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whatifyoulivelikethat · 24 days

Text

never not mine | jjk | "i hear..."

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

Bygones will be bygone eras, fading into grey. Breaking up with Jeon Jungkook had been a vicious, clean break. He tried to take it back, but the damage was already done. You walked out of the world you didn't belong in, at least until Kim Taehyung calls your name.

this is part i | part ii | part iii

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; mentions of controlling behaviors in a romantic relationship; reader is emotionally distant after said breakup; second chance romance?; angst and fluff and feels; your POV

non-idol!AU; fashion model!Jungkook — ft fellow model/actor!Kim Taehyung and model/businessman!Kim Seokjin; and a certain Maestro cameo; reader is not part of the entertainment industry

“Please love me again.”

You could hear him saying it but you pretended not to hear. You pretended not to know. You pretended he wasn’t there. He was persona non grata. No, he was simply another blurry face amongst many that faded into the grey background of grey days. He was only a ghost. If he happened to be in the same place as you were, it wasn’t any of your damn business. People were allowed to be wherever they wanted to be.

“I’m sorry.”

Yes, he was.

Sorry that he couldn’t walk all over you like he wanted. Sorry that he couldn’t control you on that leash like he wanted. Sorry that you had the balls to cut all ties and not put up with his selfish bullshit anymore. Sorry. What a word. Your response had not been a vindictive one, though. You hadn’t blocked him on social media. You figured he would block you himself. The last moments were him berating you for being late, what if something happened to you, I was worried, and you snapping. It had taken every fiber of your being to not fling your clutch in his face and tell him to take himself out if he cared so much.

“I understand what you meant now.”

The first couple times he attempted to speak to you after it all, you were ice-cold furious. So angry that you simply refused to speak to avoid spitting literal fire. So, you didn’t. And then it became a habit. Then you stopped caring. You stopped feeling. You lived your life.

Alone.

Like an abandoned puppy, Jeon Jungkook followed you every chance he got, but there were less and less chances as time went on. You would walk past him. He would follow until it was definitely too creepy and simply stop, staring after you with a lost look in his empty eyes. Everyone could see the broken heart in his stare.

A lot of people asked you what happened.

It was a valid question.

It was just as valid for you to not answer.

“I’m not going to talk about that. We can talk about something else.”

You avoided people who couldn’t let it go or cut them out altogether. What was the point of shit-talking, taking sides, making yourself angry over things that couldn’t be changed? What was the point of being upset over nights that couldn’t be taken back? Over phone calls and you sitting alone in a restaurant, empty chair in front of you and the reason in your hand, an opportunity came up, I’m leaving for Los Angeles in the morning, I need to pack, bye. Over trips suddenly cut short in the middle, the agency called, another model got sick last minute so I gotta go, just stay here and have fun. By yourself. Over accusations, what are you doing right now, send a photo, now. Over doubts, are you really at the supermarket, I don’t know, you could be doing anything, I’m not there after all. Over being five minutes late because the taxi you had taken was driven by an older gentleman chatting away, and you didn’t have the heart to tell him to shut up simply because of a boy.

Five minutes.

“Where were you? You need to tell me if you’re late. What if something happened? I was worried.”

“The driver was talking to me.”

“And you couldn’t text that you were okay?”

“I didn’t think it was that big of a deal.”

“Am I not your priority?” he had hissed.

Snap.

All those times, all those moments, okay, I understand, it’s fine, you can make it up to me later, they all came back to you in vivid recollections, and you had stared at Jeon Jungkook. All those people saying how lucky you must be having such a good-looking guy, an actual fashion model, must be so nice, and you only said nice things about him because it didn’t occur to you to complain, no, it would be silly to complain about someone you loved. That was part of loving someone, wasn’t it, being in love was putting up with these things and believing in their words. All those instances, prove what you’re doing, send a photo. Now. All that shit got you to this moment right here, right now, under this furious scrutiny, his dark brows furrowed, his pretty mouth twisted in a frown, his question ringing in your ears.

His accusation in which he had already deemed you guilty.

“The fuck you say to me?” you had growled softly.

Never once did you ask him what he was doing in the destination that he was at. Never once did you fault him for going out and having fun. Never once did you say anything about the multiple social posts of beaches and hotels and nightclubs and everyone scantily-clad, his arms around fellow models, pressed up against fabulous guys and glamorous girls. If he didn’t answer you for a couple days, you assumed it was due to long shoot days and combined jetlag making him crash. The very answer he gave you the first time you asked. You believed him then. There was no need to ask for confirmation over and over if you trusted him. And you did trust him.

Now, this.

“I was five minutes late. If I thought I would be later, I would have texted you,” you explained with emotionless calm. “At least I showed up. At least I didn’t make you sit down in the restaurant, wait around for an hour only to get a text that you aren’t coming. Not even a phone call anymore.”

You hadn’t raised your voice.

He had looked taken aback.

“But… I thought you would understand.”

“Of course, I understand.” The seething anger was white-hot but your tone was crystal-clear cold. “I can understand, as long as you show me some grace and appreciation for not losing my shit every time it happens. Am I not your priority? When have I ever been yours?”

He tried to answer quickly. “You’re always–”

But you were already pulling up the rideshare app, calling another car to come pick you up. “Am I? Then why accuse me the second I get out of the car? Where was I? In the taxi. You saw me get out of it. Why are you holding five minutes over my head like a death sentence, as if I surely betrayed you in those extra five minutes? If it’s you it could be five, thirty, hours, but I have to understand you are networking. I have to understand you are being personable. I have to understand that you are practicing being friendly because it doesn’t come naturally to you.”

Jungkook simply gawked at you, wide-eyed.

You narrowed your eyes, creating a distance he could no longer cross.

“Am I just here so you have someone to visit when you’re bored? Someone to fuck?”

Maybe the vulgarity was taking it too far. Maybe saying all of this in public right now was in poor taste. His jarring question rang in your head. Am I not your priority? Maybe you were wrong to say it all now, but it was the way he said it, as if your love for him had become invalid once you were five minutes late to the appointed time for this date that you didn’t know whether or not he would abandon you in the middle of or take you home and rock your world – and you realized you didn’t care what the outcome was.

You just didn’t give a fuck anymore.

There were so many things he could have done. He could break up with you if his career was more important. He could say sorry more. He could find ways to make it up to you. He could, but he didn’t, and you understood. But this. This you could not understand. This he could not do.

No.

This you would not let him do.

If this was innocent concern, he made it worse by coming off as suffocating and hovering. Now, you realized that no excuse would have been good enough to convince him otherwise. He had already made up his mind to attack you the second you walked out of that car, delivering in the fatal blow instantly. All those moments. All those times had become hair-thin cracks, marring the bond between you and him, tiny little slices to kill the relationship and your will to be in it.

“I don’t think…”

He trailed off, not completing his thought.

The car pulled up.

This was surely the meaning of quiet treason.

“No, you don’t,” you had finished for him with icy agreement. “You expect. You expect me to be here and hold your hand when you want it, and now I know you will never ask me if I ever need my hand held.”

You had stepped away from the curb, not once raising your voice, no longer looking at him, your knuckles digging into your beaded black clutch. You expected it to hurt at least a little.

It was nothing compared to this death by a thousand cuts.

“W-Wait!”

You didn’t.

You had opened the car door and closed it quickly. The driver requested you to confirm your name. You tersely nodded. They didn’t ask any further questions even as you witnessed Jungkook’s shocked face in the side mirror as the vehicle drove away. You didn’t look back. You didn’t even cry. Maybe you should have given him a chance to say something. A chance to change.

Except you had.

This wasn’t the first time that you had this conversation, although the first time was you sitting him down and saying, hey, if you’re not sure about your schedule, let’s not arrange any dates around those days. We can go out when things settle down. The answer was agreement and all was well for a couple weeks. And then it would happen again. And then you would bring it up again. Whoops. And again.Then he would ask you what you were doing when he wasn’t there. Oh, really? Send pictures.You asking, this is a bit much, isn’t it? The answer being, I want to know you’re safe. You finally admitting that it drove you a bit crazy. Him laughing and saying he was a bit of a handful, brushing away your concerns in light of his own.

Five minutes.

Am I not your priority?

The anger had nowhere to go.

Like how summer turned into fall and then into winter, the anger grew cold and dense and concentrated. A stone. Then one day you turned it over and found nothing underneath. You stopped caring. On one hand, you could have been the bigger person and reached out. On another hand, you didn’t see the reason in wasting any more time. What good was closure? What good would it do, talking it out and getting the same result? Deserve this, deserve that. Fair or not, at the end of the day, it didn’t work and there was no forcing something if neither party wanted to really try. I understand, until you couldn’t anymore.

Now.

Now, you would sit alone at restaurants and not be disappointed.

Table for one, yes, thank you.

Now you would spend hours at the games store and no one would be asking you to take pictures and prove that you were there. He used to play video games too, but he gradually fell out of them. Busy. Felt like he couldn’t keep up. Sold his PC because he was never home.

Emptiness where he had once enjoyed spending that time with you.

You would stay at the music store for a long time, looking over albums and wondering if you should buy them. It had been such a long time. You never listened to CDs anymore although you had been obsessed with music as a kid. The past felt like a different time. Memories of a clunky CD player and wired headphones with the metal arch over your head and those spongey earcups. Now you had wireless earbuds and a phone. Still, you looked over the colorful albums and wondered if you should get one, just to have it or maybe even put it on display. He used to listen to a lot of music too. Probably still did, on planes and in cars. He used to share your taste.

Now you didn’t have to share anything.

You stuck with your favorites, still, for years. It was an ever-growing list of popular artists as well as lesser-known indie artists that you never forgot. You made sure to listen to the top hits as well since those songs were popular for a reason. The occasional earworm could lead you down a pleasant rabbit hole, too.

You picked up an album of a band you liked but had never owned and went home.

Got that dopamine unboxing it and smiling at the photocards. Looked through the extras with the album on repeat playing through your Bluetooth speaker. You didn’t do these kinds of things in front of Jungkook usually. You had always prioritized engaging with him. Listening to his stories, looking at the photos of places he had been, shaking your head at the long hours or difficult call times. Every moment precious because you would never know when it would be cut short.

You had made everything about him when in his presence.

You hadn’t blasted the relationship all over social media although it was obvious. For the most part, people had been respectful. You hadn’t deleted all the photos he was in, the photos he had taken of you, nor had you blocked him. People asked. You repeated the same thing over and over. I’m not going to talk about that. We can talk about something else. People eventually stopped asking. Old news was old news. There was no visible resentment, and so the interest died out.

You caught Jungkook looking at you from across the concessions stand at the movie theater.

Those big dark brown eyes filled with rueful invitation.

You didn’t know what movie he was going into, but you turned away and didn’t think about it much.

Watched the movie you paid for, alone.

Went home.

Alone.

You used to watch movies twice. Once by yourself when it released, then a second time when Jungkook could make it. When he could. Sometimes he couldn’t and the movie was already out of theaters. Then you both would watch it at home when it released on streaming services. It was what it was. You enjoyed movies. You had the time and money to watch them twice. But now you didn’t have to.

That was nice.

You weren’t sure if Jungkook was deliberately going places that you often frequented or if it was coincidence. It was likely the latter, because he usually wasn’t alone. He had a group of friends that lived in this area and often came to visit them. He used to joke that it must have been fate for you to meet as your friend circles didn’t overlap. At least he had not shown up to the video games store or the music store you usually went to, so you didn’t feel threatened in any way. Maybe he was visiting his friends more because he was sad. Maybe he was visiting them more in hopes of seeing you, the same tactic he used when he first asked you out. Maybe it was both.

It was probably both.

Sometimes you would cry in frustration.

Sometimes you would play games to distract yourself.

Sometimes you didn’t mind too much as the days passed. Sometimes you would look outside and admire the sun. Sometimes it would rain and that was nice too. Sometimes you were sad but it wasn’t a negative feeling. Such was the natural course. Sadness was the promise of happiness to come, because one couldn’t exist without the other.

At least, you believed so.

Ther wasn’t much more you could do than that.

For a bit there you had almost thought the relationship hadn’t mattered because you had walked away so coldly. In some ways, you wished you could take it back. In other ways, you didn’t. It was hard to discount years of your life simply because of how the chapter ended. There had definitely been unique experiences that you were unlikely to relive. You used to attend lavish parties with Jungkook, especially many around the holidays. You would dress up in your best and put on a brave face. A lovely dress, the high heels he brought you, carefully done makeup and hair. Jungkook would walk in with you gliding beside him, silently holding his arm. People would tell you how fun it was working with him and how lucky he was to have such a pretty and understanding lady. These were all work events full of unfamiliar faces. Jungkook used to be reserved and hang out with you in corners but, as he got more popular, more people roped him into conversations, remember this, and he would slip in with his friends, naturally, laughing and smiling. You would wait nearby, at yet another party surrounded by better bodies, and somehow he would find you at the end of the night, ask you if you had fun.

And you would smile and assure him.

“Something like that.”

The best parties were the ones thrown by his friend Kim Taehyung. He had been in the entertainment industry for a long time, becoming Jungkook’s friend though their crossed paths in modeling. He had an affliction for celebration and Jungkook was always invited, which meant you, too, bore witness to many magnificent events hosted by him. The most extravagant were his own birthday parties. Quite so, as the date was after Christmas, and he continued the festive mood. Taehyung loved a theme. He would rent specific venues, arrange for live music, impose a dress code, everything. One year, he flew everyone out to Paris and rented an entire restaurant to celebrate. Even if you barely knew anyone there, it was fun being in a different world created by Taehyung’s magical vision. Everyone was thrown into it together, experiencing the vibes of an old American jazz club, the white beaches with glass waters during Christmastime, or a playful night filled with Taehyung’s favorite childhood games and sweet treats, complete with food stalls from the area of Daegu he grew up in.

You didn’t fit in, but no one did because these were all Taehyung’s fantasies brought to life.

He always sent the invitations by physical mail, on stunning stationery to match the theme. Someone else must have created them, but seemingly Taehyung approved them all as every single one contained his unique flourishing signature. You kept them in a box. They were too pretty to throw away.

You had received an invitation this year too, to a midnight masquerade ball, but you didn’t go.

Perhaps he didn’t know yet. Or, perhaps he did know and Jungkook asked him to invite you. They were quite close. If there was a plan, you didn’t take the bait. The date came and went. Maybe Taehyung considered you a friend, but that was probably a stretch. Jungkook didn’t like you talking to Taehyung too much.

Apparently, you made him smile too big.

Or something.

Taehyung had an entire party to get to every time you met him, anyway. You would have to shoo him off because there was very little night and Taehyung wanted to speak to every guest one-on-one. He was sincere like that. He was romantic like that. He was dark and handsome and in his own head, in his constant dream of living his wonderful life that, from what you could discern, he deserved. He even always remembered to ask the staff working at his party to eat cake with them. At the end of the night, Taehyung would pick up the microphone and thank the guests for coming and thank the staff for working hard to provide everyone with a good time. Taehyung always remembered to say thank you and he always made sure to express his gratitude to everyone, no matter their status.

You missed being at his party, a little bit, if only just to witness a fairy-tale in real life.

But you weren’t part of Jeon Jungkook’s world anymore.

And so you missed the party.

Please love me again.

On quiet, grey days, you realized how very boring your life was. On quiet, grey days, you were tempted to think about the good times. About his laugh, about his starry eyes when you came into view, about enchanted nights where you would both make magic between bodies. On quiet, grey days, you were tempted to pick out all his flaws until the memories were burned, images stricken with ash, never to be the same again. On quiet, grey days, you had every chance to run back or run away, at least in your head, but instead you lived your very boring life doing neither of those choices.

Whether you loved him or hated him, the result would still be the same.

You entered the artisan tea shop and greeted the staff. You talked about how your father was into tea, chatted about what would make a good gift. The prices of the sets. The amount of loose-leaf tea and how many cups it would make. The various flavors and strength. You smelled a bunch of different ones. Rejected some, remained indecisive about others, accepted a few as contenders.

You heard the bell by the door chime again, musical and clear.

A male’s voice, deep and polite.

You tensed. Your body knew before your mind caught up. You pointed to several flavors you had liked, and the employee suggested a gift box sampler featuring a watercolor camellia-printed limited-edition teacup set that you agreed to readily, all the while vaguely aware of a tingling behind your neck and a vigilant tension forming in your lungs. But it wasn’t until your name was called that you turned around by instinct, and then froze with recognition. Dark brown eyes under graceful black-brown waves. Tan skin glimmering under the lights. The image completed by a three-piece chocolate brown suit paired with a ruffled warm gray dress shirt and sharp dark leather oxfords. The stylish man smiled widely, box-like, and walked towards you without hesitation.

“Fancy seeing you here.”

Kim Taehyung must have known, and yet.

You bowed lightly. “Hello.”

The sales associate was immediately charmed by Taehyung’s deep voice and dashing appearance, their gloved hands hovering over the half-packed box and openly ogling the demandingly handsome gentleman that took your hand warmly before lightly kissing your knuckles. Straight out of a movie. Probably learned it from one, or from traveling in Europe. He let go after a lingering moment.

He had said your name with the same velvety warmth he had at all of his parties.

It had hurt, but it wasn’t his fault.

“How are you? I haven’t seen you in a while. Are you buying something?” He raised his head and daintily smiled at the employee before giving you his full attention again. “Let me pay for it.”

“No, ah,” you interrupted him quickly, handing over your card before Taehyung could reach into his heavily lined pockets. “No, sorry. I’m buying a gift for my father.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” he apologized immediately, retracting his hands. “I meant to do something nice for you and I’ve overstepped.”

“It’s… It’s alright,” you chuckled softly, trying to dissipate the awkwardness. You turned slightly to sign the receipt, not looking at the price. Your card went back into your black leather bow purse. “You had no way of knowing. How are you? And your parents?”

Taehyung was still a little sheepish but he remained next to you at a respectful distance. “Me? I guess you could say I’m holding on. I think I might take a small break soon and spend a week with my family. How did you know I was thinking of them?” He laughed, shaking his head. “You’re a mind-reader.”

You shook your head with a smile, taking the beautifully wrapped bag and bowing in gratitude to the employee. “No, you’ve just never been a big tea drinker. It was only a guess.”

He scratched the back of his head and sighed lightheartedly. “Ah, you’re right. I wanted to buy a grown-up gift, but maybe I should have asked what they wanted. I don’t know the first thing about tea.”

You both began to walk towards the entrance.

“You’re their adorable child. They will love anything you gift them.”

Taehyung grinned. “So, you think I’m adorable?”

You opened your mouth and then.

Then you were suddenly hyperaware of the brightness of the lights in the tea store. Suddenly aware of all the customers around you milling about and chatting with their friends and the employees. Suddenly the scents of the store were too strong and too varied and suddenly a phantom grip on your arm from a time long past pulled you away from your center, into the past, and you remembered all the times you stood in a corner of a party, on the outskirts of alcohol, music, and magic, wondering why you were so, so alone.

You plastered a smile on your face and replied pleasantly.

“Of course, you are, Kim Taehyung.”

It lasted a second.

Maybe less.

Taehyung gazed at you with curious eyes.

You kept the smile on your face.

He stepped past you and opened the door, gesturing you to walk out before him in the most gentlemanly way, smiling with his eyes crinkling as they usually did when he laughed or was in his comfort zone. “Come. Let me at least treat you to lunch,” he insisted.

You accepted his graciousness and turned as you walked to face him as you spoke. “That’s really not necessary. I’m sure you’re very busy.”

He chuckled, the sound coming deep from his chest. “Of course, I’m busy, but I always have time for a friend.” He shrugged nonchalantly, grinning. “My manager expects this kind of behavior from me anyway.”

You paused, looking up at him. “Friend?”

Flutters of lashes and confusion in dark brown orbs.

“Are we not friends?”

People around you continued walking, giving you and Taehyung weird looks. He didn’t seem to notice, undeterred by the world around him that wasn’t currently in his focus, the main character at every moment in his life, oblivious to anyone trying to get under his skin with their judgements, never the accessory to someone else.

It turned out to be more difficult than you thought, saying the words.

“I… well… Don’t you know that Jeon Jungkook and I aren’t dating anymore?”

Taehyung tilted his head with childlike innocence.

“Um… so you don’t eat lunch anymore?”

You blinked at him.

“Huh?”

He gave you this look. You stared back. For a moment the disconnect was so tangible that you almost had a word for it. A zephyr ruffled Taehyung’s soft curls. The sun made his skin glow and his dark eyes sparkle. Small signs of Mother Nature affectionately acknowledging one of her children. He smiled. It was then that you realized this was a decision you could make. A decision of a lonely self, not a lonely self that was an extension of another. A yes or no that didn’t have to be polluted by the past.

“Well…”

Your hands tightened on the straps of the gift bag.

“If you’ll have me.”

Taehyung grinned. “I know just the spot! You’ll love it.”

It was nice lunch.

No, it was wonderful time.

You had been worried that you would be underdressed in your calf-length flowy black dress and chunky knit lavender cardigan, but you fit right in. Taehyung had picked a busy rooftop brunch spot. It was French-themed, or at least as French as Korea could get. There was a bit more wood than brass and crystals. It still made for a nice hideaway. It seemed Taehyung was well recognized here, and yet people maintained a distance regardless. It must have been his polite yet stern demeanor. When he sat down though, he seemed to relax, waving a hand and telling you to order whatever you liked.

You never could turn down good brioche.

You thought it would have been awkward, at least. It wasn’t. He talked about his work, asked about yours. Asked what you thought about this or that. Memories from past events, what you liked or didn’t like. What he paid too much for that nobody noticed, along with a hearty laugh, and moments he loved, such as having a group photo at every one of his events. You asked him if he enjoyed planning the events themselves. He confessed with a roughish smile that he had a planner for all those details. You thought it strange to spend so much money on such occasions, but there was something pure about it too. Besides, you ended up getting your answer.

“What’s the most important lesson in your life you’ve learned so far?” Taehyung abruptly asked, sitting up in alarm.

You blinked at his suddenness. “Uh… I don’t know. I would have to think about it.” Your lips upturned slightly, then you tilted your head and looked back at him. “What about you? What’s the most important lesson you’ve learned in your life so far?”

He relaxed back in his chair. His expression became pensive. You paused in mid-bite, seeing him look a bit sheepish.

“You’re not the first person to ask me about the parties,” Taehyung chuckled deep from his chest. “A lot of people tell me it’s a waste of money. And it is to other people, but it isn’t to me. The most important lesson I’ve ever learned was…”

He raised his head with a small smile.

“You can’t get time back.”

You remembered the extensive decor, the delicate hors d'oeuvres, even the various perfumes sprayed into the air complimenting the theme of each party. Exquisite and memorable details. Taehyung ticked his head, seemingly recalling it all too.

“I think I’ve mentioned this, but my grandmother was the closest maternal figure I had,” he explained, fondly smiling. “I’m close to my parents too, but they had to work a lot to give me a good life, so I spent a lot of time with my siblings and grandparents. My grandmother used to hold celebrations for the achievements I had, even if they were mediocre or not that impressive. Nothing extravagant, or anything. A little cake or my favorite sweets. She would sing for me and clap her hands. She would say, it’s my duty to give you good memories. As I got older, I became busy, of course, chasing dreams, and I didn’t make time for her small celebrations any more. I was just out of university when she passed away. I often think I hadn’t spent enough time with her. Time is money, as they say. Next time, I would say, until there wasn’t a next time.”

The weight of his words settled on the table.

“It’s not your fault,” you reminded him, but Taehyung simply smiled and shook his head.

“It wasn’t anybody’s fault,” he agreed. “But that wasn’t it. I couldn’t get all that time back. Sure, did I take jobs that put me in a really good place now? Yeah. Yeah, of course, I make a lot of money now since young me jumped at every chance to model for a small brand or do a single-run commercial. I really love my career. I love that, because I did the hard work, I even get offers to act in primetime dramas now. But I should have made less. I should have made time. I should have gone to see her and let her do her duty to give me good memories.”

He waved his hands in a slight shrug. You could tell he was still regretful about it, but there was something else too. He looked directly at you with that boxy grin of his.

“I decided, then, that I too wanted to give good memories to the people that are precious to me. I have all this money, anyway. Why waste it on things? I want to waste it on memories. I want people to look forward to special days, to celebrate life, to look back on a fun time.”

So that was why.

“That is what is really important to me.”

Kim Taehyung wasn’t only good looks, of course.

“I’ve yapped long enough. What is really important to you?” he asked again, chuckling.

“Oh, I…”

And there were no words.

You straightened, startled by your own silence. There were lots of important things, weren’t there? There was… and there wasn’t. Friends, sure. And, also, friends came in and out of your life. You didn’t take it personally. Family, yes. Cordial but not deep. They had their own lives to live. You almost opened your mouth to say these generic things, and then you caught the look in Taehyung’s eye and stopped.

This basic question was not so basic after all.

“I… Am I boring?” you blurted with a start.

“Boring?” Taehyung frowned. “No, you’re not.”

Your brows furrowed. “Aren’t I?”

He laughed, hearty and deep. “Trust me. You’re not boring. We wouldn’t be having a conversation if you were boring.”

Your eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Why are we having a conversation?”

Taehyung smiled warmly.

“Because I appreciate your outlook on life.”

You were taken aback.

“What?”

He nodded. “Isn’t it obvious?” He waved a hand carelessly. “I’ve met so many people doing what I do. Some people are just nice to you because of money. Or think you can boost their reputation. Or they think they can take advantage of you. You’ve been around all that too, no?” He did not mention Jungkook.

“Oh, well…” you hesitated. “Not anymore. I’m pretty ordinary.”

A small frown. “No, everyone is extraordinary.”

You scoffed. “I’m only an accountant. Not even one that works closely with my own clients – I’m just the one at the firm that does the final review over everyone’s work to make sure we don’t get into legal trouble. That’s nothing like what you do.”

He impatiently swept your words away. “Everyone is extraordinary,” he repeated.

“I don’t think–”

“You are different,” Taehyung pressed. “You had been introduced to a different world than your own and you could have been a vulture. You could have taken for your own sake. You could have done everything you could to be ‘one of us’. You could have scorned us too, called it all superficial and stupid. But you didn’t.” He crossed his arms to make his point. “You observed. You listened. You treated me, the people around me, everyone as their own person. We weren’t just some dumb rich people to you. We were individuals.”

You didn’t know what to say. It wasn’t something you had ever consciously thought about before.

“There are so many people that believe in using others, either in a beneficial way or in a cruel way,” sighed Taehyung. “It’s a difficult world. We all need to live.” He reached over and made you jump by placing his hand over the back of yours. “Don’t give up on that, okay?”

Your stared at him with wide eyes. “On… what?”

Almost. You didn’t quite have an answer for the most important lesson in your life you had learned so far. But almost. Kim Taehyung cocooned his palm over your hand and trapped you with his determined brown eyes, straight from a drama scene. A heavenly prince in a fancy café. He looked back to you very seriously, taking all of your attention away from the whispering conversations on other tables, away from the clinking plates and glasses, away from all distractions.

“Don’t give up on the way you want to live.”

Those small moments.

From eating dinner alone to watching movies alone to buying that album and unboxing it yourself to looking outside, days and nights, wondering what could have been and killing that thought over and over again.

“The way… I want to live?” you echoed breathlessly.

The clear, musical chime of the bell by the entrance sang through the air, mingling with the conversation and consumption. A halo of sound that rang true over every table to reach every customer. It was as striking as it was lovely, flawlessly melding into the moment. A pure sound that could trigger a pleasant déjà vu, the recall of a good chat over good food.

Taehyung grinned with his beautiful, perfectly white teeth.

“I want you to have good memories. Whatever you decide, let us make good memories with those precious to us.”

You decided, then and there, that you needed to start doing things.

“Oh, good, you’re home. That would have been awfully embarrassing.”

“W-What…?”

You backed up in your slippers as a stunningly well-dressed man flourished into your home like an astronaut landing on the moon. That was, if the moon was your front door. The black mat was space-themed, printed with abstract stars and a grayish circle. It wasn’t entirely inaccurate. Your pajamas were also soft black cotton with a twinkly star print, although your slippers were simple, white furry poofs that felt like walking on clouds.

“Take this.”

“What is – oof!”

In contrast to your outfit, the man who had entered your home looked like he had stepped off the runway. He wore light blue trousers that you almost mistook for jeans, however they had a tone-on-tone print that clearly indicated the luxury designer. Underneath the navy-blue duster coat was a crisp white shirt pressed to the gods with distinctive sky-blue trim. A quick glimpse and anyone would know the inner lining of the duster was blue silk, the matching tone-on-tone print subtle and obvious at the same time. You nearly buckled under the weight of a wooden box, gasping as you saw the slices of high-grade beef in a gold bow. The man gestured with his hand in a swooping manner.

“I heard all about it from Taehyung,” he was saying, shrugging his broad shoulders heavily.

“Heard…?” You were still reeling from the unexpected guest and a box of meat. “What’s this, I can’t accept th–”

The man shot you a scathing look. “Don’t be ridiculous,” he chided, dismissive. “How unbelievably rude I would be dropping by your home if I didn’t have a gift? Psh, why, I wouldn’t be Kim Seokjin!”

And so he was.

Although, as far as you knew, you and famous-actor-turned-businessman Kim Seokjin were not close friends. Not close enough to be gifted with a house call and meat, anyway. He had been close to Jeon Jungkook back then. They often sought each other out when they both attended the same events. You were well aquatinted with Seokjin’s boisterous personality and his worldwide-known handsomeness. He was no different today, looking sculpted from jawline to broad shoulders to the regal way he stood. Glowing skin. Lightly permed, chestnut brown hair. Full lips, currently in a slight frown.

You bowed awkwardly. “S-Sorry, I just didn’t expect…”

“Ah, it’s alright.” He called you by name, although somewhat awkwardly, as if he was unsure if he should be more formal or not. “I won’t take too much of your time.”

You were still confused about Seokjin saying he had heard something from Taehyung. Actually, you didn’t even know how he got your address, although it wasn’t impossible. After all, Taehyung’s party invitations came in snail mail. It wasn’t that shocking. You probably might have been more annoyed if you were in the middle of something, but all you had been doing was getting ready to heat up some leftover takeout. You shuffled slightly, trying to block the view of the kitchen counter. Not necessarily embarrassed, per se, as your apartment was quite spacious and neat, but nothing here was comparable to Kim Seokjin’s lifestyle. It was kind of pointless to do so, though, since Seokjin was quite tall.

He seemed not to notice or care about the current state of your kitchen.

You stood there, dazed, clutching a box of high-grade beef.

He cleared his throat very firmly. “I came to invite you to the opening of my new establishment. Two weeks from now.” He rattled off the opening date. “But don’t come on opening day. It’ll be too crowded. Some day after. Let me know when and I’ll make special arrangements for you,” he added, stepping forward to tuck his business card into one of the folds of the gold bow. “Call the number on there. My assistant will connect me to you. I can link you with talented professionals if you are interested, which I’ll pay for, of course.”

“I– What – I’m sorry?” you sputtered. “Me?”

The handsome man exaggeratedly whipped his head from side to side. “Uh, do I see anyone else? Yes, of course, you,” he affirmed gruffly. “I came to invite you in person.”

“Well…” This must be how deer felt when confronted with headlights. “I’m not trying to be rude, but, uh… why?”

Seokjin looked offended. “Why? So you can meet people, silly.”

You struggled to connect the information given to you but he was not making it easy. “Meet people?”

“Yes,” he tutted. “You want to meet people, don’t you?”

Did you? You gave him a confused look.

“As Taehyung said,” Seokjin continued as if you completely understood. “People like you need to be surrounded by good people. And I happen to know a lot of them. We need people like you in this industry.”

You shook your head. “No, I don’t have any intention of–”

“Precisely.” He barreled on as if your front entryway was his own stage. “That is precisely why.”

Silence.

A bird cawed outside.

“H… Hah?”

Something in his expression softened. You almost forgot the weight of the wood box in your hands. You almost forgot the ridiculousness of you in your pajamas and Kim Seokjin in his luxury designer clothes. You almost forgot that you were in a completely different class, completely out of your element, completely ordinary.

He sighed and slipped his hands into his pants pockets, neatly tucking back his coat. “Look, I understand if you absolutely don’t want to have anything to do with me and the others. I don’t blame you. But,” he added, nodding lightly. “Your presence is missed. I do believe your interactions with those around you have done them a world of good. Maybe not everyone, yes, but you’re still spoken of, even now.”

“What…?” You blinked, doubtful. “Really?”

Seokjin chuckled, nodding. “You are good company.”

You thought all those times. All those events, dinners, parties. You mostly remembered Jungkook letting you be. Sure, you had light conversation with those around you. You couldn’t remember all their faces. They had been simple conversations, you thought, but they weren’t superficial once you really thought about it. You didn’t have basic industry chatter to talk about, so instead you had asked about aspirations. Asked why instead of what. Why acting? Why modeling? Why entertainment? Talks of the past, the present, the future. Pretty normal, you thought, but maybe…

Maybe it was more normal to ask what they were achieving.

Maybe it wasn’t so normal to ask who someone was.

“Anyway,” Seokjin coughed, breaking you out of your daze. “I wanted to give you ample time to think about it.”

“More than two weeks?” you mused.

He waved a hand. “Don’t know about you, but I need time to schedule and plan things. I need time to get myself ready to interact,” he muttered, half-joking and half-bitterly.

The meat was getting heavy. “Ah… What’s the dress code?”

“Aish, didn’t I tell you?” Seokjin tapped the side of his head. “Think about it. Then give me a call, and I’ll arrange for hair and makeup and fashion. No, don’t even bother asking about price. I’m inviting you to introduce you to people, so I am paying. End of discussion. And…”

A loaded pause.

Tick of the head and Seokjin very seriously asked you.

“If Jeon Jungkook is there, will you be fine?”

You answered honestly.

“I don’t think it will be an issue.”

He surveyed you for a long second and then nodded.

“Alright. Let me know when you’ve decided. Have a nice night. Don’t hesitate to contact me if I can help in some way. I’m not a stranger. By the way.” He added one last comment before leaving, spinning back around with a hand on your now open door and the other pointing to the side of the box. “The butcher shop I purchased this from is owned by a friend of mine. Make sure to send your family and friends his way once you taste how delicious and high-quality it is.”

You walked into the nightclub, oddly at peace among the blaring music and bustling bodies, stepping into a world of light and dark and pushing boundaries.

The past couple hours had been spent in a chair, fussed over by a detailed makeup artist and equally talented hairdresser. It had been more enjoyable than you originally thought. Perhaps it had been Seokjin’s excellent choices or their own expertise. They even both asked for your input and offered their advice. It felt like a joint effort. Even the fashion stylist who came later was as informative as they were considerate. You had found out that they had taken your name and your photos to have your fortune read and performed color analysis, respectively. That explained why Seokjin had asked you to take those plain photos. This had made color and style selection much simpler, as you naturally liked all the choices. You were no stranger to tight outfits, although this type of nightlife was not the kind of place you frequented. The stylist had brought a rack of choices, and just in case, a black slip dress looks good on everyone, and all of them were compelling in one way or another. All nightclub appropriate. You asked what to try first. The stylist had asked you how you were feeling.

Feeling?

The answer came out before you could stop it.

“Like revenge.”

You had laughed it off, and so had the staff, but you had seen the gleam in their eyes as if they, too, relished in being part of this so-called revenge.

Well, they were.

You weren’t perfectly sure if this was actual revenge yet, no. You were certainly dressed for it. Black lace corset. Tight lilac short skirt. Black patent leather jacket cropped so severely that it was nearly a bolero. Delicate black pumps with a thin ankle strap. The kind that was a bit fiddly to get on, but was worth it in the end. There was a power in this type of outfit, the kind that made you hold your head high and walk alone with confidence. Perhaps similar to a superhero costume. Just as impractical, too, heh. But that was okay. You weren’t here to prevent any crimes.

Just commit them.

Maybe.

In any case, you weren’t even sure what was going to happen tonight. Something had been planned for you, so you walked in and looked around, wondering if you should ask for help. The luxury was obvious from every corner of the building. From the furniture choices to the expansive bar to the crisp, pressed uniforms of the employees, every detail oozed sophistication. You admired the tastefulness of it, surprised that it didn’t feel gaudy or overdone. Must be the refined touch of Kim Seokjin. Even the clientele was jaw-dropping. You spared a moment to look from face to face, wondering if you should be less obvious about it, but then some paused and gazed back, unafraid, offering a simple smile.

They didn’t know you didn’t really belong, yet.

The sheep’s clothing worked, then.

You almost laughed at your own unspoken joke, and then, either compelled by fate, chance, or some mixture of both, your eyes rose and you saw him. It was definitely him. It was only the back of his head and black leather, but you knew it was him even before he turned around.

Jeon Jungkook.

You had seen him many times after the fact. However, this time was the first time that you came with weapons at your disposal, subtle as they were. For a moment, you wondered what to do. You stared as those brooding dark eyes widened in surprise. His hair was slicked back. Leather jacket, white tank, dark jeans, probably black boots. You couldn’t see it all from this angle. Still, you knew him too well. He wasn’t a suit-and-tie breed unless he was forced by the occasion. And, anyway.

You had mildly hoped that he would dress down these days, as it both suited him and reflected your preferred personal taste.

Egotistical, yes, and, now that you could see, true.

You broke the gaze first, seeing a waiter approach you. Bowed lightly, walking with him as he explained what was in store tonight, and yet your mind was still fixated on that shocked gaze from the far table up above. It did register that you were going up the stairs too, but somehow you knew that you weren’t going near that table.

You wondered if he regretted everything.

You wondered if he saw you differently now, dressed up and on a mission.

You wondered if Jeon Jungkook understood, truly, how deeply he had hurt you with his misdemeanors and you wondered if you, truly, understood how you didn’t help by always sweeping said misdemeanors under the metaphorical rug. You wondered if there was a chance for reconciliation or if this was all a big mistake. Maybe this was only another instance of two ships silently passing in the night. A pair of parallel lines that would never intersect. Or… would this become a pattern that could only be completed by intersection?

Whichever one it was, it was going to be evident tonight.

You raised your head, seeing a champagne bottle and another of expensive liquor.

“Are you ready?”

Your eyes shifted and you smiled up at the waitress.

“Yes, I am.”

She smiled and bowed her way out. Revenge. You savored the word. You had never thought of it that way, but then again that was because you always believed in the higher road. In enduring. That was how strength was formed. Vindication was unladylike and uncouth. Or so the story goes. You became aware that you were being watched.

I don’t belong here.

You twisted your body and stared directly into Jeon Jungkook’s eyes.

He pivoted away immediately. Unable to hold your gaze. Ashamed, probably. You pondered quietly. He brought you into this. All this around you – beauty, opulence, and the shadows between gold. Even without him, your connection to these people remained because his friends believed in you for some reason. You agreed, because maybe there was still something here for you.

But that was no reason to believe that you belonged here nor to act like it.

You realized, suddenly, that some part of you still thought you had to keep up the front.

“Excuse me.”

You looked up to a man who had the expression of a pleased kitty cat. His eyes disappeared from his smile. Radiant, cream skin. Long, bleached-blond hair that was half-tied back from his face but still skimmed along his shoulders. He wore a suit and tie, perfectly tailored, and was noticeably shorter than nearly everyone here. Then again, almost everyone here was a model, in high heels, or both.

“Did I interrupt?” he asked lightly, his intonation hinting at a Busan dialect.

“Oh, no,” you answered with a shake of your head. “I’m sorry. That was rude of me to space out like that. Please, sit down.”

The man laughed behind his hand before pulling out the chair and sitting down. He had elegant fingers that reminded you of a pianist. “It was cute,” he commented, somewhat shyly, before turning away and clearing his throat. He faced you once again, composed now, and bowed in greeting, stating his name.

You hurriedly did the same.

“I hope I’m not thinking too highly of myself by sitting here with you.”

You shook your head. “No, no. I want this to be an open invitation.” You poured him a glass of liquor to start off the night. He had a noticeable presence. Not a towering one, rather, as someone who knew himself well. Still, you could sense an introverted soul. “Don’t feel too pressured. I only want to ask a question.”

His eyebrows raised, curious. “A question?”

You smiled. “Yes. And I want you to promise to answer honestly.”

His lips upturned thoughtfully. There was something playful about his expressions. Very cute. Perhaps unintentional. “A promise right away to a stranger?”

You allowed yourself a little mischief. “Do I look like I could hurt anyone?”

The man across the table caught the bait and toyed with it. An expert. “Maybe. But that doesn’t mean It wouldn’t be pleasant.” He smiled again, with that same kitty cat contentment, and nodded. “Okay, I’m ready to tell the truth. You only get one chance. Use it well.” His tone teased, but his voice was sincere.

The question.

You stared into a stranger’s eyes and asked.

“What is the most important lesson in your life you’ve learned so far?”

i hear... | ... the whispers... | ... in your eyes.

masterpost

#jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #bts smut #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x you #jungkook smut

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marypaol · 2 months

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Flowers Upon Your Head

Draco x Fem!Reader

Summary: Reader officially crowns the Slytherin Prince of Hogwarts, but what she doesn’t expect is to be crowned his princess. (Not real crowns, but made of flowers.)

Warnings: Talk about praising someone, like hailing them, self doubts in academic work, nothing else I know of.

Sorry if it’s too short; but it’s gotta be one of my favorites besides “Dear Draco”.

Dear Draco

Masterlist

Request Requirements (they’ve been updated!)

The sky was bright blue, sun rays shining bright across all the land of Hogwarts, showcasing the wondrous school that held many intelligent students; now either learning more knowledge or taking their assigned time off.

Two green robes were taking the second option to their best advantage: staying outside in the fresh air and catching up on work.

The both lay on the grass by the Black Lake, the boy leaning against the tree trunk and the girl sitting criss cross next to him.

The boy, platinum blonde hair and known as the bully of the school, had his Potions homework in front of him on his lap. His quill scribbled left and right as he wrote an essay.

The girl, known as the most innocent person in the world who wouldn’t hurt a fly, was previously done with her homework and is now fiddling (or, at least, that’s the word Draco would use to describe what she was doing) with flowers in her hand, tying the stems together to make something the boy didn’t know.

She was well concentrated until she heard a groan escape the boy, her eyes moving from the flower stems to him, raising an eyebrow questionably.

He didn’t look up as did she, instead he was having a glare contest with the paper as he tapped his quill quite frustratingly.

“What’s another word for fragile?”

She thought for a moment, going back to the plants in her hand once she discovered his groan was the reason of nothing serious.

“Delicate? Brittle?” She asked once figuring it out, fingers slightly burning from now finishing the tie of the stems, the nectar from the flowers getting on her fingertips as the stems were tightly wrapped around her hands.

He hummed. “Brittle is good.”

She smiled soft, glad she could help in some way. “Is the essay coming along nicely?”

He chuckled. “With the amount of skill I have in the writing spectrum and your vocabulary, I think it’s going quite well.”

She rolled her eyes this time, knowing he was being sarcastic with the statement he said about himself.

“Dray, don’t worry; I read it during lunch and it looked fine so far. That is if you didn’t ruin it with what you call last minute edits.”

Her teasing tone grabbed a smirk from him that she didn’t see.

She wasn’t mindful of the next occurrence because she was in fact focused on the finishing touches of her crown, but his ears turned from pale to a soft pink color at the nickname.

He scoffed instead to cover it up even though she didn’t see it. “Doubt it.”

She sighed, knowing there was no use in trying to convince him the work was good grade worthy.

He suddenly slapped the paper down in front of her on the grass. “How does this look?”

Despite the aggression he showed in his actions she could hear a little anxiousness in his voice. He was nervous for her reaction.

She still had the flowers in her hands so she didn’t touch the paper in fear of getting things on it, so instead of holding them in front of her she moved them so they were by her shoulder and she looked down at the paper.

Draco’s handwriting covered the paper, perfect cursive with soft swoops in the letters forming great work.

Her eyes scanned it as she read, taking in the information he provided.

She hummed in satisfaction. “Very nice, Dray. Very nice.”

She smiled at him as he took the paper back, this time noticing the pink tint on the tip of his ears.

“You okay?” She asked, oblivious to the reason for his flush.

He nodded, swallowing thickly.

She hummed again, turning her body fully to him. “Don’t worry! Snape will love it. I see it now,” she started, pretending to look of into the distance like she was dreaming. “An ‘Outstanding’!”

Draco rolled his eyes in annoyance. “Wouldn’t go that far with it but whatever.”

She scoffed at his negative mindset and, wiping her hands on the grassy ground to get rid of the nectar, and grabbed the crown she just previously made. She then turned the scoff on her face to a soft reassuring smile.

“Well, whatever you may think, I think it was wonderful and the good grade I know you’ll get is well deserved.”

She ended her sentence with softly placing the crown on his platinum head, the soft white petals perfectly matching the mob of hair he held.

Draco’s eyes moved upward as if he would be able to see the flowers on his head. The girl laughed, then she smiled once again.

“All hail the Slytherin Prince.” She joked. She expected another eye roll but instead received a soft smirk coming from the corner of his lips, a small chuckle escaping him.

She then moved to sit next to him, their shoulders brushing and cheeks flushing.

His soft looking hands reached out and using his long fingers pulled flower after flower out of the tall grass, each stem producing a satisfying snap when they broke.

Although she kinda felt bad for the flowers, she knew that the roots were still planted into the ground, so that gave her reassurance knowing they’d grow back again.

Still she watched as his own hands messily tied the stems together almost just like she did. When he was finished, his arm reached up as he placed it on her head, the weight of it slightly flattening the top of her hair.

He then leaned in, brushing his nose on her cheek; her face turning a soft tone of red. His head turned so his lips touched her ear lightly. The touch was barely felt, but it was there.

“All hail the Slytherin Princess.”

He whispered it, making the meaning much more meaningful. A soft chill went through her, a warm sense of comfort and nervousness at the same time racing down her spine.

“How’d you know how to tie it?” She asked curiously to hide the nervous warmth flooding through her. She felt his cheeks spread into a smile.

“I watch you, loves; much more than you think.”

Her face flushed as his finger gently booped her nose.

He chuckled low right in her ear. “Aww, don’t get flustered loves; just giving my princess the praise and recognition she deserves.”

Wait.

‘My Princess’?

Thank you for reading! 📖

#draco lucius malfoy #draco malfoy #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy x reader #draco x reader #hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry #imagines #stories #tom felton x reader #x reader #flowers #garden vibes #I love this story so much!#I think I did well- what do you think?

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torturedtraveler · 14 days

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mulan: the best disney character ever made

okay, i may be in a disney phase right now. but as a fellow asian, there is no way i'm going to talk about disney princesses without mentioning the best disney princess (character) disney has ever made - mulan.

originally a legendary chinese folk heroine from the northern dynasty era in chinese history. the disney adaptation of mulan is somewhat similar, only difference is that she had siblings in the original folklore, and she had to go to war because her brother was too young and her father was too old, and at the end, she revealed her identity only after returning home.

let's face it, the fact that a disney princess went to war made her stand out from the rest of the lineup. let's go over a few badass facts about her in the movie: 1. she wasn't going to give up because she did bad in training. her perseverance and determination led to her trying over and over, pulling herself up that pole that literally no other men in the army could do. she's unbending, not willing to give up without putting up a fight, and she not only proved to li shang and her peers that she's not weak, she proved to herself after all that self-doubt that she's just as capable as anyone else, more than anyone else if anything. 2. the fucking avalanche scene. the fact that she was smart enough, quick-witted enough to plot that within seconds with her enemy right in front of her, clearly using her brain for a good cause to save her entire army which consisted of about 50 people against thousands of huns. war is about tactics, and she demonstrated just that. she also ignored the pain of her wound to pull li shang up from the snow just shows her loyalty to her troops. 3. even after being thrown out of her army in the middle of the mountains full of snow, seeing the huns rising from the snow, she knew she gotta alert li shang that they were coming. despite li shang not believing her (or tried to ignore her), she tried her best to come up with ways in attempt to save her country from potentially being invaded. at that moment, she didn't care about the fact that she literally lost her dignity in front of everyone, she only cared about her country, her homeland, and that just shows how selfless she is.

4. the last scene was probably the most badass out of the entire movie. again, plotting a scheme within minutes in attempt to save the emperor, coming up with ways to get into the palace, get into the emperor's room, and revealing her identity as ping to shan yu to save li shang again. best part was, the only weapon she had in her hand was a fan, it not only symbolized her identity as a female, but also the fact that she was a female in the army. (fucking pulling the sword out of the fan was so badass i need to insert the gif here)

everything about that scene was perfect. it wasn't entirely serious, some ridiculous humor was implemented there and there, but also allowed for one final demonstration of how strong mulan is, not physically, but mentally.

5. actually, this last one might be the most badass. she didn't bring honor to her family (and herself) by marrying a man, starting a family like what the society expected her to, she earned a standing ovation, a collective bow from the entire country of china and the emperor with her own hands. best part? she didn't care about the honor, she didn't care about the fact that she was offered a position in the council as a female, she only cared about her family, her father. love was what made her strong. gracefulness, bravery, loyalty, and intelligence are just a few of her qualities. not only was the character full of great qualities, her imperfections were also shown, her stubbornness and clumsiness. it felt as though she was a real human because of her merits and faults, and her character development throughout the movie never ceases to amaze me.

again, i don't want to go on forever about this, but one thing will never change - mulan will always be my favorite fictional character ever created.

my little baby is all grown up and ... and savin' china

#disney princess #disney #disney classics #disney movies #walt disney #mulan #disney mulan #mulan 1998 #thoughts #words

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fabricated-misslieness · 1 year

Text

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: miles morales x gn reader

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: miles and his kaomojis are so cute (and he likes stealing your clothes)

ʀᴇ𝐐: no ~ established relationship

ᴍᴀʏʙ'ꜱ ɴᴏᴛᴇ: idk why that miles pic is so funny; hold on, spot, I gotta tell my s/o I love them

☾⋆☆⋆☽

Miles stares down at his phone intensely, mulling over whether he should text you or not. You asked him to be your boyfriend recently, and of course he said yes, but he was still doubting himself. He wanted to see you, though, and his Spider-Man duties had taken him close to your apartment.

can i come over?

He bit his lip as he anticipated your answer.

ofc

yay (´∇ﾉ｀*)ノ

ure so cute

Miles instinctively covered his flustered face, even if it was covered by his mask. Acting oblivious is cool, right?

【・ヘ・?】

the emoticons.

my cute little bf <33

(⺣◡⺣)♡*

Holy shit. How creepy would it be if he arrived under five minutes?

☾⋆☆⋆☽

i had a lot of fun last night ヾ(＾∇＾)

i did too :)

by the way i'm missing a sweater

• • •

Oh no. He was so sure you wouldn't notice.

♪v('∇'*)✌

miles come back here rn

☾⋆☆⋆☽

milesss

milesssss

whatttt (ｷ▼⊿▼)ﾉ?

ure so cutee

and so cool

but i need that sweater back

凸(¬‿¬)

miles you child

☾⋆☆⋆☽

You took your sweater back the next time you saw him. That was fine, though; with how often he wore it, it was starting to lose its "yours" feeling. Still, he couldn't help but complain.

"It's cold."

"Is it?"

"Yes."

Simply, you respond by pulling him into a hug to share your body heat. "How does that feel?"

Normally that would be good enough, more than good, even, but he wanted to rub it in this time. "Good, but... it would be a lot better if I had your sweater."

You click your tongue and he only laughs in response. "I'll let you pick out a hoodie, then, next time."

If he wasn't in your embrace, he would be bouncing in his spot. Instead, he hugs you tighter. "Thank you."

If humans could speak symbols, Miles would've said ♥.

☾⋆☆⋆☽

I love this hoodie sm (●♡∀♡)

more than me?

yes.

miles...

┐_(ツ)_┌━☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ

( ；｀ヘ´)

( ˘ ³˘)

#miles morales x reader #miles morales x gn reader #miles x reader #miles x gn reader #spider-man x reader #spider-man x gn reader #🌸 // success!#💞 // darlings #🎟️ // atsv #🎟️ // spider-verse #🎫 // miles #🎫 // miles morales

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ivysangel · 5 months

Note

my head is empty, only jason atm so let's do this (i apologize for rambling in your ask box but the drabble i reblogged from you about riding jason has me WEAK and i just have to add):

i'm thinking about the first time having sex with jason. the both of you are more than best friends but not official yet, because our boy is feeling a bit self-conscious and self-deprecating ("you can do better," he says — no, shush you're perfect).

he trusts you so much but he's so, so nervous. he thinks it's stupid. he's died, decapitated crime lords, formed a team of people who could kill him if they wanted to, yet he gets hesitant with every kiss to your cheek, hand on your back (because the last thing he'd rather die than do is to lose one of the best things he's got working out for him). so, he let's you take the reins.

he gets so red, it's so cute. he's so needy for you — chasing your lips when you move to kiss another part of him, thursting into your hand when you stroke him so, so well, and letting you ride his face because he's been thinking about the feeling of suffocating between your thighs for so long.

jason gets a bit lightheaded at the though of finally knowing what it feels to be inside you. but he's still insecure — he's a big dude and he still doesn't trust himself fully to tower over you. so, like what you've been doing for most of the night, you take your place on his lap. and ride.

(only a minute in and he finishes. he didn't mean to but you just felt so good. you kiss his cheek and whisper, "no worries." he'll make it up to you; he always has)

for reference: x

ripping my fingernails off and taking a scissor to my hair. FRIENDS 2 LOVERS JASON TRUTHERRRRRRRR !! ughhhhhh "you can do better" is such a jason thing to say which is so awful bc it's literally a lie, he's the best, most caring, most loving friend/lover one could ever have. he shows it through so many things and yet he's still so insecure about your love for him. you've gotta show him how much he means to you every night until he gets it, until he doesn't doubt it anymore.

user chocolate-churros, you've killed me. hope ur happy.

#★ dirty laundry ★#jason todd lover #jason todd smut #jason todd x reader

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jelzorz · 3 months

Text

174.

The Celestial elves say no. Of course they say no. Callum doesn't know what else he expected. Did he really think they could just waltz into the Star Scraper and ask to borrow the Nova Blade and a handful of quasar diamonds, and then get them, no questions asked?

His head still hurts from that vision, that dream that felt far too much like that time he'd collapsed after doing Dark Magic for the first time, and though he and Rayla have been granted a room for their trouble, the Nova Blade is still out of reach, and those quasar diamonds are embedded into that crown the blind priest refused to share. Rayla is lying on the bed, her eyes staring blankly at the ceiling of stars, dazed and a little defeated, he thinks, because those diamonds are the only way to free her parents, and they'll never get them, not like this, and meanwhile the sword—

Callum makes a face. He's been pacing up and down the length of the room for about twenty minutes because there is... one more thing they could try. One last chance to obtain the weapon that might save them all and the jewels that would free her parents. It's just... not a particularly bright idea. Not a very legal one, even here.

"What are you thinking?" asks Rayla at last. She sits up in the bed, wary, exhausted, like even she doubts their mission here is one they can complete. "You've been pacing for ages. Want to share with the class?"

Callum presses his lips together. "I don't know," he says after a moment. "I just... We need that sword and those diamonds, there's got to be a way to convince them—"

Rayla lets out a hollow laugh. "Yeah, no. I don't think there's anything we could say to change their minds."

"Yeah, but—"

She flops back down. "I dunno, Callum," she mumbles. "I want to get my parents out of those coins so bad, and I know you want that sword to use against Aaravos but... I don't think there's anything else we can do here. They've made it clear it's not happening and I... don't want to get my hopes up for nothing."

He grimaces then, hating how hopeless she sounds, hating the wobble in her voice and the way it makes his heart ache in ways he will never be able to explain. There's still that last resort, isn't there? The final chance to get everything they need in one go, with permission or without it, and it all comes down to what they are and aren't willing to do.

But that would mean—

He shakes his head. No. It's stupid. It's dangerous. It would bring the wrath of the Celestial elves right to Katolis' doorstep. Ezran would be furious, but it would also mean...

He glances at Rayla, at the way her eyes are dull and unseeing with resignation. His heart stutters for her, for the thought of her happily reunited with the people she loves most, the brilliance of her smile and the love she deserves.

Hasn't she done enough for everyone? Hasn't she sacrificed enough to get just one good thing?

"Don't give up yet," he decides. His resolve feels like steel and jelly at the same time, like he would do this for her, no question about it but ony as long as he doesn't give himself the time to think twice. Rayla turns her head to him, confused, daring to hope, and Callum closes his fingers into fists at his side, refusing go home empty handed, refusing to let Rayla down like so many others before him.

"Get your stuff together," he says. "Wait for me here. When I get back, you gotta be ready to run."

She narrows her eyes at him. "Callum."

"You trust me, right?"

She sits up slowly, suspicious of him, of the resolve in his eyes. "Yes," she says after a moment.

He swallows, his nerve wavering, just for a moment. Then he nods and clenches his jaw tight. "Back in a minute," he mutters, wrenching the door open before he can change his mind.

He would do anything for her. He's done worse.

Stealing is not the furthest he can fall.

#callum in his nic cage voice: im gonna steal them #[insert national treasure gif here]#me with my head in my hands: he'd do it too hes so fucking stupid when it comes to rayla #in anticipation #rayllum

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rainydayz-nstuff · 9 months

Note

Could we get a continuation of the enemies to lovers Scarab x Reader? :eyes:

Of course!

I just saw little snippets of the last episodes and…. It’s perfect.

After the whole frozen in the ice situation, you just dipped and said “screw it, I’m messing with Prismo”

As much as you liked Scarab, you wanted to see him throw a tantrum because, and you’re honest about this, you actually want Fiona’s world to be legitimate.

You have no reason to harm her and her friends, but your job is to make sure Scarab does his job in a legal manner.

Will you report some of his mistakes?…. Nah, you’ll just tease him.

Like when he got split up into mini versions of himself.

You almost pisses yourself laughing. Prismo didn’t know what you were doing, and you couldn’t help him because Scarab had some weird feature that prohibited anyone from the outside to help him.

You lifted him out of the hot tub to show him it all.

You took pictures to use as blackmail.

You pulled out your crystal staff and made a portal right into Fiona’s apartment.

Ellis P. was inside and he screamed when you just appeared. You blew a small dust in his face which made him pass out.

You bent down and teasingly stuck a finger close to the kennel one of the mini Scarab’s was in.

“Hi sweetie. Having fun?”

You spoke in sickly sweet way that made him try to bite your finger. You pouted while pulling it back quickly.

“Don’t be like that. I thought we had something…” you pretended to be hurt before you cackled and stood up.

“Well, I’ll be leaving. Have fu-“ You were cut off by a flash of light behind you.

You slowly turned, your face frozen in shock as you saw a giant and disfigured version of Scarab. He was pissed.

You started to stutter before he cracked open the kennel his last form was in. It merged in with him before he turned back to his normal self.

“Uh….. can we talk about it?” You shrugged while your breathing quickened.

Scarab grabbed your neck, making you gasp, and he nails dug into your skin. You weakly smiled before he lifted you up and pulled you close.

“….you’re going nowhere.” He spoke with venom in his voice.

He pulled you forward and his face plates opened up. He kissed you deeply while gripping onto your skin.

You tried to grab his wrists while leaning into the kiss. Even though it seemed like he was going to kill you, you knew he wasn’t actually going to do it.

He was giving so much passion in the kiss that there was no doubt he was in love with you.

He just… sucks at the concept of love. So showing dominance over you is his way of saying ‘I want you to be mine, please like me back’.

He pulled back, his lips barely grazing yours while you panted. He studied you flushed face while you slowly opened your eyes.

“Scarab…” you whispered.

He then dove right back him, his grip around your neck disappearing as it wrapped around your waist. His fingers dug into your hips, pulling you closer.

Your one arm wrapped around his neck while the other grabbed his tie to pull his head down closer.

You had a 10 minute make out session in Fiona’s apartment.

Once he remembered what he was going to do, he looked at you before snapping his fingers.

HE PUT YOU….. IN A CUBE!

This mf put you in a tiny cube and he picked you up. He inspected it before placing a small kiss on the surface. “This is only temporary darling. I could never leave you trapped in here.”

You pounded on the walls of the cube in anger. Your vocal chords were starting to hurt because of how much you screamed.

He put you in his pocket and you couldn’t see anything. But your could hear it all.

You could hear the blows he endured and the game he was trying to cause.

Suddenly the whole world shifted and you heard him muttering small ‘no’s, each one getting louder each time.

You suddenly fell out of his pocket and you fell back in the cube. Fiona picked you up and saw tiny you inside.

“Hey kid, take me to Scarab. I gotta yell at him.”

And she proudly did. He got so flustered and embarrassed while you just screamed at him. You breathed heavily at the end since your throat was now fried.

You were let out of the cube and you crossed your arms angrily. He tries to reason and apologize, but you keep turning away from him.

He huffed before wrapping his arms around you, his chest pressing into your back. He tilts his head so he can nuzzle it into your neck.

He attempts to whisper sweet words in your ear as a way of apologizing. Your face grows flustered and you finally caved in.

“Ohh….. fine. But don’t think this will be swept under. I’m using blackmail baby!”

Okay I think this was pretty good. Think I’m getting the hang of things.

Thanks for requesting!

#cartoon network #adventure time #adventure time x reader #cartoon #imagine #x reader #scarab #scarab fionna and cake #scarab adventure time #scarab x reader #kissing #enemies to lovers #enemies #lovers

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hana-no-seiiki · 1 year

Text

YANDERE! BATFAM W/ MILES MORALES (BUT MAKE IT GENDER NEUTRAL)! READER

[ SERIES MASTERLIST ] [PREVIOUS CHAPTER ]

GENERAL CW/TW: Spoilers for Spiderman: Into the Spiderverse. Typical Yandere themes of stalking, violence, and whatnot.

PART SPECIFIC CW/TW: Soft, awfully wholesome scene with your father. Like seriously it’s like the third time I watched the whole movie but this particular scene still breaks me

current status: unedited

summary: you get replaced by peter last minute as the one that plugs in the goober. but you won’t let that happen. not when he still has a whole life to get back to.

Reply if you’d like to be added to the taglist!

WHAT’S UP DANGER

( PART FOUR )

“Aye, Getting old they doubted us, makes it that more marvelous. Sign ‘em up cause I’m on this vibes and I get synonymous.

What’s up, danger?

Aye, don’t be a stranger!”

Look, because of the Spiderman: Miles Morales game I’m a bit biased.

I don’t want uncle Aaron to die damn it. But yeah the Prowler does exist and you have been keeping contact with him.

But for the sake of keeping the dude alive though he’ll only physically come in act 2 of this series, we gucci?

Although this means you lose a lot of the development Miles gets from his death. I’ll try my best to make the events as natural as possible

Anyways, you come back to the spider gang hanging out at Jason and Roy’s apartment.

The gang essentially jumpscares you (thank god for spider sense) with a suit of your own.

Except it was one size too big.

And there were holes at the eye sockets for you to actually see through.

“Ehrm . . . Thanks ?”

“You don’t gotta pretend you like it, kid.”

“Ahaha…”

“It’ll fit eventually.”

You begin sweating quite a bit. Something felt so off here.

You notice that Jason was looking straight at you.

Which I mean, anyone would be m e l t i n g if someone like Red Hood was staring right at them so it’s a miracle you aren’t a puddle at the moment.

Perhaps it’s cause you spent so much time with your crush, Gwen, that you’ve pretty much gotten used to hot people looking at you directly.

Still, you turn away and hide your face. Utterly clueless as to how react in this type of situation.

The relatively peaceful circumstance doesn’t last long as everyone’s spider sense is alerted and the door bell rings. A mechanical tentacle shoots through the lock, completely shattering it.

“Cute place. Real homey.”

Oh great, it’s Liv.

“Get out of here, kid.”

“For the last time I’m a legal adult—“

“Mira todas estas arañitas. (Well, look at these little spiders.)”

Two more of Kingpin’s men show up, Tombstone and Scorpion.

God, fucking damn it—

Olivia spots the new flashdrive Peni made around Peter’s neck and grins.

“Oh, I think I’ll be taking that.”

You hold in your attraction to the woman and duck as a fight ensues.

Scorpion takes notice of you.

“Niñito dale. (Go ahead, little one.)”

“Prepárate a morir (Prepare to die) — Ah, man stupid pillows!”

Before you could get your body bashed in by the cyborg, Red Hood takes a shot his tail just in time.

“You good?”

“Y-yeah.”

Your spider senses were all over the place just like with Damian. What is it with black haired hot guys and their danger levels-

You manage to slip away, flashdrive in hand, courtesy of invisibility finally working in your favor.

“All vehicles in the area we have a disturbance involving multiple spider . . . people ?”

“On my way.”

Dick wasn’t the type to spend Christmas in Gotham.

But the tone of his brother’s voice — how broken and desperate it was — alarmed him.

It seemed that his baby brother finally fell in love.

It was about time really.

Although he was terribly curious as to who the person the Damian Wayne had fallen for.

You couldn’t just be a normal student from school right?

He finds around the scene looking terrified and scared.

A perfect opportunity to get to know you a little better.

“You alright there citizen?”

“Huh? Yeah I’m fine.”

“You seem pretty calm despite being in a police car and all.”

“My dad’s a cop. He gives me rides in one plenty of times.”

“Jefferson Davis, right?”

“You know him?”

“Well, it’s hard not knowing the guy who’s been looking all over for you. He spread the news to several police departments.”

“That . . . sounds a lot like him . . . “

“You don’t have to worry. I won’t tell him where you are. You need some space, right?”

“Right.”

Nothing outstanding so far. You were cute albeit awkward. But he could see that you were going through things at the moment. Early adulthood is a bitch after all.

You kept quiet most of the ride.

You were so distracted that you didn’t even question how he knew what school you went to and the location of your dorms.

“Hey, I’m a little curious, why don’t you have his last name? Family problems?”

“No, it’s something with my grandfather. I don’t think it’s within my place to share.”

“Well alright.”

You two arrive at your dormitory and you make sure to give the place a good old scan just in case you were getting followed.

“I’ll see ya when I see ya, [Y/N]. Give me a call if you ever need help.”

“Got ya.”

You realize that you don’t even know the man’s name much less a way to contact him.

But as you look back, the car he was in had already driven away.

Time wasn’t going to wait for you.

You knew that. You were trying your darn hardest to chase after it.

But you weren’t fast enough.

“[Y/N]. We came to say goodbye.”

“Goodbye? We can say goodbye at the collider.”

“You’re not getting it. You’re staying here.”

“I need to be there, so you can all go home.”

“They are going home [Y/N]. I’m the only one staying.”

“You’re taking my place.”

Your voice trembled as you say those words. And unbeknownst to you, Jason (and to be fair the rest of the spider-people are out there eavesdropping too) shivered as he heard your words.

“If you stay here you’ll die.”

“I’m doing what needs to be done. I just wanted you to hear it from me.”

“What about MJ?”

“Not everything works out, kid. I need the goober.”

“That’s not fair! You gotta tell them I can do this.”

It took Jason all his might to not reach out and embrace you.

He knew how it felt to be replaced. Circumstances differ but still, a connection was made.

Although he couldn’t be there for you now as you had to grow into the Spiderman you had to be, he promised to himself that he will in the future.

After all, if you two were partners in another universe, what stops it from happening in this one as well?

“It wasn’t their decision.”

“I’m ready, I promise— ah—!”

Peter knocks you down, jumping to the ceiling and dangling you by a web.

Jason clenched his teeth. As much as this man knew so much about him and his vulnerabilities, and how he knew this was completely necessary it still ached to see his destined partner getting thrown around.

“Then venom strike me right now or turn invisible on command so you can get past me.”

Peter webs your entire body and sticks you to the chair your roommate always used.

“Look I know how much you want this kid. But you don’t have it yet. I’m sorry.”

“When will I know I’m ready?!”

He then webs your mouth and takes the goober from your hands.

“You won’t. It’s a leap of faith. That’s all it is [Y/N]. A leap of faith.”

And you’re left alone, stuck with webs all over your body. Unable to move or talk.

You hear a knock to your door.

“[Y/N]. . . ! Uh . . . [Y/N] it’s your dad. Please open the door.”

Unfortunately you couldn’t so you just use thrust your body closer to him.

“[Y/N] I can see your shadow moving around.”

“Yeah okay I get it. I get it yes… still ignoring me. Look can we talk for a minute?”

You nod. Internally facepalming after realizing he can’t see you doing so.

“Look sometimes people drift apart [Y/N] and I don’t want that to happen to us, okay? I know I don’t always do what you need me to do or say what you need me to say but I’m…”

“But I see this - this — spark in you, it’s - it’s amazing. It’s why I push you but . . . it’s yours and whatever you choose to do with it you’d be great.”

You feel tears falling from your face as your father spoke.

All those days feeling the pressure of everyone’s expectations on you

As [Y/N], as the Spiderman of this universe.

You were an adult in age, yes. But in the face of all these events your youth and inexperience slapped you in your face.

You wanted to run away. You wanted everything to be over and done with.

But you realize, you were the only one who could do this. For the sake of the spider-gang. For Gotham.

You didn’t know if you were going to succeed but wasn’t that what life was?

A leap of faith.

“Look, call me when you can.”

“I love you. You don’t have to say it back though.”

And your father leaves.

You close your eyes. Thinking back to all the moments you’ve failed, all the times you’ve broken a bone or two trying to learn.

Time wasn’t going to wait for you. But why run after it when you can web-sling it up?

You use your venom powers to get rid of the webs and do you best to get to Jason’s place. He had to have an extra, better suit lying around right? Anything was better than what the gang gave you.

You ring the bell to his house completely expecting him to not be there and potentially having to break in.

But you stand corrected.

“Took you long enough.”

taglist: @vanessa-boo @w31rdg1rl @zlatolait-writes @ice-cream-writes-stuff @hakudaru @violet2507 @sleepy-maenad @yell0wdreams @humanoid606 @holybatflapexpert

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appalamutte · 11 months

Text

Eric turns into the baking supplies aisle, tapping his thumb against the cart in rhythm with the Christmas music playing overhead.

He hadn’t intended to stop at the grocery store on his way home; after slipping on a patch of ice in front of a school field trip on his way to work, dropping and shattering his favorite work mug in the break room between meetings, and being told for the umpteenth time that another client has gone with another publisher, Eric, if you don’t start showing improvement then we’re going to have to look at other alternatives, all Eric wanted to do was go home and take a long, warm bath. Start that food critic’s memoir he picked up at a flea market a few weeks ago. Maybe—finally—clean out and reorganize his disaster of a spice cabinet, something to take his mind off things.

Just forget this day ever happened.

But then his editorial assistant accidentally deleted one of their client’s manuscripts while performing a mass exodus of unused files, and just like that, Eric went and cried in the bathroom because the day officially got worse than he ever thought it could get.

By some miracle, Dex down in IT had been able to find an old save of the file on the system’s hard drive. It didn’t have most of the notes Eric added for corrections or changes, nor did it have any of his assistant’s annotations. Really, it was the most bare-bones copy, but it was the entire manuscript in it’s most recent glory.

For that, Eric would’ve kissed Dex right then and there.

He loves Nursey too much to do that, though, so instead he did what he always does: he hugged Dex tightly, asked him what his favorite dessert was (snickerdoodle cookies), and at five o’clock he took the Green Line to West End and walked a few blocks to the best Whole Foods in Boston.

“Now you’ve gotta be kidding me,” Eric murmurs, standing in front of the rather unfortunate-looking flour selection. Usually, there’s a complete inventory of all types—bread, whole wheat, all-purpose, self-rising, pastry—and that’s half of the reason Eric goes twenty minutes out of his way to shop here. Yet all that’s before him now is a couple of bags of all-purpose and a full row of cake flour.

Great. As if this day couldn’t get any better.

He pulls the shopping cart close as a family enters the aisle and considers his options. Normally, he prefers using a half-and-half combination of whole wheat and all-purpose, but after last week’s batch of pancakes, he’s out of whole wheat. He could get the cream of tartar and ground cinnamon now and stop at the Stop & Shop near his apartment for the flour, but that place is hit-or-miss at best, and with how his day’s going he doubts they’ll have any in stock either.

Maybe he could forgo whole wheat flour this one time and just go with the all-purpose, but he really does love the taste it gives, not to mention it adds a bit more nutritional value. Nursey has been going on and on about how Dex is trying to eat healthier after losing his college-athlete physique, and—damn, maybe Eric should’ve offered to make something other than a dessert. Is it too late to call and ask if Dex would rather have some homemade protein bars? But then Nursey messaged Eric right before he left work with a bunch of crying emojis, thanking him and saying he was definitely going to steal some of the cookies from Dex, even though Eric’s pretty sure Dex would give Nursey most of them anyway, and—

“Bittle?”

Eric startles.

Looking up, he stares at the man before him for a moment before his heart skips a beat.

“Jack?” He asks dumbly, because it is Jack, standing there in an old, threadbare Samwell hoodie with a ball cap pulled low on his head.

He’s a little soft around the edges and worn down in that way all professional athletes are after retirement, but he’s still unmistakably Jack Zimmermann with that small little quirk of a smile and the way his eyes are piercingly blue in the fluorescent lighting of the store. His hair still curls around the ear like it did whenever he used to let it grow out but there are flecks of gray in his temple now. His jaw, even after all these years, is still so pronounced but it’s not as sharp as it was back at Samwell, hidden under a layer of scruff. He’s still wearing god-awful yellow sneakers, except they’re a newer pair from a different brand, bright and spotless.

“Hey, Bittle,” Jack says, warmer and surer.

Eric uncrosses his arms. “Jack,” he says again, feeling himself smile, “gosh, I can’t believe it’s—it’s been so long! Jack! How are you?”

On a reflex, Eric steps forward to hug Jack, and there’s this absolutely mortifying moment where he realizes he’s going to hug Jack Zimmermann, the Jack Zimmermann he hasn't spoken to in seven years, the Jack Zimmermann he hasn't seen outside of the NHL Network in ten.

But then Jack meets him halfway, pulling him into a hug with both arms wrapped around Eric’s shoulders, and it’s like the last decade never happened, the weight rolling off his shoulders as easily as could be. It’s like Eric’s back in Providence, back in Samwell. It’s Jack’s apartment and the front porch of the Haus and the bed of Coach’s truck in the thick Georgia humidity.

(It’s being in love with your best friend.)

“I’m good,” Jack says, his chest rumbling. “Great, actually.”

He pats Eric’s shoulder once and with that, they pull away from one another. “That’s good,” Eric says, pulling his shopping cart closer so he can lean an elbow against the handle. “How’s retirement been? It’s been, gosh, almost a year now?”

“Just about. It'll be a year this February."

“You miss it?”

Jack tilts his head. “Eh,” he drawls out, “honestly yeah, I do. But, well…”

He gestures down toward his knee, and it takes Eric a few seconds to remember that Jack's retirement had more to do with an unfortunate check and less to do with the fact he was thirty-seven. Eric immediately backtracks. “Oh, shit—lord, excuse my language, I didn’t mean—”

“No, no, it’s fine,” Jack chuckles, shoving his hands into his pockets. “The knee has its days, but besides that, it's good as new.” He pauses. “Sort of.”

Eric’s blushing ‘till high noon, he’s sure of it. "Well that's good, then," he says.

It’s Beginning To Look A Lot Like Christmas starts playing overheard and they stare at each other for another awkward beat. Finally, Jack clears his throat. “But, uh, how have you been? I think Shitty said you were at…Morris…”

“Morris Press,” Eric says, pulling at the skin between his thumb and forefinger, mentally slapping his cheeks. He’s usually never this bad with talking. “But yeah! I’ve been there for six years or so now, it’s a really great job. Helping others do what I always dreamed of is just, you know, a really fulfilling feeling.”

“I bet,” Jack says, and he’s got the little smile on his face again.

Another, not-as-awkward beat.

“I mean, I never thought I’d go into publishing, but…,” Eric starts, and he doesn’t mean to ramble, really; it’s an accidental slip that he starts going on about his job and his coworkers, the projects he’s helped publish, how publishing his own cookbook right out of Samwell led to now, just talking Jack’s poor ear off in the middle of the store. Jack gives his little comments here and there, like he used to, and doesn’t once make Eric feel like he’s holding him, and that—that’s exactly why Eric finds he can’t stop himself. The easiness of it, how natural and comfortable it is. How the warmth of a dormant love flares somewhere in Eric’s chest because it’s different but it’s not.

He doesn’t stop until an older woman cuts in asking to get to the flour, and Eric takes a breath. “Goodness, I rambled there,” he laughs. “I suppose things haven’t changed all that much.”

Jack hums, looking at Eric with this unreadable, nearly intense expression that Eric would describe as soft, probably. If he looked into it too much. He’s nearly about to let Jack go so he can go home and panic-bake a pie and call Lardo about this entire day when Jack suddenly says: “Would you want to get coffee or lunch or—or something, sometime?”

Eric falters.

Then he decides that, maybe, this day isn’t a total bust.

#omgcp #omgcheckplease #zimbits #my writing #literally haven’t written in so long #and i found the beginning of this in my drafts #so i was like -- what better way to get back into the swing of writing!!!#anyway i know next to nothing about publishing. also if morris press doesn’t have an office in boston let’s just pretend they do

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tieronecrush · 11 months

Text

exile

joel miller x reader

rating: M

word count: 3.1k

summary:

i think i've seen this film before / and i didn't like the ending / i'm not your problem anymore / so who am i offending now? / you were my crown / now i'm in exile, seein' you out / i think I've seen this film before / so i'm leavin' out the side door

warnings: break up, discussion about closure or lack there of, talk about grief, death, self-doubt, self-deprecation, idk man it’s just sad

a/n: second fic for the folklore anthology!! hope you all enjoy, sorry for the sadness lol <3

It’s an early start — the crisp early spring air swirls around in gusts while the fresh blanket of dew squishes under his boots as he walks over to the stables. Lilac skies watercolor above, the last of the winter dawn painting yellowed strokes across the horizon as the sun rises, reflecting against the thirst-quenched earth.

Billows of his tepid breath puff in front of him, walking through the warmth of each exhale as he makes his way forward and across the paddock to the stalls. Rubber soles scuff onto rough concrete under the cover of the roof, neighs of horses and huffs of their breath vibrating their lips the only sound that fills his ears when he looks down the aisle to see you. Standing in the pen that holds Shimmer, Ellie’s beloved mare, you brush her chestnut coat as you prep to saddle each animal for the incoming patrol shift.

Joel meanders down the walkway over to the stable across from you that holds his own horse, Old Beardy, which he bonded with over lengthy patrol shifts. After the horse that Tommy had loaned them to reach Colorado, Callus, was killed by David and his men, Joel had chosen a similarly colored one in Old Beardy. It was another painful reminder he forced upon himself of what he had gone through — what Ellie had gone through — and what he did to get her through it. He never wanted to forget, not that he thought he ever could, and this was a small piece that added up to keep him weighed down by his choices and guilt every day.

It was that same guilt that burrows into his chest now as he looks at you while he saddles his horse. Nothing is spoken, not even a glance sent his way; completely ignored, the cold shoulder chilling him more than the early morning temperature.

You had left him a few weeks ago now — completely blindsided him when you sat him down in his living room and broke another crack into his heart. At that point, he didn’t think it was possible to feel any more fragmented than he did for the last twenty years, but you quickly became another piece of his heart destroyed by his actions. It had to have been something he did, what it was he doesn’t have a clue. But with the way you cared for him, loved him for that fleeting time, he would have never chosen to give that up and he couldn’t see a reason why you would either.

He had to know.

It was keeping him up at night — that and his nightmares that seem to have never ceased. Around here, he doesn’t have his knockout combination of pills and alcohol to keep his ghosts at bay, so he’s faced with them every evening, creeping in along with the midnight.

You would help him, talk him through, remind him of the good in him, even though he never fully believed you.

He misses you.

He loves you.

Crossing the aisle again after slipping out of the stable of his horse, he takes a breath before leaning his arms onto the walled gate that separates the two of you. Breaking the fragile silence that floated in the air for the last few minutes, Joel speaks lowly despite you two being the only ones around.

“Morning.”

Silence.

“Need any help with the horses?”

More silence, the thud of the leather saddle being thrown over Shimmer’s back clapping in the stale air.

He persists.

“Now I know you probably don’t wanna hear anything from me, peach, but I just gotta ask you — what happened? To us. I’ve been wracking my brain to try to figure it out, but—but I gotta admit, darlin’, I thought things were alright. That we were starting a peaceful life together.”

He lifts his arms off of the gate, standing up straight as he waves one arm out in a gesture toward his house — the house that you used to spend every single night in, the pieces of you strewn throughout. Flowers on the kitchen table, dog-eared books on the couch, clothes thrown onto the floor and into his hamper, your favorite lavender soap from the apothecary withering away in his shower marking the time you two were together. It sits untouched now, still as full as the last time you used it, another reminder of your absence.

“But then, just out of the blue, you were gone. You took just five whole minutes to neatly pack up the loose ends of us, talkin’ to me as you grabbed all your things from my house, wiping the presence of you completely. And when you left me standin’ in the hall, you left me with it, that guilt. And all I could do was just stand there with all this love that I needed to give to you, watching you walk away without any goddamn clue as to why you were leaving. It wasn’t fucking fair.”

Joel crosses the threshold of the stall, standing only a few feet away from you as his frustrations begin to fully air, slithering out of him with venom laced behind his tone. He doesn’t want to feel this angry, this upset. But this hurt in his chest hasn’t been felt for years and it’s killing him, squeezing everything in him out.

“And now,” he nearly growls out, “Now I hear around town you got some other man around for you. That you got over us so quickly, found someone new to spend your time with. Did I really mean that little? To be able to tidy up real quick and move on?”

A laugh barks out at that — he can see it on your face how ridiculous you think whatever he said, something he said in all that was. It only fuels the fire inside of him, boiling up to his ears and over to the point he must have steam coming out of him.

What the fuck was so funny?

Here he was, being honest about his feelings and you were laughing.

The steel toe of one of his boots knocks against the wooden walls as he kicks it gently, turned away as he starts to listen to you open the floodgates. Your hands pause their work, turning away from the toasted brown horse to face him fully. Hands on your hips and head tilted to one side, your stare burns the back of his neck as he stands away.

“Really, Joel? There’s nothing you can understand about why I might have left you?” Your eyebrows furrow with your own fury, deep creases that he has only seen from concern for him, his wellbeing, and Ellie’s. Anger is a new look on you, and it isn’t one he is feeling fond of causing for you. That storm of guilt rumbles inside of him; another reason to hate himself for making you feel something you rarely do, making you into something you’re not — bitter.

“Also, I don’t really think you’ve got a right to be upset with me and bringing up that stupid shit bein’ said around town. I left the bar with one guy, one time. The rumor mill snatched up that story from the few people that saw us leave. Didn’t even go home with him cause I couldn’t stop seeing you like a fucking ghost. I left and you are still consuming my brain. I still wonder every day if you’re okay; if you’re still even here.”

That whips his head over his shoulder, the fracturing of his heart felt even deeper, a cut to his bones from your words. He never knew that you knew — what he had tried years ago. Admittedly, the thought crossed his mind again once, and only once. It quickly dissipated when you stepped into his room, your tender smile eager to tell him about your day. He loved listening to you, being a sounding board and an observer. How could he ever give that up? How could he ever hurt you?

Apparently, he didn’t need to wonder anymore. He did that without even realizing it.

Mouth agape as you continue, crease between his brows shadowed as he takes a step closer to you, the pull of your red-hot rage driving him nearer to your molten center. It was the one way to feel your warmth again, even if it was more like burning at that point.

“I can’t believe that you would even give that gossip a second thought. Must be grasping at straws there. But I guess that proves my point, the reason that I left.”

You turn away to handle the animal again, shaking your head wildly and rolling your eyes at yourself. His own frustrations bubble again, another step closer as he walks around your shoulder to your field of vision. A head tilt of his own, a nonchalant shrug.

“And how do you figure that, darlin’? Please, enlighten me,” his words cut into the air, attempting to antagonize you in a subconscious effort to keep you talking, to keep you around.

“God, that’s so fucking rich coming from you, Joel. Wanting explanations, wanting me to open up so you can understand. That’s why I left. I tried so hard to get you to open up to me, to let me in, and to be even the smallest bit vulnerable. I wanted you to show me that you trusted me. When I met you before you left with Ellie, things felt different. And when you came back, you had been getting more and more closed off the longer we were spending time together. I don’t know what happened out there if something happened between you and Ellie, and I don’t need all the details, but I needed something. And I gave you so many chances — second, third, hundredth chances to give me something that could show me you trust me or could even grow to trust me, but that didn’t come. All I wanted was to help you, Joel. I care about you so much. I loved you. But it didn’t seem like you felt the same. Never told me you felt the same.”

A step away from him, arms around your chest to protect your heart — from him? From breaking again? He didn’t know you needed the words; he tried to show you through his actions, his touch, the care he took of you. Words never came easy to him, actions did.

“And now, you’re being this fucking alpha, masculine man stomping in here and talkin’ to me about how you hear I was with some guy. Actin’ like I’m just trying to make you jealous like he was some understudy or rebound. Well, nothing happened like I said, so you can wipe off the face that looks like you’re gonna go get your knuckles bloody for me.”

The crease in his brow resolves, the sour twist of his lips relaxing as he drops his head in shame. You were right, always right. He would knock the lights out of the guy if you said one more word — if you said that you had moved on for real.

“All of it, still being around you and being reminded of you all the time, it feels like I’m trying to balance again on breaking branches. And every time I see you around, in person or in my head like a shadow following me around, those eyes — your stupid brown eyes pleading with me, they just add insult to injury.”

“I wanted to help you, Joel, to just be there to help you mend, even a little bit. But you never gave me a chance.”

A sigh slips from his lips, barely audible. You turn away as he steps toward you, tender eyes and gentle touch resting on your shoulder. When you don’t recoil, one of his rough, work-worn hands grabs your chin between his thumb and index finger, turning your head to meet his eyes as he quietly speaks, lower than the whole conversation has been.

“I never knew that is what you were worried about, darlin’. I’m fine, there wasn’t anything that happened between Ellie and I ‘cept that ambush at the hospital that I told you about. I didn’t think I was actin’ any differently than before.”

A scoff, shaking your head out of his grasp and pushing your hands against his chest to separate. You slip away, crossing the stall to grab more gear to dress the horse in.

“You are unbelievable.”

Now he’s really getting annoyed.

“What? What is so unbelievable?” His voice booms, echoing a bit in the empty horse barn, biting back his tongue as you close your eyes tightly. He opens his mouth to apologize for raising his voice, but your raised hand stops him.

“It’s obvious you are not fine, Joel, and you can’t even admit it now after I’ve told you that all I wanted was for you to be open. You can stop running. Slow down. Live. You don’t have to keep punishing yourself in silence.”

He scoffs and shakes his head, looking away as he works his jaw back and forth before he turns to you again, “I couldn’t read your mind! All this time, I never learned to read your mind. I can’t read Ellie’s mind — I can’t figure it out with either of you. Two of the most important people, two of the handful of people that I am still around for, have distanced themselves from me and I can’t seem to pull myself together to figure it out. I feel like I’m drowning out here on my own and I’m not even being thrown a fucking life raft. You never gave me time to turn things around, you never gave me a warning sign of what was goin’ on.”

The tightness in your shoulders falls, curling you smaller into yourself, and there goes another crack in his heart. Broken like old pavement when the Earth shifts, takes destroying it all to rebuild it.

Tired. You look so tired, and he aches with the thought that he’s exhausted you, even away. What is he going to do if he is open with you? Isn’t he going to be more of a burden?

No, he wouldn’t let himself. He would be honest with you. But there is no expectation that he could be fixed, that you could shoulder any of this weight he’s carried for twenty years. It’s lighter to him now, endurance built to keep himself under it without getting crushed.

“Joel…I gave so many signs. I checked in with you every day, I asked you directly how you were doing. A lot of the time, after long days, you’d be so short with me. Either annoyed or just brushing me off and changing the subject. So when asking you didn’t work, I tried to open up more myself to try to get you to feel comfortable talking to me about anything. You would just listen and move on. Nothing inspired you to give me even a little sliver of yourself, of your heart. I closed myself off more and more cause it felt like I was prying with someone who couldn’t even care less about me. You didn’t even notice that we didn’t touch, we didn’t kiss, we were barely intimate with each other in those last few weeks — we completely drifted, Joel. I tried to give you so many signs before I couldn’t take it anymore. You didn’t even see the signs.”

Thoughts and memories rewind in his head like an old tape, picking up patterns in himself and in you that he has been too blind to see. All he wanted was to move on, sweep it under the rug and live whatever life he could with you, with Ellie.

“I’m sorry, peach. I am so sorry. I swear on my fucking grave that I had no idea this was all happening for you — I was too in my own head. My heart is hurtin’ so much without you around; knowing I did something to push you away. And hearing what you were holdin’ in ‘cause I was bein’ too closed, too selfish to see what was wrong? It is destroyin’ me. I’m sorry, sweetheart. I really am.”

No response is given to him. He watches as you bend your arms, lifting them to press the backs against your eyes. They turn and run over your face, an ache in him to reach his own out to pull yours away, replace them with his own to hold your beautiful face again. When he speaks up again, he sounds like a child — soft, pleading for the punishment to end.

“Could you ever, I don’t know how to ask this really, but could you ever give me another chance? Would you?”

His eyes are glossing over, vision blurring slightly at the edges as you meet his gaze. A deep, exhausted sigh rolls from your chest, head shaking back and forth as your stare leaves him, running a million yards away somewhere.

“I—God, I don’t know, Joel. It felt like I was just there to give you comfort when you wanted it, when you thought you needed it, and that was it. That was my purpose to you. That you didn’t even want to try to open up, to build trust or anything between us. Things would really have to change for me to feel ready to try again.”

Another step brings him a foot away from you, the itch in his fingers too much to ignore anymore as he guides his hand up, caressing your cheek and brushing his thumb along the line of the high bone there.

“Sweetheart, honey, I’ll be better. If you give me another chance, I’m gonna do better by you. Gonna try more. I promise, peach. I’m not gonna fuck this up.”

Eyes flutter shut under his touch, the weight of your head falling into his gentle care a bit heavier.

When they open again, he can see resolve has been built. A defensive wall put back up after leaning in too much into the temptation of jumping back into the deep end.

“Can I have some time to think about it?”

Selfishly, he wishes you would just jump, dive into his waters with him so you can offer him a lifeline.

“Of course, peach. You come ‘round whenever you wanna talk. I’m gonna be there for you. Whenever.”

His lips press to your hairline, large hand stroking at the back of your head before he pulls away and exits the stall, crossing over to lead Old Beardy out of the stables to mount for patrol.

With his back to you, he doesn’t see the shaky breath you take, composure crumbling as you lean your head against the leather saddle, teardrops littering the surface.

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#writing #joel #folklore anthology #joel x reader #joel x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfic #joel miller fanfiction #tlou fic #tlou fanfiction #tlou fanfic

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mintkookiess · 1 year

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You and Miles lay beside each other on his bed, sharing earphones to listen to music. It was a normal afternoon after your classes and this had become your routine together even back when you were both just friends.

As the music blasted from your earphones, you began to sing along in a hushed tone, bobbing your head up and down to the beat. Little did you know that your boyfriend Miles was glancing at you, watching you sing with a small smile on his lips. Suddenly, he interrupts your singing, surprising you with a tiny quick kiss.

"Hey, I was singing!" You laughed, slapping his shoulder playfully. He only smiled even more at your words, leaning closer to your face, "I'm sorry, you just look so pretty." You couldn't help but roll your eyes though you returned his kiss as well, making the boy's eyes glisten in delight.

You laid back down and continued to sing, but someone had other plans today. Miles laughed before pulling you close against him with his arm around your waist. He couldn't help himself and ended up kissing you once more, muffling your singing.

"Okay, you gotta stop cutting me off when I sing." You pouted to which he only replies with, "You gotta stop being cute then." Before he went in for another kiss, obviously not sorry in the least for being so affectionate.

"You're lucky I can't resist you." You huffed, kissing him back nevertheless. "But you love it~" He teased, placing another kiss but a little bit more aggressive than the last. "So, are you going to keep singing or can we make out now?"

You suddenly laughed, shaking your head in disbelief. But then again, you could never say no to Miles when he was being like this. "Fine fine." You replied, and that was all it took for him to lean back on you, kissing you passionately and deeply.

You returned the kiss in delight as you both still listened to music through the earphones, but that was not important right now. You found yourself wrapping your hand around his neck, pulling him closer to you.

Miles couldn't help but smile at how easy it felt to kiss you as if he'd been doing it for years. He slowly pulled away, just taking a minute to really look into your eyes, his smile soft and warm, before slowly leaning in for another kiss.

However, the two of you jolt in surprise as the door opened to reveal Miles' dad. "Huh? W-What is it Dad?” Miles looks to his side, before quickly pulling away from you, trying to look as innocent as he possibly could. "What's up with you?" He asked further.

"What are you two doing?" His dad, Jefferson asked, looking between his son and you. "We were just uh. Cuddling." Miles played dumb, but it wasn't entirely untrue, and also not the full story. He looked at you with clear nervousness on his face.

You gave Miles a slight nod, "Y-Yeah Mr. Morales, we were um, resting from schoolwork." You said with an innocent smile, praying internally that his dad would believe you. Jeff narrowed his eyes, "I'm watching the both of you."

Miles rolled his eyes once his father left and closed his door behind him. As soon as that door was closed though, he was quick to pull you up, not wasting any time in kissing you before pinning you against the wall, his hands running along your waist.

"Miles, your dad could still be on the other side of the door!" You scolded with a little panicked tone in between his kisses. Miles only laughed and gave you another kiss. "I doubt he is. Besides, what would he do if he found us anyway?" He teased, wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling him even closer to you.

"What am I going to do with you?" You smiled, shaking your head as your arms wrapped around his neck. You gave up and pushed yourself up to meet his lips. "You love me like this." He muttered against your lips. Miles nuzzled against your ear, his mind going on about how he was so lucky to have you that he didn't care if his parents saw him being this affectionate with you.

Fin.

More of my Miles content here babes!

(if yall wanna be on my taglist feel free to let me know!)

#drabble #giggling #kicking my feet #miles g morales #miles morales x reader #miles morales x y/n #miles morales x you #miles morales fluff #kith kith #screaming #miles morales kith kith

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hippiegoth97 · 7 days

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Into the Fire: An Eddie Munson x Reader Story Pt. 11

Collage by me :)

Master List

Part 10

Tag List: @rafescurtainbangz @voyeurmunson @xxbimbobunnyxx @taintedcigs @mediocredreams

@slowandsteddie @angel-munson @eldermayfield @munsonsbtch @babygorewhore

@rattkween86 @violetpixiedust @bimbobaggins69 @purplehazed-h @morning-rituals

@eddie-van-munson @msgexymunson @munsoneightysixx @impmunson @mysticalstar30

@jenniquinn @oneforthemunny @succubusmunson @ddeadly-succubus @prettyboyeddiemunson

@sanctumdemunson @stalactitekilla @s6raphic @hellfirenacht @birdysaturne

@ohmeg @h-ness1944 @pretendthisnameisclever @ahoyyharrington @micheledawn1975

@costellation-hunter @josephquinnsfreckles @leelei1980 @yourdailymemedelivery @spacedoutdaydreamer

Content Warning 18+ Only, Minors DNI: swearing, tobacco/alcohol references, vomit, illness, anxiety, intense anger, crying, arguing, meltdown, parental issues/resentment, mentions of death, angst, teasing, smut, handjob, intimate kissing, sexual frustration

Word Count: 15.1k

Divider by @strangergraphics

Part 11.1: Here Comes The Rain Again

Saturday, April 8th, 1989

You wake up the next morning, head absolutely pounding. You groan at the sun shining in through the window, rolling over to snuggle against Eddie. But you realize he's not lying next to you. You hear him outside of the van and the back door is sitting open. "Eds?" You call him, realizing you're hearing him make some strange noises. You crawl over to the door, and see Eddie vomiting onto the ground. "Oh, baby." You coo sympathetically, hopping out to help him. You walk over, putting a comforting hand on his back as he's bent over. He would speak, but his stomach has other ideas. He throws up again, violently painting the ground with the wine and sandwich he had last night. He's trembling, coated in sweat as he's standing in his underwear. "It's alright, let it out. I'm right here." You try your best to soothe him, there's not much else that can be done until he stops puking.

He finishes a couple minutes later, turning to lean against the side of the van. He's very pale, looking like he might pass out. He smiles weakly at you, wiping his mouth. "Sorry, angel. I can't imagine that's very attractive to look at. It seems whatever Wayne's got has passed on to me. I feel like absolute death right now."

"You sure you're not just hung over? We did get pretty drunk." You step closer to him, pressing your lips to his forehead. He's burning up, definitely not a hangover. "You've got a fever, Eddie. We gotta get you home and into bed, okay?"

"’Kay, I think you're gonna have to drive though. I'm seeing two of you right now, so that can't be good." He chuckles wryly, trying to steady his dizzied head.

"Oh, Eds." You tut at him, helping him sit down in the open doorway for a moment while you gather his clothes. You hardly think you can take him home only in his boxers, you doubt Wayne would like to see that. You grab his pants, shimmying them onto his trembling legs. You don't bother with the shoes, but you help him put his shirt back on, doing up most of the buttons. Eddie abruptly pushes you backwards, which you find odd. That is, until you see him bend over to throw up again. You let him be, shimmying back into your dress and slipping your heels off. You also sort out the mess of items you hastily bundled up in the plaid blanket last night. You don't want anything to get broken while you drive him home.

"God, I swear my stomach is turning inside out." Eddie whimpers, and your heart sinks. You hate to see him like this, you wish you could make it all go away. But, he's been there for you when you've been sick, and now it's your turn to take care of him.

"I know, love. Let's get you in the van, okay?" You say softly. He nods, and you sling his arm over your shoulder and walk him to the passenger side. It's a bit difficult, you're not used to carrying his weight like this. You soldier on, for his sake. You open the door and he slides into the seat, slumping miserably against the worn leather. You close the door, quickly going to the driver's side. You hop in, pulling your door shut. You turn the key to start up the engine, when you realize you've never driven such a big vehicle before. Hell, you've barely driven your mom's car since she uses it for work.

"You okay, angel?" Eddie asks, noticing your uncertainty. You meet his gaze, nodding quickly.

"Yeah, I've just never driven something so big before. But I gotta get you home, so now is as good a time as ever to learn I guess." You sigh, before continuing. "You might wanna put your seatbelt on." He does as you ask, wincing with every move. His muscles ache terribly, and he can't stop shaking.

"Just please don't get us killed, that's all I ask. Although, the plague currently ravaging my goddamn insides might do that anyways." He groans, clutching his stomach helplessly. He rolls down the window in case he needs to throw up again. He's pretty sure your driving won't help the situation.

"I won't. Okay...here we go." You shift gears, looking as best you can behind you as you reverse onto the gravel road. You press your stocking-clad foot to the gas, you've never driven without shoes before, either. You manage to pull it off, so far so good. You put it in drive, taking things slow as you roll down the path to make your way to the trailer park. You would try to talk to Eddie like you always do on your drives. Given his current state, and your uneasiness behind the wheel, it's probably best to keep things quiet. You feel Eddie's clammy hand on your thigh, throwing him a quick glance.

"I'm sorry, Y/N. I'm sure this isn't how you expected the morning to go. I had so much more I wanted to do with you today." His eyes are so sad, he's practically in tears in his illness-induced delirium. He feels awful for ruining the remainder of your anniversary, and he plans to make it up to you any way he can.

"Baby, it's okay. It's not your fault. You can't control when you're sick. We can do everything you want and more once you're better. But right now, all I want is to get you tucked into bed and take care of you." Your hand briefly leaves the steering wheel to lay over his. This proves to be a mistake, though, as you swerve a little bit on the road. "Shit." You grab full hold of it again, and Eddie lunges to the right to put his head out the window to vomit. "Sorry, that was stupid of me." You wince, the sound of his stomach emptying itself is doing nothing for your hangover. You hold back a gag, keeping yourself together until you can get him home.

You're hoping you don't get whatever Eddie has. You've got finals this week and you can't afford to miss them. Besides a splitting headache and post-drunk queasiness, you feel absolutely fine. You don't usually get sick. Whenever the flu or colds spread through school or home, they almost always skip over you. Or, at worst you'll feel a bit oogy for a day or two. Eddie spits the remaining bile from his mouth, wiping it with the back of his hand. "Fuck, I really hope you don't get this. I'm also sorry for potentially infecting you." He slouches in his seat again, keeping his eyes shut as the trees passing by are making him even more dizzy. Every bump and turn on the road isn't exactly helping either.

"I'll be okay either way, Eddie. Don't worry about that right now." You reassure him, focusing on the road ahead. A little bit later, you pull up to his trailer. You hop out, running to his door to help him. There's some vomit on the handle, but you can't be bothered to care about that. You just quickly pull the door open, assisting Eddie to make your way inside. He shivers uncontrollably, to him it's like the world is made of ice. You walk up the steps and in through the front door, finding Wayne laid up on the couch watching TV. He notices you struggling to walk with Eddie leaning against you, getting up to help.

"What happened?" He asks as worry laces his voice. He can pretty much guess what’s going on, due to the greenish hue of his nephew’s face.

"He's very sick, Wayne. Woke up to him puking his guts out a little bit ago." You explain, letting him assist you to lead your poor boyfriend to bed.

"Ugh, please don't say 'puke'." Eddie groans, the mere mention of such a thing makes him want to ralph. His eyes widen, realizing it's going to happen again. "Bathroom. Now." He whimpers, and you two quickly get him there just in time. You're surprised there's still something in him to be let out, but he sure seems to be unleashing absolute hell in the toilet. Which reminds you, you're not exactly doing so hot after drinking heavily last night. You push past Wayne, running down the hall to the kitchen. He calls after you, wondering if you're alright. But you can't speak, the only thing coming out of your mouth right now is last night's dinner. You locate the trash can, dropping to your knees as your own stomach rejects its contents. You hear footsteps coming towards you, heavier than Eddie's. Wayne kneels beside you, stroking your back.

"You gonna be alright, kiddo?" He asks, thankful he's passed on from the vomit stage of his illness. He hates to see you two in such a state, he knows you had plans to spend a romantic night and next day together. He mentally curses his dumbass coworker, Kevin, who spread his fuckin' pestilence through the whole damn plant. Everyone has been out at least once this week, and some have even ended up in the ER from being so ill. And now he's given it to Eddie, and possibly you, too.

"I'm alright. I had too much to drink last night, I'm fine otherwise. But Eddie’s in pretty bad shape." You reply once you've finished, sitting back against the kitchen cabinets. You feel a little better now, actually. However, a glass of water and some Tylenol certainly wouldn’t hurt.

"Well, I'm glad you're alright. Mostly." He chuckles, helping you stand. He gets a couple glasses from the cabinet, filling them with water from the tap. He also retrieves a bottle of aspirin for you, setting one glass along with the pills beside you. "Here, I figure that'll help. I'll warn ya, it might taste a bit metallic. It won't hurt ya, I drink the stuff just fine."

"Thanks, Wayne." You happily accept the water, popping a couple pills into your mouth before chugging the whole glass.

"You wanna take this to him? I think he’d prefer you over me." He hands you the other cup, and you nod as you take it in your grasp. You walk back down the hall, finding Eddie laying in the fetal position on the tile floor. He's whining helplessly, squirming like an electrified worm.

You sit down next to him, putting a hand on his shoulder. He opens his eyes, looking at you hopelessly. "Baby, let me help you sit up, okay?" Eddie nods through his tremors, letting you position him upright against the bathtub. You bring the glass to his lips, holding it for him so he doesn't spill. "Open, you need to hydrate." You kindly instruct. He listens, apprehensively allowing you to tip the glass so a little water flows into his mouth. He swallows, the cool liquid refreshing his senses. You set the glass down, not wanting to give him too much at once. "Let's get you to bed."

"Okay." Eddie answers weakly, putting his arm around your shoulder once more. You manage to get him to his room, sitting him on the edge of the bed. You go back to the other room to retrieve his water, setting it on the bedside table. You help him out of his clothes, finding some clean underwear and pajamas to dress him in instead. You notice vomit in his nice shirt, and make a note to do a load of laundry for him while you're here.

You hear the phone ring in the living room, and Wayne picks up. After a moment, he calls to you. "Y/N, it's your mother callin'."

"Stay right here, baby. I'll be right back." You give Eddie a kiss on the cheek, leaving once more, closing the door behind you. You jog down the hall, taking the phone from Wayne's hand. "Thanks." You say to him briefly, putting the phone to your ear. "Hey, Mom."

"Sugarpuff, are you alright? I know you were spending the night with Eddie, but I just wanted to check in." She sounds worried again, like something else might be going on.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Well, Eddie's sick today and I'm gonna take care of him. I'll need a ride later tonight, if that's okay." You reply, wondering what could be the problem on her end. She knew where you'd be, and she knows you're cautious and have Eddie to protect you.

"That's fine, sweetie. There's something else, though." The tone in her voice is freaking you out, setting off alarm bells inside your head.

"What is it?" You contemplate a million possibilities, but you can't think of anything outside of your unrealistic anxious fantasies.

"It's your father, Y/N. He's...he's dead, honey." Your breath catches in your throat at this news, though you're not sure how you feel about it. You don't feel sad, nor really shocked, either. You haven't seen him in almost ten years, does it really matter that he’s dead? He decided long ago that you don't matter enough to call, or visit, or even send a damn birthday card to. So, why would it matter to you that he's gone? You've made your peace with it, at least you thought so. As far you're concerned, you haven't had a living father in a decade. "Y/N? Sweetie?" You hear Mom trying to regain your attention.

"Sorry, I just don't really know...what to say. How do you know this, anyway?" You ask curiously. Dad’s done a pretty good job of hiding himself away, moving across the country and leaving no forwarding address or phone number.

"Well...Angie called me. She said he died in a car accident, and she wants to have the funeral here. She also wants their kids to meet you and Dusty." She replies apprehensively. You scoff at the idea, rolling your eyes. Of course, daddy bites the dust and his whore wants you to meet his new rugrats. No fucking thank you.

"And what did you say? I'd hope you told them to fuck off." You can feel yourself becoming overwhelmingly angry. How dare these fucking people that stole your dad away from you have the goddamn nerve to ask for such a favor? You don't care who these stupid people are, they are NOT your family.

"Sugarpuff! Language! I said it would be fine, they'll be in town anyway. Everyone knows Angie, and what happened with her and George. We might as well play nice and try to make the best of it." Mom doesn't exactly sound thrilled by the idea, but you can't believe she would ever agree to this.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me! Play nice! I'd rather lick the bottom of Lover's Lake than make nice with that whore and her stupid offspring! You do what you want, but I am NOT going to that bastard's funeral. And I'm certainly not going to entertain this bullshit idea of a 'family'. HE gave up on us, Mom! HE walked away and never looked back! So HE can have his new family mourn him, I want NO PART IN IT!" You can't believe the words coming out of your mouth right now, you've never spoken to your mother in such a way before. Anger is coursing through you viciously, you just can't stop yourself. You decide to hang up before she can respond. You don't want to deal with this right now. You slam the phone back onto the receiver, the dinging noise ringing in your ears.

"Jesus." Wayne looks at you with wide eyes, unable to believe you'd use such foul language towards your mother like that. He's about to try to talk to you about it, but you just put a hand up to stop him.

"Save it, okay? I mean no disrespect, but I really just want to focus on Eddie right now. I'm sure I'll get an earful later." Your nostrils flare as you practically stomp your way back down the hallway to Eddie's room. You shut the door, careful not to slam it as you're sure his uncle really won't appreciate that.

"You alright, princess? I heard you shouting." Eddie looks at you cautiously, noticing your knitted brows and impossibly reddened face. You're absolutely pissed, even more so than the time you two fought about Chrissy. You pace back and forth on the small amount of floorspace he has, trying to get yourself to calm down. But you can't, no matter how hard you try.

You just see George's stupid face, glancing at you with no expression, as he packs his suitcases into his car before driving off, never to be seen again. No hug, no kiss, not even the words 'good-bye' pass his lips. You see the movers taking half the furniture away to the new home he bought with his whore a week later. You see Mom crying on the floor where the old couch used to be, wedding photos spread across the carpet in absolute tatters as she shreds them with the scissors from the kitchen drawer. You see little Dustin at nine years old, sobbing in his Star Wars pajamas for his daddy, begging to know when he'll come back home. But most of all, you see yourself at age twelve. Standing in your room in front of your vanity, wondering why the three of you weren't enough as tears stain your cheeks.

You're seeing red. Angry, enraged, frustrated, painful, deep, dark fucking red. You want to scream and cry and break everything in sight. You want to claw your eyes out and tear your hair out in clumps. You want to punch a thick wall of concrete until all your fingers shatter, bash your skull against it. You want to go to that fucking funeral, and break open the fucking casket, and rip his fucking corpse apart. You're beyond rational thinking, unaware of anything going on around you. You can't hear Eddie asking you if you're alright, you can't see him trying to get your attention. All you can see is the pain that the man who unfortunately provided the sperm to create you has brought to your family. The only thing that snaps you out of it is Eddie standing in front of you, holding your shoulders firmly in his grasp as he looks at you. "What?" You say as you're yanked out of your own head, almost shocked to see him out of bed. Your chest is heaving, breath flaring out in harsh puffs. You soften a little, realizing Eddie's concerned about you.

"What's wrong, Y/N?" He implores, eyes searching yours for an answer. You've scared the hell out of him, watching you move back and forth like that was like nothing he's ever seen before. From anyone, even himself. You looked like a feral animal, ready to attack the first thing that got in your way. He's forgotten about his sickness altogether, too worried about what the hell is going on with you.

"My dad died." Those three words are all you can muster, it's like all emotion has been sucked out of you like a vacuum. You've spent it all having a mini breakdown, you're surprised you didn't punch Eddie in the face when he stood in your way. You didn't want to hurt him, obviously. It would’ve been more of a reflex thing.

"Okay? I take it that's not all, though. You wanna talk about it?" He asks, leading you to sit down with him.

"I guess. If you want. I can't guarantee I won't become unreasonably angry again." You sigh, worried he might think you're crazy for acting in such a way. But he just holds your hand, lifting your chin to gaze at you lovingly.

"I doubt it's unreasonable, Y/N. I've never seen you get like this before, and I doubt it was for nothing." His tone is calm, void of judgment. Eddie can tell this news is tearing you up inside, he can't say he wouldn't feel the same if his own father died while rotting in prison. "Lay down with me, baby. Tell me everything." You do as he asks, cuddling up with him under the covers. You lay your head on his chest, and he holds you close with his strong arms.

"So, Mom said Dad died in a car accident. Angie called her to tell her about it. I'm surprised she even thought to do such a thing. She had no issue stealing him away from us, I didn't think she was capable of a guilty conscience." You speak bitterly, brows furrowing again.

"I take it Angie is the woman your father ran off with?" He asks, already knowing the answer.

"Yes, that fucking whore. They had a couple kids together, by the sounds of it. Real nice, it's like me and Dusty never even existed." You're startled by how amped up you're getting, hoping you don't lose control again. But you continue, focusing on Eddie's fingers lightly stroking your arm. "Angie wants to have the funeral in Hawkins, and she wants us to meet their kids." You practically spit those final words, they taste like poison in your mouth.

"What the fuck?" He says, surprised that your father’s mistress would be so bold as to ask for such a big favor.

"Yeah! Right? That's what I said! But Mom already agreed to it, for the sake of saving face, I guess. People around town know about her, and how she ran off with Dad. Maybe she thinks it's better to go so Angie can't spread bullshit about us to his old friends, or something, I dunno." You end on a shrug, nuzzling further into him.

"So...what was the shouting for?" Eddie's a little afraid to ask, not wanting to set you off again.

"I told her I'm not fucking doing that. Angie and whoever their kids are is his family now. Dad died nine years ago in my eyes. I have nothing to mourn for. I may have yelled at Mom, though, swore a lot. And I never speak to her like that. Ever." You tear up at the thought, you regret being so vulgar and mean.

"Jesus, Y/N." He sighs, a bit disappointed in you. You should know your mother wasn't meaning to upset you. It's not her fault that this is happening.

"I know, okay? I feel awful about it, and I'm sure she'll give me a stern lecture when she picks me up later. But, I was just so fucking angry. That bitch has the nerve to ask us for favors? When she destroyed the family we had in exchange for one for herself? She can go to hell for all I care." You shove your face against his shirt, letting the tears fall as frustrated sadness takes hold.

"It's alright, sweetheart. This shit sucks. I can't imagine what it must be like. But I'm here for you, ‘kay?" He coos at you, putting a hand on your head to caress your hair as you cry. He hates seeing you so upset, this whole thing makes him mad for you. You stay like this for a while, just holding each other close until your tears eventually dry up.

"I'm sorry, Eddie. I'm meant to be taking care of you right now, and here you are looking after me again." You sniffle, getting out of bed to do what you've been meaning to since you found him ill this morning.

"It's fine, love. I think ‘dead dad’ beats ‘stomach flu’ in a relationship." He smiles at you, sitting up against the headboard.

"If you say so. I'm gonna take your temperature and get you some soup. Drink your water, okay?" You instruct him, kicking into nurse mode. You're hiding again, giving in to that familiar reflex. You've told him pretty much everything, but there's something else. Part of you wants to go to the funeral, to let everyone know just how 'great' their friend/husband/father was. You doubt you'll be allowed to speak your piece, that's typically not on the agenda in the ceremony of mourning.

You go back to the kitchen, looking around the pantry for a can of chicken noodle soup. You locate one, opening it up and pouring the contents into a pot to heat up on the stove. Once it's ready, you transfer it to a bowl, bringing it back to Eddie on a tray along with some saltines and a glass of apple juice. "For me? You shouldn't have." He jokes, though he's not sure he'll be able to keep the food down for long. You seem off to him still, he's not sure why. But he's not gonna let you close yourself off, especially not with something like this. "Baby, what's wrong? And do not say 'nothing'." He says as you place the tray of food on his lap. Your eyes meet his, annoyed by how deadly serious he is.

You sigh, he's developed a knack for being so painfully intuitive with you. "Just a second, I gotta find your thermometer." You're stalling, leaving once more to dig through his medicine cabinet. You find what you're looking for, returning to his bedside to stick it in his mouth. He grunts at the sudden action, glaring at you as he holds the glass rod under his tongue. "Oh, hush." You sit sideways next to him, waiting for the reading. Eddie's eyes refuse to leave yours. He wants you to spill it, now. "Alright, alright! Stop staring at me like that, dammit!" You exclaim, his persistence is so irritating sometimes. "Look, much as I hate the whole situation, part of me wants to go. Not to meet Angie, not to meet her kids. But to tell everyone how awful of a person Dad is for leaving. Fat chance of that happening, though." You look down at your hands, picking your cuticles.

"Probably not. People don't take kindly to disrespecting the dead." Eddie says, taking the thermometer out of his mouth. He hands it to you, letting you read it. 100 degrees exactly, definitely a fever.

"Disrespect? I'd call it deserved." You retort, setting the thermometer on the nightstand.

"Sweetheart, I whole-heartedly agree with you. You should have every right to say what you want about him, but I can't imagine Angie or those kids would like to hear something like that. Would you, if you were in their place?"

You think about it for a moment, you've never considered how they might feel. It can't be easy for them, you're sure they loved him a lot. But his departure broke your family's hearts, and you feel like someone needs to pay. "I guess not. But, that doesn't change what he did, Eddie." You don't want to budge on this, you don't want to make nice and play pretend. You feel like you're owed the opportunity to say what's on your mind, after so many years of biting your tongue.

"Of course not, angel. I'm not trying to justify what he did at all, far from it. I'm just worried that in your little crusade for justice you're having in your head, you might end up hurting someone else. And that's not right, either." Your own temperature seems to be rising, at least in the way of your emotions. You're getting aggravated again, you don't want to sit and moralize about how right or wrong what you want is.

"Well, maybe I don't want to be right. I'm always doing that, what's 'right'. Holding my tongue, staying out of trouble, nose dug deep in my textbooks. Such a well-behaved girl, sweet little Y/N wouldn't hurt a fly." You speak maliciously, though it's not directed at him. His eyes widen as you speak, realizing you're ramping up again. "Maybe I want to be a bitch for once. Make them feel just a sliver of what I've felt for nine fucking years. Sounds plenty fair to me." Your nails dig into your knees, making holes in your stockings. You're nearing the boiling point again, breathing so hard it almost hurts. You hate feeling so out of control, it’s like you're going insane.

Eddie reaches over to touch your arm."Sweetheart一" You shrug him off, standing up again.

"I gotta go." You blurt as you try desperately to not break down crying again.

"What? Why?" He asks, confused as to what's happening. He doesn't want you to leave. You shouldn't be alone right now.

"I just...don't like how I'm being right now, okay? I-I need to breathe, get some air. I'm gonna walk home. I gotta apologize to Mom anyway, deal with whatever shit-show is going on with all that. Yeah." You're talking too fast, frantically coming up with an escape plan. You don't want to leave Eddie like this, but you can't be around him right now.

"Y/N一" He's about to plead with you, but you just shake your head.

"Don't beg me to stay, okay? I can't take that right now. I want to take care of you, but my mind is in an awful, ugly place. I sound like a monster and I don't want you to hate me." You explain, needing him to understand.

"I could never hate you, princess." He insists, begging with his eyes for you to come back to him.

"You don't know that, Eds." You reply without thinking, taking both of you aback with the words. You shake your head again, regaining focus. "But that's not the point. Point is, I need to leave right now. I'm too angry to be a good nurse, and it's not going to simmer down anytime soon. I'm not hiding, I swear. Eat your soup, drink your juice, alright? And call me later if you're up to it, or I'll call you. Whichever. I'm gonna get my things from the van, and I'll put the keys in the glove compartment, or something."

"Y/N." He's about to get out of bed, but you put a hand on his leg to stop him.

"Stay in bed. You need to rest. You don't need to deal with me acting like this right now, I'll be okay. I promise." You go over to him, leaning down to press a kiss on his hot forehead. "I'll visit you tomorrow, darling. I love you."

"I love you too, princess. Please call me when you get home? I wanna make sure you get there safe." He hates this day. Him being sick, your dad dying, and now you're leaving him earlier than you planned. He's always been worried about you, but today is something else. You're so angry, bitter, violent, even. It scares him, but he’s aware it's nothing compared to how you feel about yourself. It must be absolute hell inside your brain, all kinds of overwhelming emotions clashing against one another. His heart breaks for you, he can't help a couple tears falling from his own eyes on your behalf. He cares so deeply about you, although he knows you need a little time on your own. You've gotten to a point where you won't run away for the sake of not talking things through. He trusts your choice, even if he doesn't like it.

"Oh, Eddie. Don't cry, I'll be okay. I'll call you as soon as I walk through the front door." You reassure him as your own waterworks start up again.

"I just hate being away from you. You mean everything to me. And I don't like seeing you so upset, you deserve to be happy, love." He cups your cheek, gazing at you meaningfully. You lean in to kiss him, but he holds you back. "I don't want you to get sick, baby."

"I don't care about that. With all the kissing and fucking yesterday, I'm already doomed. Now, kiss me goodbye, please?" You bite your lip, though it trembles between your teeth from crying. He lets you make contact with him, your salty tears mingling together on each other's cheeks. Today has been a whirlwind for both of you, and it takes everything in you to pull away until you come back tomorrow. "I love you, Eddie." You say with a shuddering breath, resting your forehead against his.

"I love you too, Y/N. So much." His voice is strained, the sting of stomach acid and tears takes a toll after a while. He can't stand the idea of you leaving right now. He'd pull you onto him and not let go, if it wouldn't spill hot soup everywhere.

"Okay." You sigh, standing up to separate yourself. "I'm gonna go, but I'll call, and I'll be back tomorrow to spend the whole day with you."

"Promise?" He asks, giving you his best puppy eyes. You giggle at his gesture. He’s highly capable of making you smile, even at your lowest points.

"I promise. Eat, rest, and no smoking until you're better!" You instruct, pointing a finger at him. He grumbles at that last part, but agrees that it's probably best. You step to the doorway, looking back at him one last time. "Goodbye, Eddie."

"Bye, love. Be careful out there." You nod, closing the door behind you and making one final trip down the hall. Wayne's digging around in the fridge now, looking for something to eat.

"Back again, huh? What's the little prince need this time?" He speaks jokingly, until he sees your red, puffy face. "You okay, darlin'?"

"Yeah, I am. I'm just gonna go home for now, apologize to my mother. I'll call Eddie when I make it back home, and come by again tomorrow." You explain, before heading for the door.

"Good. I was a little worried there's some trouble in paradise."

"No, no. Nothing like that, just dumb family stuff. Believe me, I have no intention of letting Eddie go anytime soon. Or maybe ever." You muse, smiling for the first time in hours. He chuckles at your words, more than glad to see how much you love his nephew.

"That's what I like to hear. He says the same thing 'bout you every day. And I know it's too early to have any kinda marriage talk, but seein' the way you've made ‘im happy? Well, let's just say I'd be proud to call you my niece."

"Thanks, that means a lot." You're not sure how else to respond to his statement, but it's very sweet.

"And I hope whatever it is you got goin' on gets better, Y/N. You're a sweet girl, and it pains me to see a pretty face so sad." He shows deep concern for you, you’re looking a little ragged. Your hair is messy, your makeup smudged and streaked down your face, your dress wrinkled, and a few holes in your stockings.

"I appreciate that, Wayne. You're very kind. I'm gonna head home now. Can you make sure he doesn't smoke in there? I have an inkling he might try to do it when I'm not here." You laugh, already imagining Eddie lighting up the second he hears the front door close.

"No problem, darlin'. Be safe out there, alright?" He's always so kind to you, treating you like you belong here. The second Eddie brought you home, it was like you were family to him. Who knows, maybe you will be one day.

"I will, don't worry." You pull open the front door, stepping out into the early afternoon sun. It's pretty warm out today, it shouldn't be a bad walk home. You go to the van to retrieve your things, hiding the keys in the glove compartment like you said you would. You put on your heels, it's slightly better than going barefoot.

The walk takes longer than you expect, but you suppose that's what you need right now. Lots of solitary time to navigate the storm of emotions swimming around your head. You cry for a while as you walk, watering the grass with your tears. You miss Eddie already, and it makes you want to turn back. But you also miss your mom, and she needs you just a little bit more right now. You're very angry as well, grumbling to yourself every now and again when nobody's around. You hate your father, but you've never really thought about it much until now. You hate what he did, and that he started a whole new family. And going by what Angie wants, he talked about you like you were still in his life. Bastard. He sure as hell didn't act like it, but had no problem using you in conversation when it was convenient for him. You find yourself walking up your driveway about an hour later, your body getting you home on autopilot. "Sugarpuff?" Mom asks as she sees you stumble in the front door.

"Jesus, are you alright?" Dustin pipes up, noticing how fucked up you look. You slip your shoes off, not realizing the walk has left you blistered and bleeding. You toss the heels haphazardly on the shoe rack, not caring where they land.

"You look terrible, Y/N. What happened?" Mom rushes over to you, taking you in a big hug. You tense up in her arms, before relaxing into the embrace. You burst into tears again, burying your face against her chest.

"I'm sorry, Mom. I'm sorry for yelling and swearing at you. I'm sorry for being so mean一" you frantically apologize, unable to stop as you choke on your words.

"Honey, it's okay. Shh, it's okay." She strokes your back, trying to calm you down. Dustin joins the hug beside you, holding the three of you together in a nice warm bundle. You can hear them crying, too. It's just one big blubbering day for everyone, apparently. You're tired of the tears, but it's all you can manage. Your head hurts, and your stomach is cramping as you haven't eaten anything yet. And you suppose you need to know what the plan with all the funeral bullshit is, to know who or what to avoid, and when.

"Okay, I need to call Eddie. I also need to shower and eat something. I haven't had anything all day. And then you can tell me what the hell Angie wants." You wriggle out of the huddle, picking up the phone after stating your plan.

"So things are okay with Eddie, then? I was a little worried, given the state you're in." Mom says, breathing a sigh of relief that you're not nursing a broken heart.

"He's fine, I didn't wanna leave him when he's sick. But I'm needed more here." You dial his number, hearing it ring three times before being picked up. Wayne answers.

"Yello?" His gruff tone comes through the receiver.

"Hey, Wayne. It's Y/N, is Eddie awake?" You ask, hoping he is. You need to hear his voice again.

"Yeah, lemme get 'im for ya." He sets the phone down, you hear his footsteps recede down the hall. A moment later, Eddie picks up.

"Hey, angel. You get home alright?" He sounds so tired, you hope you didn't wake him.

"Yeah, I'm okay. My feet hurt, but it's fine. How are you doing? Did you eat your soup?"

"Yes, my love. Drank all my juice, too, like a good little patient. I still feel pretty awful. I wish you were still here, snuggled up in my arms." Sadness stains his words, sending sharp pangs through your chest.

"I know, baby. I'll be back tomorrow.. I'm gonna bring you some stuff to help you feel better, and I'm not leaving your side all day." You sweetly promise.

"You better! I hate being without you, sweetheart. Wayne's great and all, but I don't get to kiss him or call him cutesy names." He jokes, making you giggle. "There's my happy girl, I missed that laugh today."

"Yeah, I'm sorry today kinda went to shit." You can't help feeling guilty. From an outside perspective, it would seem you put your temper ahead of caring for your boyfriend.

"Relax, Y/N. There's nothing to feel bad about. I can already see the look on your face, don't beat yourself up." He always knows just what to say to make you feel better. You can't help smiling like an idiot when you're reminded of just how much he loves you.

"I'll try not to, Eds. I'm gonna let you rest, okay? You definitely need it." You hate to cut this conversation short, but you both have other things to worry about.

"I will. Be kind to yourself, Y/N. I love you." He speaks softly, the words sending calming waves through your body.

"I love you too, darling. I'll see you tomorrow." You hang up the phone, sighing as you let some of the weight of today fall off your shoulders. Eddie has a way of melting your stress away, almost like a superpower. "I'm gonna take a shower." You announce, glancing in Mom and Dustin's direction. They just nod, faces red and splotchy from today's news. You walk down the hall, shutting the bathroom door behind you. You peel your dress from your body, it smells like vomit, soaked in sweat from your walk. The lingerie set isn't doing much better, so you leave everything crumpled in a stinking pile to be dealt with later.

You turn on the water, letting it warm up just the way you like it. You stand at the sink, looking at your reflection as the room fills with steam. You're an absolute mess, and you don't feel much better, either. You’re sure it's just a hangover. But, today has taken a serious toll on you. Your body aches from the miles you’ve traveled today, you hate the idea of standing up any longer to wash yourself. The hot water should help a little, loosen your sore muscles and wash away the caked makeup. There's also a sour taste in your mouth, so you decide to brush your teeth. The tingle of cool spearmint thankfully forces the bitter flavor to recede, and the shower is ready for you shortly after.

You step under the showerhead, letting the water rush over you. This is exactly what you need right now, although you've gotten used to having a partner here with you. You sigh again, cursing yourself for missing Eddie. He's going to be fine. You're going to be fine. It's hard to remember that sometimes, your brain finds worrying to be a rather thrilling hobby. You scrub the makeup off your face, reaching for the shampoo to clean your hair. You take your time, working the various soaps over your body to wash your troubles away. Once you're finished, you step out onto the cool tiles, wrapping yourself in a towel. You scoop your dirty clothes off the floor, tossing them in the hamper in your bedroom. The towel falls from your naked body, and you get into some comfy pajamas. "Alright, so what does Angie have planned, exactly?" You ask as you rejoin the others in the kitchen to rustle up a late lunch. Your stomach is begging for food, and you don't care what it is at this point.

"Come sit with us at the table, and we'll talk it over." Mom says, gesturing at a seat between her and Dustin. You grab some string cheese and an apple, something easy enough to eat before sitting down with them. "Okay, so Angie plans to have the funeral next Friday at 5pm. She'd like us all to be there, but before that she wants us to have dinner with her and the kids on Wednesday as they'll be in town to finalize the arrangements."

"Do we really have to do this?" Dustin asks, not exactly keen to meet some strange kids and hang around the woman who took Dad away from all of you.

"Yes, Dusty! We all do. I don't want to hear an argument about it, and I certainly don't want any fighting or name-calling either!" She warns, flicking stern eyes between the two of you.

"This is such bullshit." Dustin crosses his arms, wishing there was a way out of this.

"Language! Look, I'm not pleased about this, either. But he's dead, kiddos. There's nothing we can change about the past, no matter how much we want to. But what we can do is try to come together as a family and make a better future. We don't need to keep holding on to anger and resentment. We have to let it go." You're surprised she's handling this so well, she definitely took Dad leaving in the first place terribly. She cried for weeks, living off of wine and ice cream for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. You had to step in to take care of yourself and Dustin while she grieved, and that certainly wasn't easy.

"You make it sound so simple. But you know damn well it isn't." You reply, still easily sent into pure rage at the mere thought of moving on and letting go.

"I didn't say it would be easy, kids. But that's the way it is. I don't want to hear any more about it. There's not going to be any more debate or discussion. You're both going to that dinner and the funeral, and you're gonna be on your best behavior." Claudia stands her ground. You and Dustin groan simultaneously, acting like petulant children.

"Can I at least bring Eddie? Otherwise, I dunno if I'll be able to last five minutes without throttling that whore's neck." You ask.

"Fine! But only because he's a good young man that knows how to keep you together. Now, that's the end of it. No excuses, no tantrums, no nothing. You just go, and play nice for a few hours. Alright?" You both nod sheepishly at her, not wanting to anger her any further. "And stop calling her a whore, dammit! She has a name, and you will show her respect by using it!" She adds, putting an end to the conversation.

"Okay, sorry." You apologize, though you don't really mean it. Angie is a whore, no matter how anyone wants to dress it up. She went after a married man. Her boss. Your father. She broke up your family, and you'll never forgive her for that. But you know how to fake it. You've been doing that for as long as you can remember. What difference will a few more times really make?

Part 11.2: Bad Medicine

Sunday, April 9th, 1989

"There's my sexy nurse! I've missed you, baby." Eddie calls to you as you walk in his front door on Sunday morning. You biked over after a short trip to the supermarket to gather some get-well supplies. He's laying on the couch to watch TV, covered up in a cozy blanket. There's various objects splayed about his lap, a paperback novel, D&D stuff, his sketchbook, and various writing utensils.

"And how's my handsome patient?" You reply, putting your backpack on the kitchen table with a thump.

"Still pretty awful, but Wayne's all better. He's actually working a double today to make up for the time he lost." He says as you come over to him. He sits up against the armrest, letting you clear the mess away before sitting at his side. His eyes have bags under them, he must not have slept much. And he's so pale, with a light sheen of sweat glistening on his face and neck.

"Still pukey?" You feel his forehead with your lips, still noticing a bit of a fever.

"A little. Much less than yesterday. But my head is killing me, and I keep going hot and cold." He answers. You glance around to see if the thermometer is out here, realizing it might still be in Eddie's room.

"I'll be right back, Eds." You say simply, getting up to retrieve the little glass instrument. You locate it on his nightstand, just where you left it yesterday. You notice some fresh cigarette butts in his ashtray, the little shit smoked when you explicitly told him not to. You suppose it shouldn't be a big deal, he's twenty-three for fuck's sake. But it'll make him take longer to get better, and you hate to see him so miserable. You return to the room, standing next to the couch with a stern look on your face.

"What's wrong, angel?" He seems nervous, like he knows he's been caught. He swallows hard, worried you'll be angry with him.

"Eddie, did you smoke after I asked you not to?" You cross your arms, waiting for his response. He averts your gaze, your stare making him anxious.

"Maybe." He mumbles, cursing himself for not emptying the ashtray earlier.

You sigh, at least he's not lying about it. "Look, I know it's a strong habit for you. It's getting to be that way for me, too. But if you keep doing it while you're sick, it's just gonna take longer for you to get better." He scowls at you, annoyed at being treated like a child. You just roll your eyes, continuing your mini lecture. "You're a grown man, you can do what you want. I'm not gonna stop you, I'm only trying to help. You don't want to stay sick for longer than you have to, do you?"

"I suppose not." He replies in resignation, crossing his own arms now. Eddie apparently gets quite bratty when he's sick. He's lucky it's a cute look on him.

You know exactly what to say to convince him to stop smoking, letting a mischievous smirk spread across your face. You sit down once more, leaning in real close to look deep into his eyes. "You know....the sooner you get better, the sooner I can give you head and have sex with you." You tease in a sing-song voice, making his eyes widen.

"Fine! Fine, I'll stop. It's gonna be absolute hell, though, nicotine withdrawal is no joke." He grumbles, letting you confiscate his cigs and lighter.

"I know, baby. But I'm gonna make it all better, okay?" You take hold of his clammy hand, bringing it to your lips to kiss it. Eddie softens at your touch, he tells himself he can go a couple days without his smokes. "Did you sleep at all? You look exhausted."

"Uh, not really. Was too busy shivering and barfing." He yawns, struggling to keep his eyes open. You gesture for him to keep his mouth agape, gently placing the thermometer under his tongue. He hates the damn thing, paranoid he might bite too hard on it one day and hurt himself.

"I'm sorry, love. I feel awful for leaving early yesterday. Maybe you'd be better off today if I had stayed." Seeing him in such a state has made your heart ache with guilt, you couldn't keep yourself together for a few hours to take care of him when he needed you most. You feel like a terrible girlfriend right about now, letting anger take control like that was so selfish. Eddie hands off the thermometer again, though you're not sure it was in long enough to get an accurate reading.

"I would be exactly the same, Y/N. The only thing that would be different is you having a higher chance of getting sick. It was probably best for you to go home when you did. Speaking of, how are you doing?" He can tell you're beating yourself up again, it reads like a blinking neon sign on your face. He hates it when you do that, you're so hard on yourself when you don't need to be.

"I'm fine, not sick at all. I am kinda tired, yesterday took a lot out of me." You realize how silly you sound, complaining about being tired when your boyfriend is fighting off a nasty flu. "It doesn't matter, I'm here to take care of you." You shake your head and force a smile to convince him it's not a big deal. He's your priority right now, nothing else.

"Sweetheart, it matters to me that you're alright. I don't want you to pretend you're fine if you're not. I may be sick as a dog, but that doesn't mean you can't have something going on, too. I'm perfectly capable of being there for you, no matter how much I feel like death. How'd things go after you got home?" He insists you're not doing anything wrong, speaking calmly while holding your hand.

You groan, rolling your eyes at the thought of how yesterday went. You'd rather not relive it, but Eddie insists on being supportive. "Well, we were all crying in the goddamn living room before I called you, so that was fun." Sarcasm laces your voice, you're just so over all the crying at this point. "And after I had a shower and stuff, Mom said we have to go to dinner with Angie. Then, we have to go to the funeral. We also have to play nice and not cause a scene. I'm not allowed to call Angie a whore anymore either, because 'she has a name and I have to use it'." You're nauseated by the thought of having to do any of these things, not hiding the amount of contempt you have as you speak. You know you sound childish, like a surly teenager bitching about doing something you don't want to. But you can't help it, this whole thing is so fucking stupid and unfair. You look at him, wondering if he's judging you for acting so immature. But he's just patiently listening, letting you vent any way you please.

"So, when's all that happening?" Eddie asks, wanting to be there by your side if he can. He senses you probably need an anchor to stop you from going off the deep end, and he'll happily be that for you.

"Dinner is on Wednesday, and the funeral is on Friday." You grumble, wishing your final exams would go long enough to let you skip it. But alas, you have no such luck.

"You want me to go with you? That is, if your mom says it's okay." He doesn't want to step on anyone's toes, though he imagines Claudia won't mind. She's a sweet woman, always warm and welcoming with others.

"I was just about to ask you that. She said you can come, if you're up for it. And I would really appreciate you being there. Otherwise, I don't know what I might do." You giggle like it's a joke, but it’s not exactly funny. It’s entirely possible that if you have to go through all this without him, you might do something crazy. What that 'something' might be, you're not so sure. All you know is that it wouldn't be pretty.

"Of course I'll be there, babydoll. I know this isn't easy for you, and I wanna be there to hold your hand through it all." He says sweetly, God you love this man. He never hesitates to jump at the chance to be in your corner.

"Thank you, Eds. Although, I'm hoping you'll be holding more than just my hand." You bite your lip suggestively, making a bold move of bringing Eddie's hand to cup your tit over your t-shirt.

He groans, wishing he could act on the slight boner growing inside his pajamas. His eyes flick between yours and your beautiful chest, chuckling darkly. "Ooh, I get a naughty nurse, huh? You're lucky I can barely move, or I'd be taking your temperature." He squeezes your flesh a little, just enough to draw a breathy moan from your lips.

"Well, I am feeling a little warm. Maybe I should take off my shirt, that way you can get a better reading." What the hell are you doing? You can't believe that you're seriously leaning into this right now. Eddie's sick, very sick. You can't fuck him, much as you currently want to. It's unfair to wind yourselves up when you can't act on it, borderline cruel. You sigh, gently removing his hand from your chest, letting it fall into your lap. You shake your head, locking your libido away in a box inside your mind. "Sorry, I don't know what I'm doing. God! Why is my brain compelled to cope with stress by being a total slut?" You chuckle in annoyance, utterly embarrassed with yourself.

"Hey, I'm not complaining! I was even starting to feel better, sweetheart." Eddie strokes your thigh, which just smashes that box open again. You hold back another moan, you hate how easily amped up you are sometimes. He notices your change in body language, taking his hand away while clearing his throat. "Sorry, I'll cool off."

"It's fine, Eds. We'll have some catching up to do once you're better." You giggle, giving him a genuine smile this time.

"That we will." He laughs, already picturing what he plans to do with you.

"But for now, back to business. I brought some stuff for you." You pat his thigh, standing again to go open up your backpack. You pull out a plastic bag, which contains ginger ale, cans of soup, and a box of bland crackers. You noticed there wasn't another can of chicken noodle in his cabinets yesterday, and the saltines you gave him were kinda stale. "Have you eaten yet today?" You ask, glancing over at him from the kitchen table.

"I had some toast earlier." He replies, reaching for his sketchbook again. You nod, looking at the clock. Half-past ten, not quite time for lunch. Ginger ale couldn't hurt, though. You locate a glass, opening the can with a tsss. You bring it over to him, setting it on the table.

"This should help settle your stomach, darling." He smiles in kind, eyes still trained on the page in front of him. His tongue is sticking out as he concentrates on whatever he's drawing. "Whatcha workin' on, baby?" You ask, very curious what's got hold of his attention over you.

"Wouldn't you like to know!" He says with a smirk, eyes flicking to yours for a moment. You raise an eyebrow, wondering what that means. "You'll see, but you gotta wait until I'm done."

"If you say so." You say nonchalantly, but inside you're dying to find out what he's hiding. You've seen a lot of his artwork over the last few weeks, he's so talented it's unreal. "Do you need anything else?" You ask, unsure what to do now. You'd try to cuddle him, but Eddie would probably think you're just trying to peek at his work. Or that you're making an attempt to get sick to avoid going to the funeral.

"Nope. I'm just happy to have you here, sweetheart." He speaks contentedly. You nod, drumming your thighs with your hands. "Do you need something, my love?" He asks, his eyes trained on his work.

"No, not really. Oh, did you get the stuff out of the van at all?" You ask, trying to find something to do.

"Nah, I barely made it to the couch today." He replies.

"Oh, that's okay. I'll take care of it." You chirp, eager to have a new task.

"You don't have to, Y/N. You're not my goddamn maid." Eddie says dismissively.

"I know. I want to, chores keep my mind busy." You explain, picking your fingers. Sitting in silence isn't exactly best when trying to stay calm about the whole 'dead dad' thing. Eddie stops what he's doing when he realizes why you're asking. He lays his drawing face down on his chest to look at you apologetically.

"Sorry. I'm just not used to having people do things for me like that." His expression softens, and he takes hold of your fidgety hand. "Knock yourself out, baby. I’m sure you could use a distraction."

"Thanks, love." You lean forward, giving him another kiss on the forehead. He hums at the contact. In a sneaky move, you attempt to flip his sketch over to see what he's up to. He swats your hand away, tutting at you in disapproval.

"Y/N! No peeking!" He flattens his palms over the book, holding it down defensively. He narrows his gaze at you, almost glaring.

"Okay, okay. I'll leave you alone. You're just so talented, Eds. I love seeing what you create." You say sweetly, watching his cheeks flare at your compliment. You love it when he blushes, because only you make him do that. You giggle at his reaction, leaving his side to set to work. You retrieve his things from the van, putting the empty mugs in the sink and his books on the shelf. The blanket goes in the wash with his dirty clothes, and you get the cycle going. While the washer is running, you clean all the dishes in the sink left over from yesterday, drying them with a towel before returning them to their rightful place.

You feel Eddie's eyes on you as you work, and they're most certainly focused on your ass. You smirk at the thought, letting him enjoy the view from the couch. You turn around to peek every so often, but he's too quick at averting his gaze for you to catch him. You're just finishing drying the final dish, one of Wayne's mugs, when his arms wrap around you from behind unexpectedly. "Are you done yet, sweetheart? I've got something to show you." He speaks lowly in your ear, making your skin sizzle where his breath fans over it.

"Eddie, go lay down. You're supposed to be resting. I'll be there in a sec." You're surprised he has the strength to even make the trip over to you, much less 'unintentionally' tease you again. He blows you a raspberry, begrudgingly returning to the couch. You roll your eyes, tossing the kitchen towel into the laundry basket once you're done with it. You retrieve another ginger ale from the fridge, bringing the can over and pouring it into his glass. "Alright, let's see it!" You say in excitement.

Eddie holds his sketchbook in his hands, slowly turning it to show you what he's drawn. He smiles at you, though he's unsure his work is good enough. What you see on the page makes your jaw drop. He's managed to capture your likeness perfectly. The slope of your nose, the sparkle in your eyes, the rounds of your cheeks, your beautiful hair with the flower he put into it on Friday. Every little detail is flawless, you've never seen yourself like this before. "Do you like it?" He asks, dying a little with every second that you're silent.

"Yes! It's amazing, baby! How long have you been working on this?" You take the book from him, wanting to get an even closer look. He smirks, shyly rubbing the back of his neck.

"Since this morning. It's a rough sketch, really, I can do better with more time." He's quick to put himself down, but you won't hear it.

"Oh, stop that. It's perfect. Can I keep it?" You ask, pouting your lip..

"Of course, sweetheart. Anything for you." He chuckles, unable to resist giving you everything you want. You lean over to give him a light kiss on the lips, letting out a content sigh when you pull away.

"You're really something else, Eddie Munson." You set the book on the table, not caring about any germs at this point. You lay your body over his, cuddling up real close. You wrap your arms around his neck, nuzzling him with your face. "Is this okay, baby? I can move if you're not comfortable." You ask, realizing you might be acting selfishly again.

"It's more than okay. I love being close to you, princess. You're the perfect little snugglebug." Eddie coos, always up for a good cuddle with his favorite girl. He lays his arms over your back, stroking you mindlessly with his fingertips. You can hear his heart beating steadily in his chest, your own gradually matching his rhythm. He feels so nice and warm against you, his touch lulling you into a relaxed state. You don't mean to, but you can't help drifting off into a light sleep. Eddie notices your delicate snoring, deciding to let you be for as long as he can. He knows how exhausted you must be from everything going on in your life right now. Watching you have some semblance of peace makes his heart relax, and he follows you into dreamland shortly after.

You wake up a while later, craning your neck up to look around while blinking your eyes repeatedly. Eddie's unmoving underneath you, breathing quietly as his head lays against the armrest. He's still sleeping, and you try your best not to wake him up. "God, he's so cute when he sleeps." You whisper to yourself, wondering how you managed to get so lucky. As carefully as you can, you lift his arms off of you, laying them back over his lap. You slip off the couch, and stand to check the time. 1:00pm, he needs to eat. You creep over to the kitchen, opening cabinets and clicking on the burner as quietly as possible. You heat up another bowl of soup, and bring it over on a tray with some crackers. Your hand gently extends to tap Eddie awake. "Hey, I made you some lunch." He stirs, rolling onto his side with a groan. You hate to wake him, but he's got to put some food in his stomach. "Baby, c'mon." You persist, and his eyes flutter open to look at you.

"Hm?" He asks through squinted eyes, still working his way out of the thick sleep clouding his head. His hair frames his face in a frizzed out mess of chocolate curls. His gaze falls to the table, and you can hear his stomach grumble in hunger. "Thank you, sweetheart." He gives you a weak smile, sitting up and putting his feet to the floor. Eddie runs his hands over his face, loudly exhaling in an effort to ground himself in reality. He was having the strangest dreams, a fever will do that. And it feels like he's slept for a hundred years, though he doesn't feel well-rested whatsoever.

"I was thinking I could...run you a bath after you've eaten? Wash the sweat away, soothe your achy little muscles?" You suggest, sitting beside him and putting your palm against his back. He just nods and reaches for the spoon to eat his soup. You observe him closely, almost like a hawk. You don't mean to hover, truly. Eddie notices you staring, looking at you with a warm smile a few times. "Sorry." You say flatly as he 'catches' you for the third time.

"It's okay, Y/N. I'm not a baby bird." He jokes, his free hand going to your knee to squeeze it comfortingly. You giggle at his comment, he’s still a joker despite how miserable he might feel. "Have you eaten today?" He asks, turning the concern onto you.

"Uh....I had coffee this morning. Does that count?" Your tone acknowledges just how much Eddie won't like hearing this. He gives you a stern look, pointing to the kitchen.

"Go find something. Jesus Christ." It's not a suggestion, but more of an order. You do as he asks, yelping at his hand lightly spanking your ass as you stand. You have half a mind to glare at him, but you doubt that’ll go down well. You make yourself a sandwich, returning to Eddie's side as you set your plate on the coffee table. "That's my girl." He kisses your forehead, though he's still a bit annoyed at you ignoring your own needs for his benefit.

"I suppose. I'm not very hungry." The ham and cheese on Wonder bread before you is quite possibly the most unappealing thing on earth right about now.

"I know, baby. But you gotta eat. It's just a little sandwich." Eddie insists, munching down some of his crackers.

"Ugh." You grumble, and hold the soft, white bread in your hands. You force the sandwich down your throat one bite at a time. Your guts have been twisted up in knots since yesterday, making it difficult to eat. You're nervous about finals starting tomorrow, and all the funeral-related activities this week, along with taking care of Eddie. It's like you're juggling everything inside your head, balancing on a unicycle all the while. Any second, you'll drop one of the balls, and everything will come crashing down. You swallow the last bite, it hits your stomach like a heavy stone. "I'll get your bath going, Eds." You say quickly, putting your plate in the sink before heading for the bathroom.

"O-kay." Eddie replies, wondering why you're fleeing his side. He continues eating, he'll never hear the end of it if he doesn't swallow every last bite. You turn on the faucet of the bathtub, the water gushing in a thick stream as you push down the plug. Your hand rests under it, gauging the temperature to make sure it's just right. You don't want to leave Eddie all alone in there, but you sense your sandwich wanting to make a surprise return.

"Fuck." You sigh to yourself, trying to feel your own forehead. But your hands are too cold to tell if you have a fever or not. Nausea flows through you in harsh waves, flipping your stomach like a fallen surfer spinning through the rush of the ocean. You're not sure if it's the flu, or if you're just anxious. Your hands are clammy, and your heart is racing. You can't slow your rapid breathing, this has to be another attack. That's it, you can't hold it anymore. You dash over to the toilet, just barely making it into the bowl.

"You okay, princess?" Eddie calls from the living room. When he doesn't get an answer, you hear his footfalls coming down the hallway. He leans in the doorway, finding you on your knees while you throw up. "Shit, sweetheart." He tuts, kneeling beside you to hold your hair back. You tremble as your insides wring themselves out like a used rag. Great, he's taking care of you, yet again. You'd roll your eyes if your stomach wasn't clenching as hard as it can to empty itself completely. You finish a minute later, turning to lean against the wall as you gulp in air. Eddie leans over to feel your forehead with his lips, you soften at the plush feel against your skin. "Hmm, you don't have a fever. Are you alright?" He asks, eyes filled to the brim with worry.

"I'm fine, mostly. I've just been so anxious about everything, I think it's catching up with me." You reply, forcing yourself to stand and continue monitoring his bath. Eddie wishes you'd slow down, you're ignoring what your body needs, and it's hurting you. He joins you on his feet, forcing you to face him.

"Baby, I'm worried about you." He says, taking your hands in his. His thumbs stroke your fingers, but your focus remains on the running water. "Y/N. Can you stop for a second? The bath can wait." His voice raises, no longer hiding his annoyance. Your eyes flick to his reluctantly, and his shoulders tense at what he finds there. You pupils show exhaustion, and fear, and maybe a little anger, too. He imagines you don't appreciate him badgering you like a child. "Look, I know you've got a lot on your plate right now." Eddie starts, moving closer to put his hands on your waist.

"You can say that again." You interrupt, crossing your arms in defense. You're not really sure why you feel like this. Eddie's only trying to help, but maybe that's the problem. He's always helping you, it's almost never the other way around. He should be in bed, resting. Not trying to comfort you when you've gone all nutso again.

"I think you need to slow down, angel. You're so focused on helping me, you're ignoring everything else." Your face falls at his words, staring at the floor. There's a crack in the tile that you suddenly find very interesting. He lifts your chin with his finger, trying to get you to listen. His face hardens, jaw clenching slightly. "I'm serious, princess. You're all over the place in there, and that's okay. But I won't let you ignore what you need for my sake. I don't care if that means you're crying every five minutes, or bursting with rage, or whatever else. Either let it happen and we'll deal with it, or you have to go home. Understand?" He says finally.

You're taken aback by him suggesting that he'll kick you out. But he's right, bottling yourself up clearly isn't the move here. You still feel immeasurably guilty for having problems when he's sick. Obviously, you can't control when life comes around to knock you on your ass. The timing sucks, but Eddie doesn't care. He wants you to be open with him, and that's not asking much. "Okay." You answer, not sure what else there is to add. He nods, letting you go so he can undress. You turn away, shutting the water off once the tub is filled up enough. You grab a towel from the rack above the sink, closing the toilet lid to set it on top. You also pluck a washcloth from the shelf, doing everything in your power to not peek at Eddie's naked body. You set the cloth on the edge of the bath, in perfect reach for him.

You hear him step into the water, little splashing noises rippling through its surface as he sits down. He groans, his muscles aching terribly while he tries to get comfortable. You're about to leave the room to give him some privacy, when he speaks again. "You wanna help me, love?" Eddie asks, desperately wanting your assistance. He can barely lift his arms, washing himself on his own will prove to be a challenge.

You turn on your heels, meeting his gaze. "Of course, baby." You reply kindly, kneeling beside the tub. You tie your hair in a ponytail to keep it from dipping into the water, which makes Eddie cock an eyebrow at you. "I don't wanna get my hair wet, you perv." You scoff, lightening the air in the room. He chuckles back, his body relaxing further as the warmth of the bath seeps beneath his skin. You reach for the plastic cup that's kept in the room, dipping it into the tub to fill it. You lift it above Eddie's head, blocking the flow from his face with your hand to wet his hair. It takes a few tries, his locks are particularly thick.

"I'm lucky to have you, babydoll. You know that, right?" He says, eyes fluttering closed at the comforting sensation of you massaging shampoo into his scalp. He moans lightly, your hands feel so good right now. Fuck, don't get hard, he thinks to himself. What you're doing isn't meant to be sexual whatsoever. What can he say? You possess the ultimate power over him, one he doesn't let anyone have so easily.

"You say that, and I want to believe you." You speak honestly. That's what he wants, right? "I mean, I know you mean it. I just…feel like more trouble than I'm worth." His eyes open again, looking at you sideways.

"Never, Y/N. I promise, there's nothing you say or do that feels like too much." He says earnestly. Ugh, he's too perfect. You just nod in response, reaching for the cup again to rinse out the lather. You condition his hair, letting yourself relax as you admire his blissed out face. He loves having you by his side, and you love being here just as much. Your eyes slip downwards, finding Eddie's erection underneath the sudsy water. You blush, averting your gaze. Don't stare, dumbass. He's sick, and vulnerable. "I saw that." He startles you, making you gasp. Your cheeks burn in shame, but he just laughs. "It's okay, love. It's not a big deal. We're in an intimate moment. It's bound to bring out certain...feelings." Eddie clears his throat at that, also a bit embarrassed despite his own words.

"You always know exactly what to say, Eds." You smirk, rinsing his hair again before wetting the washcloth and adding some soap to it. You scrub his body gently, starting with his back. You watch his muscles flex, which gets your heart beating a little faster. His shoulder blades shift under his perfect skin, and you're imagining that's what they look like when he's laying on top of you. Dammit. You can't help the little sigh that escapes your lips, though he seemingly takes no notice. You move on to his arms, holding him by the wrist as you drag the cloth along his flesh. He smiles at you, savoring every touch you give him.

You take his other arm, having to lean over the water to fully reach him. Eddie stares at your chest, examining the outline of your bra cups under the thin t-shirt you're wearing. He bites his lip, wanting to bury his face in your amazing tits. You both come to the conclusion that because you can't have sex right now, it makes you want it more than you ever thought possible. The perfect torture for a young couple like yourselves. "This is so fuckin' unfair." Eddie verbalizes what you've both been thinking since he got into the tub, the whine tinging his voice echoes the one in your head.

"I know, baby. I hope I'm not being dramatic when I say it's killing me." You reply, letting his arm go to wash his chest. You've been avoiding this area, as it's probably one of your favorite parts of him. His supple skin, the tattoos, the light amount of hair leading a trail to another part you especially adore.

"Not at all, sweetheart. The feeling is mutual." He shudders as you bring the cloth to his torso, gritting his teeth to keep himself from pulling you into the tub with him. He feels so weak, and yet, still so hungry for you. It's an awful combination, really. You focus on the task at hand, forcing yourself to only see a surface that needs cleaning and nothing more. It helps, and you're soon able to migrate to his armpits. He settles down a little, his underarms are definitely not an erogenous zone.

You hand off the cloth to him once you’ve done all you can. "Here, I’m sure you can clean your bits on your own." You sigh, and he nods while taking it from your grasp. You turn away again, hearing him shuffle around uncomfortably. He squeezes the cloth out when he's done, setting it on the edge of the bathtub.

"All clean, sweetheart." He says, signaling that you're okay to look at him again. You do, finding wide eyes staring back at you. His pupils are blown out, all your touching has amped him up beyond belief. He's trying to think of something, anything else. But it's not working, and his cock is not settling down.

"You alright there, Eddie?" You ask, though you think you already know the answer. He slowly shakes his head, but he can't possibly ask you to do what he wants. Your eyes look between his legs again, he's still hard as a rock, leaking from the tip. "Oh, baby. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to rile you up like this." You tut, barely able to resist licking your lips at the sight of him.

"Not your fault. You're just really good at giving baths, apparently." He breathes heavily, and you know exactly what you can do. It's not much, not nearly enough compared to what you both crave. But it'll have to do. You reach your hand under the water, keeping your eyes on his. He's almost panting, anticipating your hand wrapping around his length. "Fuck, Y/N." He moans when you make contact, and it sets your insides on fire.

"It's okay, love. I'll make it all better." You coo at him. Using your free hand, you gently push on his chest to have him lay against the back of the bath. His knees breach the surface, letting you access him easily. You begin to pump him in your palm, eating up every little sound he lets out. You feel yourself getting wet, but you don't do anything with it. You can get off on your own at a later date, it's all about Eddie right now. "Does that feel good, Eds?" You ask, smiling warmly at him as his mouth sits agape.

"Yes, so good." He replies with a whimper, extending a hand to feel you up over your shirt. You moan at his touch, not caring about his fingers leaving wet marks on the fabric. You stop for a second, taking off your top and bra to let him massage your tits. "You're so pretty, angel. So fuckin' perfect." He groans, carefully tweaking your nipple between his pruney fingers.

"And you're absolutely gorgeous, baby. The most handsome man I've ever seen." You moan at the cool sensation of his wet flesh touching yours, gripping his dick a little harder in your hand. You're sitting on your knees, trying to give him as much access as you can. He sits up, bringing his hot mouth to your chest. "Jesus, Eds." You gasp, jerking him faster in your hand. He plants sloppy kisses all over your breasts, taking one of your sensitive buds between his teeth. His wet hair drips heavily onto your jeans, seeping through to your panties without a care. His hands move behind you, holding you closer as he marks your flesh. More water runs down your back, flowing directly into the little gap at the back of your pants. He's gonna get you soaked, in more ways than one.

"I wish I could be inside you, princess." He mumbles against your chest, frantically nipping at you as your wrist flicks expertly to drive him wild.

"I know, baby. As soon as you're better, we'll fuck as much as you want." You hold his head to your chest, his tongue and teeth feel so fucking good against you.

"Promise?" He asks, nearing his end as you stroke him even faster beneath the water.

"I promise. As many times as you want, for as long and as hard as you want. We can even use every page we haven't gotten to in that little book you gave me." You whine, wishing you could get off like this. You're certainly revved up, but it's not nearly enough.

"Fuck, I'm gonna cum." He grunts, his stomach tensing as his release overtakes him. Eddie moans against you, biting hard on your tender skin. His load empties into the bath, a sticky paste that sinks to the bottom. His hips stutter which, causing the water to slosh around, and his breath comes out ragged as his high subsides. Eddie lets you go, laying back down with his heart hammering inside his chest. "Remind me to get sick more often." He quips, making you giggle. You start to shiver, the water he’s dripped all over you has made your clothes uncomfortable to continue wearing.

"Absolutely not. As much as I love taking care of you, not being able to fuck your brains out is the worst punishment imaginable." You unplug the tub, and the water slurps down the drain. You help Eddie stand, wrapping his arm around your naked torso to lead his feet onto the bath mat. Droplets fall from him, landing on the plush material below in quiet taps. You hand him his towel, gathering both your discarded clothes to wash later. You go to his room, locating some clean pajamas for the two of you to wear. You're sure he won't mind you borrowing some clothes while your own hang up to dry.

Eddie sneaks up behind you, slapping your ass again. You yelp, whipping around to shoot him a glare. Your tits bounce at the motion, his eyes falling to your chest. "Goddamn, I'll never get tired of seeing these." His tongue plays at the edge of his mouth, and you notice his towel wrapped around his waist. His v-line is in full view, distracting you for a second. You snap yourself out of it, remembering that you have to wait.

He's just about to reach up and grab your breasts, when you back away from him. "Cool it, Eds. You've had enough excitement for one day." You tease, throwing some pajamas his way as you pull one of his Dio shirts over your head. He whines at the loss of a beautiful view, and you scoff at him. You slip out of your soggy jeans and panties, replacing them with some flannel lounge pants that go a little ways past your feet. You have to tie the drawstrings extra tight so they don't fall down, hoping you won't trip over the excess length.

"Fuck, you always look so good in my clothes. How do you do that?" Eddie asks in disbelief. You're not sure what he means. You feel like a little kid, the clothes that fit him perfectly are easily two sizes too large on you.

"I dunno, they sure are comfy though." You say sheepishly, playing with the hem of your 一his一 shirt. Once he’s fully dressed, you take everything that needs washed to the machine. You realize you have other items in there from earlier, swapping them out quickly and hanging the clean clothes to dry over the shower curtain rod. You start the next wash cycle, and take Eddie's dirty dishes to the sink. You contemplate washing those, too, but you think your body is finally ready to accept a small amount of food. You stick a couple slices of bread in the toaster, pressing the lever down to get them nice and warm. You find some peanut butter in the cabinet, something comforting ought to stay down.

Eddie returns to the couch, switching the channel on the TV. He absolutely hates daytime talk shows. "You feelin’ better, sweetheart?" He asks, settling on a cartoon. He certainly feels miles better himself, though he's not at full strength just yet.

"I’m alright. I'm actually hungry now…for more than just food." You can't help it, the little 'splash' the two of you made in the bathroom a few minutes ago has really got you going. Maybe you shouldn't be telling him this, he'll probably feel bad for getting you all hot and bothered. But he wants honesty, and you're going to give it to him.

"Yeah...sorry ‘bout that." He replies, guilt lacing his tone. There it is, you knew you should've kept your mouth shut.

"It's fine, love. Toast will have to do, for now." You sigh, regretting every word that leaves your lips. You don't want him to be upset, you just want him to get better. You hunch over the counter, laying your chin on your flattened palms as you stare at the toaster. The shiny metal reflects your face back at you in morphed fashion, your expression downturned into a rubbery frown.

"Oh, you poor thing. I can hear the blue balls from across the room. I'll make it up to you every way I can, princess. I assure you of that." He says smartly, finding your frustration just a teensy bit amusing.

"You better. I expect to not be able to walk by the end of the week." You grumble, hiding your smirk as you continue to watch your own warped image in the kitchen appliance. You instinctively rub your legs together as unsavory thoughts flood your head.

"You got it, baby." He chuckles, putting together a plan of attack. One which will be executed once he can fully stand on his own two feet.

The toast pops up, and you hastily spread the peanut butter onto it, before gobbling up every last crumb. "Fuck, peanut butter toast never tasted so good." You say with your mouth full, still hunching over the counter. Eddie glances over at you, laughing at the smudge of butter at the left side of your mouth. Crumbs lay about your chest, some sticking into the mess on your lips. "That bad, huh?" You ask after swallowing, reaching for a paper towel to clean yourself up.

"I'm just happy to see you eating, sweetheart. Though it would be dishonest to say it wasn't a tad unladylike." He scrunches his nose, not taking that term seriously. He couldn't give a shit if you were the most improper person in the world, he'd still love you more than anything.

"If there's one thing I've proven time and again, it's that I'm definitely far from 'ladylike'." You practically skip over to him, the feeling of food sitting calmly in your belly has changed your mood significantly. "But you already know that." You let out a bubbly giggle, sitting down beside your ailing lover. You lay your head on his shoulder, humming at how warm he is through his clothes. "What about you? Feeling any better?"

His arm shifts under you, wrapping around your body to pull you closer. "Very much, Y/N." He kisses the top of your head, making your heart melt. "Are you gonna stay over tonight? It's totally fine if you don't. I know you've got that final exam tomorrow." Eddie asks, hoping you'll stay. You make everything better for him, and he hates being apart from you. He supposes his wanting is a bit selfish, you could easily turn up sick if you stick around for too long. But you're the one thing he needs, all the time.

"I'm not going anywhere until the morning, my prince. I brought extra clothes for tomorrow, and that's all I need to show up with, aside from a pencil." You answer cheerily, making his wish come true. His eyes light up at your words, and he pulls you into him for a clumsy kiss.

"You're the best, Y/N. And I just know you're gonna ace that test tomorrow!" He beams, absolutely over the moon to have you in his company all night long.

"You're damn right! I'm not a fuckin' bookworm for nothing!" You joke, making both of you fall into a hearty laugh.

To be continued...

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