#afterwards it became a bit like us going on dates or just hanging out. and i remember at one point id just mindlessly texted him a bunch of

[salsflore]

hehehehe i had a dream about childe and it was good. finally got a break from all the insanity i’ve been dreaming of lately www

[macfrog]

sweet child o' mine | pt. iii

now taking name suggestions for my joel's duck doodle. must rhyme with a curse word. most creative wins.

pairing: neighbor!joel x fem!reader

summary: as your pregnancy progresses, you and joel are getting closer. dangerously closer.

warnings: reader is literally pregnant so typical pregnancy symptoms & descriptions of stuff like extreme nausea and gagging (reader throws up off-page, no graphic description past sore throat/esophagus afterward), body changing, nerves around birth/becoming mom, another sonogram (gender reveal...?), baby kicks felt, labor pains shhh, age gap (late 20s reader, late 40s joel), joel is dating someone who isn't reader, our girl hates nye (she's valid), tommy uses colors to represent gender (he is Wrong), joel is for sure emotionally cheating at this point and reader knows it, joel kisses someone who is not his partner again, f masturbation, memories of the hot dirty sex they had whew, a SPRINKLING of breeding kink, praise kink, size kink, another parent dies (i love parents i promise ????), jealous!reader, protective!joel, alcohol consumption, cursing, a LOT of angst, lots of fluff, lil bit of smut, and duckie has the best comedic timing of any character in this entire series. :) DISCLAIMER: this series covers some issues which i know may be sensitive and possibly triggering to some. warnings will always be as thorough as possible, but if there’s ever anything you feel i’ve missed, please let me know. feel free to drop by my inbox anytime.

word count: 11.4k (sorry. lots to cover lots to do.)

pt. i / series masterlist | main masterlist | playlist | follow @macfroglets w notifs on to be the first to hear when i post 🩵

December.

The days are funneled by a quick pinch of dark, the breeze heavy in its sail. Houses lined with twinkling lights and windows pierced by pointed trees. Crooning from every radio station, teary-eyed movies on TV, and spiced apple everything.

You hate every fucking minute of it.

“Wait a second,” Tommy sits forward, leaning in, “you never do nothin’ for New Years?”

You shrug, lifting your eyebrows. “Nope. Just don’t like it much. That a crime?”

He considers it as he hands his empty tumbler up to Joel, his head lolling some. He’s on his…fourth drink of the night, right? Though, if you take into account his earlier argument – I’m eatin’ as I go. It don’t count. – it’s probably more like two. But it’s whiskey, so –

Never mind.

“Yeah,” Tommy finally decides, “kinda. The hell’s wrong with you, girl?”

“Tommy.”

Joel’s voice is a warning, edged by the sharp clink of three glasses pinched in his fingers.

His brother laughs amiably in response, though, nodding to your mock-offended expression. “At least you’re spendin’ it right this year. Last one before lil’ Dickie comes along, huh?”

Maria slaps his shoulder, rolling her eyes. “It’s Duckie,” she hisses, glancing over to you.

“Shoot,” he says, chuckling. “I knew that. My mistake.” And then, hand out towards you in an apology which makes your shoulders jerk with laughter, “I did know that, I swear.”

Tommy and Maria flew in a few days ago; the younger Miller adamant that he’d spend one last New Years with his big brother before he became a father. The night they arrived, they showed up on your doorstep – a hamper filled with diapers and muslins and baby socks hanging from Maria’s arm. They’ve asked to hang out with you every day since.

They’re good fun. Tommy likes you, at least, enough to tease you as much as you figure a brother might. He’s definitely the louder of the two – sometimes you swear you notice Joel cringing at him, something caught between a laugh and a frown on his face. And Maria’s sweet; she’s asked probably six times every hour since she first saw you if you’re feeling okay, if you’re tired, if you’re hungry.

Joel text you yesterday morning. Tommy and Maria wondering if you feel like coming over for NYE. No pressure, he added, I lie pretty good.

A smile snuck its way across your lips before you had the chance to tame it. Sure, you typed, I’ll bring the newspaper.

What Joel’s told them, about the wedding and the baby and everything since, you’ve no idea. You guys almost talked about it when he told you they were flying down after Christmas, but before you got the chance to ask him, Vanessa pulled up out front.

Not exactly a conversation you felt like having with the dude’s girlfriend hooked around his right arm.

She smiles at you, now, as you shuffle to the edge of the armchair you’re curled up in. Joel’s armchair – the plaid blanket cradling you, the leather soft and crinkled beneath. Your eyes quickly drop from hers when his hand reaches for your mug, your fingers crossing as you pass it up. “Let me come help,” you say, pushing from the chair.

He holds up a palm, shaking his head once. “Stay. I got it.”

“Thanks,” you murmur, settling back. Vanessa resumes smiling. You wish she’d fucking quit it. You wish you’d fucking quit focusing on her.

Joel knocks the mug gently against your shoulder with a small, almost sympathetic smile, and heads for the kitchen – leaving you sat between Tommy and Maria on one couch, and Vanessa on the other. You tuck your heels under your thighs, picking at a hangnail as you wait for the conversation to thaw.

Maria makes some comment about Austin in the winter: how different it is to Jackson, and the three of you nod and hum in agreement before the chatter fizzles to nothing again. You glance over to the clock, watching the hands chase one another to twelve.

This isn’t what you imagined a get-together with Joel’s family would feel like. Tight, tense. So tense that you can feel the weight on your chest, closing your lungs. Talking about the weather and the holiday traffic, talking about nothing to avoid talking about everything.

Tommy’s chin lifts, after a second too long of silence. “Hey, Joel!” he barks. “You ain’t shown me this nursery yet!”

Joel leans around the doorframe, half-distracted. “Barely even started it, little brother. Crib only got delivered yesterday.”

“Sheesh,” Maria’s eyes widen, “you sure are prepared.”

Vanessa laughs when Joel rolls his eyes and vanishes again. “You got no idea,” she says, “I have never seen him so…pedantic, right?” She looks to you, still smiling. So sweet, you worry your lips are pursing at the sight of it. Your neck tensing. Your eyes watering.

“Yeah,” you reply, nodding shyly and swallowing back the saccharine. “I think he’s more nervous than he’s letting on.”

Joel’s voice calls from the kitchen again: your name. When you answer, he says, “Why don’t you take Tommy up, show ‘im what we got so far?” and then, leaning back around the door, “She picked the color ‘n whatnot.”

“Ah,” Tommy says, palms pushing down on his knees, “so you’re the brains, then?”

You mirror him, accepting Joel’s request. As though you had any choice in the first place. Standing beside the younger Miller, you mutter, “Sure. Let’s go with that.”

He holds a hand out to usher you ahead, following you upstairs. Past the tousle-haired boy in grayscale, past the German shepherd, past the Christmas Day portrait. Wandering like you know the house inside out, like you might’ve picked the exact coordinates of each nail the picture frames hang on yourself.

Like the photographs pinned to the walls aren’t still as alien to you as they’d been that day you first set foot in here, the dress Joel would come to tear from your body slung over your arm.

You twist the gold handle and unveil a homely little room, painted by you and Joel just last week. The soft blue drying into his knuckles, random splatters on your palms and your jeans. The giggles drawn from your chest; the thief either the chemicals from the paint, or the man rolling it over the walls – and you’ve a pretty good idea of which.

Tommy sniffs roughly, nodding. Taps the toe of his boot against one of the two bulky boxes leant against the wall, a crib printed on one and a rocking chair on the other. His tipsy head bob bob bobbing. “Alright. ‘s nice, ain’t it?”

You settle against the window, the glass cold at your back. “Real nice, yeah. Be even better once it’s done.”

“What’s yours look like?”

“Mine?”

“Nursery at your place. Your one pink, ‘case it’s a girl?”

You snort. “Mine is a little greener. More…I guess it’s duck egg. Had some leftover paint.”

He clicks his fingers and points to you. “See what you did there. Duck egg. Duckie.”

“Hm. Wish I were that poetic. I just like the color.”

Tommy stuffs his hands in his pockets, wanders around the bare room. The faint lingering of whiskey putting up its best fight against the clean bite of fresh paint, the sweet scent shaking from him when he nods some more at the blank walls and naked windows. He clicks his teeth and asks, “How you holdin’ up, anyways?”

“How am I holding up?”

“Yep. With, uh…” he nods to the door, eyes wide, “…Vanessa,” he whispers. Louder than he must think – probably echoed, if anything, by the palm he curves around his mouth.

You cross your arms protectively, shoulders bunching. “She’s fine,” you say, voice deliberately low. You both ignore the crack in it when you add, “I like her. She’s – she’s taken this all like a champ.”

Tommy leans on the window ledge, a rugged hand you reckon you’d know was a Miller’s just by looking at it. Same rough-cut quality as Joel’s, like they’re torn from the same sheet of sandpaper. He props the other on his hip. “But, boy – it’s gotta be complicated, right?”

“I guess. But she’s real sweet about it. And Joel’s been great, too.” You sniff, the memory of your kiss flashing behind your eyes. The steady drum of Duck’s heartbeat, the gleam in Joel’s eye when he looked down at you. The guilt seeping from your skin like beads of sweat, prickling along your spine and fizzling against the cold windowpane.

Tommy blinks at you, liquor-glazed eyes scanning. His shoulders jerk, a loud huh propelling from his throat. When your head cocks in confusion, startled from your daydream, he spills. “He ‘n I had a mighty long talk when he told me.”

You feel yourself leaning in, magnetized to him – body hunched as though you’re gossiping in the corner of a house party. Inhaling secrets with the tinge of alcohol on Tommy’s breath. “Oh, yeah?”

Tommy hums. “Just wanted to make sure he’d thought it all through. Not you – I always knew he’d take care a’ you and Duck. But…involving Vanessa,” he lowers his voice again, glancing over to the warm light spilling in from the hallway, “I just wanted him to be sure.”

Your blood begins to warm, heat flooding through your body as you step closer, murmuring, “What’d he say?”

He flicks his head, seeming to toss his initial response to the wind. “You know Joel. He is his own man.”

Your face screws, head jerking back. “What’s that mean? He is his own man?”

A voice from the doorway interrupts. A shadow swimming in the golden light. “Who is?”

Tommy steps away from you, loosening his arms as his big brother drifts into the shadowy room. Dusting the conversation under the rug. The smell of whiskey backs off. “Speak of the devil. Nice paint job, Joel. Missed a couple spots, but – I’ll let you off.”

“Uhuh.” Joel’s eyes thin, his body slanted against the wall. Arms crossed, bottle of beer hanging from his fingers.

Tommy swaggers forward when Joel holds the bottle out, taking it with a wary glance at the tall figure. A dog meandering back to his owner, tail between his legs and ears flat. It takes his gritty voice to jolt you back to the room, splintering your gaze from Joel’s toned arms and huge chest. “Looks real good, you two. ‘s one lucky kid.”

Joel’s jaw lifts, his eyes landing on you. Dogs are terrible liars. “He talkin’ your ear off?”

You smile; recognizing the softer Joel you’ve grown used to over the last three months replacing the stern, cold version you once knew so well. “Only a little.”

“Tommy,” he says then, “Maria needs you for somethin’.”

The denim-donned Miller nods knowingly and heads out of the room, thud of his boots receding downstairs.

“Maria okay?” you ask, making space for Joel as he settles beside you.

He shrugs. “Only said that to get him outta your hair.”

You frown. “You sent me up here with him in the first place.”

“So I could come up ‘n check on you. Know this must be a lot – the two of them, tonight.”

“I’m fine. Promise. I’m a big girl.”

You both sigh, turning to look out at the dark street. Your arms cross, sitting somewhere above the tiny slope of your bump – a new development you’re still getting used to. Your stomach feels tighter, a little more solid than usual when you touch it. A little more…real. There’s someone in there, right? Like, actually there. They’re changing the way you look, the way you feel.

“This is it, right?” you say, staring at the white lanterns illuminating Alice Brown’s rose bushes. “This is the year.”

“The year,” Joel agrees.

“Mhm. Become a mom. Become a dad.”

He purses his lips. “Yeah, I don’t know. I’ve had bigger years, kid.”

“Let’s hear it, old man. Let’s hear about your biggest year. God knows you’ve had plenty to choose from.”

He sucks a deep breath in, eyes tracing the silhouette of the houses across the street as he thinks. “Senior year, nineteen ninety-three. Asked Stacy Moore as my date to the prom ‘n she said yes. I was so nervous that I forgot my bow tie. Was a pretty good year.”

You hum, agreeing, and then, “I see your ninety-three, and I raise you: two thousand and one. There was this bike I wanted for-fucking-ever; it had, like, little beads on the spokes – would make this ratatatat sound whenever it moved. Tassels hanging from the handlebars, all iridescent. I begged my mom the entire year for it, and on Christmas morning I woke up, and…” You lift your hands, air puffing from between your lips. “Santa Claus delivered that year, dude.”

“Well,” Joel clicks his teeth, shell hardening only a little, “thanks for making me feel old as hell.”

“You’re welcome.” You beam back at him, breaking into a laugh when he does.

The two of you stand a little distance apart, denying yourselves the innocent brushing of shoulder against shoulder, the nudging of elbows and swaying of hips. Admiring the empty sky and emptier street, bathing between the cold moonlight of outside and the warm lamplight in.

And from somewhere deep in your belly, somewhere tucked behind your ribs, beneath your slow-growing womb: an urge to ask about her. To bring her up. To tend to the curiosity that Tommy poked a clumsy, drunken finger straight into, tearing it apart at the seams.

Like pressing on a new bruise, satiating the hungry need to know where you were hurt, how you were hurt, when you were hurt. A bent fingertip, pushing heavily into a sensitive splatter of dark purple; the burst blood vessels hissing in response, whispering, You don’t know, and you don’t want to know.

But you defy them. You do want to know. Want to satisfy the disturbed thrill you felt, leaning into Joel’s brother. Hands turning over one another, wet bottom lip trembling as he rounded the corner on some sort of…what was it, a secret? Some sort of truth, a long-buried revelation about the other woman. She’s a witch, have you spotted her crooked nose? She’s plotting something, I swear. She’s up to no good.

Your eyes lift again, focusing back on the dull color of the outside world. The bland canvas of reality. She’s not a witch, nor some genius mastermind. She’s a boring, relatively normal woman. Kind, thoughtful. Naïve and a little too eager to please; too willing to forgive a situation which warrants no such kindness or empathy.

She’s just…fine. Lukewarm. And you’ve no idea why that pisses you off so much.

Which, incidentally, makes the bruise sting all the more.

“Maria, Maria,” Tommy’s voice claws its way upstairs, “turn it on, turn it – Joel? Joel! It’s midnight, Joel, you two better come on down, now! Have we missed it –? Have we –?”

The sound of cheering slowly bubbles to life behind his drawl as the TV volume picks up, the tittering of Maria and Vanessa chiming in.

“…five, four, three, two, one…Happy New Year!”

Joel’s looking over his shoulder, waiting for footsteps or voices or a girlfriend who never shows. And he ignores his brother, for he is his own man, and turns to you instead. Bracing himself on the ledge, he blinks down with a plain grin on his lips. “Happy New Year, Mom,” he whispers.

You return his smile, taking his hand when he reaches out to you. “Happy New Year, Dad,” you reply, squeezing his palm.

He pulls you in for a hug, kissing your cheek briskly as you hook your arms over his shoulders. His beard scratches your cheek, grazes the curve of your shoulder, and you don’t mind. Your small, swollen belly presses against his; the tiny curve safe in the midst of your embrace.

Outside, the sky crackles to life with the distant spatter of fireworks, color shattering across the black canvas – red, blue, green and gold, dissolving as quickly as they explode into the now-January night. A burst of purple light washes between the two of you, and you turn your head on Joel’s shoulder to watch as the sparks rain over your neighbors’ roofs.

“I should get goin’,” you whisper, feeling his heartbeat a little too strongly against your own. Becoming suddenly aware of the weight of your frames locked together.

“Glad you came,” he says as he leans away. “I know this ain’t…I know we’re all tryin’, but you’re tryin’ the most, and I appreciate it. I hope you know that.”

“I know it,” you tell him, rolling your eyes. “Now, go. Go kiss your girlfriend.”

He chuckles, making for the door. “You want me to walk you home?”

Your eyes close serenely, the image of him doused in flickers of gold burning behind your eyelids. “I’ll survive the walk across the hedgerow, Miller.”

Joel nods once and leaves, plodding downstairs to be greeted by his open-armed girlfriend, a peck between them, arms crossed behind his neck. The lyrics of Auld Lang Syne slurred against his lips.

And you think – You know what? If it’ll rip you apart from her, if it’ll keep her bright red lips and her shining curtain of hair away from you, if it’ll stop her sucking in your air and your smell and your attention for thirty fucking seconds –

Then, yeah. Walk me home. Stay for a drink. Sleep in the goddamn guestroom.

Walk me home.

You slip out of the front door when the two couples are in the kitchen, missing Joel’s calling your name – or perhaps just ignoring it altogether.

“Spread the love at St. David’s this Valentine’s Day…”

Joel slows alongside a wall of cerise hearts, each one fluttering like wings whenever the hospital doors slide open and the breeze sneaks inside. Slips scrawled with names and messages: Love you M! and J + A, crude drawings of stick figures holding hands. Your lips curl into a smirk, watching him flick through each one as you palm your round stomach.

You just saw Duck for the second time. The last time, Freya was kind enough to mention, before they’re tearing you in two. Sorry, she mouthed when your expression dropped, and went back to twisting the probe over your stomach. Silently.

You’re getting better at it, you think. Playing Mom. Like some little game of make-believe, which is only real for as long as you’re looking it square in the eye – attending doctor’s appointments, updating the neighbors on your newest list of symptoms en route to your mailbox.

A little surer on your feet, now that you’ve found a balance to it: taking it as seriously as it warrants, a dry little pill stuck on the cliff of your throat, and making it easier to swallow with humor like water, a huge gulp anytime the fear claws its way up your spine.

And no more panic, since at least before Christmas. Only a little flustered this afternoon when Freya asked if you wanted to know the sex.

It felt too big a thing to hear, too real. You’re only just getting used to the backache and the bleeding gums. (And why didn’t you know that your gums would bleed? Isn’t that something they should fucking warn you about? Congrats, you’re pregnant: prepare for blood seeping from your jaw.)

No. No, thanks. Your head shot around to Joel. No, right?

He shrugged. Makes no difference to me.

Are you sure?

I’m sure, kid. Promise.

‘cause we can find out. I mean – if you want to.

He rocked forward on the balls of his feet, tapping you amiably on the shoulder. I don’t. You’re good.

You don’t?

No, I – He sighed, a hand dragging through his hair. If you want to, I want to. If you don’t, I don’t. Alright?

Freya bit back a laugh, the closed fist over her lips doing little to hide it. You guys should write a book on co-parenting.

But then she left the room again, closed the door on that same old little bubble – the three of you perched on the bed, you and Joel blinking up at the grains of your child onscreen – and you cried. Again. More.

Everything clearer, everything even more human than before: the globe of their skull, the tiny slope of their nose. All glowing in the dark waves of your womb, twinkling like the most beautiful constellation you could ever come across. Their ankles were crossed, feet forming a tiny heart shape in the top corner of the sonogram. Your hand lifted to point it out to Joel, and before the words found voice, you choked and broke down again.

He held you, lips to your hair, body solid as a rock as you melted into him in waves of salty tears. Smiled that honey-glazed smile and said he was so proud of you, said, look what your body’s doin’, darlin’, look what you’re growin’ – which only made you weep more.

And you pretended not to wait for it – for the moment when you might tilt your head up and your lips might line with his, and he might close the achy space between you again, might shush your cries by stealing the air from your lungs and the beat from your heart.

But he didn’t.

Which is fine.

Right?

“Somethin’ on your mind, kid?” he asks now, eyes still glued to the sea of hearts.

Your stare snaps from him instantly, unaware it was even held there. You tug on the hem of your sweater and pull the sleeves over your hands, mumbling, “Fine, I’m – I’m just…Come on, man. I’m hungry. I didn’t eat lunch today.”

“’n whose fault is that?”

You glower at him. “How considerate,” you seethe, “Vanessa’s a fucking lucky woman, you know that?”

He ignores you, a dumb smile on his face. The usual. “Let’s leave one for ‘em.”

A hot temper begins to boil below the surface of your skin, squeezing between your teeth in a fist-swinging breath. Also the usual these days, apparently. “For who?”

“Duckie. Somethin’ to mark the second scan. Last time we see them, before –”

Your hand flies up, eyes closing with a wince. Shut the fuck up. “Enough. I know.”

Joel hms, still smiling to himself. His beard has grown out a little: thicker, darker, gray sewn through like little whip stitches lining his jaw. He fishes a heart shape from the tub along with a pen, which he twirls annoyingly around his fingers as he thinks.

You sink back against the clinical white wall, an offensively bright color, holding your cheeks up in something of a smile when a nurse wanders past, nodding to both of you. Your face drops back to a scowl as soon as she’s over Joel’s shoulder, and your eyes meet his again – his brows raised, expectant.

“What?” you ask, chewing on the inside of your cheek.

He holds the slip up. “What we gonna write?”

And whatever charm the moment may have held, withers instantly. You throw your arms up petulantly. “You wanted to do it! Pick something. See you soon, or something, I don’t fucking know.”

“I don’t fucking know,” Joel muses, creases by his eyes when he smirks. “Poignant.”

“That’s what you should write,” you step closer, shoving your shoulder into his as you study the trembling hearts on the board, “if you can spell poignant, write that.”

“Hilarious,” he mutters, bending to scribble onto the shape, shielding his work from your view when you hang around his shoulder to pry. Cupping over the message until he’s straightening up, tossing the pen back to the desk, stealing a pin from the tub.

“Let me read,” you protest, tugging on his flannel sleeve.

“I will,” he says, shaking you off. “Patience, darlin’.”

Joel turns to the wall and pins the heart higher than the rest, in a spot clear of its own on the corkboard – thick arms stretching higher higher higher and pulling your gaze with them. As he steps back, he takes you gently by the waist and positions you in front of his body, your shoulders brushing against his chest. Your ribs hold your heart back from hammering into his.

You push up onto your tiptoes and squint at the note, which quivers when the hospital doors pull open again. “Mom and…Mom and Dad f…You fucking…”

Joel dodges your batting arm, snickering with you as he turns to make for the exit. “You don’t like it?” he tosses over his shoulder.

The heart stares down at you, black ink carved into the paper, watching as you turn and hurry after him, giggling. “Mom and Dad fuckin love you? So much for my potty mouth. And the –” another wheezing laugh you’d otherwise be ashamed to let him hear, “– the drawing? It looks – it looks more like a giraffe than a duck. Or, like, you know those long-necked dinosaurs?”

Joel’s head tips back, his own laughter caught up by the breeze when you wander outside, slipping your wrist around the crook of his elbow. Something infectious about it, something which stirs your own laughter until you’re walking arm in arm to the truck with a man who, six months ago, you’d barely look at twice over the fence.

The blind rage bubbling from your empty stomach seems to dissipate, dwindled to nothing in the face of that same man – his swollen cheeks and crows-feet eyes. And you say, “You’re disgustingly sentimental, you know that? Like, sickening.”

And Joel smirks, the way he always fucking does, and says, “You love it. Can’t lie to me.”

“I love it,” you concede, nudging into him as he opens the door for you.

The drive home is quiet, but not uncomfortable. There’s another thing you’re getting good at: being around Joel without need for snide remarks, without feeling your tongue curl under the weight of some snappy quip, loaded and aimed. Being around him and talking about Duck, asking how Tommy and Maria are. Forcing your teeth and tongue to carve out words which ask how Vanessa is, what she’s up to, when he’s seeing her next.

None of this is ideal, that’s for sure. Joel’s girlfriend aside, you’ve spent the last five months cohabiting your body with a stranger who lives most peacefully in the eye of a raging tornado of hormones – flitting between fits of giggles and pulsating joy in your veins, to waves of tears and an anger so hot beneath your skin that you wonder if your emotions might dry up completely by the time this is all through.

It's tough. It’s scary. And some nights you lie in bed, alone, wet eyes fixed on nothing, waiting for someone to burst into the room and announce that it’s all a prank. Just a silly joke. You and Joel can go back to tossing newspapers and casting glowers.

But for now, sat in the passenger seat of his truck – the seatbelt warped around the curve of your belly, the Eagles lilting softly from the radio – it feels like you’re making a home out of that tornado, too. Feeling the swirling walls of wind toss your hair like the breeze through the truck window; the chilled caress of the evening around your outstretched arm, soaring down the highway.

Yeah, you think. I can make something outta this.

“You know what I’m craving?”

Joel’s watching the light, waiting for green. “What’s that?”

“A fucking bagel. Cream cheese, pastrami,” you groan.

He snorts, cringing when he adds, “Pickles?”

A moan tears from the base of your throat, head lolling against your seat. “I could orgasm just thinking about it.”

The light turns, and Joel swings right. “I’d rather you didn’t,” he mutters, turning the wheel with one palm. “I got bagels back at the house, if you want one.”

You stare at him, jaw loose, saliva pooling behind your bottom lip. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

He smiles, shaking his head. “Let me make you one, ‘fore you go home. Big day, ‘n all.”

And you hate it – hate the way your cheeks fill with a genuine happiness, something swollen and achy, impossible to ignore when it lifts your eyes and hurts your teeth. Appreciation, or admiration, perhaps, that you figure you’ll only ever have for him. You don’t know what the fuck to call it.

So you sum it up into three words. “That’d be nice,” you whisper, and Joel places his hand over your knee, shaking it lightly as he drives on.

It stays there, until he’s pulling into his driveway.

He pushes the front door open and steps back, an arm extended to let you by first. An after you, ma’am, between his lips. And you turn to make some mocking joke, the beginnings of some comment about how gentlemanly he is, when you’re socked square on the nose by a heavy-fisted, bitter scent.

“Oh, fuck,” you gasp, stumbling backwards across the threshold and onto the porch again. Your throat constricting around nothing, your tongue twisting, your stomach lurching.

Joel catches you just in time to stop you from falling on your ass. “The hell’s the m–? Oh.”

“Hi!” Vanessa calls from the kitchen, leaning around the doorframe to wave you both in. “Almost ready! Take a seat.”

“V–? Hey, sweetheart?” Joel calls back, one hand around your wrist and the other between your shoulders. “What – what’s cookin’?”

She pauses, glancing back at the stove. Pulls the dish towel between her hands taut. “I…I made pasta.”

“Yeah, what kind, sweet?”

“…Bolognese.”

He can’t cover his own sigh quick enough. Thick with something which feels like anger. “Shit,” he turns back to you, “I am so sorry.”

You pull in a deep, unsteady breath, your lungs struggling to separate night air from tomato juice. A weight rolling at the bottom of your stomach, your entire body beginning to tremble with it. “I feel like I’m gonna – Joel, I’m gonna –”

“Breathe,” he whispers, voice urgent, palm slipping to cup your jaw. “Just breathe for me.”

But your throat’s tightening, swallowing hard around gags which come stronger and quicker the more you try to fight them down. “I can still fucking smell it –”

Her shadow blocks the stretch of light from the house. A nervous little thing, a timid creature’s shadow stretched wide across the porch floor. “Is…everything okay?”

“It’s – it’s fine,” Joel sighs again, torn between comforting you and letting Vanessa down gently, “it’s just – tomato is one of her…her aversions.” He’s unable to pull his eyes from you, privately asking, “Are you okay?” when Vanessa turns back to the kitchen.

“I didn’t – I didn’t know,” she mumbles, thumbnail between her teeth. “I am so sorry.”

Suddenly, your will not to throw up is overpowered by your will to tell her, “It’s fine,” sucking in a deep, sickly breath before adding, “I’m just gonna – I should go.”

“I don’t want you to go,” Joel says, his teeth guarding the words from his girlfriend.

“I’m gonna clean up in here,” Vanessa points over her shoulder, and you think she must’ve heard him, “get outta your hair. I’m so sorry, again. I would’ve never…”

Joel lets go of you as you stagger backwards, the cold air tearing down your throat to meet the burning acid tickling up your esophagus. “Please don’t apologize,” you lift a weak hand, “how could you have known? I’ll –” another sharp gasp, “– I’ll see you guys around.”

He must say your name, must try once more to pull you back to his side, but the blood’s rushing through your ears, and your heart’s pounding at the back of your tongue, and your stomach’s notching its way up your spine. You make it to your kitchen sink just in time.

He keeps you waiting all of one hour before he’s calling you. Your arm reaches over to your nightstand, fumbling in the dark for your heavy phone, the screen cold against your cheek.

“Mhm?”

“Are you okay?”

Your lungs pull a deep, slow breath. The acid painted across your throat tickles as the air passes by it, an uncomfortable, scratchy feeling.“Mhm.”

“That a lie?”

“Only a little. Is Vanessa okay?”

He takes a second to answer. Lets go of whatever he was going to say with a sigh, replacing it with, “She just left.”

“Is she mad at us?”

Another second. “Just me. Not you.”

You massage the slope below your breasts, the ache in your esophagus throbbing when you move. “Why just you?”

Ruffling, like he’s settling back into his couch. Sinking into the cushion, his body as heavy as yours feels on your mattress. “I should’ve told her you didn’t like tomatoes. ‘cause now I’m a goddamn mind reader. I mean, why the hell wouldn’t my girlfriend be in my house cookin’ a damn pasta dish while I’m out, y’know? Jesus Christ.”

“Joel,” you turn slowly onto your back, bravely waiting for the waves of nausea still lapping around your stomach to turn with you, “it was a nice thing, what she did. She didn’t mean to…She probably thought she was helping.”

“Naw, I know,” he replies, the sharp bite of his words softening again, shrinking under yours. “I don’t care about her and her helping, though, darlin’, I care about y –” He barely catches it in time. “I care about you carrying my child, and I care about making sure you don’t spend your nights fuckin’…throwing up tomato sauce.”

You gulp, neck convulsing. The backwash of bile swallowed back. Your chest floods with a heat of quick panic. “Can we…maybe…not use the word? I just –”

“Sorry, baby. Sorry. This is just – it’s a lot easier if she would just…”

Your eyes close over, a salty sting sweeping behind them. If she would just lay off. Back off. Fuck off. “…but she won’t, Joel. She loves you. ‘n you…”

The words drift off, taken by the tide, swept off into silence. And neither of you bother with trying to retrieve them – you just watch, stood safe on the shoreline, as they fold under the waves of something too big for either of you to acknowledge. Too dark, too dangerous.

So, you say, “I get it,” instead; say, “I get why you’re mad. Just – let’s forget about it, okay? Sorry for…ruining dinner.”

Joel scoffs, that old, pissed-off Joel scoff. You can see his deadened expression on the back of your eyelids. You may as well have just thrown his newspaper to the end of the earth. “You know damn well that you didn’t ruin anything. How you feelin’?”

“Tired. Throat kinda hurts.”

“Still feel like that pastrami bagel?”

“Not really. Sorry. Appetite’s gone.”

“How about a water?”

“I got some here. Thanks.”

“Okay,” Joel sniffs, “how about: you take the hint and let me come over there to see you?”

You giggle, hand over your eyes to mask your expression from the dark. “I hate you. Yeah, come over. Door’s unlocked.”

Date night – six month anniversary or whatever. Call me if you need anything.

And I mean anything. OK?

Your thumbs hover over the two gray messages, an awkward jig as your brain scrambles to offer words back. Where are you guys going? Too interested. Too weird. OK, what if I’m bored? Delete delete delete. Trying too hard. Sure, have a good n–

The ellipsis pops up and you freeze. A stupidly polite swish delivers Joel’s third text.

Boredom counts as anything, by the way.

And the fucker steals another smile from you. You notice it when you look up, clocking yourself in the mirror. Accompanied by a warmth which drips down your spine, swirls around your tummy; a fluttering you’re not sure is Duckie or something else.

Have a good night, Dad, you type back, tossing the phone to the end of your bed when you hit send. Swiping for a pillow, holding it firm to your face. Pressing so deep into the plush that even the linen won’t be able to see your grin.

Joel told you about this six-month anniversary last week. He wasn’t too thrilled about it then, either. Dinner to celebrate six months? A year, fair enough. But six months?

You swallowed your pride, swallowed the same throttling ecstasy which seeped through your pores on New Year’s Eve, on that February evening she cooked– never mind; a desperate desire to tear apart the very notion of Vanessa and her cutesy little date nights and candlelit dinners. I think it’s a fun idea, you said. Y’all should do it.

And Joel listened. Because he always fucking listens to you, these days. Listens when you tell him that you like the watermelon Sour Patch Kids best, and picks them up anytime he’s at the store. Listens to you when you tell him he should move the crib away from the window, in case the streetlights shine on Duck while they sleep.

Listens when you ramble about how sore your feet are, how heavy your belly feels, how there’s a clammy heat lingering under your skin at all times, bubbling and bubbling and never rising to anything more than steam collecting on the underside of your flesh.

Listens when you tell him to go spend time with his girlfriend. And neither of you pay attention to the jealous shadow behind your words, the hesitant quiver behind his.

He replies almost instantly, the ping like a gunshot at the beginning of a race. Pillow slammed into the mattress, body lunging forward.

You too, Mom. Don’t have too much fun without me.

You lock the phone and slide it back under your covers, smiling dumbly.

There’s still a small part of you waiting for the big reveal: none of this is really happening. A dream, maybe, something you’ll wake from with a tiny throbbing headache, a dry mouth and a new reason to avoid your neighbor at all costs.

But it seems that, each time that thought crosses your mind, you’re quicker and quicker to quash it. Realizing each time that what lies ahead – Joel, your baby, this future version of yourself that you’re yet to meet, still just a little out of reach – fills you with more excitement and wonder, than it does fear.

Mom.

It’s not something you ever imagined for yourself. Not someone you ever thought you’d be. And yet, each time you say it out loud, each time you look in the mirror and picture a baby in the crook of your arm, a toddler perched on your hip, a kid stood by your side, tugging on the hem of your shirt – she feels a little closer. A little clearer. She just has to look over her shoulder, notice you waiting. I’m right here, she says. Come find me.

Mom. Mom and Dad.

You imagine Joel right now, sat in some ritzy restaurant with jazz music and stained-glass lamps on every table, ordering Vanessa some glorified lentil soup and slapping his card over the bill before the waiter has a chance to reveal the damage to him. Your lips twist at the thought – her jewels and her long hair and her sweet little smile laced with a smug possession.

And then you slap your own wrists, hissing to yourself to shut the fuck up.

“She’s nice,” you argue out loud, thin air holding no debate. “She’s kind, and I like her. She’s good for him.”

And then the air replies. Good for him, it swirls, but you could do it better.

Your arm lifts, lingering for a beat before batting the thought away.

Three weeks. Three fucking weeks, between pushing yourself out of his embrace in bed, and pulling yourself back into it – armed with a pregnancy test and a chest full of fear. Three weeks of dodging him, of your cheeks bubbling with embarrassment and regret anytime you thought of it; of hoping to God that Alice or Diane or Steve and Kris across the street wouldn’t clairvoyantly know what had transpired that night and corner you on your own front lawn.

A one-night stand. That’s all it was. Two lonely bodies, excitement enough to convince you both that it was a good idea; a fitted suit and a backless dress crumpled together on the floor. Liquid courage lacing it all together.

Three weeks, then, of reminding yourself how it felt: how amazing you were together. Your hand between your legs and Joel’s name between your teeth.

Fuck. If only he knew. Goodforhimgoodforhim she’s so good for him but I’m better.

You did it better. You know you did. The sun was cresting the horizon by the time the two of you stopped. You hauled yourselves down to breakfast and sat at least three people apart, made forced conversation with Maria about the DJ stumbling off with one of her cousins, while the ghostly ache of Joel’s body churned somewhere deep inside you.

It travels through your veins the way that everything does right now: urgent and unforgiving. A need to be dealt with, immediately. Coursing through your body, an arrowhead pointing somewhere you know it shouldn’t. But your hands lift anyway – following it, loosening the waist of your sweatpants and skimming beneath your underwear.

Your body lights at the first touch. The first dip of your middle finger against the plush over your clit. Knees bend, thighs part. You push your underwear down your hips, settling your bottoms loose on your legs. You’re already wet. You’re already there.

Good fucking girl. She’s good but I’m better, right? Take it, baby. Does she take it like I take it? Take it. Can she take you like I did?

Quicker and quicker and quicker, your fingers heavy on your clit. The other hand sifting between your folds, dipping to collect a glimmer of wet. Yeah. Just like that. Do you fuck her like you fucked me? You feel what you do to me? Fuck no, you don’t. You’ve never fucked anyone like you fucked me.

Head back, eyes fluttering closed, lips parting to breathe answers to a man who isn’t here. To a man who, as he dips sourdough into an overpriced soup, sure as hell isn’t thinking about that time he fucked you so good he got you fucking pregnant.

Well. Maybe he is. You are, right?

Voice without body, drawl etched in your memory. Think she can take it all? You hum in amusement, waiting for him to answer his own question. Yeah, she can.

Attagirl. Your legs spread further, knee lifting as you insert two slick-coated fingers. His hands are on your thighs, following the dip of your hips, holding your waist as you guide him back inside. Attagirl. That’s my – Fuck, Joel, you’re so b– That’s my fuckin’ girl. Take it. Touch it. His thumb on your clit – his, not yours. You like that? Yeah, that’s nice, ain’t it?

The flesh of your breasts filling his palms, squeezing and nipping and rolling between. The warmth leaking between your legs: his and yours and fuck, he’s so deep and he’s filling you again and he’s groaning as more dribbles from where he splits your body around his own, holding you still until he’s done. Until he’s empty.

“Joel,” you whine, a third finger pushing in.

Between your hips. Headboard hammering against the wall. The sun hanging loose at the bottom of the sky. Gonna make me come again, baby. Do it. Do something irreversible. Change me forever. Fuck me fuck me fill me and then pull out, push back in with the wet squelch of your come mixing with mine and changing me forever. Making me brand new. Making me yours.

Another moan. Louder. Sharper.

Yours yours yours. All mine? All yours. We’re good at this. I know we are. Who fucks you like this? No one – No one – just you – just me. It’s so big, fuck, but I can take it. Been thinkin’ about this all fuckin’ day, baby. All I do is think about you. All I fucking do – You gonna come for me? – is think about you.

Know you need it. Let ‘em hear you, downstairs.

Fuck, I’m thinking about you. Come home. I need you to come home, need you to –

Fuck me, Joel, I’m –

Good girl.

– fuck me.

Atta fuckin’ girl.

She’s good but I do it so much better.

We’re good at this. ‘s do it again.

She’s not as good as me.

Again? Again.

She’s not as good. She’s no fucking good.

Your walls clamp around your fist, entire body shuddering to a stop. Breath held by something shaped like the hook of his accent, two fingers either side of your throat. The same smirk on his lips that convinced you in the first place. Fuck, baby, fuck me.

“Joel,” you cry out, the sound ripping between your vocal cords, punching against the ceiling and reverberating in your ears. Your body convulses on the mattress, back arching and slackening again. “Fuck, I’m – oh, my –”

Just feel it, baby. Feel me. You got it.

Let go.

Your lungs lurch open again, breath flooding in like waves spilling over the gunwale and rushing down to pool at your feet. A lulling rock to your movements, chest rising and falling like the steady tide. Soothing, coming down. Foam and salt carrying the flotsam away, the jagged glass of his name disappearing to sea again.

And then he’s gone.

And you’re just alone in your bedroom.

Last you checked your phone, now face-down on the carpet at your hip, it was eight p.m. Streetlights on, the sky painted by the pale dregs of daytime.

Now, you lie in near-darkness, blinking up at the ceiling. Hand sifting through a bag of glow-in-the-dark stars, comparing the different sizes, considering where to stick them, and then tossing them back in frustration.

Your front door clicks open, a pause between the sound and his voice.

“Anyone home?” Joel calls, and you lift your wrist as though he can see it from the bottom of the fucking stairs.

“Up here,” you eventually announce, knuckles rubbing your tired eyes until Catherine wheels spatter across your eyelids.

His shadow splits the light from the hallway, the long rectangle crossing over your swollen belly. “The hell are you doin’?” he asks, wandering in.

You lift the bag. “Decorating. The hell are you doin’?”

He pulls your nursing pillow from its temporary home in the crib and tosses it down on the carpet, bending to lift your shoulders and slot it underneath. “Scooch,” he says, groaning as he lays back beside you. He smells like whiskey and cologne. All woody, pine and spice.

“You got a bad back,” you warn him. “You shouldn’t be all the way down here.”

“You’re seven months pregnant,” Joel clicks his teeth, “neither should you.”

“What if you get stuck ‘n can’t get back up?”

Offense pulls his brows together. “What if you do?”

You smile in response, feeling the heat of his shoulder against yours. Sucking the scent of him through your nose. The pair of you exchanging smirks and batting eyelashes, wrapped in the cool darkness of the room. It’s juvenile and intimate.

You’re trying not to think too much about it.

“I can’t fucking figure this out. I put two of the big stars over there,” you point to the far corner of the room, streetlight splintered by the shades on the ceiling, “but it looks stupid having two so close. So, then I thought,” moving your arm to the right, “a cluster of smaller ones, right over the crib. But I couldn’t move the damn thing to climb up, so…I’ve been down here ever since.”

Joel lifts his hand, stopping your train of thought. “Please do not climb on anything, bein’ that you are…with child.” And then, when your eyes roll to meet his, he grins, adding, “Nesting got you good, huh?”

“You should see my kitchen cupboards. Never been tidier.” Your expression dissolves, voice quietens – your most desperate plea since that morning you shook hands on his doorstep. Your broken wardrobes and his lonely wedding invite. “Will you help me?” you ask.

He thinks it over less than once, dragging his gaze from the twirling star in your fingers. A quick shake of his head, like it’s obvious. “’course I will. ‘s what I’m here for.” And then he yawns, lowering a hand absentmindedly to settle on the curve of your stomach; a gentle pat in greeting to Duck.

“How was dinner?”

“Good,” Joel lies.

“Vanessa okay?”

“Good,” again.

“Sorry.”

Joel’s eyes roll, fingers pausing. “Why do you always gotta be sorry for som’?”

You shrug when you realize it’s not a rhetorical question. He’s genuinely asking. “I don’t know. Just tryna be polite. I know you’d probably rather be at home right now, not…deciding where some plastic fuckin’ stars should go.”

“For my kid’s bedroom? For you?” He huffs something shaped like disapproval. “Do me a favor – stop with the sorrys, alright?”

“I’m not even done with the last fucking favor I said I’d do you.” Your eyes flit down to your bump.

He stares blankly. You know there’s a laugh gathering like hot air on a windowpane behind his eyes, threatening to shatter the glass.

“Fine,” you concede, “dickhead.”

“Better.”

You sigh, looking back down at the phosphorescent shape in your hands. Turning it over and over and over, matching the rhythm of his fingers tensing and then untensing on your belly. His fingers, matching the rhythm of your chest rising and falling with breath. The room quiet. The night’s eyes averted, even just for this moment.

“If it’s anything,” Joel says, “I think the stars look alright.”

Another stolen smile. Another defiant show of teeth. You place your hand on top of his: a thankful gesture, an invitation. Something in between.

Joel blinks back at you, his eyes flitting from yours to your lips. The dim light in the room swallowing the two of you whole, secluded in the upstairs of your home. And you think, Kiss me, kiss me kiss me kiss me, and you will the words over your tongue in a ragged breath – hoping that Joel might breathe them in and feel their sharp edges as they absorb into his bloodstream, each cell flipping like the star in your hand and whispering the same two words to him: Kiss her kiss her kiss her.

But right then –

There’s a burst of movement. Under your fingertips. A fluttering, like bubbles popping right below the surface of your skin.

Your eyes snap down at the same time Joel’s do; your fingers separating and hovering over your tummy.

“Did you – did you feel –?”

“Yeah. Did you?”

“Uhuh. Was that –?”

“I don’t know. Was it?”

He takes your hand, pressing it back against your stomach with his on top. Your knuckles safe in the canopy of his palm. Both staring into space as you hold your breath.

“They’re not…they’re not doin’ it, now…”

“Maybe it was just –”

“Wait! Did you feel that?”

A second burst on your womb, a tiny beat on the other side of your bump. A wide grin breaks across your cheeks, a disbelieving laugh escaping.

Joel laughs, too. “Is that – is that the first time they’ve ever –?”

“Yeah,” you sniff, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes, “that’s the first I’ve ever felt ‘em, anyways.”

“Wait,” Joel says, lifting his hand and holding a finger up. Just yours on your belly. “They doin’ it?”

Your head shakes.

When he lowers his hand, Duckie kicks again. The two of you lean in to one another, exchanging laughter. You lift your own hand, watching his expression as he waits patiently.

But then his head shakes, too. “Nothing. They’re only doin’ it when it’s both of us.”

“What the fuck?” you laugh, replacing your hand and waiting for the baby drum. “How can they even tell? What the f–?”

You shift your hands around the globe of your bump, pausing every so often to feel for Duck’s movements. A tiny fist punching, or a heel kicking, or an elbow shoving right above your navel in a way that’s bordering on painful, but numbed by the sheer thrill of it.

And for a while, it’s all you do: play tag with your unborn baby, giggling when they respond to your tapping fingers and cooing voices.

Joel sits up, leaning on his elbow to talk to his kid; runs two fingers across your shirt like a pair of legs scaling a cotton covered hill. And he laughs, and you laugh at his laugh, as if he’s a kid himself again – tearing apart gifts on his birthday, gasping and throwing his head back with glee at whatever he uncovers.

“It feel weird?” he asks, glancing up at you.

“So fucking weird,” you tell him.

“Does it hurt?”

“More…ticklish, if anything. Might get kinda annoying, if they start doing it when I’m tryna sleep, or somethin’…”

Joel lowers his jaw to your stomach, whispering, “You know what to do, Duckie. Make your daddy proud.”

You slap his shoulder, muttering, “Asshole.”

“Alright,” he says, splintered by a laugh. He pushes himself to his feet, swiping the bag of stars from your side. “Let’s get these up so you two can get some sleep.”

You groan as he pulls you upright, one last pat on your stomach, looking at you a second too long and a touch too meaningful. Too warm, too inviting.

It’s the calm before the storm, though you’re still stood motionless. Still trying to work out whether the tornado is moving away, or headed directly for you.

At five in the morning, Vanessa’s sister calls her.

“Heart attack,” Joel tells you a few hours later, the rustle of paper crinkling in your ear. The truck hums in the background. He speaks through a mouthful of sandwich. “Her dad always had a condition, but they thought they were managin’ it with medication,” another crinkle, and then, voice even more obscured, “but he got rushed to hospital durin’ the night, and…”

“Poor Vanessa,” you reply, nail drawing shapes on the curve of your bump in attempt to lull Duck into a more relaxed state than the sharp kicks they’re throwing at your ribs. Now big and strong enough to do considerable damage, your voice falters each time they swing. “Is she – son of a bitch – is she okay?”

“Shaken up,” he says, turn signal ticking over his voice. “She’ll be alright. She’s pragmatic like that. Problem is – they’re in Houston. Her whole family. So I guess that’s where the funeral’s gonna be.”

You swing your legs off the couch, heaving your awkward, nine-months-pregnant body to your feet – the irritating scratch of hunger suddenly gnawing at your stomach. “Yeah?” you say, waddling through to the kitchen. “So?”

“So,” Joel takes another bite of sandwich, “she has to – I mean, we have to…go. To Houston.”

“We?” You slot the phone between your cheek and shoulder as you fish out a couple slices of bread.

“Me ‘n Vanessa.”

“Uhuh,” you carve a knife around a jar of peanut butter, “you gotta be there for her.”

Joel sounds a little defensive. “I know. And I am. I’m goin’ to be. ‘s just – I gotta be there for you, too. For – for Duck.”

Your stomach swirls, a fire catching which lights your chest in a trickle of flame.

“You are. You will be. Houston’s only, like, three hours away.”

He sighs.

The turn signal fills the silence between you, between Joel and an appropriate answer. Clicking like the sound of a tennis match, his head spinning between his grief-stricken girlfriend, and the third-trimester mother of his child.

“I’m here,” he says, and you hear the squeal of brakes out front. “Give me a sec.”

The door pushes open as you sink back into the couch, balancing the plate on the planet beneath your breasts. Joel crumples his sandwich paper in his fist and lowers his hand over the back of the couch, scrunching his fingers over your belly as he passes.

“Thought you hated that stuff,” he calls over his shoulder, disappearing into your kitchen.

“I had a craving,” you say, ripping the first bite from your sandwich. “You made me hungry.”

He returns a minute later with a glass of water which he sets down on the coffee table in front of you. He lifts your legs, letting them fall gently in his lap when he collapses into the opposite end of the couch, heels of his palms pressing against his eyes.

You tap his thigh with the ball of your foot and he turns to you, placing a hand over your ankles. A sticky paste of peanut butter and bread between your molars, you ask, “What’shup?”

Joel holds back a smirk at your chipmunk cheeks. “Just – just worried that you…you know, while I’m gone, is all.”

You scoff, gulping. “Come on. I am not gonna go into labor in the, what – two days? How long would you even be gone?”

He seems to wince at the thought, fingers sifting through his hair – a gray sweep sat casually over his left eyebrow; flicks following the curve of his ear towards the hinge of his jaw. “Less than that, if I can help it.”

“Joel.”

He turns to you, saying your name just as deflated in response.

“You have to go.”

He rolls his eyes, thumb and middle finger massaging his temples. Crosses his arms and huffs like a teenager. “Well, I ain’t happy about it.”

You snort, unable to hold it in as you take another bite. “I ‘on’t think Vanesha’sh too happy about it, either, to be honesh wih ya.”

Joel’s jaw slackens, a choked laugh bursting from the back of his throat. He lifts a cushion and swings it in your direction. “Heartless. That’s heartless, you know that? Jesus, baby.”

He leaves on Saturday morning.

You stand on your porch, watching him shove a suitcase into the backseat of his truck, squinting in the sunlight as he stalks across your front yard. Joining you in the shade, he leans into you, shoving you lightly.

“Quit it.” Your hand locking with his, steadying yourself. Something in the back of your mind begging him not to let go.

And as if he can hear the thought: “I can stay. You know I can stay, right?”

“I don’t want you to stay,” you tell him, sweeping the hair from his forehead. “We will be fine. We’ll stay up late, eat junk food and watch TV; I’ll do audio description for Duck…”

He scoffs, glancing across the street.

“…and then you’ll be back home, back to buggin’ the hell out of us. It’ll be Monday before you know it.”

Joel’s jaw tightens. “And what if…?”

“You really think that’s gonna happen? You think your kid’s that much of an asshole?”

He doesn’t miss a beat. “Yeah,” he shrugs, tongue in his cheek, “they’re half you.”

“Alright,” you click your teeth, turning away from the simper on his lips, “why don’t you just fuck off to Houston now, asshole?”

“I’ll fuck off, that’s what I’ll do.”

“Uhuh. Here’s hoping you don’t break down, or get a flat, or get struck by lightning, or anything.”

“You’re so funny,” he whispers, leaning closer.

“Hm. Now go.”

His jaw turns, beard grazing your skin. And then his lips; soft and warm, damp when he kisses your cheek. A moment too long. And he doesn’t pull away, doesn’t lean back the way you both know he should. No, he lingers – his lips by your ear, eyes flitting up to the street to make sure nobody sees.

“Joel –”

“I know.”

“We shouldn’t –”

“I know.”

But your arm is hooking around his neck, asking him to do it anyway, and his lips are lowering to yours, submitting to your request, and what’s supposed to be a goodbye kiss lasts at least a few seconds too long for it to mean anything less than a don’t go kiss.

You pull away when you feel the wet dab of his tongue against yours, realizing with an ice-cold shock where you are, and who he is, and what’s happening. Realizing how fucking stupid it’d be for both of you, how catastrophic and terrible the outcome.

A one-night stand.

A one-night stand.

A one-night –

He leans his forehead against yours, nose nuzzling your cheek. “I’ll call you when we get there.”

Your arm loosens, letting him go.

Just – letting him go.

Saturday Night Live ends just after midnight.

You arch your back into the couch, your swollen belly pushing forward. It’s an effort to get to your feet, what with the steady ache in your back all day, the weight on your front, and the fucking human being smushed into every vital organ inside you.

A deep breath feels like it inflates your lungs only halfway, Duck using the bottom half as a fucking ass cushion, and scaling the stairs takes another ten minutes – by the end of which, you’re slumped against the handrail, pausing before making off for your room.

You sink into the mattress, creasing the cool, smooth sheets. Duck stirs inside you, stretches out and throws a right hook against your bladder. You curse under your breath, hoisting yourself back to your feet.

“We gotta sleep, baby,” you hum, swaying back and forth with a hand under your belly. “Shh, ‘s okay. Take your fuckin’ fist outta my bladder, you little asshole.”

Whichever traits of yours and Joel’s have blended into the human cocktail growing in your uterus, you know one thing for certain: this kid has your stubbornness. The weight remains on your bladder, regardless of how much swaying, or pacing, or rubbing, or threatening you do.

You growl, wandering through the upper floor of your house in attempt to shift Duckie, or distract yourself, or, at the very least, tire the two of you out enough to fall asleep.

From the nursery door handle hangs a little wooden star, a tauntingly sleepy smile painted on it. You push the door open with two hesitant fingers, stepping into the still bedroom, the weak wash of streetlight meeting moonlight on the greenish walls.

You suck in a deep breath, floorboards squealing as you take your first step. Over the crib hangs a plastic mobile, soft plush shapes twirling slowly. The matching changing table slotted alongside it, a rocking chair over by the window.

You pad across a fluffy rug and lower yourself into the chair, tilting back and forth on your toes as you glance around one of the two rooms you and Joel have spent the most time in since that October morning bonded you forever. A baby duck ornament perched on a shelf above the dresser, its orange legs dangling. A multi-photo frame Joel’s mom bought you, both scans in the first two slots and the third empty, lying in wait.

Your breathing fragments, struggles, eyes slipping over to the baby clothes hanging in the closet. “You know, little Duckie,” you whisper, rubbing your bump and thinking back to Tommy’s words six months ago, “you are a pretty lucky kid.”

The hooded towel robe on the back of the door, the perfect size for a newborn. The framed prints sat atop the chest of drawers, waiting to be nailed to the wall: a rainbow, a frog, a starry sky.

“You got two houses. Two bedrooms, all to yourself. You got two parents who already love you more ‘n the whole world. And,” you gulp, “you got Vanessa. And she loves you, too.”

You glance down, watching the tiny pulse of movement when the baby stretches in your womb. Your hands scoop them up, as if holding them closer than they already are. As if already cradling them, forcing yourself to feel less alone.

Duck seems to quieten, to still; seems to consider what you’re avoiding. Reads between the lines, hears the words you’re not speaking.

Two of everything, you think, and I barely even had one.

The most evidence you have of being loved by anyone in your life is the house you live in. Four brick walls and three decades’ worth of belongings, more inheritance than memories. But they roll around like marbles – they echo against the walls when they hit them. There’s nothing binding them, no thread of love, or family, or anything real enough to hold it all together.

You’re the only living organ inside a skeleton’s cage. A lonely little heartbeat, making noise for no one to hear.

And that’s the way it has been, at least since you were eight. The absence of warmth and safety isn’t anything new to you – it left the second your parents did. The last scrunch of your mom’s nails on your head, the last kiss of her lips to your plump little cheeks. The passing over to your grandma, like you were cargo, like you were a box to be checked.

Maybe you found some distant flicker of heat in the way Joel looked at you, the day you told him you were pregnant. Maybe you saw the same glimmer of a flame that you used to see in your mom’s eye. The rosy smell of her perfume, the feel of her finger inside five of yours. Maybe, for the first time since you were a kid, you felt safe.

We’re gonna work it out, he said. I’m here. We’re in this together, alright? I am not running out on you.

Together. And yet, now, sat in your child’s nursery – a room built from scratch by Joel’s two hands and strung together by every beat of your heart – you’ve never felt more alone. The same two hands that are wrapped around Vanessa right now, consoling her, wiping her tears away, massaging her shoulders and sweeping her hair from her eyes.

And the same heartbeat which quickens now, fueled by an angry desire, an impulse scratching deep into your flesh to march all the damn way to Houston and tear the pair of them apart. Like he’s yours; like the way he touches you and looks at you and talks to you means anything more than his child growing inside you.

Like it’s you he’s touching and looking at and talking to, and not Duck. Like his attention won’t cease to shine on you, the second this little baby leaves your body.

And then, washing over the scorching hot sand of anger: a foam-lined wave of guilt. Of shame, for wishing for the breakdown of something that clearly makes the two of them happy. That makes Joel…happy.

He doesn’t owe you anything – he was never yours to begin with. Just one drunken night, a mistake until you noticed the two pale lines on the pregnancy test. And by that point, he was already hers again. You had missed him without even knowing it.

You sigh, pushing up from the rocking chair and reaching for a tissue from the changing table. Turning back, giving the room one last teary glance before closing the door, you sniff.

“You’re just…the luckiest little kid who’s ever gonna live.”

At one twenty a.m., cicadas chirping and trees rustling, the low breeze carrying the sounds through your half-open window – your back begins to ache. A blunt, gnawing pain. Feels like your period, and in your doze, you stuff a pillow between your legs and pray you don’t stain the sheets with a show of blood.

The realization comes over you as if that stifling breeze flips to freezing. You slowly come around, eyes peeling open as you think it over twice, then three times, then four. Duck shifts somewhere deep inside you, somewhere you’ve never felt them shift before.

“…No. Not right now, Duck. You gotta give me, like, twenty-four hours. Just – wait until your dad gets ho–”

A blinding pain interrupts you, the moonlit-blue room fading out of focus for half a second before you’re wide awake, clutching the bottom of your spine where you’re sure the kid just tore a fucking hole straight through your uterus.

“You’re a fucking dick,” you whimper, fingers clenching in tight fists around the bedsheets. “You’re a fucking – dick.”

One twenty-three. You go into labor.

[girliemattitude]

-- Guilty as Sin?- - M.S - -

A/N (1): I saw someone on @mattscoquette account saying how Matt was so ‘Guilty as Sin’ coded so I had to do it 🫶🏼 A/N (2): This turned out a little longer than what I expected because it has some introductory stuff at the beginning but I swear you’ll get what you came here for <3 💋 A/N(3): this is my work, please don’t steal it :)

………………………………………………………………………………….……………………

Me and my boyfriend Langdon have been together for about eight months now. I was never the type who wanted a serious relationship, everything about love cringed me out but there was something about him that intrigued me a lot, maybe It was the fact that he’s very tall and confident or his dreamy green eyes but I don’t know.

Our relationship was very good in the beginning, my friends used to make fun of me saying that I became what I swore to destroy because I acted like those annoying girlfriends who can’t shut up about their boyfriends, so annoying right?, anyways now I realize that what I felt wasn’t real because I didn’t really know him well so I idealized him and fell for a perfect version of him who I created but only existed in my head.

Is not like he’s a terrible person but he’s definitely not a good boyfriend, at first he was very attentive and sweet but as the months passed he started to be more distant, it seems like he’s not very interested in me anymore, we barely talk, when I ask about his day he answers with a quick “it was a’ight” but never returns the question, we don’t go on dates, we don’t even cuddle, all we do is hang at his apartment but he’s always to busy on his phone to pay any attention to me so I just stare at the tv pretending I’m interested in the show or movie he put on and at night sometimes we have sex, On the weekends he usually goes MIA and I won’t hear about him until Monday just to find out he was ‘out with the boys’. The sex has change too, he used to make me feel good and wanted, like it was an enormous privilege to have me, he always make sure I got cleaned up afterwards and that I received cuddles or water or whatever I wanted but now it’s always so dull and dreary, I feel used afterwards, he doesn’t make eye contact with me, it’s like he’s only concern is himself and his pleasure so I just lay there, during he asks if I’m okay, he states how good he feels and after he’s done he asks if I came, I never do but I always lie to him, he puts his shorts back on and then goes on his phone again, so I go the bathroom,I clean myself and then I go back to bed feeling empty.

I tried to talk to Langdon about it, I told him we have a problem but he brushed it off saying that I’m nuts and that we are better than ever. I’ve gotten used to it by now, I know I could just break up with him but there’s a tiny bit of hope that thinks he’ll change so I stay.

Lately I’ve been feeling some type of way about my friend Matt, I’m very close with him and his brothers, I mean we’ve known in each for a long time now and yes I used to have a little crush on him but that was ages ago and it went away so I convinced myself that what I was feeling currently was the same silly feeling I once had and that it will go away just like last time, the problem was that this time was different it was harder to ignore, it was more intense and it filled my mind with crazy thoughts. It started one day at the warehouse, I was sitting on a large table typing the last details of an essay when all of the sudden my laptop shut down even though it was completely charged, I was freaking out when Matt entered the room, he asked what was wrong and after I answered him he position himself behind me, both of his arms were on each side of me and I could feel his scent on my nose and his warm breath on my face, he was trying to figure out what had happened to my laptop but all I could focused on was his hands, holy shit they’re veiny and his fingers looked so long pressing buttons on the keyboard, my breath hitched and I know should’ve but i didn’t look away, I tried to I swear but when I gazed to the side I saw his tattooed arm and I pictured myself tracing the lines of them, I heard him murmured an almost none audible “fuck” that sent vibrations to my whole body, specially in between my legs. I still don’t know how long I was zoned out but suddenly the laptop was back on and he said “there you go sweetheart” and give me a soft smile.

That night I was in my bed alone and I couldn’t stop thinking about those hands, my heartbeat started to race as I imagined how it would feel to have his hands squeezing my hips as he pulls me in for a kiss, I thought that I would bet millions of dollars he’s a good kisser, would he bite my lip?, how would does longs fingers feel inside of me? . I couldn’t stop wondering, my head was fuzzy, my fingers went from resting on my stomach to under my panties and before I realized what I was doing I touched my clit with my middle finger, slowly and in circles, Matt and how his warm breath felt against my skin never left my mind, a familiar sensation of pleasure overflowed my body and I let out a moan which put me out off my trance and I stoped myself from going further. I kept on telling myself that Matt’s just a nice guy who happens to be very attractive and that I was confused because I felt horny and lonely, but that didn’t stop me because the next morning while I was showering my mind went back to Matt and I pictured him in there with me, he’s wet hair and naked body, he’s dick pressed against my back, his lips on my neck leaving messy and sloppy kisses, one of his hands all over my boobs and the other inserting his fingers inside of me and I couldn’t stop, I imagined him talking me threw it until I came undone screaming the name of one of my closest friends. After that I avoided the whole crew for I couple of days, I felt so guilty, I avoided Langdon too but that wasn’t that hard, it’s not like he was eager to see me either.

Yesterday I saw my friends again we went to a scape room and I tried to avoid Matt as much as I could, after that we went to a pizza place, as we were waiting for the pizza Nick and Chris went to the bathroom and Madi was on her phone, I was pretending to be on my phone too so I wouldn’t have to speak to Matt, he was sitting in front of me and I felt him stare but I didn’t looked up. He quickly switched seats and sat beside me, I ignored him again, I thought I succeeded when I saw Nick and Chris approach us but I was wrong, Matt got even nearer to me and whispered in my ear “is it just me or a you avoiding me today?” I told him he was crazy and that we were good but I don’t think he believed me, I’m a terrible liar but even if I wasn’t I know he noticed how my body froze when he whispered to me and how my eyes didn’t locked with his even once, he didn’t talk much after that little interaction between us. I know him, I know he was overthinking about why I was acting this way towards him, and I felt terrible but how I’m suppose to tell him that I’m the worst person alive because even though I have a boyfriend I can’t get him out off my head, that I keep recalling things we never did, that I can’t look at him in the eyes without having an unbearable need to kiss him, that I want him to hold me at night, or how we’ve already done it in my head and how that was the best orgasm I’ve had in the longest time or how it’s not only a sexual thing but also the fact that I’m pretty sure I’m in love with him?

Right now it’s the next day and I’m in my boyfriends couch, he’s beside me playing some video game, I’m looking at the screen and I hear gunshots and one of his friends yelling from the headphones he has on but my mind is on Matt once again, everyday day that goes by I feel worse, I know he’s frustrated because he knows something’s wrong but I can’t tell him, and my stupid boyfriend is next to me and doesn’t know shit, which makes me feel even worse, Langdon swears we are perfectly fine and I can’t help but feel like a cheater, I hate cheaters yet I am one, I haven’t touched Matt but mentally I’m full of sin.

Last night I told everything to my friend Madi, who stayed the night at my house to keep me company ‘cause “I seemed off”, of course she noticed too, everyone did, even Chris who’s always distracted asked me what the fuck was going on with me.

After I told Madi she stated that I shouldn’t feel guilty about anything,that we can’t control our thoughts but we can control our actions and I haven’t done anything wrong, she also told me I should break up with Langdon and tell the truth because i would be surprised to know what Matt feels too, I still don’t know what Matt feels, she wouldn’t tell me but it doesn’t matter, I can’t do that, I know Langdon hasn’t been the best boyfriend but he’s not a bad person, I just don’t want to hurt anyone but I guess that’s inevitable. Maybe our relationship is just in a rough patch and If I put more effort into it we’ll work it out and possibly light up the fire again. Yes that’s probably it, In a couple of days everything will go back to normal and I’ll stop getting those crazy thoughts.

Langdon gets off his game and asks me if I’m hungry, I say we should go out to eat since we haven’t done that in a while but he doesn’t want to so I offer to cook us something instead and he agrees, I smile big at him and suggest we could make dinner together but he just says “nah” and goes back to his game, but it’s okay I’m not giving up. I make some quick mac and cheese and we eat in silence, he offers to wash the dishes and I let him, baby steps I think to myself.

I stare at him as he’s cleaning the counter and I analyze him, he’s way taller than Matt, and more muscular, he’s eyes are green, not blue, he’s hair is lighter and slightly longer, he doesn’t have any tattoos and his hands are bigger. Overall they are both completely different people, even their personalities don’t match but weirdly the two of them are my type, which doesn’t really matter because I shouldn’t be comparing them anyway.

I walked over to Langdon and I intertwined my hands over his shoulders, I gave him puppy eyes and I stand on my tiptoes to give him a kiss, a genuine kiss he laughs and says “what was that for?”

“I just felt like kissing you, is there something wrong with that?” I reply with and innocent tone before I kiss him again, this time is a longer kiss, it gets heated pretty fast, he pulls me into his hard abdomen, grabbing my ass with both of his hand and I start to feel the bulge between his legs getting bigger. I pull apart out of breath and I ask him to take me to the bedroom, he doesn’t waste any time as he lifts me up effortlessly, my legs are up in the air and I’m being carried to his room. I can’t help but to think about how Matt wouldn’t lift me up as easily as Langdon just did and how I would tease him about it, (c’mon Matt I’m not that heavy) a giggle at the thought and my boyfriends looks at me weird; “what’s so funny?”, oh fuck, I gotta stop, “nothing don’t worry about it”. He puts me down on the bed and gets rid of his all of his clothes, except his underwear, I do the same and we go back to kissing, he’s laying on top of me, he starts giving me kisses on my jaw and goes down to my neck and collarbones, I support myself on my elbows so he could take my bra off, he squeeze one of my boobs and gently tease the other one with his mouth, murmuring things I can’t understand, all I I can do is moan at the feeling. I decide to take a little bit of control and I switch our position, now he’s laying on his back and I straddle him, I give kisses on his abdomen, down to his happy trail and before I reach his boxers I lick him sensually all the way up until I meet his lips again, I kissed him and I bite his bottom lip, “you are such a tease you know that sweetheart”, sweetheart, he never calls me that, that’s what Matt calls me, why I’m a thinking about Matt again?, I shake my head trying to brush off the thoughts and I remove his underwear, he sits up so we are chest to chest, I take a look at his hard cock and I stroke him a couple of times before I put my panties to the side and I aligned myself into him, I sink into him and the both of us let out a sigh of relief once he’s all in, he kisses me and I start to move back and forth slowly, he guides my hips until we found a nice rhythm, he’s groaning and I moan, my moans gets even louder once i start bouncing up and down on him, and it feel so good, he grabs my ass and my hands are on his shoulders for support, i close my eyes and suddenly I’m in Matt’s bed instead, his brown hair is sticking to his forehead, he’s blue eyes are lock in mine and they look much darker now due to his pupils being dilated, his cheeks are tinted pink and his mouth is open, I see his horse necklace moving along with our movements, his chest moves at a rapid pace as well considering that he’s out of breath. I whine so loudly and I rolled my head back at the overwhelming feeling and his left hand goes to my neck bringing me back to him “press harder, pleeaa-ssee” I say between heavy breaths, “yeah? You want me to choke a little do ya’?” “Omg, yess” , “all you had to do was ask baby”. My only response being the sounds leaving my throat, I place one of my hands on top of his left one that’s choking me and my other one goes to his forearm arm caressing his tattoos. I swear I could stay like this forever; “fuck, you’re so pretty, so perfect, just for me, shit I’m gonna cum babe ” “nonono, wait for me, I’m close”

I feel how his dick twitches a little inside of me, my movements increase even more and I start to tremble as I hit my climax and finally that familiar knot on my stomach pops and I came harder than ever, my eyes are close as I ride off my orgasm, my breaths are still irregular and when they’re about to go back to normal I hear “That was so good baby” and my eyes go wide open in shock. Langdon has a fucked out look on his face but he’s smiling at me with a huge grin and once again I feel like absolute garbage, I get off of him and i quickly go to the bathroom, tears are filling my eyes, am i allowed to cry?, my heart is full of guilt and regret, I cannot believe I fucked my boyfriend thinking about Matt but what surprised me the most is that even though i feel terrible, the back of my mind is thinking… ‘if I just came this hard just by the thought of him, how good would it feel to actually have sex with Matt? Does that make me mad? or bad?’ I have no clue all I know is that Madi is right, I have to break things off with Langdon.

………………………………………………………………………………….……………………

[hibischush]

Hello! Have you got any kissing headcanons for Eiland, March, and any romanceable you'd like? Thank you! :3

Ohhhh yes yes I do! I did the "spin the wheel" for the rest of the romanceables because I literally couldn't choose they're all so lovable already. Adeline was the chosen one so I guess we have a sibling special today lmao 🌺

Also, some of these are a bit suggestive, so⚠️minors proceed with caution!⚠️

Eiland

at first I feel like Eiland would be very gentlemanly when kissing you

Like after one of your first few dates he definitely leaned down and kissed your hand

bro is literally courting you like its the regency era

I think that it would take him awhile to gather up to kiss you

But I wholly support the idea that you initiate your first kiss

Like this is an outta-nowhere-unplanned-spontaneous kiss

Because Eiland would be the type to plan out extravagant dates to be memorable

I think you would kiss him for the first time when he's busy explaining (in great depth) the history behind an artifact at the dig sites

His eyes were just so bright and his voice was so animated and passionate and his lips were just

irresistible

You cut him off with a quick chaste kiss and oh man

His expression was priceless

He was so shocked and his face immediately heated up

Eiland was speechless for longer than you expected and you asked if he was okay

"I...yes! Of course! I just..." he pauses, thumbing the bottom of your lip while leaning closer and whispering, "I want to properly kiss you this time, with my full attention."

Once kissing became as natural as breathing air, Eiland kisses you more confidently

He almost always uses one hand to cradle your face and another to pull you closer by the waist

His favorite place to kiss you is your lips, but he is not picky in the slightest

When things heat up, I think he would be a... lip biter

BLASPHEMY I KNOW. A NOBLE LORD SUCH AS EILAND?!

He'd also kiss and nibble on your neck as long as you're fine with it

March

March 100% kisses you before you both are official

Bc he's a silly impulsive little tsudere

and to be clear its obvious that March likes you at this point, and you reciprocate

You want him to bring it up though because he will deny that he likes you lmao

Like you both were hanging out near the fountain in town and the tension is so thick that you could slice through it with a sword

heavy eye contact, fleeting touches, sly comments, etc.

you are breaking this man down

"You are so cute, March," you giggle, shoving him aside playfully

He blushes and pushes you back, almost defensively

"S-shut up. You just don't take me seriously, idiot."

Alright. This guy--

You're tired of his bs

"God, March," you groan, "you want to kiss me so damn bad it makes you look stupid!"

He fumes, before grabbing you by your shoulders and hesitating for a second

before you can say anything, his lips crash against your own

it was short but passionate

"Not so stupid now, huh?"

Anywhoozies

March is a very passionate guy, especially for you

While I believe he is a rough kisser when feeling extra...loving (purely out of desperation btw)

I think his favorite place to kiss you is on your nose 🥺

Especially as goodnight kisses

Adeline

Prefacing this with Adeline is lovely kisser

She always kisses you with purpose and emotion

You're her favorite person, and you help her relax when she can physically love on you

Your first kiss with Adeline was after a nice candlelit dinner after you two had been dating for awhile

Also just another hc I'm going to throw in here:

I think Adeline really enjoys ball room dancing

She used to do it more when she was younger and didn't have to watch over Mistria

So afterwards she asks if you would like to dance (ofc you accept)

While dancing and enjoying such a tender moment with Adeline, you noticed that she faltered and slowed to a stop

You quietly ask her if she was alright, and she looks at you with such warmth it made your heart race

"May I kiss you?"

When you nod your head yes, she smiles, wrapping her arms around your neck, as her eyelids flutter close and she gives you a soft lingering kiss

Afterwards you both kiss often, often short but sweet

Like kisses on the cheek in passing since the both of you are often busy

Adeline loves to kiss you on your cheek!

And she loves to receive kisses on her forehead

When you both have the alone time to be intimate, Adeline kisses you like you're her first breath of air after resurfacing from water lemme tell ya

The pair of you don't get much alone time together so she makes the most of it!

In conclusion, I am in love with them all. I honestly don't know which romanceable I'll go for in my first playthrough, I guess we'll all have to wait until August 5th 🥲

Side note: what is the God in this game. Using "God" just sounds weird as an interjection

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for not defending an ex-friend when people called her a slut?

I (20 f) fell out with my best friend and roommate M (20 f) at the end of sophomore year of college. reason we fell out isn't the main subject of this post but I think it's relevant so I'll try and keep it as brief as possible.

For context I'm Black attending a VERY white school. Frenshman year I was the only black girl in my building and this was just post-covid so student groups were pretty dead. So first trimester most of my college friends were the girls from my floor including M (white) and S (20f, asian american). It was very isolating tbh, esp bc I experienced a lot of microaggressions, but the girls I befriended were pretty good at sharing my outrage and letting me confide in them.

The worst incident was when at a party, a guy (G, white) made some very racist comments towards me and in general (said the n-word a few times). I admit I escalated it by engaging w him and the whole thing got out of hand, a lot of people saw, and he got a reputation as a racist. Afterwards, he was always rude to me, blaming me for egging him on while drunk and just constantly making disrespectful comments about me and my 'attitude' where i could hear. no one ever said anything to his face but were supportive of me after the fact - S was always particularly supportive and said she could relate.

I was generally fine with avoiding G esp in sophomore year when we moved out. I lived with M and another friend (P) and it went pretty well. We were asked in like November if we would renew our lease, and though M and I wanted to the third friend didn't, so we began to think of replacements, and S was looking for a place.

Thing is, while S and I were still on good terms I felt like she was being a bit secretive w me. She'd often come over and talk privately w M and I got the gist she was seeing someone and didn't want me to know. I shook it off as us growing apart and the fact I'd gotten more involved in Black student groups and hadn't hung around with our dorm friends as much, but then in Jan, as we were planning to sign the new lease, I found out she was dating G. Tbh at this point we weren't even close friends that I felt a strong personal betrayal, but more so I was mad at them both for not telling me while making plans for us to live together. They knew I was uncomfortable around G and wouldn't want to live w his gf, esp without knowing. It felt like they were almost purposefully going behind my back.

I didn't do anything at the time, just slowly backed out of the lease renewal and made other arrangements. I stopped hanging out with S almost completely and was just cordial w her and took a big step back from M and our dorm friends.

The other relevant bit of context here is M had a boyfriend (T, 20 m) who was in our freshman dorm and very close to our year one friends (lived with them sophomore year and now junior year too). She broke up w him in Feb, which led to a lot of her friendships w our dorm friends (her only friends really) to deteriorate a bit, esp as she was no longer super comfy hanging around where he was. this especially became an issue in the spring trimester bc she got a new boyfriend over the break, a friend from her classes T hadn't liked.

So, M kept pressuring me to hang out w her and our dorm friends a lot more, which inevitably meant seeing S and now G, who they'd all decided they were cool being around when I distanced myself. I told her why i didn't want to and I didn't want to see G again but she promised he had 'changed' and wouldn't say anything to me. eventually I folded and went out w them all once and it honestly sucked. M completely abandoned me to be w her other friends, G didn't say anything but kept glaring at me the whole time, and I felt very out of place. afterwards I told M i was sorry, I know she felt awkward around her ex without me, but I wouldn't do that again.

She left it till like the end of the year then there was a big dinner she really wanted to go to that T would be at (her bf was not invited), w all our dorm friends. I kept saying I wouldn't go, but then she told me she checked w the hosts and confirmed (and promised) G wouldn't be coming. I said okay but asked we sit next to each other and made it clear how I felt around S etc, and she agreed and promised we would. Long story short G was there, I wound up next to S and across from him snickering at me the whole time, with her on the other end of the table. I texted M about it, she said it was 'fine' and I was imagining it and to try and enjoy the gathering.. yeah no. I dipped before desert, she chased me outside asking what was up and I explained why i was upset, she said i can't expect her to be there for me the whole night and she's allowed to 'have a good night without my drama,' i said racism wasn't drama and she literally dragged me along to deal with her drama, nevermind my comfort, and that she was an incredibly selfish friend for putting me in this position. I left, she wound up crying with everyone comforting her, everyone there (M included) went off at me for being an unsupportive friend/dredging up year old drama with G/overall making everything about race, I cut them all off and moved my stuff into my girlfriend's place a week after all this and didn't speak to anyone since.

which is pretty much all the backstory (longer than the main bit, sorry), that gets us to the actual AITA situation. Junior year starts, I'm at a welcome back party w some other friends and i'm vaguely aware my old dorm friends (including S and G) are also here, but it's a huge party and i'm w my very supportive friends who ik will back me if anything happens so i dont really care. eventually M arrives w her bf, gives me an awkward look but doesn't say anything to me.

Then at some point, I'm upstairs using the bathroom and I hear the girls from our dorm group speaking to M in the hallway. Apparently it came out over summer she'd hooked up w her new boyfriend before she ended things with T and they were all pissed at her (esp for her playing the victim w her ex). I tried to stay in the bathroom until the conversation ended but someone was pounding on the door and I wound up having to get out and waddle past them awkwardly to get back downstairs. When I got out one of the girls was calling M a slut and other names and while i tried to avoid it I accidentally made eye contact with M, who was super upset and crying. I kinda just shrugged and went downstairs.

Later that night i got a long ass message from her new bf about how he knows I'm upset with her but it wasn't fair for me to just leave her in that situation, and that it was petty and selfish of me (esp bc I'm usually the person calling out this shit). I spoke to my gf, and she said she understands why i did nothing but also that it's never okay for people to call someone a slut. I agree with that 100% and in any other case i might have tried to diffuse the situation (like if it was safe and I thought I could). I've told a couple friends who think I did nothing wrong and it wasn't fair to expect me to say smth when she never said/did anything to defend me and that she had it coming, but my mom told me I should've done the kind thing and not stoop to their level and it's made me feel really bad. I think I might be TA bc i could have stood up for her without anything bad happening to me beyond being in an uncomfortable convo, and also bc it kinda felt good seeing her friends turn on her? Like she threw me under the bus to be in their good books and defend them and they dropped her ass anyway, and if I acted from a vengeful place then thats asshole-y of me. but also no one in this story has apologised to me once and as my friend says its not fair to rely on black ppl to fix racist white ppls mess.

so, AITA?

What are these acronyms?

[tonberry-yoda]

A Hobie Thing To Do - Hobie Brown

notes - Here's the Hobie fic for that poll I did! Thank you everyone who voted and the Hobie lovers for asking for another fic! It feels a tad rushed story wise, but it's silly and I like the concept, so I hope you enjoy! Stay hydrated everyone! word count - 810

London was pretty boring. You were expecting more when you moved there, but honestly, it was a lot of rain and a lot of the people you were already used to. College was nice and everything and it wasn't like you were miserable, but you were definitely bored.

Until you met him. Hobie Brown. A punky, guitar playing, pierced up boy with a loud mouth and amazing hair.

You met him while goofing around with a band you played with occasionally. He kicked open the door with drinks in his hands and smiled when he saw you, setting down the drinks to shake your hand.

"You have amazing eyes." he told you with a wink.

You told him you liked his outfit and you hit it off from there, playing music together or eating junkfood in your dorm.

And not too long afterwards, the two of you started dating. He never called it dating, but never got mad when you did, so you definitely considered the two of you to be together in some romantic regard.

Plus, he would kiss you without hesitation and wrap his arm around you whenever someone seemed to be bothering you.

At the end of the day though, after weeks of dating, the two of you became inseparable and the only time you were really away from each other was when you were at school.

"Have you guys seen Hobie?" you asked the band as you walked in with sandwiches, handing one to everyone.

"No," said the drummer, Curtis, shoving the sandwich in his mouth. "I don't know if he's coming. He didn't say anything."

You just nodded and sat down, turning on the TV. Curtis' parents always had it on the news channel and it was playing something about Spiderman.

"Ugh, Spiderman," said the singer, Alley, rolling her eyes. "I hate that guy."

"Why?" you asked, turning to her. "He's a punk dude, I think he's so sick."

"Yeah, but he's just making excuses to break the law and claim he's saving the world. It's not very punk if you ask me,"

"That's so stupid, Alley."

"Maybe to you. I think it's pretty rational."

"I just think you don't know the guy," Hobie said, walking in and grabbing his own sandwich. "Though, maybe you're right."

"Hey, Hobie." you smiled, kissing him on the cheek. "Where were you?"

"Well, it's finally not gross out, so I figured I'd walk today. Sorry I'm a little late. Anyways, what's Spiderman up to?"

You watched the TV for a second and turned back to Hobie. "Apparently someone was trying to attack some bus downtown and he saved it."

Hobie just hummed in response and kept eating. He felt weird about not telling you that he was Spiderman, but at the same time, he thought it was obvious at this point and was trying to see how long it would take you.

"Who do you think's under that mask?" Curtis asked.

You just shrugged. "Probably some rockstar. Maybe someone we've seen live?"

You and the rest of the band became coming up with theories about Spiderman as Hobie kicked back his feet and watched himself save the bus in slow-mo for the fifteenth time with a stupid grin. You really weren't going to figure it out, were you?

Well, in that case, he thought it would be fun to tease you a bit.

You were on a walk in the rain, petting stray cats and shopping. Hobie had his Spiderman costume on and waited until you got into an alleyway before hanging upside down in front of you, shocking you a bit.

"Spiderman?" you said. "What's up?"

He smiled under the mask and stood in front of you before walking over to a wall, leaning against it. "What's up with you?" he asked.

"Just going home." you told him.

Hobie rolled his eyes under the mask. He didn't even change his voice, how did you not notice it was him yet?

"I heard you're in a band." he said.

You tilted your head. "How did you know that?"

"A friend of mine knows you."

"Really? Who?"

"His name's Hobie." He had to hold back laughter.

You thought for a minute and looked at him unamused. "Really, Hobie?"

He shot a web and hung back upside down in front of you before making sure no one was around to slide off his mask.

"How long have you been Spiderman?" you asked.

"How long has Spiderman been around?"

You rolled your eyes with a smile. "This is crazy."

"Unexpected?"

"No. This definitely feels like a Hobie thing to do."

"Why's that?" He smirked.

"Because of course, you of all people would be Spiderman somehow."

"I guess that is a Hobie thing to do, innit?"

You cupped his face and smiled before pressing your lips to his as he hung upside down.

~~~~~

into the spiderverse masterlist | pinned post 2023 @tonberry-yoda – do not repost or claim ANY of my work as your own! likes, reblogs, and comments are not only welcome, but appreciated

~~~~~

[rowdyhughesy]

Hiding your relationship with Luke when you’ve been friends forever and Ellen finds out (like let’s say around wjc time) as well as everyone else and they’re just like finally ??

World juniors - L.Hughes

“ We know each other from the time when we were kids, and it took me so long to admit that I want to spend my whole life with you. “

- anon

It didn’t start like those big love stories you read about. They weren’t best friends since diapers, with the whole will they? Won’t they? Thing. They hadn’t known since they were kids that they would fall in love, maybe get married and have kids. None of them woke up one day and just realised that they had feelings for the other. It was gradual, they had been in the same friend group since middle school. Always hanging out with the rest of their friends, close but not that close.

Then college came and they had both committed to Michigan, the group splitting up during the summer. Everyone moving to new places and dorm rooms until they were the only two left. It became a safety for them knowing that they at least had each other. That someone was still there.

Sitting next to each other in class became study dates, who then turned into coffee dates that turned into hanging out on the weekends, going to every hockey game at yost, sleeping in the same bed, joining his FaceTime calls with his parents and after almost a year of constantly hanging out Luke asked her out. It was a yes without any hesitation.

They hadn’t audibly said that they were going to keep their relationship a secret, it just happened. No one asked so they just didn’t say anything. For those who knew them nothing had changed. They did everything they had done before, just that now it included kissing and other things in the comfort of their dorm rooms.

Ellen Weinberg-Hughes was over the moon when Luke first started hanging out with Y/N without everyone else. She knew her son and she knew that he had a crush on her when he didn’t even know about it himself. It was the way he smiled when she said something, the way he talked about what they’d done the day before when she called him. Her mothers instinct telling her that they would happen. She truly hoped that Luke would get the girl.

She just didn’t know that it had already happened.

When Luke was picked out to join team USA for world juniors, Y/N had never been more proud. Her boyfriend, her Luke. Was going to play in WJC. Then he got the C and she cried her eyes out on FaceTime as he told her. She knew he was an amazing hockey player, an amazing person and it made her happy that everyone else could see it too.

So sitting there in the stands with Jim and Ellen the girl was buzzing with excitement and a little bit of anxiety. Luke had been so busy with preparing for the tournament and practice that she had barely had any chance to talk to him, but she was here. Decked out in a USA sweatshirt that Luke gave her before he left and a umich hat to show the other Michigan boys that she supported them.

“I’m starting to believe you’re more nervous than Luke about this game.” The voice of Jim snaps the girl out of her anxiety induced staring. Turning her head towards him she masters up a nervous smile. “I just want it to be a good game for him ya know? This is such a big moment and I don’t want him to be disappointed in himself afterwards.” Ellen stays silent, taking in the nervous fumbling of Y/N’s hands, the wide eyes and how she’s bouncing her leg up and down. She really cares about him she thinks. “If it doesn’t go well we’ll be there for him. All of us, he knows he’s not alone.“ Ellen wraps one arm around her shoulders giving her a side hug.

The game ends with a win for the US, Y/N is certain she almost screamed the loudest out of the whole building when the final buzzer sounded. She wanted to cry but forced the tears back as she hugged the Hughes parents.

As they’re walking to the dressing rooms she has to talk herself down from running, excited to congratulate her boy on their first win. Instead she settles for speed walking. A big smile on her lips that make her cheeks ache but she doesn’t care because she’s just so damn happy.

When she sees Luke standing at the end of the hall talking with Duker and Rutger, still dressed in his hockey gear all rational thoughts in her brain disappears. Taking off running Luke sees the motion in the corner of his eye, turning his body towards her. Arms spread out waiting.

She doesn’t care that he’s sweaty and probably smells as she wraps her arms and legs around his body, hugging him tightly. Luke stumbles back from the impact but doesn’t hesitate as he places one arm under her butt and the other around her waist to steady her in his grip. “You were great out there, I’m so proud of you baby.” She whispers in his ear making goosebumps rise on his skin. “Thank you for being here. I needed it I was so nervous.”

Y/N lifts her head from its spot against Luke’s neck. Forgetting all about the fact that his parents and the others are in the same vicinity of the couple. The outside world just fade away when she’s with him. Leaning forward she presses a long kiss on his lips, tears starting to stream down her face from how proud and happy she is.

It’s not until someone clears their throat that the two pull away. Four sets of eyes are staring at them. Dylan and Rutger both standing there with dropped jaws, Jim is just shifting his eyes between his son and the girl in his arms while Ellen looks at them with a big smile.

Luke places his girlfriend back on her feet, both of them wearing matching blushing red faces and guilty expressions. Before they can react the two hockey players starts spitting questions at them about how,when,where,what. But they fall silent as Ellen coughs, the four kids shifting their attention to her. “We can pester them with questions later. I just wanna say that I’m happy you got the girl Luke, she’s perfect for you.”

Luke looks down at his girlfriend with an adoring smile. She’s everything he could ever want and he can’t help but think that yeah he would gladly spend the rest of his life with her by his side if she let him.

“Thanks mom and yeah she’s absolutely perfect.”

[rippeanuts1950-2000]

i hate u, i love u

Prev|Next

Chapter 2)

“YOU DID WHAT!?”

Laney winces at how loud Konnie is shouting. “I made a bet with Corey.” She repeats. It’s just her and Konnie at the lunch table as Kim is in the science labs checking her experiment with Carrie, and Larry just doesn’t have this lunch period. “Okay, but why?” Konnie stresses as she picks up her grilled cheese sandwich from her lunch tray. “If you guys win the battle of the bands, he leaves me alone.” Laney explains with a shrug as she digs around in her backpack for her lunch box. She finally finds it and pulls out a bag of chips. “But if we lose?” Laney deflates a little. “I have to rejoin Grojband for a month and if I enjoy being a part of the band again, I have to consider staying permanently.” She tacks on.

Konnie shakes her head. “Well this gives us more of a reason to win. But seriously, why did you think this was a good idea? You’re literally the brain cell of The Newmans, that’s why you’re our manager.” She points out. Laney opens her mouth to answer her but finds that she doesn’t know what to say. Like she knows the main reasons why she said yes, but in all honesty she paid attention to the pros instead of the cons. Why did that happen? Laney usually goes for the cons first instead of the pros.

“I-I don’t know. I guess I wasn’t thinking about what would happen if The Newmans lost. You guys wouldn’t leave me if I had to go back to Grojband, right?” The bag of chips Laney has been holding pops open and chip crumbs fall onto Konnie’s lunch tray. Fortunately the blonde girl doesn’t seem to care however and just organizes them into a little pile on her tray while she answers Laney’s question. “Of course not, Penny Lane. You’ve become an important part of our group since you’ve started hanging out with us. Even before you became our manager, you were important to the team.” Konnie assures her, using the nickname that the band gave to Laney when she first started hanging out with them to further prove her point.

Laney takes a deep breath, silently reminding herself to breathe evenly so that she doesn’t work herself into a panic attack. Though even if she did work herself into a panic attack, she’d be okay because she’s hanging with Konnie right now and Konnie knows how to calm her down the best. “Thanks Konnie.” Laney says, feeling a bit more assured. Konnie nods. “Girl, you know I always got your back.” As sweet as the sentiment is, it makes Laney laugh afterwards because Konnie is sprinkling chip crumbs from her plate into her mouth. Though Laney would probably do the same. “Hey, do you have work today?” Konnie asks once she’s swallowed some water.

“Yep, it’s gonna be a long shift too so I’ll be doing homework there.” Laney says with a sigh. “Well, me and the others are gonna stop by and visit you. We could do homework together if the shop’s not too busy.” Konnie suggests, making Laney smile even more. “Yeah, that sounds good. You guys ARE always a great buffer for Corey.” She says, popping some chips in her mouth. “Oh and let me know if they need to hire more people because I will try to get hired to keep you company.” Konnie adds, finishing off the grilled cheese. “You don’t have to do that but I’ll keep you posted.” Laney says with a laugh.

Out of all the Newmans, Laney was the closest to Konnie. After the big blow up between her and Grojband, which had happened at school with an audience of no less than thirty, Laney had run off to cry in a janitor's closet. Konnie was there when the blow up had happened so she chased after Laney and comforted her. The rest is pretty much history, with Laney being added into the Newman’s crew as their manager that week at lunch. Being as close as she is to Konnie also meant that she knew a lot more about Konnie than most people. Like her secret boyfriend.

“How are you and Kon doing by the way? He hasn't sent me cryptic emails on his burner account asking for date ideas in a while.” Laney asks, causing Konnie to blush. “Oh we’re good. Coming up on that one year, so he’s been trying to prove that he can plan the perfect date without your help.” She says, her eyes practically morphing into hearts. Kon was the only member of Grojband that Laney had a good relationship with to this day, so she very much approved of the relationship between Konnie and Kon. “Well as long as he's treating you well, I have no complaints.” Laney says with a grin and a shrug. She pulled out the last of the food in her lunch box.

“Want my cheese stick?”

*****

You know what sucks?

Writing lyrics and using your own inspiration instead of your sister’s. But Corey knows it must be done if he wants to get his thoughts out. This of course, means that he has to write yet another song about Laney that he’ll never perform. But getting the words out isn’t as easy as it sounds, no, no, no. If anything, he’s having more trouble than usual, what with the bet that’s gonna put Laney back in his life for a month, the fact that the Newmans are currently in his dad’s shop and have been here for the past two hours, oh and that shiny necklace in the display shelf Corey is writing on isn’t helping much either.

He should have known the Ewmans were coming when Lanes asked his dad if her friends could come to the shop and do homework with her. His dad said, yes, of course because Laney is his favorite employee and apparently she gets her work done or something. Which sucks because when Corey asks his dad if Kin and Kon can come hang out with him in the shop, he’s told “No, Corey, finish pricing the rare books section and organizing it by price.” To which Corey would like to say that it’s not his fault that they never get anything cool at the pawn shop, like instruments or boxes of mannequin heads.

Wait, what was he supposed to be doing again? Oh right! Writing lyrics. Here’s what he had so far, 

Am I the boy you dreamed of? Oh(might need to tone down the oh, don’t want people to think we’re too much of a boy band, if we ever played this)

Living in your subconscious, oh oh

Do you believe in love? Oh

And is it because of me?(i hope she still believes in love)

Yeah, if it's up to me

Am I the boy you dreamed of? Oh

Living in your subconscious, oh oh

Do you believe in love? Oh

And is it because of me?(once maybe, prob not anymore)

So not much, but soon it will hopefully become something. But he doubts that it will happen today, because once again, the Ewmans are in his general area of space, talking to his Lanes. Right now they were talking about some Disney Channel franchise that he knew Laney probably didn’t care less about and was only humoring the Ewmans in their conversation. That’s Lanes for ya, always so considerate and willing to listen to people talking about things she doe- “By the way, Laney, did you finish writing that song?” Carrie’s stupid voice really needs to stop interrupting his thoughts.

Hold on, Laney writes music now? Since when? “No, I still need to do the sad ex part. Angry ex is done though.” And she’s writing songs about heartbreak? Who broke her heart, Corey would like to know. “Care to share it?” Kim asks, her voice is less stupid than Carrie’s but it’s still stupid.

“Uh, sure.” Laney glances his way to make sure he’s not paying attention so Corey pretends to be doing something that doesn’t involve looking and paying attention to her. This seems to work as he can hear the rustling of paper and Laney says, “Larry could you read the highlighted part? It’s my favorite part. Also I’m thinking kind of like a slow piano part with this song if that makes sense. ” Corey hears the Ewmans agree and Larry begins to read the paper;

“Do you miss me like I miss you?

Fucked around and got attached to you

Friends can break your heart too

And I'm always tired but never of you

If I pulled a you on you, you wouldn't like that shit

I put this reel out, but you wouldn't bite that shit

I type a text but then I never mind that shit

I got these feelings but you never mind that shit

Oh, oh

Keep it on the low

You're still in love with me but your friends don't know.

And if I was you I would never let me go.”

Corey’s heart is pounding wildly. Did…Did Laney write this song about him? The Ewmans’ feedback falls flatly on his ears as he starts to scramble to figure this out. She did write that friends could break your heart, which did happen at least to him when they stopped being friends. And Lanes did used to always be tired but she also always listened to him and the others with as much attention as she could give them. She was right about how he would have felt if she did what he did to her. He would have hated it. He would have hated her. 

All the signs were saying that the song was about him with the only part being wrong that Kin and Kon didn’t know about his feelings. They did, and were most definitely tired of him ranting about how he missed his chance and that he wished he could take it all back. 

“We should sing that for battle of the bands!” Konnie says, pulling the brakes on Corey’s speeding thoughts. “If I can get it done in time, it’s hard trying to do the sad ex.” Lanes says and out of the corner of Corey’s eye he can see her putting paper into a blue folder. “Either way, that’s probably one of your best works, Penny Lane.” Larry says and Corey wants to yell at them to stop calling Laney Penny Lane because that is a stupid nickname even if he DOES like the Beatles sometimes.

But he doesn’t because last time he did that, Carrie threw a book at his head and told him that he doesn’t get to pick Laney’s nicknames. The book ended up breaking a shelf and Carrie had to work at the shop for a month to make up for it, so Corey would rather not have a repeat of that incident.

A ball of paper hits his face. “Riffin! What’s your band’s setlist?” Carrie asks and Corey has to fight the urge to vomit at the sight of Carrie’s face. “Uh for what?” Corey says when he realizes he doesn’t know what she’s talking about. “For the battle of the bands.” Carrie says with an eye roll. Corey scowls. “We’re not fully decided yet but we have agreed on 2 BEST FRIENDS, Old Me, and Monster.” He says. Sharing setlists is a thing he and Carrie do so that each band can do the opposite of what the other is doing. “Angry and rueful songs, huh? Guess we’re gonna have to do the opposite. Happy and content.” Carrie mumbles and Corey glances at the rest of the Ewmans and Lanes who are deep in thought. 

“Yeah that’s great, can I have my personal space back?” Corey snaps and Carrie rolls her eyes some more. He hopes that one day they get stuck in the back of her head. “Jeez, what crawled up your ass and died? I’m just making sure we don’t sound the same and no one is gonna confuse our bands again, literally nothing about that is out of the ordinary.” She says, raising an eyebrow. “Three reasons. One, I don’t like you. Two, I’ve had to listen to your stupid voice for the past two hours. Three, It’s almost six and you and your band are still here, distracting my coworker from doing her job.” He snaps, crumpling the paper in his hands.

Carrie scoffs. “One, I don’t like you either but at least I can be civil with you. Two, your voice is annoying to me but do I say anything? No, I don’t. And three, you’ve literally just sat there for the past two hours doing nothing while Laney has been doing homework, going over stock in the display case, and keeping a steady conversation with us. I don’t think you get an opinion on what she does. And anyway, we’re leaving soon.” Corey opens his mouth to argue but for once, Carrie is right. He hates it when she calls him out but when she’s right, ugh that is the worst!

Carrie smiles. “That’s what I thought.” She turns around and Corey just watches numbly as she and the rest of the Ewmans say their goodbyes to Lanes. He hated the Ewmans before everything that went down with Laney, but now that they took Laney from them he hates them even more.

Faintly he can hear the door close so he looks over at Laney and starts to take her in. She’s not paying attention to him, so he can stare for as long he wants. Earlier today when they made the bet he noticed that she hadn’t straightened her hair that morning so her normally straight hair was curly. Corey had always thought Laney looks pretty but when her hair is in its natural state, it just does something to him. It’s like he’s seeing her for the first time all over again. Her eyes are darting over the stock notebook and he truly finds it incredible how expressive they can be. No matter how stoic her face is, her eyes always give her away. Her freckles cover her face perfectly and Corey just wants to kiss each one of them, one by-

“Why are you staring at me like that?” Lanes’ voice interrupts his thoughts. Corey jerks back a bit, embarrassing himself further after being caught staring. “Just taking in your natural beauty.” He responds, which is true but he knows Laney just thinks he’s messing with her when he says stuff like that. “You look like a stalker.” She answers, checking something off the stock notebook. Laney’s not even looking at him, she just knows he’s staring. “You’re a piece of art, Penn. I need at least an hour to take you in.” Corey says, grinning mischievously.

Laney looks up from the notebook, her expression a bored one. “Did you get that pick up line off the internet again?” She asks and Corey blushes. He really hopes it doesn’t show. “Ouch, you wound me. That was a Riffin original.” He says and Laney throws a pencil at his head. “No wonder it was bad then.” She reaches the stock notebook out towards him. “I’m going to stock check in the back, finish this for me will you?” Corey takes the notebook from her and their fingers brush. Just like when they did the pinkie promise, her skin feels warm and electrifying. She disappears into the back room as Corey lingers on how her touch makes him feel.

He loves it.

Almost as much as he loves her.

And the second chapter is done! Sorry if the ending seems a little awkward I didn’t know how to finish it. As always, send me asks about this, I would to info dump for this!

[polyamorouspunk]

So I've been in a situationship with my best friend for months. I've been open about being polyamorous with my very monogamous wife since the beginning of our relationship. Her compromise was to impose a bunch of rules on who I could and couldn't date, which I had started to resent over time since she vetoed pretty much every single person I wanted to pursue. Then I ended up falling in love with my best friend. My wife didn't like it and we got into tons of arguments over my best friend. I got depressed as hell because it was just another repeat of the same pattern. Wife noticed it and said I could go for my best friend, but with the caveat of Don't Ask, Don't Tell. She wanted to know if my best friend and I became partners, but that was it. So I told my best friend. I'm on the ace spectrum and best friend is hypersexual. Sexual compatibility is a big need for her in any relationship. So we could both tell that that's where most of the issues in the relationship would come from. Both of us were scared of just jumping into a relationship knowing this would be an issue, but also of avoiding one. So fuck it, if that's the thing that'll make or break the relationship for her, then let's test that, fuck, see how we feel afterwards, and deal with the pieces then. Turns out we're not compatible and I'm devastated. I went home and told my wife everything, despite the DADT rules in place. Learned from this encounter that I hate DADT cause it feels like cheating. My wife gets upset, but then takes responsibility for not having clearly communicated. She wanted DADT to have kicked in when best friend and I dated, but hadn't said that. I thought she had given a blanket blessing for any romantic or sexual encounters besides just dating. But now after all the hurt and everything has been talked through, we're all still ok with each other. My wife's been avoiding meeting my best friend for a long time, but now actually wants to talk to her more and meet her. Never did I think that fucking my best friend behind my wife's back would end up with all of us getting closer together.

Oh wow, what a messy situation that I hope means that you’ve had a happy ending to it.

My best friend and I have talked about dating/having sex/queer platonic. The last time we talked about it though was when she, for the first time in her life, came to me for help. And I didn’t respond well at all, and it almost broke us. We stopped talking for a bit, but we’re still together as best friends, and she’s been more open with me and vice versa.

I love that she’s happy with her husband, and she did good! He’s sweet and kind and weird and really cute! My other best friend is aro/ace. A part of me wants to consider asking if we want to be in a big sort of queer platonic polycule, but my best friend and my gf got into an argument last time we were all together, leaving me and our other best friend in the middle. Everything was smoothed over, and we all went back to being friends, but it was enough to make me think maybe we shouldn’t all hang out again. I think I’m happy with what the term ‘best friend’ means to me, and they are my best friends, even if it’s more or hey even less than other ‘best friend’ relationships. I’ve known them for 20 and 17 years respectfully and we’ve all been best friends since.

I’ve also struggled with issues of a partner agreeing to me having additional relationships but then still feeling bad about it. I think the difference is though now my gf is like. Actively supportive of me having other partners? Like not just “yeah it’s fine” but making a joke that she’s part of the deal and being excited when I mention having a crush on someone. It’s a nice change.

[its-jaz-ig]

Reychel

Reyna/Rachel

Reyna - Demisexual and gyneromanic (attracted to femininity). Cis woman uses she/her pronouns

Rachel - Omnisexual with a slight preference for femininity. Demifluid uses any pronouns 

Reyna never joined the hunt 

Rachel is allowed to fall in love without fucking up the Oracle

After the war and the two camps were chill Reyna spent a lot of time at CHB (similarly councilors would go to CJ) working out the alliance and other logistics and when she had free time she wold walk around camp exploring 

One day she came across Rachel’s cave and saw her art

When Rachel returned to her cave she found Reyna admiring her work and the two got to talking

They became fast friends, hanging out when they had the chance (Rachel wold go to camp Jupiter with other councilors as much as possible)

Rachel developed feelings first. They’re very in tune with themself and realized their feelings very shortly after they developed. She realized about a year and a half after they became friends

Reyna took a bit longer. She developed feelings about a month or so after Rachel did and didn’t realize and accept them until a month or so late

After 6 months of mutual pinning Reyna finally fessed up 

They were at an art museum and Rachel was nerding out over a piece and Reyna was admiring the way Rachel was so passionate about art and just asked them to be there partner

Rachel: “…And the way he used the lighting-“ Reyna: “Be my partner?” Rachel: “what?” Reyna *blushing profusely* “I’ve had feelings for you for a while and wanted to know if you’d do me the honor of being my partner.” Reyna was barley able to finish before Rachel threw herself onto her and kissed her  Rachel “what should we do for our first date?” Reyna: “how about this? Here, now. Maybe get some ice cream afterwards?” Rachel: “sounds perfect”

Because of the fact that they live on either sides of the country they had to do a long distance relationship for a while 

Because of this they are always very touchy with each other

Huge on PDA and somehow even more affectionate in private 

They sleep on top of each other 

They need to have as much physical contact as possible 

So one will literally lay on top of the other 

IMs where they’re both scrambling for either drachmas or denarii to keep the message going 

These are always at weird times for at least one of them because time zones

Rachel will regularly send food to Reyna’s house 

New Rome has their own version of door dash

They also got the two of them those touch bracelets that buzz or light up when your partner touches theirs 

Reyna gives Rachel those little capsules to open everyday their apart

Rachel’s love language is both gift giving and words of affirmation. Xe show xyr love for others by giving gifts but feel most loved when given words of affirmation, which explains the food and bracelets xe gave Reyna and also the capsules Reyna gives xem

Reyna’s love language is just physical touch, which explains the touch bracelets

About a year after they start dating Reyna decides to give up being praetor and moves to New York to live with Rachel 

They live in a small cabin not too far from CHB

Even before they started living together Rachel would paint different things on Reyna’s body

His favorite spots are her back, stomach or thighs

Also Reyna has tattoos but refuses to get any in those spots so Rachel can keep painting there 

Reyna likes to take Rachel out on sunset/nighttime pegasus rides over the ocean

[kanekisbabymomma]

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ about us. <3

hi there! if you'd like to know more about ken and i, then you're at the right place! 

𝐰𝐡𝐨: Ken Kaneki

𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞: chevaneki <3

𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐚𝐫𝐲: august 10, 2020

𝐌𝐁𝐓𝐈/𝐳𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐜: he is an infp and a sagittarius, i'm an istp and a cancer!

𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐬: he likes quality time, acts of service, and words of affirmation, and i like quality time, physical touch, and words of affirmation!

���𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐫: we both own a coffee shop!

𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬: i thought he was super cute, and then i saw him with his white hair, well... ☕ : i thought she was the most beautiful woman i've ever seen. i thought, how could anyone be as pretty as her? plus, her smarts got me.

𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐫: we had known each other, but we started hanging out a lot one summer night, and then we just became a thing!

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐩𝐞𝐨𝐩𝐥𝐞: definitely my mom, and family! both of our friends are also super supportive too. although, there was this one guy who talked shit about our relationship.... but kaneki had a talk with him and all is well. <3 <3

𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐦�� 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩?: in the past, learning how to navigate astral relationships was difficult, we always talk it out. <3

𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐚𝐜𝐡 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐦𝐬: we have been known to go into separate rooms to burn off steam, but then, if apologies are needed, we apologize and move on.

𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐞: we walked around town, talking about our lives. we listened to music together, and we shared a few cigarettes.

𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐞: driving at night, listening to music, and even going to clubs.

𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬: we were standing on our porch, and he kissed me after we both admitted feelings for each other.... <3 <3

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧: see 'first kiss'.

𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧: hugs, kisses n cuddles!!

𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐬: both of us cook, but i will say, i love it when he cooks! he makes the best cinnamon rolls (gluten free, of course, since he knows i get sick if i eat gluten!)

𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞𝐝: we are actually both night owls, so we go to bed at the same time.

𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟/𝐨: i hold him and play with his hair, i also give him a blanket or a sweater of mine to snuggle with.

𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟/𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮: he'll hold me, and talk to me. he'll rub my back and feet, play with my hair....

𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐮𝐝𝐝𝐥𝐞: we'll face eachother and hold each other, but we'll also spoon eachother!

𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦: his kindness. he's absolutely the sweetest man ever and i love all he does for our family.

𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮: he loves my kindness, and also work ethic. he also loves my intelligence and how we can both hold an intellectual convo with each other!

𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐚𝐥: he took me out on a date, and afterwards, took me to starbucks for coffees. that's when we walked in and the whole place was decorated beautifully, and he proposed to me right there.

𝐰𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠: i was just barely pregnant and it was an amazing day! i wore this lovely purple and white dress, and he wore this beautiful white suit. his hair was slicked back, and after we kissed, we bit each other so that marks of each other would be seen forever.

𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐠𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐲: i got pregnant after we did it the first time, and of course, we had twins, a boy, and a girl. we're actually expecting currently.... ♡ ♡

[erigold13261]

Dream last night. 7/19/2023

Dream started off with me as either a highschooler or a college student back at my old elementary school trying to do volunteer work. Or I was trying to see an old teacher. Maybe both. I was there with some friends (old friends in IRL, but in the dream we were actively friends), and they were supposed to also be volunteering.

We were gonna go outside with the kids to supervise them with the full time teachers, to make sure the kids were safe, but it was like cold outside from being winter so my friends were trying to tell me to not go out and just relax for the recess even though we literally came here to volunteer and help. Somehow I ended up doing both.

I was outside watching the kids, and it was somehow nice and sunny out, while also sitting in the lobby talking to the receptionist and holding the door open for people walking in so they can get signed in, and walking around the school library and cafeteria with my friends. I was going back and forth between the interactions for a bit before I stopped on watching the kids at recess.

From there, my dream shifted from me being an adult to being a kid. I wasn’t the same adult that turned into a kid, I was now a new kid that was in a city instead of a town. I had just come home from school like 20-30 minutes ago and was now playing with the other kids around my neighborhood and family (pretty sure they were cousins or at least really close family friends).

We were playing with a shadow demon for some reason. Like we were hiding from it and playing tag. It was just a shadow circle on the ground that grew shadow arms that became physical when giving us stuff. It would ask one of us kids what we wish for, juggle some shadow balls, and then hand us the item if it could make it (we usually asked for candy or maybe a simple toy, we were not getting like a phone from that thing). Then we would play a round and afterwards it would change to what the next kid wanted to play/wish for.

This went on for a bit before adults needed the shadow for something, so we had to say goodbye and go do something else. From here I turned into one of the adults, pretty sure she was the reason we had the shadow demon in the first place because that thing seemed to follow her around whenever not helping others or playing with the kids. 

The dream from this point turned into her/me helping adults out looking for something while the shadow took on a more humanoid look (it was like a tall figure in a cloak but still 2-dimensional and hanging on the walls and floor around me). I had to go out to get gas or something at a gas station and the shadow demon followed me as a circle, sometimes becoming physical in an animal shape or a humanoid shape to walk and talk with me. 

Something big happened at the gas station, I don’t know what. Either I was about to get attacked, the gas station was being robbed, I saw someone run up to me asking for help, something like that. My shadow helped out and then as we were leaving my sister said she couldn’t find our cat at all. We tried looking everywhere for him and couldn’t find him. 

My shadow ended up using its powers to locate our cat and somehow that piece of shit was like a whole city away from us and in some deep ass woods. My shadow turned into a horse (it was a fucked up looking horse with a really long neck, not like a giraffe but weirder) and I hopped on its back to head over to our cat. We had to climb like a mountain or big wall, go through a lot of trees, maneuver around cars and weird ass buildings at really high speeds, but we finally got to our cat and he was just sitting around like a little asshole. 

Pretty sure I woke up at this point, but basically we got the cat back and me and the shadow were dating. It went back to playing with the kids later on.

[ryuzakemo128]

Cosmic - A Stranger Things Fanfic

Chapter One

Author's Note: A long one, don't expect more than a single chapter every three or four days. No pairings until I watch season four.

Headcanons for Marianna: HERE

Masterlist: Here

Chapter Master List: Link

1979

Her parents died shortly after midnight on Thursday. When they got home from their "date night," Marianna, the child of the deceased parents, was intact, in her chair, and the reporters proclaimed that it was a miracle that she survived without being injured. I am sure that if her parents had been that fortunate, she would not have ended up in an orphanage. Depending on the circumstances, it might have been a drunk driver or it might not have been. The details of her case have been a topic of speculation for years among the people around her. As a twelve-year-old girl, she was mourning the loss of her parents on the day of their funeral, when they died.

It took them a year after her adoption for them to be able to see her for the first time. A lot of reasons could be cited as to why it would be better if they did not adopt her and then kill her afterwards. The fact that she did not adapt well to large crowds was one of the reasons that she avoided them whenever possible. The first kickboxing class she attended after school was when she met Galina. After a fight, they became fast friends.

Marianna and Galina were both bullied during this time. While she doesn't mind them talking behind her back. It bothers Galina, as she doesn't like anyone talking about her behind her back. She doesn't allow it and she often says "If you think that about her and you're telling me that you think that way, the most effective way for you to solve that is to just tell her."

But they'd never really listened to her, never really paid any attention to the things she said. This was because they were too intimidated by her to actually sit down and try talking to her. The only thing they ever saw was a strong and brave 12-year-old girl who moved from Russia to America. Which became the main thing they targeted her for. Her Russian heritage and her Russian accent. People looked at her as if she were some tiny Russian spy. No matter how many times she said she wasn't one, they never believed her.

"I suppose this is how things are now." Marianna said to Galina with a sigh.

"No, it's not always going to be this awful. I know that for a fact that it'll never be this way again." Galina promised.

"If you say so, I'm not holding my breath and I certainly hope you start making sense sooner or later. Otherwise someone could kick it at you. More powerful than any punch I've thrown at you." 

"It might also be a smart idea to lighten up a bit as well, you know. Nothing is all doom and gloom like Russia."

"I'll have to hold you to that Galina. Otherwise we're going to have to stop hanging out so much."

1983

Marianna pulled up in her black 1967 Chevrolet Impala. Just another day in Hawkins, the same people ogling her precious yet extremely expensive car. Normally she would have chosen another car, but it used to belong to her father. She didn't have the willpower to get rid of it. Most of the students attending the school didn't concern her; she didn't even care to know most of them. Galina did most of the talking between the two of them. She knew what to say anyway so why bother putting more effort into speaking to them? 

Initially, it was the effort put into finding Will Byers that caught her eye, and she volunteered to help find him despite the protests of her friends. Elliot, one of the sons of her parents, and his boyfriend helped her by keeping her company in the woods until it was late. She didn't care if she got hurt, she cared about the fact that some poor child is lost, alone and afraid somewhere.

"Can we get you home in one piece please?" Duncan yelled out.

"Maybe, just maybe", Elliot responded.

"Get back to the car, my dudes, I'll be right there in five or ten minutes," Marianna yelled out to them before hearing a growl a few meters away from her. Then she said, "you know what, nevermind let's just leave now." She sprinted to her car, feeling as if she slowed down something would have eaten her alive.

"I'm dropping you off at home, then I might go back, I might, but if I am, you're returning home first. I'm not getting grounded because you decided to get eaten." She stated getting into her car.

"You should have thought of that before,"

"Well I wasn't thinking before, but I certainly am now," she pointed out starting the car.

"Like the time you jumped and got yourself impaled on the fence?" Elliot pointed out remembering each time she bad a bad decision. Which in turn got herself hurt in one way or another.

"I trusted that my friend would have told me about the ginat spikes. Unfortunately no, she didn't tell me and there, I got impaled by a piece of metal."

"And the time you fell out of a tree?"

"Again not my fault,"

"What about the fact that a door slammed meters away and you still got scared?"

"Fear is a natural human emotion."

"When it's rational,"

"Listen, doors shouldn't open and close by themselves. It's a natural response to have to that kind of thing,"

"You have seen so many horror movies. How are you still scared at this point?"

"Watching scary movies and enjoying them is one thing. Being there when something spooky happens in real life is something else entirely." She explained to them.

"Let's stop arguing about this, this is getting to a place that's really uncomfortable for me. Really fast." Duncan states stopping the argument there.

"Go, shoo," She responded waving her arm at the front door of Duncan's place, "You two kids stay there,"

Marianna went back to her house to get her katana from her wall in the living room and headed back to the forest. She didn't want to be defenseless if something were to attack her.

She saw not one, not two but three young boys looking for their friends. Squinting through the glare of the flashlight.

"Why aren't they home? Their parents wouldn't want them out here," she thought to herself as she approached them. She turned off her flashlight in case she heard that creature again. She got closer just to get a clear look at three small monsters that are children, before asking, "what on earth are you doing out this late?"

"What are you doing out this late?" Mike snapped at her.

"Looking for the-"

"What's that?" Dustin asked pointing towards the katana in her hand.

"It's a Japanese sword. It's also something to keep me safe. You three on the other hand should have known better. What if one of you lil dudes disappears?"

"I am not your little dude, stop calling me that."

"As a figure of speech, you are like a duckling. You're most likely to get yourself hurt. Trust me, I know for a fact you will." A long awkward silence washed over for what felt like an hour. "Well, looks like we're stuck with each other. Besides, I heard some weird shit earlier. Let's not dawdle."

[streets-in-paradise]

Stranger Things Headcanons: Being Dustin’s older sister, a nerdy metalhead, and becoming closer with Eddie and Steve - Part 2

Masterlist

Word Count + 5 K (almost 6K) 

Warnings: Jealous Eddie and a bit of idiots in love on all sides. The reader is a protective older sister who is very angry at Billy because of what he did to the kids in season 2. For so, he isn’t referenced in a good light. Cultural references to lord of the rings, hard rock bands and popular horror movies of the 80′s. 

Pairings: Eddie Munson x (Fem) Henderson!Reader, Steve Harrington x (Fem) Henderson!Reader. 

Notes: This is a direct continuation to a previous post, following some ideas that stayed out of it. Here i got the chance to include and even expand those. 

Also, I have possibly usable material for 2 more parts. One continuing from the end of this one and going a bit more into the season 3 setting, then another one (that i can begin to think after watching the rest of it) for season 4. 

Guide of references: Eru is the elvish name of the supreme deity in Tolkien lore. 

For more information about my fixation with the concept of Steve and Bon Jovi, look at this early video of the band from a song of their first album.

 Although the show already made for me the connection between Billy and Motley Crue, I don’t mind sharing you this anacronic video from a 1986 live version of “ Smokin’ In The Boy’s Room” Vince Neil sings with Jon Bon Jovi just because i feel like doing it to complete the introduction of vibes from both in order to show the contrast. 

Tags: @losersclubisms @ph-oenix @bilesxbilinskixlahey @chalametnpeaches​@beautifultypewriter-recommends @thatsonezesty13 @poppet05 @starkssnarks​ @tasmbestspdrman​ @shinycloudss​ @slut-for-bucky-barnes @rosecolorgardens @yourthebrokengirl​ @alexandraoonaghives 

- One more interdimensional crisis afterwards, your brother had two new friends while an old one returned to stay. 

- Strictly speaking, Max and El were the girlfriends of Lucas and Mike respectively, but you were excited the most about them being friends of Dustin. Seeing him forming bonds with girls from a young age meant a lot to you, it was a great sign showing that he wasn't going to repeat your story. You would always insist on showing him what a great thing it was because at first he used to feel bad about the overall reaction girls had to him. None wanted to dance with him at that dance his school organized, at least until Nancy saved the night. As his sister, you would have looked bad if you would try a similar trick, reason why you were very thankful to her for such a sweet gesture. 

- It made him feel better that time, but it didn't completely erase his insecurities. Steve and you were working together to help him out, but from absolutely opposite fronts. While he would share with him his wisdom as an ex popular highschool heartthrob, you were trying to make Dustin understand that he wasn't failing for not having a girlfriend. 

- " That is easy for you to say now that you are a groupie. " He shamelessly replicated once to one of your pieces of advice, making fun of your sneak outs to the shows of Eddie's band.

" That's not how it works, Dustin. I hang out with a bunch of guys who are in a band, and sometimes I go to their shows. That's all."

" Isn't that the definition of groupie?" 

Your brother was a bit lost in the sexual implications of the term. 

" Groupies get ... intimately involved with the band." You began to explain to him. " Some are smart enough to get money out of them, while others are dumb enough to fall for one of guys. Then, at the peak of the band's fame, he gets married to a respectable top model." 

- Sexual implications of the term aside, you were like the dumb groupies in your explanation. The shows were an outlet for your feelings, behaving a bit like a fan was the safest way of expressing your crush on your talented friend. 

- Once you confirmed his suspicions, Johnnatan became your best ally on the topic. He helped you into dealing with how you were feeling with a privileged understatement of the issue. He had been there back when Nancy and Steve were dating, the reason why he understood both sides of the situation you narrated to him: your crush on a friend and Eddie's own crush on a popular girl. It sucked, but he was supportive of your coping mechanisms and he even agreed to accompany you to the shows. 

- In exchange for the help you would offer him to spend a few hours looking after Will, but you knew Johnny was going to do it anyway. He cared for you and wouldn't let you go alone to the shady places where Corroded Coffin usually played, places your mother would forbid you of stepping in if she knew where you were going. 

- It was all fun and games between you both about your little adventures but, as soon as you would see Eddie on stage, your expression would transform. Objectively speaking, he was the best part of the band and his performance always would leave you in breathless amazement. You were a total fan of his music 

- Through that strong admiration, you would set yourself free. For a while, you would self indulge in your illusions and he would go along with it, directing towards you some of his gestures of performative charisma. Logic would dictate that he was, at best, bragging his skill to you in a playful way. Yet, you were eager to toss any logic aside for a bit of comfort. ' A girl can dream.' you would tell yourself, in resignation. 

- " Forget about that." Your brother replied to your quasi metaphorical explanation. " You are going to date a pop star and when the guitarist will see you with him at the next MTV VIdeo Music Awards, he is going to make a scandal that will make ratings skyrocket. " 

 You knew exactly what he meant. 

" Steve is a friend and friendships are important. When you don't have friends, you become a socially awkward mess falling for the first person who says nice things about you. " Was your way of going back to the point you wanted to make. " Max is awesome, appreciate your friendship with her as you already do with El.  Learn through your bonding with girls, now that you have the chance. I'm sure you will do so much better than me, you will see." 

- Dustin simply wouldn't stop trying to sell you the idea of dating Steve as a solution to all your problems, even if it wasn't completely clear that he would want that. It only got worse since he found out that you were ocassionally making each other company at school, where he wasn't present. 

- Steve was going through a hard time that coincided with his last months in school. All his fake friends were gone, most of his new friends were middle school kids and on top of that he had to watch his back from Hargrove. You didn't want him to go through all of that alone and you ended up becoming his main source of company of similar age at that moment, the main exception being when you were with the Hellfire Club. 

- Whenever he would see you with them, he wouldn't even dare to glance at your direction. You guessed that it was because he knew he would feel out of place with them, especially given his recent past. Among the nerds there was no inclination towards seeing him and Hargrove as anything else but two different flavors of the same asshole. Even you used to be guilty of sharing that mindset. 

- That was before getting to know him for real and before Hargrove showed the worst of him for you to realize that it was far superior to the worst of Steve. What he did to Lucas would have never been done by Steve, not even at the peak of his assholness. He targeted a whole group of middle school kids just for hanging out with his little step sister, but only one of them got the worst part. Dustin was there in the same position of Lucas bonding with Max while trying to control his crush. He could have tried to beat up your brother and surely, nothing would have stopped him from doing it, but he selectively chose to pick on Lucas first... As if daring to punch a kid wasn't horrible enough. 

- It wouldn't matter how many times Max would try to tell you that he wasn't horrible all the time, or that his father was a real asshole. Billy Hargrove was a bully and he attacked your boys. Your thought process, proper of an older sister who loved her little brother as the center of her world, wouldn't care to consider anything else. 

- Steve saved the kids not only from Billy, but also from a bunch of interdimensional monsters. Baby Demogorgons? Was that what those were? Whatever that crap that killed your cat and destroyed your storm cellar was, he handled the situation like a damn hero. Yet, no one else should hear the stories of his brave charges into battle because no one would believe any of you. 

- Occasionally, you would get to hear some jokes about his fallen from grace in the popularity Olympus coming from your new group of nerd friends. Those pissed you off, but there was nothing you could tell them in order to explain why. You suddenly didn’t share anymore with them the common sense idea of considering him a prick of the same size as Billy, but you had only scratches of a confessable reason for that change. Whenever they would be joking about him, you simply refused to engage in their conversation. They didn’t seem to mind, too lost in their own laughter to see that you weren’t following it. 

- Everyone else but Eddie, who was for some reason more attentive to your reactions. 

“ Do you feel sorry for that jackass? He ain’t worthy, sweetheart. Harrington got what he deserved.” He said to you once, as if he was comforting you out of a naive idea. In the same action he wrapped an arm around you, overdramatically emphasizing the comfort aspect. 

“ Perhaps… but it makes no sense making fun of him now that he is done. A real court jester has the balls to mock the current king, not just the predecessor.” You began to explain the most neutral sounding defense that you could come up with as Eddie’s attention was following your every word. “ Hargrove is a violent dick, we should be more worried about him. He is way worse than just a popular airhead stealing from our culture because it looks badass. As a bully, he is a brutal beast … my brother and his group of friends have been his targets. They are middle school kids, guys, children. He picked on them because they were seeing his step sister who is their classmate and he only stopped because Harrington intervened. “ 

Since you couldn’t tell anything about the beasts, you were giving Steve the full credit for the containment of the bullying situation. 

“ You may not believe it, but he went full Boromir to save my hobbits... If it wouldn’t have been for him, if he wouldn’t have been there to protect them.” You stopped for a second, realizing that you were getting a bit emotional because you knew that the danger they truly faced was far worse than just Billy. To your audience, it was perceived as a bit of admiration for his acts. “ He took the punches for them. At least for that, Steve deserves my respect and I am giving him the benefit of the doubt.” 

- Most of them remained silent, probably in disbelief with your words. Eddie spoke first and you were expecting he would make some harmless joke about missing the shitshow of jock on jock violence as if it was a fight of gladiators meant for entertainment. Instead, he got oddly defensive while remaining in his usual snarkiness. 

“ Steve? He has first name privileges now? Do you honestly think that one good action is enough to redeem him from everything he has done? BUM, MAGIC, NOW HE IS A HERO!” 

He got laughs from some of the others, sarcastic affirmations in favor of his stance, and proceeded to hug you tighter. 

“ Sweet, innocent lass. Those shitheads never change.” Eddie concluded for you in a mix of modern and fantasy-esque speech to later kiss your forehead. “ Worry not, I shall protect you from that adorable optimism.” 

- Suddenly, he was all about being close to you, energetically annoying whoever had the bad luck of being in the way, just to make himself noticed. 

- Like in that time you were talking with Nancy and he scared the crap out of her by popping up from behind her just to make a creepy jumpscare that he knew would make you laugh. 

- “ I’M YOUR BOYFRIEND NOW, NANCY!! “ He exclaimed in a deep, distorsionated voice that worked perfectly for both of his motives. 

“ Sorry, Nance.” You apologized while failing to control your chuckles. “ It’s a legit quote from my newest favorite horror film.” 

“ Don’t worry, I am not going to kill you.” Eddie said softly to her, his own gentle way of apologizing before heading his attention back at you. “ Did I get it right?” 

While he was waiting for your reply his expression was of pure excitement and he looked so adorable. 

“ You sound awesome as Freddy Krueger. “ Was your praiseful answer.” List him as a new character for your impersonations.” 

- Interactions like that one kept happening pretty much around anyone and you thought that it was part of his way of protecting you as he said he would. Maybe he was worried because of your very personal problems with Hargrove and wanted to be around you all the time just to make sure you will be safe. 

- Part of that assumption was correct, but because he didn’t like the idea of letting Steve Harrington be your only defense against your brother’s bully in case you needed one.  Not only because he didn't believe in his change, but also due to how much he hated to hear you, his biggest fan, expressing admiration towards that douchebag. Comparing him to Boromir of Gondor was way too much, you sounded like his thankful damsel. 

- The truth was that, even when he wouldn’t admit it, Eddie was jealous to the core. Not that an asshole like Harrington would see all the good in you and actively seek to date you, but just the idea of you developing a crush on him was unacceptable. 

- It was a matter of time until he would see you with him, chatting at some corner of the school. In whatever you two were talking about, he was able to see that he was making you laugh. The cute, happy chuckles that he loved right from the very first time he caused those on you were being directed towards that basketball player. He knew he had no reason to interfere, you weren’t dating and it wasn’t his call. Yet, he couldn’t help himself. 

- “ Look at who we have here! ” Eddie interrupted the conversation. “ Steve ‘ The Repentant’, the savior of children, the fear of bullies… Well, at least after years of being one himself.” 

You weren't entirely surprised by his attitude, but you didn't want him to make Steve feel bad.

" Hi, Eds! Is everything alright?" 

" I am wondering the exact same fucking thing ríght now. " He mocked you while subtly placing his arms around you once more. " Isn't this douchebag allergic to our kind or something?" 

In his confusion, Steve still managed to reply. 

" I am friends with her brother. " 

Even when you understood the reason why avoiding introducing himself as your friend, you didn't want him to hide himself in a role reversal game making you be the one who was supposed to be ashamed of his friendship. 

" Steve is a friend of the family. " You informed, showing pride on that claim before proceeding to explain the context for him. " I have told the guys about the real reasons for your fight with Hargrove, but they refuse to believe me... What you did for Lucas and Dustin was worthy of being told. " 

With that last sentence, you were letting him know that you spoke only of the part about him defending them from the human menace of Max's stepbrother. However, your unaware interlocutor saw it as some sort of praiseful take and he showed to be very annoyed by it. 

" I have the ríght to remain skeptical" Eddie followed you, in an opposite direction. "My friend over here seems very impressed by that little feat she attributes to you, but i know there are no heroes among orcs. When there is no one else to destroy, they simply attack each other. "

Steve looked at you as if he was asking for a translation. 

" He thinks that you fought Billy only because you two were measuring dicks." You began to indulge his ask. " In Lord of the Rings, Orcs are a race of assholes that represent one of the most constant dangers in Middle Earth, but often fight each other for the dumbest reasons. The chain of command is just one of those, but they can start to fight each other for literally anything and that tends to help the protagonists escape from them when it is necessary. " 

" Let me get it ríght. " He stopped you in order to share his own concluded interpretation and his clueless excitement while thinking he understood the comparison correctly got you a bit soft for him. " You have been saying to your friends that I am some sort of nerd protector hero, like one of the characters in that board game you all love so much." 

Eddie rolled his eyes in absolute annoyance while listening : the dumbass was talking of Dungeons and Dragons.

"... But they think I am a fraud, unworthy of your trust, because they assume the kids just escaped while Hargrove and I got distracted by tearing each other apart like macho dickheads."  

" Bingo!" Eddie cheered him, sarcastically. " What took you so long?" 

You did your best to comfort Steve in the sweetest way you found. 

" He may think that you are an orc, but to me you are like a captive elve. You escaped Mordor before becoming one of them and I am so proud of you. " 

He had no idea of what you meant with that, but he got a bit of a blushy smile because he was almost sure that you were complimenting him in your own language. 

" For Eru's sake! '' Eddie complained, at the peak of his annoyance. " If you could understand how sweet that was, you would get why you don't deserve it. "

- You weren't completely sure of what went wrong, but you hated to see him angry at you. 

- Was it anger or disappointment? Why did it upset him so much that you were friends with the dude who saved your brother? Eddie wasn't a judgemental person. If there was one highschool nerd you imagined showing understandment towards Steve, it was him, so... What was his problem?

- Even if you didn't or couldn't understand what was happening with him you still wanted to cheer him up. Maybe through a sweet, selfless gesture showing your appreciation for him. If you could find a way to do it, you would even try to invent an excuse to get him a while of attention from the girl you thought he was crushing on. 

- The next time Jason called Eddie a freak, you took the initiative leading the offensive of mocks against his insults. 

- It actually leaded you into being very loud in your first outspoken, freakish monologue. 

- " You, Jason, are the conservative dream crushing everyone else beneath. You like to go around this place like it is your hunting ground, punishing people for behaving in ways you dislike ... and let's not forget how freaking dull and constricted you are. Let people have fun, Vorhees!!!" 

- You murdered him with words and a choir of ' Ki-Ki-Ki Ma-Ma-Ma' whispers coming from your very amused friends closed the deal. Eddie was smiling again and that was all you cared about.

- He was amazed by what you did because he knew better than anyone else there how hard it once was for you to come out of your shell, such a brave move was more meaningful coming from you. Among all his friends, you were the one who spoke up to scream some truths at Jason and you did it with such brilliance. A Jason Vorhees joke was hard to make without it sounding like an easy punchline and your punk phrasing not only avoided that, it made it sound like a rebellious satire. 

 - Eddie was so excited, surprised and generally overwhelmed by the awesomeness of what he witnessed that he only managed to react in one way. In some spontaneous explosion of happiness, he grabbed your cheeks with his hands and placed his lips over yours in a strong peck. 

- You didn’t see it coming and your shock became greater than his. He didn’t explain himself afterwards and your face was on fire. Avoiding self combust out of shame was your priority, but you were so happy and confused. Your more imminent thought was wondering what the hell was that. Then, you realized something else. 

- That was your first kiss. Through that weird accident, nothing like you would have imagined it before, Eddie kissed you in full unawareness of being the first guy to skim your lips. A part of you was going through a light panic that you stoically dissimulated and it took you a long while to ever bring up the topic again. 

- It reemerged during a moment you both were spending alone in his trailer. It was a chill while listening to music as you were rambling to him about your next idea for a horror tale. It was going to be about a fictionalized parody of a glam metal band inspired by Motley Crue’s “ Shout at the Devil” controversy. The dudes in your story intended to follow that route so they could get free publicity scaring religious conservatives with the use of creepy looking symbology. For so, they would pick some random symbol they don’t actually understand and their ignorance would lead them to ruin when the collective energy in their shows, acting as a good replacement for worship, would end up awakening a real supernatural threat. The monster would later possess the singer, a Vince Neil parody that you heavily inspired on Billy Hargrove, to start a classical slasher rampage with a bit of Evil Dead style on the hotel where the band was staying. In a deliciously ironic trope subversion, it would be stopped by a groupie in the role of final girl. 

- Eddie loved the concept because of how creepy yet hilariously crazy it was. The whole thing felt like something Sam Raimi could be directing, but there were also some cathartical aspects that you put into it. It was clear that you were using fiction as an outlet for your anger over that bully because you were such an overprotective older sister. Your stories were rarely inserted in the parodic subgenre and this one felt a bit like your joke of political satire of Jason as the homonymous Friday 13th villain. 

- After reminding you of how much he enjoyed that one, you got into a bit of talking about it and you ended up explaining at least one of the many reasons why you were so ashamed when he kissed you. 

- He was in authentic disbelief. It made sense, but it also didn’t. He never stopped to consider it. 

- “ Really? Never ever before?”  Eddie asked you, in sweet complicity. He was thinking of something else, over the lines of ‘ But you are so cute… How is that even possible? ‘ 

You nodded negatively with a playful expression intended to dissimulate your  embarrassment. 

“ Not even with Johnny when getting high on my weed? What kind of friend is he?” He joked, trying to help you feel less uncomfortable with the confession. “ … Not even with that douchebag basketball player?” 

That last question sounded a little bit more like a tease. but he was trying to hide that it came from a genuine, jealousy based, interest in knowing if Steve ever got that close with you. 

Your answer was negative again and part of him felt relieved. 

“ Don’t worry, sweetheart. There is nothing to be ashamed of, it’s not your fault that the dudes close to you have been so rude. “ 

He made you laugh with that pretty odd claim and seeing that made him smile while staring at your face. 

“ That wasn’t even a proper first kiss,I barely touched you. If you are counting that one, I have very bad news for you: you still haven’t been kissed.“ He pointed out, slightly doubtful because he didn’t want to make you feel more uncomfortable with what he was about to propose. “ … If you are up to it, I can give you a real one. “ 

- The expression in your face was talking for you, but you had to force yourself into giving a clear answer and he waited for it before crashing his lips against yours again. “ Walk All Over You '' by AC/DC was casually sounding in the background as he was giving you a mind blowing kiss, caresses of all sorts included. With anyone else it wouldn’t feel as romantic as you felt it with him. Perhaps because he wanted to compensate you, he was making you feel romanced through the whole experience. Even if you didn’t know if he meant it to feel that way, you sensed it like his own definition of romance. 

- “ Do you want more?” He teased you afterwards, noticing your blissful state. “ We can have as many as you want. I really don’t mind, I am a freak.” 

That was, in fact, his way of hiding that he couldn’t get enough of it. 

-  You still wouldn't allow yourself high hopes after that. Eddie stated that he just wanted to help a friend into a nice first experience, the jokes he made about Johnnatan and Steve implied that. Not like that would stop you from revisiting the moment in your mind and daydreaming about it, but you got that more in control than what you expected. Your friendship seemed to have survived that romantical experiment unharmed. 

 - He even stopped freaking out about your friendship with Steve.  Of course, you had no idea that it happened because he got the jealousy in control. Despite how adorable you were in your interactions with him, Harrington wasn't as close to you as he feared he could become. 

- However, Eddie didn't know that Steve counted with the unconditional support of a certain wannabe matchmaker child. You never got into telling him about the very special topic of the hero worshiping your brother would usually make of his older friend. 

- Dustin was ready to try anything to make it happen. Sometimes he was very obvious, like whenever he would make you sit next to each other for movie nights to later put the longest film he could pick and wait to see who would end up resting their head in the other's shoulder. 

- That was how Steve was exposed to the Star Wars franchise and he happily freaked out little bit on that one time you were very tired and ended up being the one doing it. 

- On family dinners with your mother, Dustin would always help him look as the nicest, best behaved boy in order to instalate the idea of making her wish Steve would be your boyfriend.

- " That is your brand. You are Jon Bon Jovi: highschool girls want to date you and their mothers don't wait until that happens to start calling you their son." He secretly explained the strategy to his friend the very first time he made him put it in practice. " Your better established competition is Eddie Van Halen. He is a freaking god playing guitar who manages to captivate hard rock, metal and pop audiences because he is talented as fuck and looks awesome in posters. Do you know why he hasn't defeated you yet? Because you know your brand better than anyone else in the market and that is making you climb to the top very fast with just one studio album in your discography." 

" I don't understand you, Henderson! Can you please go slow... and maybe avoid confusing me even more?" 

" Be the sweetest, most charming young man to my mom. Make her wish you would be joining us for dinner as my sister's boyfriend."

- As the school year was reaching its end Steve began to worry more about prom that of the upcoming exams. Not a weird attitude for someone who still didn’t got rid completely of the popularity mindset, but you would try to remind him of keeping his priorities in order. 

- Dustin followed you on that most times, but he was also busy on his own plan trying to convince him of taking you as his date to prom. Steve was reluctant about the idea, giving a new set of excuses every time he would be asked about it. 

- “ She is great, that is not in question… but she just joined the freaks’ club!” Was the last, desperate, excuse on the long list. “ That is social suicide, is worst than being in band. I would love to, but I can't show up there with your sister. “ 

“ Bullshit, you are just scared of rejectment.” Dustin straightfoldy replicated against it. “ What are you waiting for? It is a flawless plan: you ask it as a friend who is about to graduate and has no one else to take, then give her the most romantical night of her life. It is the premise of Carrie, but turned upside down. She is going to love it.” 

- The kid was right in at least one thing: Steve was terrified of asking that to you because he was about 75% sure you were going to say no. The concept of prom as a popularity shitfest wouldn’t help to convince you, but he was scared of facing rejectment at a personal level. Not just because you hated the concept of the date, but because you wouldn’t want to date him. 

- His conjectures could be wrong because most of your friends were weirdos, but there was something about your so-called friendship with Munson that you either didn’t realize or were hiding on purpose. The dude was into you, there was no other explanation for some of his attitudes. Plus, you seemed to be very close with him and he was pretty much into the very same shit you were. The chances were there, even when there was no direct confirmation of it. Asking his ex’s former boyfriend for advice and information was too awkward to be taken in consideration, so all Steve had about it was you as source. He wasn’t as convinced as you were of your theory about Chrissy, but that wasn’t the main aspect that gave him a bit of hope through your conversation about it. 

- “ Steve, she is absolutely adorable. If you were a girl, you would be just like her. There is no way I am wrong, I know what I saw and it makes sense. It wouldn’t be the first time that one of my freaky counterparts crushes on the cute girlfriend of some jock he hates. No offense but, what happened between you and Johnny is the dream of many… Why wouldn’t it be Eddie’s too?” 

“ Do you outcast girls never dream of dating the cute girl’s boyfriend?” He asked in reply, following your own terminology without daring to point out how you indirectly described him as adorable. “ It seems like a thing that can go both ways.” 

“ I would prefer to drown in Crystal Lake before going on a date with that poor girl’s boyfriend.” You joked before providing a more compelling answer. “ That being said, it can be a fantasy for freak girls to … just not as recurrent because, in my humble opinion, when you are a girl you have to get a certain suspension of disbelief to get into it. The ‘ loser gets the popular love interest’ concept may be everywhere in some stuff we consume, like comic books, but that doesn’t go both ways. It’s only for the boys, we are not used to being spoon feeded that fantasy.. Do you know what is the closest thing to that we have? ‘Carrie’.. a bloody nightmare of shame and revenge that begins out of pity. “  

- The likeness in which yours and your brother’s mind would think was somehow amazing and a bit scary to notice, precisely given the exactitude it was capable of reaching. His doubts didn’t vanish completely after hearing you reference the very same thing Dustin did, but he began to think that it could be a good idea. Besides, your way of presenting the situation made him think that you were more in the pole of unawareness and not hiding a secret relationship with the nerd club leader. 

- Steve began to think that maybe, despite how different you two were, you could crush on a guy like him if you would allow yourself to think of it as a possibility. For as much as you denied it in speech, claiming that it wasn’t for you even in fantasy, evidence presented by your brother showed that you had a bit of a secret fangirl thing for the less threatening looking heartthrob among rockstars. 

- Taking a risk and asking you to accompany him was worth trying, but the challenge was finding a proper opportunity to do it. It had to be at school, so it wouldn’t feel monitored by your little brother, but it didn’t have to happen near your friends because Munson could surely ruin it.For so, he simply chose to wait until the topic would reappear again between you. 

- It’s not like you haven’t asked him before about his obsession with prom. You did, even at that time right after he was trying to get information about Eddie out of you to speculate in your availability. It was a bit of a naive comeback that you threw, in unawareness, following your horror reference like a punchline. You used to think that it was about Nancy, since it was pretty much possible that he would have priorly imagined himself there with her back when they were together. For what you have heard of him saying, he practically had a full fantasy developed of how prom night with his girlfriend was going to be. 

- It was beautiful, you couldn’t help rooting for him and you would have lied if you would have denied to feel a bit of wishfulness while listening. Even from outside of the relationship he still sounded like the sweetest boyfriend and everything that was coming out of him sounded so dreamy. It may be overly romantic and a bit of a teen rom com dream but, deep down… who wouldn’t want that? Just listening to it was making you smile. His heartbreak was also relatable to you, even if that one at least came from an actual relationship. 

- When this sweet dork finally asked you to be his date for his prom night party, your immediate guess was thinking that he needed an understanding friend that would be aware of the hurtful aspects and wouldn’t question it. An emotional support company, not an actual prom date that could criticize him for thinking of his ex while slow dancing. 

- “ I know that you hate this sort of stuff, but it would be very important if you could come with me.” 

Steve was way too nervous and you couldn’t understand why, so you rushed to give an emphatic affirmative response. 

“ Of course, silly! You don’t have to deal with that alone, us losers have community spirit. “ 

He was listening to you with such a happy expression. 

“ REALLY??” He asked again, a dorkish yell full of excitement. “ That would be so amazing. I promise that you will not regret it, I will do my best so you can have a good time.” 

“ Steve, is alright.” You calmly cutted him off. “ We always do shit I like to do, you end up being indirectly forced to stand whatever nerdy crap Dustin and I are into at any given moment. For once, we can do something that is more you and there is nothing wrong with that, even if it’s just between you and me.” 

He hugged you tightly, an outlet for his happy cheer, and you found yourself caught by the sweetness of the moment. 

- You had no idea of how you were going to explain to the guys of Hellfire, before they could eventually find out from external sources, that you were the prom date of Steve Harrington with all the implications in that sentence. 

[michelle-is-writing]

Shopping, Warren Worthington iii

Word Count: 2k~

Weekends are always reserved for the teenagers at the mansion. No matter what, the two days consist of either relaxing or going out, and, without fail, both days will always be fun. Whether it be the things that happen during that weekend or the things the teenagers do, the time spent among the friends is never wasted and always full of laughter and happy smiles.

In the full year that Warren has been at the school, he has warmed up to all of us pretty quickly in terms of being a good friend. Although, in my case, he has warmed up to me in a more special way. Just as I said, Warren hasn't been living in the mansion with us for a very long time, but that still doesn't change the fact that it was practically love at first sight for the two of us. Now, we do almost everything together, and through my mutation, I can tell that Warren is changing for the better.

When he first came in, I could feel the anguish he carried. Of course, you could tell he was a tormented soul just by the way he frowned and hung his head low when walking away from a happy crowd of people. He was practically swimming in guilt with everything he had done in order to survive, and unfortunately, he was slowly starting to drown it at the same time.

It wasn't until one day that all of the teenagers, including me, were hanging out in the rec room, talking about many different topics and events that were going on around us. Warren sat in one of the bean-bag chairs while everyone else sat on the couch and floor. He didn't say anything the entire time, nor did he make any noises. The moment we all got to hear Warren break out of his shell was when Peter happened to confidently say something stupid, and like always, I pointed it out.

"Def Leppard and Motley Crüe DO NOT have the same singer, Peter!" I nearly shout, launching myself forward on the couch as a laugh falls from my lips. Meanwhile, Peter continues sitting on the floor with a dumbfounded look on his face. "And top of that, they're two completely different bands all together!"

In response to my words, a small chuckle is heard from the corner of our sitting area, causing all of us to look over at the curly blonde who has remained quiet for the last hour. As soon as all of our eyes land on him, he immediately resumes his silence with a tiny, almost unnoticeable smiling staying on his lips. "Am I right?" I ask him, holding my hands out in a questioning manner.

Warren gently nods his head before speaking up. "She's right," He tells Peter, sitting up a bit from his slouched position on the red bean-bag chair. "Vince Neil is the singer for Motley Crüe, and-”

“And Joe Elliot is the singer for Def Leppard," I finish his sentence, Warren’s eyes flashing back to mine as he does so.

"Not too many people know that," He states, his eyes lingering on me for a few moments before focusing on the floor as his cheeks turn pink.

As if time has stopped, I feel Warren's emotions flow through me, making me smile happily at him. Instead of the dread and sadness that I have been sensing from him for the entire time he's been here, I feel joy and happiness coming from him for once. For the first time, Warren's hopeful, and in that moment, I felt like nothing could make this moment better.

Although, I was wrong with my last thought. Things actually could get better as we became best friends after that, only to become boyfriend and girlfriend soon afterward. The moment we became official was one of the most amazing things to happen to me at the school, and as for Warren, he told me directly afterward that he felt the same. Plus, I could feel that he was being genuine.

After we started dating, Warren allowed himself to have more fun - especially on weekends. There would be Saturdays that we would go out to the city, and despite feeling insecure over his wings, he didn't care what other people thought. Of course, I had to coax him into it, but once that dam was broken, it was like nothing could bother him.

Today is a good example of his newfound confidence. Jean and Scott had the great idea to head to the mall for our Saturday and shop around. Of course, the two headed off by themselves while Peter and Kurt went off as a pair and Warren and I went off by ourselves. In retrospect, I'm glad it was just us two playing around as I’m not sure if I would've been able to endure the teasing I would have gotten from everyone.

It started off with Warren joking around about how 'sweet' I was in the candy store, only for the cute comment to turn sexy within the next few seconds. After that, it was like a challenge for us to see who could make who blush. It was like we couldn't stop flirting or keeping our hands off of each other no matter what store we entered. Once again, I'm thankful that our friends went off on their own so they didn't have to see us nearly embarrass ourselves with the amount of people watching our interactions.

With Warren's arm around my waist and his other arm full of our bags, we walk through the last part of the mall that we have yet to explore. Once we're off the escalator, we begin walking toward the various stores littered throughout the second floor. In the corner of my eye, I see the sign for a lingerie store we always pass when we're here. I have yet to go in and buy something, but that still doesn't mean I can't tease Warren with it.

"Look, baby," I point out, walking toward the store's window with Warren trailing beside me. On display is a mannequin dressed in a white, lacy bra and panties with a matching fluffy, sheer robe hanging off its shoulders. "How would you feel if I wore that for you?"

"I would feel flattered," Warren tells me, moving behind me to wrap his arms around my waist. "But I think it would be a waste of money," He adds, making my eyebrows furrow in confusion. "It would just end up ripped and on the floor in a matter of seconds."

With his last words, I feel the breath hitch in my throat at the feeling of Warren's soft lips attached to my neck. Not to mention the fact that I can feel his lust and passion practically bouncing off of him and flowing through me. This man does things to me, and a lot of those things should never be seen in the public eye. This is especially true for what he's doing to me right now.

"Would you two stop being gross in public!" I hear Jean's voice sound throughout my head, causing me to turn away from Warren's attack on my neck and toward the couple leaving the lingerie store. Scott stands beside Jean without realizing that Warren and I are even standing there, but Jean is smirking like nobody's business. She knows what's going on - it's the same reason why she has a bag from the lingerie store dangling between her fingers.

"Says the girl who actually bought sexy clothes," I send a message back to her, returning the smirk as she just chuckles and shakes her head. It's only now that Scott notices Warren and me, and his first reaction is to blush and nervously laugh.

"Y-you guys have fun?" He stutters out, covering up his jumpiness with a small cough. However, it doesn't help his case as Warren doesn't hesitate to take the opportunity practically thrown at him by Scott himself.

"Of course!" He answers him, his arms around me pulling me back into his chest as his thumb lightly rubs against my clothed skin. "I don't think we have to ask you guys the same question - we already know the answer."

Holding back my laughter, I lightly smack Warren's arm as Scott blushes even more and Jean just laughs. "I think we'll go and get lunch and then head back to the mansion," Jean announces, looking around the mall. "First we'll have to find Kurt and Peter, and then we can leave."

With Jean's initiative, Warren and I follow her and Scott back toward the escalators with his arm back around my waist. Today has been a good day, but this mall is huge. Out of the few malls we've been to, this has to be the biggest one.

Stepping off the escalator, Warren and I follow behind Jean as we all resume walking toward where the last two boys are, my feet starting to become sore as we do so. "I'm tired," I quietly note, only to be surprised when Warren quickly responds.

"D'you want me to carry you?" He asks, making me chuckle. He has to be joking. He's currently carrying over ten bags that are heavy and filled with items. There is no way he could carry me and those bags at the same time.

"I would love it," I joke back, smiling as I lean into his side. Although, his body quickly leaves mine as he steps behind me once more. I don't have time to question him as his arms find their way under my legs and back, effectively pulling me up from the ground and into his arms. Without a second to spare, I quickly wrap my arms around his neck as a small shriek escapes my lips in response before laughter soon follows, making Warren smirk. The opportunity was placed in front of him and he had no problem snatching it up.

"I wasn't being serious, Warren!" I tell him, turning my head against his shoulder to see him staring straight ahead with that same smile. No matter what I say, I know Warren isn't going to put me down. He enjoys this too much.

Warren has expressed to me before that he loves holding me in his arms; however, he only does this when we're in the mansion. Now that he's holding me in the bridal style in a mall full of strangers, it's a bit flustering, but at the same time, I can't help but love it.

Falling behind Jean and Scott, Warren continues walking with me still in his arms, no complaints falling from his lips as he does so. It's only when we find a t-shirt shop that Warren slows down and walks closer to the window where the tees are modeled by mannequins. The two being advertised are both black that happen to have recent album covers from Mötley Crüe and Def Leppard. Seeing the two reminds me of the first time Warren came out of his shell, and the first time I got to actually see him smile.

"I think maybe we should get those," Warren suggests, stopping in front of the window with the t-shirts. Turning my head, I see his smirk now softened into a small, sweet smile. The shirts must remind him of the first time we spoke too. "I have these two things to thank for the love of my life."

"No, it wasn't exactly those two that brought us together," I joke with a small bit of laughter. "It was Peter's dumbass that you have to thank."

At that, we both chuckle together before turning our gaze back to the two shirts, Warren’s arms slightly tightening around me to hold me closer. Everyone knows that music can bring people together, but for us, it did more than just that. Not only did it cause us to start talking to each other, but it also made Warren break through the wall he had built up - even though it was at Peter's expense.

[shoutokozume]

Can I request NSFW and SFW alphabet for bakugou please? Thank you in advance 💞

Katsuki Bakugo NSFW alphabet

Navi SFW alphabet

---

A - Aftercare

° Seems like he wouldn't care about Aftercare, but he actually treats you like royalty afterwards. Your his partner and he won't treat his partner like shit. He'll bring you some water and Advil (cause he went hard), he'll give your arms a massage from being tied up for so long, and last but not least he'll engulf you in a warm hug.

B - Body Parts

° On himself he loves his arms, he loves how they can pin you down so easily and how your eyes always rush towards them whenever he removed his shirt. On you he loves your mouth, he loves when it's dripping with a mixture of his cum and your saliva. His favorite scene is when your pretty lips are wrapped around his cock however.

C - Cum

° Cums in your mouth or on your ass, usually your mouth unless you are being gagged. He shakes for quite some time, but not a lot of cum comes out. It's not worrisome, you can always see it when it spurts out in ribbons. It's just not a huge load... Which you semi appreciate. Side note, his cum is warm, thick, and quite salty so your glad it's not a huge load.

D - Dirty secret

° Wants to do a threesome or orgy with one of the guys from the Bakusquad, he doesn't want to have a threesome with a girl since he always puts your pleasure first and with a girl involved she would most likely be targeting him. He would love to call you a dirty whore as his friends fuck your brains out. Bakugo just needs to make sure you'd be comfortable with it.

E - Experience

° Has had one serious relationship before you, and did have sex with them. But he only ever did vanilla shit with them and they didn't really turn him on overly... At least not like you do. He knows how to fuck, but you had to teach him the kinks and how to use them like the people in porn do. He's never gone back to vanilla since...

F - Favorite position

° Your favorite position is the reverse cowgirl, you know he is more of an ass man and it makes him rut deeper into you thanks to it. His favorite position is the classic doggy style, Bakugo lives holding your hands behind your back as he thrusts into mercilessly. It's an extra bonus if you are wearing a gag or doing anal.

G - Goofy

° No, sorry but no. He sees sex as super sensual or super hot... Not sweet and gentle. If you laugh he'll immediately wonder if he did something wrong and become self conscious, he is goofy on dates or when he's simply hanging out with you. But he won't be like that in the bedroom.

H - Hair

° Didn't know some guys shave their pubes until Denki complained about a recent wax he got. He still doesn't tame them though, but it isn't overpowering. It's more of a patch of grass rather than a bush, you don't mind as long as it doesn't get too wild. You won't tolerate a length where he can make small braids in them.

I - Intimacy

° Is intense, so much so that you sometimes cry from how overwhelming his love for you is during those moments. He has slight dacryphilia so it only encourages him to continue when you cry out of pleasure. He sets the mood everytime, clean bed, no lighting, random rap shuffle, and the toys ready to go on his bedside table.

J - Jack off

° Jacked off quite a bit since he wasn't that fond of his ex... Honestly just dated them out of pity but let it go on for too long. He stopped jacking off as much when he started dating you, he focused more on where to take you for dates and texting you til the night became morning. But when his sweetness turned hot, his routine came back around.

K - Kinks

° The date he knew you two would probably end up in his bedroom was when he googled all the different kinks before arriving to your house to pick you up. He forgot 70% of them...

° Dacryphilia (As said before, he enjoys knowing you're enjoying it so much your in tears.)

° Gagging (If he's feeling evil he'll stuff a dildo in your mouth, adoring your glossy eyes.)

° Butt Play (Anal, butt plugs, fingering, double penetration, rimming... You name it he's done it)

° Impact Play (HAS A STASH OF WHIPS... sorry I don't make the rules on how kinky this mf is.)

° Threesomes/Orgy (Only men are allowed, since he loves seeing you tortured by pleasure :) )

L - Locations

° Anywhere anytime, he sometimes hopes someone will find you so that they will join you both and make you even more of a fucked out mess. He once fucked you under a blanket while you two were having a slumber party with the Bakusquad. No one caught on, but Bakugo will rip the sheet off next time.

M - Motivations

° Shorts and uniforms, wear any uniform from any job even if it's his and his pants will become tight. Shorts obviously help out his growing tent since he loves your ass so much and the way the shorts cling to soft skin of your cheeks makes him want to devour you right then and there.

N - No

° He doesn't want another girl in bed, watersports, or bloody play. All three of those are a bit too much for him and it will not turn him on in the slightest, even though he loves making you squirt... Watersports is just on another level that he never wants to reach.

O - Oral

° Is amazing at giving, but you are usually the one giving him head. He knows how good he is at eating you out, and he doesn't want you to get used to the same movements he makes when doing it. He only eats you out when it's a holiday or anniversary... Or in a rare case that he is craving to taste you.

P - Pace

° Rough, fast, and deep. He is a very aggressive person and can get angry quite quickly. Bakugo would definitely take out his stress and anger through sex, he would much rather make love to you and destress rather than rant and possibly argue with you... He is secretly scared he'll lose you.

Q - Quickie

° Would much rather take his time with you and make you a fucked out mess, but if time isn't on his side then he will happily go for a quick fuck. One of his favorite times was when you two snuck out of training and boned in one of the stalls, mostly because you had clear hickeys over your and everyone knew what happened.

R - Risk

° He is A okay being nasty near students, teachers (except all might), family, and friends. But he isn't okay doing it near any of his fans, that is his limit. He doesn't want to come off as a sleeze ball and unprofessional in front of the people that admire him. So no touching his dick while he's giving autographs... Or no sex.

S - Stamina

° Becomes tired after round two, but if you're still horny and up for it. He will push himself until your close to blacking out from the overstimulation. Bakugo has great stamina, he just doesn't so as much foreplay after the second or third round of the night.

T - Toys

° All of the toys except for one fleshlight are used for you, the whips, the butt plugs, the vibrators, the gags, the bondage, the lingerie... You name it. He has a closet with a lock on the handles in his room, and only you know what's in it. While the rest of the Bakusquad have convinced themselves that it's all might merch.

U - Unfair

° Very unfair, if you were being a huge brat earlier he will happily cum first and let you handle your problem by yourself. This only happens if you try to rile him up around his fans, and you always regret it afterwards. But overall he is a huge tease who will edge you nonstop throughout the night... He enjoys your begging too much.

V - Volume

° He isn't too loud, mostly grunts about different things he's going to do to you. The only time you've heard him full on moan was when you first gave him head, but he became really embarrassed after hearing how loud it was and continued to stick with grunting, even if you reassure that you enjoyed his moans.

W - Wild Card

° He has two go to friends he calls when wanting an orgy or threesome, if he wants more attention then he will call Kirishima. But if he wants you to have even more attention he will call Kaminari. Kirishima likes to take Bakugo from behind as Bakugo fucks into you. While Kaminari likes letting you ride him as he makes out with you while Bakugo thrusts into your cute ass.

X - X-ray

° Is Thiqué and slightly darker than his regular skin tone, his dick is quite veiny and the tip is a deep red. It's 6inches but the thickness makes it seem even bigger since it's so much to handle, you can also see small burn marks from past jerking off incidents on his balls.

Y - Yearning

° He can last a solid 4 rounds before crashing, he will be amazing the first two rounds but will become increasingly tried by the last two. Bakugo also gets horny by anything you do if he sets his mind to it, he can turn even the simplest things hot in his mind if you need him to.

Z - Zzz

° Bakugo will make sure you are okay after sex, since you were the one who got the most fucked out between the two of you. After he cleans you up, gives you a small massage, and grabs you both a drink. He will fall asleep instantly, snoring seconds after his head touched the pillows.