have all these big goals of success and money and stuff… I never got it.” Remus turned to Thomas. “I was a bit like you as a kid. Orphan, poor… It frustrated me how I was expected to pick myself up by my bootstraps, spend all my time working and saving to get myself out of the pit I was put in by chance. I didn’t want that, I just wanted to fuck around. Make weird candy and have fun.”

Thomas nodded, ignoring the chocolatier’s bad language. He knew the exact feeling: he’d used to have more free time for hobbies before he got the job doing the paper round.

“But you did work to become super successful and rich?” Roman said, frowning. “Isn’t that hypocritical?”

“Never meant to. My passion just ended up getting profitable. I got lucky, and it just kind of happened,” Remus shrugged. “I know people say I am, but I’m not at all special. There are probably a lot of people who could do exactly what I do if they got the chance.”

“You really think so?” Thomas asked. “I mean, the stuff you make is so cool, it seems impossible! I don’t think anyone else could do it.”

“Nah. Hell, I bet one of you kids could probably do it. You haven’t had your spirit crushed yet, you’ve probably still got tons of fun ideas swimming in those brains of yours.”

Thomas blinked, eyes practically sparkling. Remus really thought he had the potential to create things as wonderful as this? That was-

“What is that?!” Roman had zoned out of the conversation at some point, but now he abruptly stood up, pointing at something on the other side of the river. “It looks like a tiny person!”

His yell had been loud enough to get the attention of the rest of the tour group, who all wandered over to see what he was pointing at. Logan was still following his dad’s orders, not eating anything and just chewing his gum, while Virgil was eating a licorice stick, and Patton…

Was strangely absent, not coming over with the rest of the group. Thomas could only assume he was too far away to have heard.

“What are we looking at?” Logan asked, adjusting his glasses and narrowing his eyes.

“In that tree there, look!” Roman pointed.

And there, right where he was pointing, was a person, about the size of a porcelain doll. They wore a uniform consisting of an orange t-shirt, black gloves, and green overalls, which had a ‘D’ logo on the front. They had brown hair, and their eyes were an unnatural orange colour. They were picking gumballs from the tree they were sitting in, dropping the colourful balls down into a basket held by another identical person.

The longer the tour group stared, the more of the tiny people they could see around the room. All were working, harvesting and collecting candy.

“How are they so small?”

“Where do they come from?”

“What are they?”

“They’re my workers,” Remus said nonchalantly. “Figured the uniforms would have made that obvious…”

“I thought you fired all your workers?” Larry asked.

“Yeah, and I made new ones. You didn’t think I could run this entire place by myself, did you?”

Virgil raised an eyebrow. “Made new ones?”

“Yeah, they’re robots. But I call them Oompa Loompas, it’s more fun to say. I couldn’t trust human workers to not spread all my secret recipes, so I created ones programmed just to work for me that can’t share any secrets. Plus, now there’s no human error or employee casualties, so everything runs a lot more efficiently.”

Now that the group looked closer, there were visible signs that the workers were artificial. As they moved, there were slight whirring noises. Their ‘skin’ was shiny like metal, and there were visible gaps between plates around their joints.

“You actually created robots… that’s amazing!” Logan sounded genuinely curious and excited for the first time all day. “They seem so advanced. I mean, their movements are so human-like.”

“Yeah, it took a loooot of prototypes to perfect them. I made them that small just so it’d take less materials per Oompa Loompa and I could make enough of them for the whole factory.”

“You aren’t afraid of their AI becoming too intelligent, and them forming a coup to take you down?” Virgil asked.

“Nope. The thought did occur to me, so I made sure to not make them sentient enough for that. They’re the perfect workers. And they can sing and dance to provide entertainment too-”

Harley suddenly interrupted Remus. “Patton, I don’t think you should be doing that!”

#thomas sanders #sanders sides #c!thomas #remus sanders #patton sanders #roman sanders #logan sanders #virgil sanders #chapter 10 #fanfiction #sanders sides fanfiction

[pineappleciders]

Hey! Sooo i is here for an omori matchup♡

Okay so anywho I have black hair, its half shaved and im growing out the nonshaved side cause its about to my shoulder. Im pan, but also aromantic? I just cant feel attraction but romance! Im pretty tall for my age. I have brown eyes and i have dimples.

I like wearing hoodies and leggings. Also i love cosplay. I have so many wigs. Im kinda chubby. I like bland colours, and usually wear black.

I have one brother, and im good with kids but i dispise them. I have an electroc guitar but suck at it. Im good at singing tho! I play video games, and am really good at them. A weird thing is that I hate watching visual novels. If im playing tho, its cool.

Anyways, im good at making friends but am annoying? I have adhd, but i can be pretty calm. I usually choose my friends by their clothes. One of my bffs i only talked to cause i liked their backpack.

Im an ambivert, and i use my shorter friends as armrests. I talk a lot in class but have all a's and b's. I suck at drawing, but I like it. Rn im taking debate. I cant dtay on topic for more thdn like 5 minutes.

I want to dye my hair mint green. I died it black cause my natural hair colour is brown. If i could choose looks, I would have Light green hair with blue eyes.

I text like "Omg slay💅🏼💅🏼" to some friends and others "coolio" Also i love danganronpa, ddlc, omori, and animal crossing. And mario games and pokemon.

Also idk if this is inportant but I listen to 71,310 minutes of spotify? Thats 1,200 hours.

Bye bye! Also if you coukdnt tell, i didnt proofread this. Also im non-vinary. Bye!

I MATCH YOU WITH...

REALWORLD BASIL!!!

BASIL is pretty patient, so you don't have to worry about annoying him or anything

his favorite color is green, and i think he would dye his hair a minty green in the future, so if you wanted to dye yours then he'd help you!!

he's curious what kind of music you listen to and if it's so good to the point where you'd spend 1,200 hours listening to it

he has a bit of a hard time starting conversation so you might meet just by you complimenting his shirt and it goes from there

gets kinda confused if u lean on him but he gets used to it

the only types of games BASIL really likes are RPGs , psychological horror and sandboxes, but he'll play shooters and other games if you'd like to (you always win)

he also really likes drawing, and if u like ask for drawing tips or something he'll say "i think your art is amazing the way it is!!" (he doesn't mean to be obnoxious, he just hates when people ask how to draw)

he thinks cosplayers r so cool!! if you wanna make a closet cosplay or something at home he'll help you out with his autistic artistic abilities

#omori #omori matchup #omori matchups #omori basil #basil omori #basil x reader #basil omori x reader #omori basil x reader #basil headcanons #omori headcanons #omori fandom

[weaponimagination]

Forest Guardians au pt1 (warning brief blood and alcohol mentioned)

"Emma dear, come away from the fence, would you." Her nanny Bridgett yelled, waving her hand for her to come back towards the garden. 

Disgruntled, she walked away from the warm stone feature the sun fading "I was only feeding the deer!" She mumbled oats in hand, walking back to the house. 

"You know the rules, it's almost dusk." She patted the girl on the head, "I'll fix us some tea." 

Emma shook her head displeased, "alright, do you know when my mum and da will be back?"

A nervous look crossed her features, "not to worry they'll be back soon. I promise!"

'She always says that' she thought.

…….

"Goodnight sweetheart!" Her nanny said, flicking the light of her room off.

Sighing, she let her eyes flutter shut, hoping her dreams were sweet.

………

A loud crash woke her up almost immediately. An animalistic groaning and whining brought her to her senses. 'What the?' She thought, grabbing a torch from the top drawer of her nightstand. The clock next to her bed read 23:30. She grabbed a pullover off her door, yanking it over her head.

Loud creaks echoed through the silent house. Passing a door on her way, her nanny was fast asleep, a light snore coming from her. 

She made her way down the stairs, nothing could be seen from the windows in the house. Tripping slightly over a raised portion of the kitchen floor, she recovered grabbing onto the sliding back door. 

Whatever the noise was, it had stopped. She yanked open the door, flicking her torch on. A light mist swirled as she scanned the back garden. A pair of what looked like deer legs caught her attention. They were partially obscured by a black berry bush. She rushed over, 'those dang hunters, when would they leave the poor deer alone?'

She gasped trying to catch her breath as she looked at what was behind the bush. She began to shake, holding her breath, this…. This thing wasn't a deer. 

A tall lanky figure was draped partly in the bush. Dark almost onix coloured fur covered its arms and legs. Alabaster cut through on its chest and the top of its head. Gold markings shimmered separating the dark grey and white of its fur, lilac teardrop shapes were on its chest, stomach and… eyes? Did it have eyes? Golden horns adorn its head like a proud crown that was surrounded by long green dreads cascading along and partly over its face. 

Shakily she walked around the creature, tumbling over as her foot collided with something.

She pointed her light towards it… it was a tail, a long one at that. It was striped in grey, gold, and violet colours, the same minty dreads adorn it at the end… though it looked more like a hand.

As she marveled at it more, concern washed over. Glowing and sparkling ultramarine blood seeped from deep gashes in the lower portion of its legs. It looked as if it had put up quite the fight. Specks of tree bark, leaves, and sticks littered its fur.

Acting quick she dashed back to the house. Snatching the first aid kit from under the kitchen counter and yanking a thick blanket from the couch. 

She quickly sanitized and wrapped the monster's wounds. After her work was done she put the blanket over it to keep it warm. (Not that it really did much, it barely covered its torso) She sighed wiping her brow, 'hopefully her first aid was good enough to help it.' 

She went to pat it on the head when it grabbed her, holding her close to its chest like a child would a stuffed animal. 

'Great' she thought, 'what do I do when it wakes up?' 

She tried to worm out of its grasp, this only caused it to hold on tighter. 'Welp I'm stuck.'

Its fur was incredibly plush and warm, strange the monster smelled of lilies and lavender. A soft what you could call pur came from it. Her eyes slowly closed, strangely comforted and content by this creature.

……

A light murring sound woke her, 'no it was too early!' Loud sniffing and a light lap of her cheek caused her to snap awake. 'What the… oh' she was face to face with the monster. It 'gazed' bewildered at her. 

"Uhhhh… hello there?" She waved at it. 

It started sniffing at her again when its stomach growled loudly. Her eyes widened.

A sheepish look crossed its features, as it murmured at her again. 

"Do… Do you want something to eat?" She asked, trying to think of what this thing could eat.

It tilted its head to the side almost as though it didn't understand her. "Something to eat?" His voice was deep rumbling in his chest, she saw the flash of sharp animalistic teeth.

"Y-you can talk?"

Her brows furrowed as he spoke a language she couldn't understand. Then tried to get up, "wait, no don't!" She sprung at him.

He bared his teeth, growling and hissing in pain quickly flopping back down. 

"J-just stay here, I'll be back" she waved her hands to stay put. 

She flew back towards the house almost tripping over her own feet. She pulled a reusable shopping tote from the small bin next to the pantry. She yanked the doors open, 'maybe he likes sweets?' She shoved a large bag of marshmallows in with some chocolate. Opening the fridge she grabbed a bottle of water eyeing some meat. 'His teeth are kind of like a shark's, maybe he eats meat?' She grabbed the container, setting it on the counter, collecting a couple more items. Once she was set she grabbed the meat and ran back to him.

He was slumped over on his front, head partly under the blanket. He looked defeated, 'what happened to you?' He perked up, as she approached. 

"I don't think you can really hide under that big guy." She giggled while sitting by his head.

"This might make you feel better though." She held a piece of chocolate in front of his face. He sniffed it a few times, unsure of it.

She broke off another piece then munched on it, "see it's good! I know when I'm sad my mummy would bring me some chocolate to help me feel better." She said holding it out to him again. 

A large clawed hand emerged from under the blanket. He gingerly took the chocolate, nails barely grazing her palm.

He sniffed it again then snapped it up. He chewed for a second then stopped, a loud thumping started. She looked behind him as his tail started to wag. 

She giggled, "is it good?" 

He bobbed his head up and down, "good!" 

As she rifled through her bag, she watched him poke at the plastic covering the meat. "Do you want that?" She asked, grabbing the container.

She opened it, watching him start to salivate. 'He really was like a big dog', she giggled at the thought, then pushed the meat over to him.

One large bite and it was gone.

Her eyes widened, "wait you can't eat the container, spit it out!" She put her hands on his face, trying to open his mouth. 

He growled lightly at her, moving his face to the side. 

She watched him swallow, then spit out the container directly into her hands. 

"Ewwww…" she scrunched her nose and heard a low chortle from him. 

She tossed it away wiping her hands on the grass. 

"Emma!... Emma, where are you!" The panicked yelling of her nanny echoed in the woods scaring some birds. 

'Oh no!' She thought, 'where am I going to hide you?' 

She heard him mumble something, then heard a loud crash in the shed near the garage.

'He… he was gone, wait did he… oh no!'

"It's okay, I'm right here!" She yelled out to her nanny, quickly stuffing the bag of food under the bush. She grabbed the blanket and made her way around the corner. "I wanted to watch the sunrise, I didn't mean to scare you… I'm sorry." She said looking down at the blanket. 

Bridgett rubbed her temples, "please leave me a note or something, you can't keep scaring me like this kid." She shook her head, "come on, let's make some breakfast." 

…..

She all but ran out of the house after doing up the dishes from breakfast. Stopping by the bush, she grabbed the bag, then took off towards the shed. 

Slowly she opened the door,  "Mr. Monster you here?" 

She heard a loud murr and the door was pushed open more. Tools and toys were scattered all around, a hammer hanging from one of his horns. 

"I brought you more food,'' she dropped the bag in front of him. Walking up she tried to grab the hammer from his horn, even sitting down he was tall, not even standing on her tiptoes worked. He looked bemused at her antics, then lowered his head. 

"Ah ha, got it." She exclaimed, turning to set it on the workbench. 

"I have to go into town with Bridgett today, please just stay here." She said, "I'll be back later I promise." 

She doubted he heard her, he was too enthralled with the food at the moment.

As she went to leave his long tail snaked around her dropping a piece of chocolate in her hand. "Oh uh, thank you!" She smiled at him. "Though before I leave, what's your name?" She asked.

He stopped for a moment tilting his head to the side, "name?" He parroted back. 

"You know name," she pointed at her chest. "Emma, that's mine." She then pointed at him, "your turn." She popped the chocolate into her mouth.

"Emma?" He pointed at her then pointed at himself and said something in another language that started with a b. 

She stared at him as she chewed slower, maybe if he spelt it out for her. She watched as he began to scratch something into the dirt floor. He then circled it and pointed to himself. 

She looked at it, it sort of looked like a b-a-l-a-n? "Balan?" She said confused, that sure didn't sound anything like how he said it. 

Better than nothing, he nodded. "Balan" he said, then pointed at her. "Emma."

"Nice to meet you Balan" she smiled at him then closed the door running back to the house.

…..

She parked her bike beside her nanny's at the bakery.

"Hey Emma, long time no see!" A boy around her age ran up to her as she was taking off her helmet. 

"It's only been two days Leo." She said, shaking her head. 

"So, you ditch the nanny yet?" He asked, rubbing his nose.

"Nice to see you too Leo." Bridgett rolled her eyes. "Go on Emma, I'll meet you back around supper time." She said, shaking her head as he stuck his tongue out at her, little booger. 

…. 

Water splashed as Leo skipped rocks through a calm brook. 

"Hey did you hear that someone got one the fabled guardians of the forest last night?" He said nonchalantly searching for another stone. "Some hunters were bragging about it outside of the pub." 

"What?" Her face grew pale, "d-did they kill it?"

He chucked another rock, "no, they said it ran off. Though I doubt their story is even true." He looked at her, "they were pretty trashed when they were talking about it. One even looked like he had blue glitter glue all over his hands." He smirked, "you don't really believe that stuff right?"

Her eyes widened, "it's true Leo! It's not funny to joke about these things ." 

He snorted, "psht- they are only bedtime stories made to scare little kids." He saw her cheeks puff out, "oh don't tell me, you've actually seen one of these things" sarcasm oozed from him.

She turned from him crossing her arms over her chest, "for your information I have!"

He cocked an eyebrow at her, "prove it!" 

She glared at him, "fine, come to my house at 22:00. I'm sure he'll be interested to see you." 

He grinned rolling his eyes, "deal." 

"Emma, time to go!" Bridgett yelled. 

"See you then," she waved at him as she left.

#forest au #balan wonderworld #my writing

[kallypsos]

3, 12, snd 39 please

mrs b!!! 💕

3. favourite quote? HOW CAN I PICK 😢ok ill give u a sweet one this time instead of my depressing ones. its a piece of a poem but that counts as a quote for me idc

so I love you because I know no other way

than this: where I does not exist, nor you, so close that your hand on my chest is my hand, so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.

— Pablo Neruda, Sonet XVII

12. i'm giving you a plane ticket, where are you going? i have so many places i wanna visit but literally the first one that came to mind was home to romania. i wanna see my grandma and hear the specific birds of my childhood again

39. you can dye your hair any colour and it would look good regardless, what colour are you dying it? actually a fun fact about me is that i had bright pink hair at one point in my life (plus other silly colours) kshdgadh i think i would go for like minty pastel green?

#inbox 💌 #thank u mrs b!!! <3

[p3achyl3monm3lon]

Turquoise 01 

Turquoise Aqua / Fresh Aqua / A paler baby hue sits between its two parents, green and blue / colour of the seas ocean, its a holiday, of pacific emotion / refresh with Hawaiian Cyan, a hydration of rejuvenation / for aqua translated, becomes something translucent / purest water possessing a cleansing aura opposing any stormy colour / for over here it’s paradise and I’m in nirvana / lapping around island of Ibiza, enter this tranquil Bohemia / where women wear this peace-filled gem for a love-life trend / sip on still oasis, dip submerged body into eden / laid back, a feeling as light as floating / fresh nature green a-washed with blues serene in this watery scene / in reality and on your tv screen / blow a minty bubble gum colour, like a breath of fresh air, breathe new life into here / for everyone’s choice is always, the ever popular, turquoise

//

‘First Man and First Woman also summoned the other three Holy People, Water Sprinkler, House God, and Talking God. Together, they told Turquoise Boy and White Shell Girl that they were creating the sun and the moon. They asked Turquoise Boy if he would become the sun, and they asked White Shell Girl if she would become the moon.’

Joel Gladd, 3. Navajo Diné Bahane, Anthology of Earlier American Literature : College of Western Idaho

/

‘In this way, Turquoise Boy became the sun, Jóhonaaʼéí, The One Who Rules the Day. And White Shell Girl became the moon, Tłʼéhonaaʼéí, The One Who Rules the Night. Níłchʼi Haʼaʼaahdę́ęʼgo, the East Wind, asked to carry the newly formed sun to his land so that it could begin its journey there.’

Joel Gladd, 3. Navajo Diné Bahane, Anthology of Earlier American Literature : College of Western Idaho

//

‘Polaroid blues are amongst the most gorgeous blues I know, like those obscene Polaroid blues of fashion / art photographers Helmet Newton and Guy Bourdin. Land explains why my blood looks blue and gave us the gift of the Polaroid with its stunning cyans.’

Carol Mavor, Introduction, Blue Mythologies, Reflections on a Colour

/

‘Passion flowers and clinging ‘wild convolvulus blossoms’ entwine her figure in this Arabian nights bower so as to enhance the passion we feel for her and her emerald green, blue-turquoise rimmed robe.’

Carol Mavor, Introduction, Blue Mythologies, Reflections on a Colour

[1eaf-me-alone]

Hi there! I hope you're not too overwhelmed with all the requests, but I really like how you do these matchups so I would like to request one^^

I'm okay with any gender, and would prefer the matchup to be romantic (if you can't find anyone platonic is good too!)

I'm afab and use any pronouns, buut I'm really insecure about my body. I think I'm INFP and 100% introverted lol. I don't have the best home life, like my whole family I also have anger issues. I can usually manage them, but I really don't like people who start fights. Sometimes I'm really excited, but I also have times where I genuinely cannot bring myself to even move, so I'd kinda like someone who could respect that I can't be brought out of that and that it will just go on its own.

I really appreciate indivituality and artistry of any kind and I have a really messy sense of humor (I'm talking 50 sound effects at once loud = funny amongus type of stuff). I've been trying to be more positive so I would prefer more of an optimist.

I love music and dancing though I'm not in any clubs anymore. I'm also pretty shy at first but I usually warm up pretty quickly. People tell me I look unapproachable but I promise I'm not glaring!! I'm kinda picky with food, I especially hate sauce and some soups (the texture makes me shiver lol). I love vintage harlequin dolls and I would really like to learn to sew or crochet when I have more time. I really love seeing different interpretations and analysis of books, shows etc. And oh my god I love old Barbie movies so much (Diamond castle being my favorite... the closet was always glass)

I hope this was good enough. Thank you so much, take your time and make sure not to overwork yourself<33

Your match is…. Ayaka

Ayaka:

Ayaka is so sweet with you, she’s kindhearted and polite- she isn’t a pessimist.

she will respect you when you need your space, and whenever you feel like talking again she will be there to comfort you

both of you were probably quite shy to start off, but you do end up starting to warm up to each other

you and Ayaka could dance together, maybe she’ll take you to a frozen lake, or under the sacred Sakura blossoms in the moonlight.

she isn’t one to start fights, and she’s good with personal space- you are so grateful for that.

she loves you dearly and if she doesn’t really get your sense of humour she might laugh anyway just to make you happy.

the two of you could learn to crochet together- sitting under the summer sun smiling as each other as you both sewing together.

The two of you could have movie nights together, and make up different interpretations. You could stay up until late at night with her just talking about different scenarios.

Ayaka might try help you through your anger issues, calming you down. If that doesn’t work then she’ll respect your space and leave you be for a little bit.

luckily to you Ayaka’s favourite food isn’t a sauce or a soup as it’s a chazuke (rice dish with fish) and if you don’t like it , the two of you could find something new together.

Ayaka loves spending time with you- she hasn’t had a partner in her life, or many close friends for the matter.

before kissing you she will ask, her kisses are soft , delicate and polite just like her.

Unlike a lot of people Ayaka didn’t see you as unapproachable, instead she was just happy to have someone that didn’t act differently towards her when they knew who she was.

when you get insecure about your body Ayaka might shower you with compliments or calm you down. Sometimes she’ll just sit with you whispering nice things about your body . It makes you feel a lot better.

Ayaka is a INFJ and very compatible with INFP’s

I wrote a few short scenes with you and Ayaka :)

— — — — — — —

Both you and Ayaka sat under the shade of the summer sun. You had taken a straw basket full of colourful yard with you- there were bright pinks, minty greens, sky blues and more . Both of you wanted to learn how to crochet, and as you sat there, the two of you crocheting together Ayaka smiled. She seemed to be knitting a blue scarf and as you looked at it- the patterns beautifully made, Ayaka said “so do you like it” “it’s beautiful” you replied. “I made it for you.”

— — — — —

Ayaka listened to you as you talked excitedly about the different interpretations you could come up with, she looked at you in your eyes whenever you talked and listened with great enthusiasm. She thought your theories were really interesting.

— — — — —

“I’ll let you calm down now.” Ayaka closed the door quietly behind her as she let you be alone. You lied in bed curled up like a ball, your eyes were closed. You didn’t have energy to speak.

You opened your eyes You smelled the steam of your favourite food steaming in a pot downstairs. You smiled. You heard the sound of footsteps coming nearer to your room. A silent shuffle came from outside the door as Ayaka pushed a note into a door and walked away leaving you to your own space. You picked up the note

I made your favourite food downstairs, Take your time and when you’re ready you can eat with me. I’ll wait for you whenever you’re ready :)

-Ayaka

— — — — —

I hope you enjoyed reading this anon :)

well that’s all with the tenth ask if you want to send an ask click here for more details on the event.

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #ayaka fluff #ayaka x y/n #ayaka x reader #ayaka genshin impact #kamisato ayaka #ayaka kamisato #genshin x y/n #genshinimpact #ayaka x you

[mjharrispainting]

Top Trends in Residential Painting for Modern Homes

The world of residential painting is undergoing an exciting transformation, with fresh trends and innovative techniques taking centre stage. Whether you're looking to revamp your living space or contemplating a full makeover, staying updated on the latest painting trends can provide you with inspiration and insights. 

In this guide, we'll dive into the top trends in residential painting for modern homes, exploring how the expertise of Melbourne house painters is bringing these trends to life.

Neutral Elegance: The Rise of Greige

The fusion of grey and beige, known as "greige," has become a beloved choice for modern homes. Greige tones exude warmth while maintaining a neutral palette, making them versatile for various décor styles. Painting Melbourne homes with greige hues provides a timeless backdrop that effortlessly complements both traditional and contemporary furnishings.

Moody Statements with Dark Paints

Dark and moody paint shades are making a bold comeback. Deep blues, rich emeralds, and velvety blacks are being used to create striking accent walls, adding drama and sophistication to interiors. Melbourne house painters are skilfully transforming spaces by incorporating these daring shades, resulting in captivating and inviting environments.

Earthy and Serene: Nature-Inspired Palettes

In an era where connection with nature is valued, nature-inspired colour palettes are gaining traction. Soft greens, warm browns, and gentle blues are reminiscent of the outdoors and create tranquil living spaces. Choosing these earthy hues not only imparts a sense of calm but also brings the serenity of nature indoors.

Playful Pastels: Contemporary Twist on Tradition

Pastel hues are shedding their old-fashioned reputation and embracing a modern twist. Soft pinks, minty greens, and gentle yellows are being used to create fresh and contemporary looks. The key is to balance these pastels with neutral accents to achieve a sophisticated and inviting atmosphere.

Ombre and Colour Gradients

The artistic technique of Ombre is making its way onto walls. This trend involves transitioning from one colour to another, creating a beautiful gradient effect. It adds depth and dimension to rooms, especially when applied to focal walls or ceilings. house painters are adept at executing this intricate technique, resulting in captivating visual spectacles.

Textured and Faux Finishes

The texture is becoming a focal point in residential painting. Faux finishes, such as concrete, marble, or linen effects, are being skilfully applied to walls to create visual interest and tactile appeal. These finishes add depth and uniqueness to spaces, making them stand out in the world of interior design.

Monochromatic Statements

Monochromatic colour schemes, where different shades of a single colour are used, are making a statement in modern homes. This approach creates a cohesive and harmonious look, allowing for creative experimentation with varying tones and textures.

Metallic Accents and Glamour

Metallic paints and finishes are adding a touch of glamour to interiors. Gold, silver, and copper accents create luxurious and sophisticated spaces, enhancing the overall aesthetic appeal of modern homes.

Conclusion: Painting the Future

In conclusion, the world of residential painting in Melbourne is embracing a dynamic shift, offering a wide spectrum of options to enhance modern homes. Whether you're drawn to moody tones, nature-inspired hues, or textured finishes, there's a trend to suit every taste and style. By collaborating with skilled professionals like Melbourne house painters, you can ensure that your home reflects the latest trends while maintaining a timeless appeal.

As you embark on your painting journey, remember that your living space is a canvas waiting to be transformed into a masterpiece of modern design.

[nailsupplyblog]

2023's THE BEST PASTEL NAIL POLISH

It's time to change up your nail polish hues. Are you trying to find the top pastel nail polish collection for 2023? Then allow us to demonstrate the most how much nails cost alluring, current pastel gel paints and nail lacquers for you to achieve the best manicure!

Our stunning collection of pastel gels and nail lacquer duos will make your fingertips shine while you embrace your inner nail artist. To give you the best possible formulae that are durable, long-lasting, and chip-resistant, we have carefully selected them.

Our thorough guide to the best pastel nail polish sets will become your go-to resource if you're looking for a delicate lavender shade, an eye-catching mint green, or a gentle peachy pink. Let's begin!

1. SPRING COLORS LAVIS GEL NAIL POLISH DUO

Both professional and do-it-yourself manicurists love the Lavis pastel nail polish set. There are forty-eight lovely pastel colours in this spring color palette, representing every color of the rainbow. Each one is shiny and how much nail techs make extremely pigmented. Although they are designed for professionals, anyone may use them at home because of the creamy, smooth consistency.

2. Charley and the Angel, a Lavis Gel Nail Polish Duo

Bring in the gentle springtime sun. Among the 200+ colours in the whole Lavis line, this lovely yellow tint is the only one of its kind. Both a gel and a nail lacquer version are offered.

The professional gel solution is simple to use and dries without bubbling or shrinking. For a prompt, flawless treatment each and every time, we suggest the Lavis nail lamp.

Don't worry if you don't have time for a gel manicure. The nail lacquer has a short drying time in addition to a high-gloss finish and great chip resistance.

3. Spring-themed DND Gel Nail Polish Duo Colors

The DND Spring Colors are mouthwatering hues with a glossy sheen that will draw attention to your nails. Drool-worthy hues from the collection include the minty-fresh FOUNTAIN GREEN, UT. Additionally, the gels can be soaked off in only 10-15 minutes and can last for up to three weeks without chipping or peeling.

4. Spring-themed OPI Gel Nail Polish Duos

The Gel Spring Colors nail technician skills and abilities by OPI guarantee a shine without chips for up to three weeks. Of course, the lacquers last a week or longer without chipping. With the carefully created brush that flares precisely across the nail, both are simple to apply.

The chic and stylish Kanpaiopi is one of the most sought-after OPI colors in this collection.

5. Spring-themed SNS Gel Nail Polish Duo Colors

The SNS spring colors are challenging to ignore. The company has gone to great pains to create wholesome solutions that fortify nails while yet feeling airy and flexible. Additionally, they don't discolor the natural nail.

With an LED nail lamp, the gels cure instantly, and the lacquers also dry quickly. Start with the Cashmere Cardigan as you select your favorite color. It's a soft shade of teal that reminds me of a spring wind.

6. Spring Colors Gelish Gel Nail Polish Duo

Did you know that the patent for the first gel polish with a brush in the bottle belongs to Gelish? Gels used to be the exclusive domain of salon experts. The advantages what is nail technician of a gel manicure can now be enjoyed at home by anyone who purchases them.

The Morgan Taylor and Gelish Sheer & Silk shade is a lovely baby pink if you're craving one.

#nails #painted nails #manicure #nail polish #nailpolish #pretty nails #nail #naildesign #nail art #nailstyle

[fr0ggs]

okay ive decided its time to start posting shit again!!!!!!!!! okay so i have a world called mallport if anyone'd like to know more about that send me an ask i'd love to talk about it but this is rob

[image id: an anthropomorphic common lizard standing straight upwards facing the viewer. his tail is laying on the ground behind him. he is wearing tan khakis, a brown belt with a golden buckle, and a minty green t-shirt with lighter green, thin stripes. he looks stiff and is very square shaped. /end id.]

i drew him last year he's a hivemind i will go into this more under the cut

okay so rob itself is a hivemind. the main one is [my guy] rob. here are some of his other clone guy things whatever all their names are supposed to be variations of rob

[image ids: image one has rob but slanted and upside down, the text above him says '[my man] bor.' image two has rob covered in a rectangle of static, and the text below it says '[my lawyer] robb.' image 3 has an image of rob but his lineart looks very shaky and crayon-like. the text above him says '[my enemy oib]' image 4 has an image of rob wearing a puffy dulled-mint coloured jacket that appears to look very bush-like. his general color scheme is cooler, and he's where yellow sunglasses that hide his eyes. the text above him says '[my adversary] snibor' image 5 is a pixelated and blurred out image of rob, with the text above him saying '[my best friend] rorbius'. /end id.]

i also have some unnamed ones but he is such a guy i think.

[image id: an image of rob with large raindrops covering him in a square. /end id.]

i think he'd have a little brother who i haven't made yet but he's just like. some guy. he just wanders through the mallport and doesn't say much. i also think he considers his clone hivemind guys to be family. if you go through mallport you'll be able to spot him in the background, i'd like to think he has versions that just look like pngs so you've just got a nextbot guy wandering around with his little brother

#mallport #my guys #<- new oc tag #the artg

[mollytatlisu]

Lookbook Page 2 - Key Shapes and Materials

To ensure this page communicates my trend effectively I wanted to ensure I include all relevant shapes and materials which are:

Key materials: sheers, knit, hemp and treated fabrics; typically natural dyes

Key shapes: mostly dresses particularly flowy, distressed knit tops

I managed to communicate two of these things using another design by Bing Xiong. The model is wearing a sheer skin coloured dress that reaches ankle length. On the front it has what looks like a large dark dye splodge with an organic pattern seeping out around the edges. I think this dress is very ethereal, and the reoccurring appearance and importance of flowing dresses in my trend goes hand in hand with an ethereal look; which is communicated through this dress.

To include hemp on the page I used this cropped top and long skirt matching set; which although doesn’t match the Love-cycled criteria in terms of shape the flowy characteristic of the skirt is key.

To communicate the importance of material treatment I used another dress, which is made up of dyed samples with rosy prints on them patchworked together. The longest part of the dress touches the floor and also flows nicely due to the delicate, thin fabric used. To begin with the image I used was overlayed with a navy blue jacket, which I thought was particularly distracting because it didn’t fit with my colour way at all. So using the hue and saturation tools I changed the jackets colour to a leafy green.

The first image I used to demonstrate distressed knitwear was a design by brand 113 Maison. Lots of this brands designs resonate with Love-cycled but I chose this one because the fact it was a runway photo meant it was high quality. I placed it in the bottom left to begin with, but relocated it later on.

The final garment I added to this page was a brown turtle neck distressed tight knit top by fashion designer LeMAine. This designer actually explores the decay of the human body through her fashion normally; through what she coined “flesh fashion”, with this piece being an anomaly amongst her usual designs.

I struggled positioning each component to begin with because I didn’t really have a layout idea. I originally settled on the layout above, but I realised as I’ve used the same model twice in my lookbook wearing something different but having them positioned in the same place on the page, it almost looked like a before and after, turning into a distraction which I didn’t like, so I moved that model to the right hand side, swapping her with the 113 MAISON model. I made the treated fabric dress so large it reached the top and bottom of the page to make the scale more interesting.

A problem I encountered was the top on the mannequin looked like it was just floating in space unless it was placed at an edge, so I added a light brown block as almost a shelf for it to sit on in the top right section. To further this I returned to a beige distressed knit texture that I found earlier on in the project and cut a rectangle out of it using the marque tool, reduced the opacity and overlayed it on the brown block to add depth.

I decided this looked out of place on its own, so I added another block on the left hand side of the page; but this time a green shade. What I struggled with here was finding a green shade that when the opacity is reduced looks sage toned, but they all seemed to become more minty when the opacity is lowered.

Another issue I faced is the hemp image had to be somewhere at the top. As the image was cut off at the persons chest something either had to be connected to it or it had to look like it was going off the top of the page, which as you can see is what I went with.

Above is the final page completed, except from the text which I am planning on placing to the right of the hemp model; in the same paragraphing style that I used on the narrative page.

[designdekko]

How to incorporate pink into your homes for a sophisticated and quick makeover

Often perceived as a children’s room colour or a ‘girly’ one, pink has revolutionized its way into every corner of homes and spaces when used intelligently. Pink and its shades have seamlessly blended into our surroundings over the years and have definitely started making a change in the way we perceive this colour. The versatility of this colour from gentle pastels or powder-like hues to bright fuchsia and hot pink, there is a shade of the colour to suit all palettes, styles and moods! 

Also Read | A floating pavilion as testing grounds for museum-to-be M. in Dutch new town Almere

Psychologically pink is a positive colour and brings a soothing calmness into any space and reflects luxury. When using pink, as with any colour that offers a depth of shade, it’s important to consider the undertones and the light aspect of the room you’re decorating. Lighting plays an important factor to determine if the shade of pink you’re considering will look warm or cool. As we dive into using this trendy colour, we have just the products suited for the makeover -

Wall-decors

Managing the theme of your décor style and balancing the pink on your walls is extremely crucial. Soft hues of pink in the living room will make your space look bright and spacious just like the Crepe Floret Delight Wallpaper which gives you endless inspiration. The varied combination of different shapes and sizes of floral blooms up your space in no time. The Arches of Triumph is another classic wallpaper with hues of deep pink coloured flowers curtaining the architectural power play. 

Not only wallpapers but wall arts can also add a certain depth to plain walls. Especially the Trapped Blue Bird Iron Decor Plate and the Indulgence Gateway Canvas Wall Art both have elements of pink that blend elegantly with any background adding a touch of royalty to your walls. 

Furniture

Get over the browns, beiges and greys and add some quirk around your seating area by including pink into it. If you’re not the one wanting to experiment with the colours of your sofas or centre tables, you might as well add the vibrancy of the colour pink through the rest of your furniture pieces as pink also works as a great contrasting colour bringing energy to the dark or light pairings. The Legends of the Crane Nesting Table is a must-have for your home to accentuate your living space. The shades of pink are sure to blend with any big piece of furniture at your home and add a punch to your decor style.

Also Read | The summer beach edit by Tisva The Red Paradise Ottoman is another multipurpose element of furniture which can instantly elevate your living space by adding a burst of colours through its  Romantic hues, elegant motifs, and superlative composition. It is a great addition when kept around your sofas or in corners of your homes.  Talking of corners, adding a couple of bean bags like the Pine Twist Bean Bag and the Blossom Tales Bean Bags are sure to add a colourful twist to your homes and given the shades of pink the bean bags have to offer, it will add a dreamier touch to your decor style. Moreover, easily moveable to any part of your home with ease.

Also Read | Arabic Resin art decor launches by Artist Madhavi Adalja Because the colour is so distinctive and robust, you can also use it in smaller doses. Pink cushions like the Clovers Knot Play and the Poppy Bird Land Blended Cushion Covers will match up to all kinds of decor settings. Just like the cushion covers, rugs are also an important element of decor in which the hues of pink can be adapted. The Neon Cynic Pop Burst Rug is a multi-coloured rug with hints of neon pink flowers over a minty green neon background which immediately brings your space to life. Lamps, planters, artefacts, etc are a great way to incorporate the colour pink into your decor and make it look chic and exquisite. The smaller elements are sure to balance the colour and pull together a space with great panache.

Also Read | Visioarq wins Architizer 2022 Architecture + Wood

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#home decor #home design #home decor tips #interior #interior design #decor tips