#please happy elements let him go to school

[eneemon]

Schoolhaku 💕 💕

[allophonicmess]

Too Sweet

Logan Howlett x fem!Reader

Act 2

GIF von asgardswinter

Warnings: spoilers for Deadpool & Wolverine, descriptions of a panic attack, angst, implicaded age gap, horror elements, description of blood and violence

wordcount: 3.8k words

I am overwhelmed by all your positve feedback :,)

So I wrote Act 2 over the weekend. Depending on feedback I might expand this story to a full 5 Act piece. Tell me what you think of that :) Enjoy Act 2!

When Logan woke up, he noticed everything was quiet around him, except for that annoying pigeon always perched up next to his window. He remembered how one year it tried to build a nest right next to the window and they had asked Kitty to transport just outside of the wall to get rid of it. She accidentally cracked one of the eggs during that job and cried about it for half a week. Logan huffed in amusement thinking about it.

The next sensation that returned to him was touch. And he suddenly felt too hot. There were one too many pillows around his head and he felt how his body started to heat up again after his night's sleep. The same can be said for the double blanket that weighed him down and the hot breeze that hit his neck in a steady rhythm.

Wait.

He frowned.

A hot breeze?

“I thought we were sleeping in…” A mumble came from right next to him. The voice was still raspy from sleep but it took Logan less than a second to realize what had happened.

Fuck.

He swore to himself that he would keep his hands off her till he figured things out between him and Jean. His body stiffened. How to get out of this mess?

Y/N moved closer to him, her head resting on the pillow then placed onto his chest. She hummed contently at the warmth of his body.

Last night's end-of-semester party had ended on a positive note for her when Logan pulled her away from the drink, snacks and conversations to finally kiss her. She was pinned against the ornate oakwood wall coverings in the hallway and it was more beautiful and sensual than she had imagined.

Then they inevitably ended up in Logan's room where they spent the night having sex till they fell asleep. She had waited for him to finally make the move after a constant back and forth between them.

Logan sighed, moving into a sitting position and moving her with him. “We are sleeping in.”, he responded, smoothing his hand along her exposed shoulder and arm. “ I just need to sit up for a minute, bub. You know how my back is.”

She hummed in response, looking up at him with a content, sleepy smile. Why did she have to make this worse?

“I really like you, Logan. This… us, you know?” She asked, her hand moving to massage his shoulder. Why can’t she stop?

He let his head rest against the wooden bed frame. “ Yeah”, closing his eyes and thinking of a way to set things straight again.

“It's not the right time to talk about this but...I told you about my plan to teach at another school for the next few years. See something new, learn and better my teaching.” She moved closer, from her leaning position into a half-upright one. One leg was thrown over his hips.

Yes, please go.

“Yeah, you told me,” Logan answered, trying to keep his voice neutral. Her departure would give him time to sort himself out and or makeup with Jean. He did feel bad for letting Y/n on but she seemed so happy about it.

“I’m not so sure about it now. With you and me… I wanna give this a try.” She leaned forward to give him a soft kiss. Logan turned his head just in time for her lips to partially miss and land in his scruffy beard. He concealed it by hugging her into his chest.

He paused before answering. Feeling her weight against his chest, the soft skin of her back against his arms.  This was nice, he admitted. But there still resigned a little dark seed in him that pushed him towards Jean. To try again, keep chasing and not give up. Y/n would be there. She always was but Jean was moving fast, unreachable and glowing.

“Go on” He spoke.

“I’m going to ask the other school to push my visit for another year. Spend more time with you ” She gently moved her hands along his back, caressing it. No, leave. You need to leave!

“Sounds like a good idea, bub.” He sighed softly, letting go of her and leaning back against the bed frame. Y/n had moved into his lap, legs resting over his hips and he felt himself stirring again at the close contact.

She grinned happily at him. Chasing him for another kiss. “Great! Another summer together can’t hurt.” She kissed again, “right?”

Logan shook his head slightly as a high-pitched ringing started to sound around him.

Her hands started racking through his hair, pulling him closer.

If only she had known…

“Oh, I do!” She laughed, kissing along his neck, her hands scratching along his back.

Logan tensed “What?”

If she had known that you would leave her alone to die. She wouldn’t have wanted to stay. She would be fine now. One fucking summer with him cost her all.

“It was a good time though.” She sighed against his pulse, nibbling the soft skin there. Her free hand had moved along his body down under the blankets.

30 days she had with you.

Then you killed her.

She would be fine if you had told her and let her go.

“Why wait that long?” She let go of his neck staring right at him. “We can do it now!”

“What is happening?” Logan tried to push her off but to no avail. He was getting hot, skin prickling with sweat that wanted to squeeze through his pores.

“And this time you are right here. Why not do it yourself?” She smiled softly, both hands caressing his cheeks.

The ringing got louder and louder, drowning out all sounds except for her voice which got more distorted. It scratched against his eardrum painfully.

“On the count of three,” She giggled, moving to position herself steady on his hips.

Logan couldn’t move.

“One!”

He felt trapped, watching her take his hands from behind her back.

“Two”

Serves you right asshole!

She placed his knuckles right under her breastbone. He felt the warm skin underneath his shaking hands.

“Aaaand Three!”

Everything went silent.

His claws pierced through her chest with a disgusting wet sound. He could feel the dense material of her skin and flesh against his claws. The warmth of her body shifted into the metal coating. His shaking hands caused the blades to scratch against her bones and it made him shudder.

She gasped, holding herself upright against his shoulders.

“Oh wow…” She laughed, weakly. A trail of blood leaked from her mouth, dripping onto his hands and running down onto the white sheets. Red droplets spread in the cotton, dying it red.

“That actually really hurts!” She looked up at him with bloodshot eyes. Her body was starting to tremble.

“Y/n…” Logan whispered in horror. Looking at the woman impaled.

“See, Logan, that’s what happens-“ she took his hands and rammed them further into her body. ”Fuck! Ha- When you let me get close”

She leaned forward, moving his arms with her. His elbows knocked against the cool wood behind him.

A soft, bloody kiss was placed on his cheek.

Logan only whimpered, trying to close his eyes but he still couldn’t move.

“Now… Do better.” She whispered in his ear. Slowly she got back into her seated position. She smiled at him with a bloodied smile, teeth stained and dripping red. She lifted her arm and smacked him across the cheek with an inhuman force.

Logan scrambled to get up. A crusty carpet under his fingers, the stench of garlic in his nose and the bright sunlight blinding him.

Coffee.

He could smell coffee.

He was sweating, feeling the little crumbs and bits of dust sticking to his exposed skin. They prick him as he shifts into a sitting position. Logan's back was flush against the cool leather of the sofa he must have slept on, falling onto the dirty carpet.

A dream.

A memory.

A nightmare.

“Whoa! Peanut, you up?" Wade called from the kitchen. He strolled into the living room in his red and white morning robe coffee mug in hand. He eyed Logan cautiously. Noticing the older man's heavy breathing and disoriented look. All jokes aside: Wade felt bad for seeing him in pain. They had more in common than either wanted to admit.

“Fell right off the couch huh?” Wade crouched down in front of Logan. He watched silently as the other came back to his senses, brushing off the dirt on his exposed arms. Wade blew away the steam of his hot coffee.

“Must have been a tumble.” Wade suggestively lifted his nonexistent brows. “A sexy tumble?” He slurped his coffee loudly.

“Get the fuck away from me.” Logan brushed a hand over his sweaty brow and into his hair.

“An unpleasant tumble then? Well, don’t feel bad, buddy. Happens to the best of us” Wade patted Logan's head, getting away fast enough to not get sliced again.  He moved back to the counter, pouring Logan a cup in his newly acquired “ hottest DILF in the MCU” cup. And two sugars. Logan would never ask for them out loud but Wade knew that he liked sweet things.

“That’s a bit on the nose, no?” Wade chuckled, bringing the mug over to Logan who had managed to get seated on the couch. The mismatched blanket and pillow pushed off onto the side.

“What?”

“Oh nothing, I didn’t talk to you.”

Logan huffed, taking a sip. “ Fucking maniac” The sweet burning liquid soothed his fried nerves.

Wade grabbed a chair, seating himself at the kitchen counter. Logan needed some space if he was to give some answers.

They sat in silence for the next few minutes, each nursing their drink.

It was Logan that broke the silence: “How did I get back here?” He sighed, staring at Wade.

The other man had been staring out of the window, seemingly lost in thought.

“Oh yeah. Well after you made a run for it, stabbed me on the street, destroyed my brand new light cotton shirt-“

“Get to the point.”

Wade gasped dramatically ” Catty, are we?” He clicked his tongue and continued “After that the party was basically over. And after most of the guests were gone, me and the tag team, went looking for you and picked you up from a piss-drenched alley before you went on to cause more trouble. Please and thank you.”

Logan sighed, upset and embarrassed. He had not only upset Wade and the girl but also wrecked the party for the rest of him. They called him the worst Wolverine for a reason.

Wade turned towards to fridge to scavenge for some breakfast. “Your tab has also been covered.”

Logan almost choked on his drink: “By who?”

“Ohh the X-men… academy? I don’t know.” Wade shrugged, biting into a piece of leftover puff pastry. “Piotr said something about thanking you for stabilizing the timeline. I didn’t really understand and neither did he. But hey! You got your sins paid for with government money. Isn’t that sweet?”

He grabbed a muffin from the fridge and threw it at Logan, who luckily caught it.

“And after all that fucking trouble, you at least owe me an explanation.” Wade's sudden shift from playful to serious sobered Logan.

He stayed silent for a moment, feeling how his jaw tensed. That fucking dream had been like a punch in the gut, his subconscious fucking him up even further.

He sniffed, setting the mug down.

“I knew a Y/n in my timeline.”

“No shit!” Wade exclaimed, his frustration blending into the mocking tone of his voice.

Logan grunted in annoyance. “We were both at the school. Working there. Fighting together. I met her quite early on.” One of his hands rubbed over the rough material of his jeans. “She and I were close; always had my back. And I took that for granted.” He swallowed the lump that formed in his throat. “She died, with the others.”

Silence hung in the room, making the air feel thick.

“And?” Wade, asked.

“And what?” Logan was agitated.

“Well yeah, she died. Like the others. But you had no panic attack when you met Colossus, or Ellie, Yukio-“

“She wanted to leave the school for a year abroad. Teach somewhere else but she stayed because of me." His chest was getting heavy again. “She stayed because I let her on, okay? I kept her close in case things with Jean didn’t work out. I knew she loved me-”

“That’s cookie jarring!” Wade exclaimed, excitedly “My Gen Z’s told me about that!”

“The fuck are you talking about?! I am telling you something important and you-“

“It’s when you keep a second option in case love interest numero uno doesn’t like you back. Keeping a sweet backup treat to not end up without a price.”

“I guess so. But never use that term again. I swear-“ Could you have one serious conversation with this ass clown?

Logan sighed, collecting his thoughts. “She felt more for me than I did for her at the time. I mean I did love her but I was a bastard and couldn’t stop chasing after something that wasn’t mine to begin with.”

The picture of his nightmare came back to him. Y/n, impaled, bleeding out by cause of his hand.

“She wouldn’t have been there if you had told her the truth? When the attack happened?” Wade concluded.

“I reciprocated her feelings. Gave her what she wanted for a night after I got frustrated with Jean. I made Y/n think that I was over her.” He scratched his beard, still feeling her lips linger there “I didn’t have the guts to tell her the truth and I was too much of a bastard to stop; couldn’t see that she was the one... She haunts me the most.”

“Wow.”

“What?”

“you really are an asshole. A surprisingly reflected asshole.” Wade nodded, lifting his mug in a mocking salute.

Logan just scoffed.

“Great, now that’s out of the way. I have a confession to make.” Wade fumbled with his pocket and pulled out a beat-up notebook.

“What did you do?” The older one said wearily.

“I…” Wade flipped through the pages in a dramatic fashion, mumbling while he pulled out several loose sheets. “… went on a little universe hopping trip while you were having your beauty sleep. And met with the other Wolvies that I had met during the search for you, pumpkin.”

He scattered the pages and some pictures on the counter. “At least the ones that didn’t want to kill me right away or the ones that stopped after they got their steam off.”

“Get to the fucking point. This is worse than the babbling on the home shopping-“ Logan had gotten up from the couch to inspect the pages.

“In every timeline that I visited, there was a Y/n. That was connected and or married to you, big boy.” Wade proudly took a sip of his now cold coffee while Logan rummaged through the material present.

“That can’t be. It’s coincident.”

“Na uh! Not if it’s constant in a bunch of universes and we are talking about a bunch, I mean, a BUNCH of universes. Do we want to say it together?”

“What?”

“Okay, 1,2,3-“

“No.”

“SOULMATES!” Wade cheered.

“No. There are no soulmates and even if there were. That-“ He pointed at the scribbled notes. “Is not how it works.”

“Aw c’mon! There are no rules to soulmates. You can do it in all kinds of ways. Matching tattoos, first words spoken to another, only getting colour vision after meeting the one-“ He gasped “You do see in colour, right?” 

“This proved nothing. And you need to stop getting into my fucking business.” Logan crumpled up the note in his hand and dropped it to the ground. “I don’t care what you think. This is bullshit and a waste of time. I-“

He was interrupted by a yelp, coming from the the hallway.

The fucking dog. Logan sighed. It was a mistake to get to this universe.

“Shhh-“ Another voice, hushed the puppy.

Oh no, oh please no.

“She is here?!” Logan spit angrily. He felt betrayed. Why was she here? Why didn’t Wade tell him? And why didn’t he sense it before? She heard everything. The fucking drinking problem and his fucking age were catching up to him.

“What-? She came all the way here. Late and the party ended right after, thanks to someone who can’t keep his shitty trauma at bay!” Wade bickered. “Y/n is my friend too, you know!”

The door to Deadpool’s room opened slowly. There was no reason to keep hiding in there. The pup had blown her cover. “Poppy, no, stay…” She sighed in annoyance as the dog rushed off to her owner. Wade picked her up quickly, kissing her on the tuff of fur on her otherwise naked body.

“She is not my friend-“ Logan pointed at Wade accusingly. His eyes shifted to the hallway where he saw the door open slowly. Wade’s door. He saw red.

“She slept in your room?!” The pointing finger quickly turned into a fistful of adamantium claws, the tips nicking Wade’s chin. “You have a death wish you little fuck?!”

“Whoa, whoa, hey!” Y/n rushed out of the room to de-escalate the unfolding situation. She hoped to make a quiet escape, sneak out through the fire escape, wait it out or call Piotr to stage a plan to get her out of there. But thanks to the puppy and these two hot heads it was going to be the awkward confrontation kind of exit.

She had tried to play it cool last night and not show her disappointment. She had been curious about the new character that Wade brought back from his multidimensional trip. Y/n wanted to find out what he was like, and how this world differed from his. She even asked the older X-team members about their Logan. What he was like, what he liked, and what topics interested him.

And he had made a run for it the second he saw her. Of course, she was hurt. Trying to push the tears down as the others tried to comfort her. She didn’t feel like crying but the sudden attention had made her feel like she should.

“Relax, okay?” She lifted her hands in surrender. “And you, drop the puppy. She isn’t involved in your…” She plucked the puppy from Wade’s arm and set her down. “Whatever this is.”

Logan watched her, looking for little details in her movements, and her behaviour. With regret, he came to the conclusion that she was a carbon copy of the woman he lost. His eyes got glassy as the images of his nightmare played behind his eyes. He shook his head swiftly, eyes set on the wooden counter to calm before he had another outburst.

Y/n watched him and sighed “I slept in his room because the sofa was occupied.” She said calmly, moving past Wade to get to the sink where her carrier sat. It was dirtied with cream and crumbs, a rinse was in order but that had to wait. “And sleeping in your room felt intrusive,  I assumed you would agree.” She clicked the container shut.

Wade watched her carefully, his brain working quickly to think of a joke, or a jest… anything to dissolve the situation. He felt like a child, trapped in their parent's divorce. Humour was his sharpest weapon. So he aimed. “yeah!” He leaned onto the counter, closing in on the spot that Logan seemed to be so focused on. “We switched. Some good old game of Ringelpiez. And I gotta say, your sheets smell sweet like honey, badger.” He winked at Logan, knowing fully well that he might end up with his brain skewered.

But the older one simply groaned, annoyed at his antiques.

Y/n softly touched Wade's shoulder “It’s alright. I’m just going to leave” She carefully turned to Logan. “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop. Truly.” His eyes shifted to her for a second and it was Y/n that looked away quickly. His gaze was too heavy, holding emotions that she couldn’t decipher or handle.

“What? Pudding, no” Wade whined “What about girlfriend brunch?” He placed his hands on his hips in dramatic fashion. “You promised”

“Wade- don’t.” She warned him. “Next week, okay?” Logan still avoided her. The Wolverine, a feared and powerful mutant, cowering in a corner over unresolved feelings. One might pity him.

Y/n shouldered her bag and said goodbye to the dog that watched the interaction with native happiness.

She opened the door and quickly stepped into the hallway. The muffled sounds of arguing resumed only a second after the lock clicked into place but she continued on. The elevator was only a few steps away, she almost managed to get out when the door opened behind her.

“Wait.”

Y/n stopped, looking over her shoulder cautiously. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw dark hair…

“I’m sorry alright…”He stopped looking for the right words. He didn’t think when he ran to the door, leaving Wade standing there mid-sentence. It was like a pull that called him to follow. “I’m sorry about yesterday.” He sighed, frustrated at his mumbling. He was the Wolverine for god's sake.

“I shouldn’t have…. I-“

“apology accept.” She interrupted him, turning around and facing him.

Logan froze.

“But we have to set one thing straight.” She set her shoulders back, unconsciously making herself look bigger. “ I am sorry for your loss. I truly am. But I am not her.” Y/n shook her head softly. “And you are not my Logan-“ She noticed the odd phrasing when his eyes widened ever so little “Not that he was-you get what I mean.” She huffed embarrassed.

“Yeah.” Logan chuckled softly as the tension ebbed away. Was she also feeling that tingle in her chest?

“Anyway,let's do this properly. It’s nice to meet you, I’m Y/n.” She held out her hand for him to shake.

A simple, friendly and professional handshake. Surely he could manage that, no?

He looked at her hand for a moment, surprised by the gesture. Then his large hand took hers. He was pleasantly surprised at the firmness with which she squeezed his fingers. There was no fear. No uncertainty.

It felt warm and familiar. Like home

“Logan.” He stated.

Taglist: @sarahskywalker-amidala @myu3ki @stinastar @zortlort @zeeader @lolurk @eddiesguitarskills @elianamarie-blog @byhuenii @sunfairyy @weallhaveadestiny @catiwinky

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[ariestrxsh]

⚠️ content warning: ⚠️ smut, corruption of innocence, humiliation, punishment, light elements of BDSM, use of paddle, crying, oral, loss of virginity, light mention of blood, desecration of religious imagery, blasphemy, teacher!matt, manipulative!matt, innocent!reader

📝 author's note: 📝 please don't read this if you're religious or will get offended by the sexualization of catholic imagery. 💖 i don't want to offend anyone. being raised with religious values that i no longer resonate with anymore just gave me weird religious-themed kinks lmao.

✍️ Summary: ✍️ Your teacher at your Catholic high school, Mr. Sturniolo (Matt Sturniolo) catches you doing something you shouldn't be doing, so he keeps you after class to teach you a lesson about being a temptress, and he performs an unconventional exorcism on you.

this smut was requested/inspired by this ask. 💖

It was senior year, and it was getting down to the last couple of months before you graduated from Saint Mary's Catholic High School. You were on your way to becoming a nun and fully devoting yourself to God and His will. You'd spent your whole scholastic career working towards that goal, maintaining good grades, staying in good standing with God, and turning down the world of earthly pleasures for the sake of your afterlife.

You strolled through the prayer garden to get to your final class of the day, admiring the spring flowers that were budding and blossoming. The sun felt warm on your face, and the spring breeze carried a sweet scent of maple through the air.

Your last period of the day was your favorite. It was Latin taught by Mr. Sturniolo. He was a very handsome man. He had dark brown hair, lovely blue eyes, and gorgeous, straight, white teeth. He had a way of making such an ancient and nearly dead language seem beautiful and intriguing, and you admired that about him. You could listen to him talk about biblical literature for days on end and never lose interest.

Before you stepped into his class, you smoothed out your skirt and tucked your hair behind your ears. There was something about Mr. Sturniolo, that always made you strive to look your best when in his presence.

You waltzed into his class and took your seat at the front. He greeted you, smiling with a pencil pinched between his perfect teeth, and your eyes immediately traveled to his veiny hands and the way they tightly gripped his Bible.

You knew the way your mind would often wander when you thought about Mr. Sturniolo wasn't exactly the purest, and you knew it wasn't the way God intended for you to think about your teachers. But you still allowed yourself to entertain the thought, follow it down the rabbit hole, and see where it would go..

You tightly squeezed your legs together. Oh wait, that felt kind of good, you thought to yourself. You released the tension in your legs and then pressed them together once more. There was a wet, tingly feeling between your thighs, and you knew it couldn't be right, but it wasn't as bad as downright masturbation, right?

You watched Mr. Sturniolo speak, the way he gestured with his hands, the way he'd lick his lip between his sentences, the way his eyes would scan the classroom, and stop on you every few minutes. But you couldn't focus on anything he said. You continued this motion, discretely clenching your thighs together while you started to let yourself become swept away by the stream of naughty thoughts you were having about your teacher.

You were broken out of your fantasy by Mr. Sturniolo approaching your desk and leaning down to whisper in your ear. "See me after class, young lady," his voice was stern and almost sounded frustrated or disappointed.

Your face immediately turned red, and you swallowed hard as you lifted your eyes to meet his. He didn't look happy, and you couldn't help but wonder, did he know what you were doing? Did he know what you were thinking? You unclenched your thighs for the rest of class, embarrassed by having possibly been caught.

And when the bell rang, Mr. Sturniolo dismissed everyone, but you knew that didn't include you, so you sat tight and didn't dare look up from your desk until he approached you. "Do you know why I asked you to stay after class?" He inquired.

This was your chance to come clean and be honest before the punishment became worse for lying too, but if there were any other chance you were asked to stay after class for any other reason, you would be absolutely mortified to admit to Mr. Sturniolo, what you were doing with your legs under my desk. You nibbled on your bottom lip and gave him your most innocent looking eyes, and shook your head from side to side.

"You know it's a sin to lust, don't you?" He narrowed his eyes at you. "And it's even worse to entertain those lustful thoughts and pleasure yourself to them," he circled the desk like a vulture hunting his prey. "I wasn't!" You protested, your face turning bright red.

"Did you just lie to me, young lady?" He asked you in a deeper voice. You knew you were in big trouble now. "There's only one way for me to find out the truth. To your feet," he demanded.

Immediately jumping up, a mix of fear and excitement welled within you. "Walk to the front of my classroom. Sit at the edge of my desk and spread open your legs," he directed. You did what he asked, but when you went to spread your legs open for him, an overwhelming sense of shame came over you, and you put your head down. You couldn't do it.

"I said, spread them!" Mr. Sturniolo yelled, approaching you and forcing your knees open with his strong hands. Your pussy betrayed you by becoming even more wet as he berated you and put his hands on you. You felt a knot in your stomach, your cheeks started to feel hot, and tears formed in your eyes.

Mr. Sturniolo tilted your chin up towards him with your ruler. "This is your last chance to repent on your own accord. Before I make you," he threatened you. You stayed silent. You were afraid of him, and you were also riveted by him. You wanted to see what he was going to do next.

"Alright. Well, you've left me no choice," he responded in a defeated tone. He fixated his attention between your thighs, and his fingers traveled down to your white cotton panties, pushing them to the side. "Wow, well, would you look at that?" He muttered under his breath. He looked into your teary eyes as he started running his long, veiny digits along your wet folds. You bit your lip to contain your whines.

"I knew it. You're soaked," Mr. Sturniolo grinned up with you with a glint in his eye. "You've been a naughty girl, haven't you? Pleasuring yourself in my class. What were you thinking about, hmm?" He asked softly, waiting for a response.

After you sat there in silence for a moment, you could tell he was growing impatient. "What were you thinking about? You were teasing me in my class. I deserve to know what you were thinking about. Tell me now," he asked through clenched teeth. "You, sir," you admitted.

"Yeah? It's one thing for you to stray from the path yourself. But trying to take me with you? You're a devil of a woman. I must exorcise these demons from you at once," he whispered. You swallowed hard. "How?" You softly responded. "Get on your hands and knees," he commanded.

You maneuvered yourself on top of his desk, so you were on your hands and knees like he asked. He kept his eyes locked on yours as he reached into his drawer and pulled out a leather paddle. He started gently slapping it against his hand as he slowly walked in a circle around the desk until he was behind you. He pushed up your black and red plaid skirt and gently set the paddle on your left cheek.

He moved it in a few slow circles before lifting it and coming down with a hard thwack. You yelped in pain. You felt the cool leather wander to your other cheek, doing that same circular movement before delivering another harsh smack.

This time, the pain morphed into something else that you couldn't quite put your finger on. Mr. Sturniolo spanked you a third time with the paddle, and you let out a sound that surprised you, and it didn't sound like you were in pain.

"What was that?" Mr. Sturniolo barked at the noise that came out of you. "I-I don't know," you stammered. "Do you like this?" He asked, hitting your bottom once again, and you let out another delighted whimper.

"Oh, you're a very bad girl. It's worse than I thought. You're not supposed to be enjoying this," he whispered, but he smiled while he stood behind you, secretly loving the sounds you made. He couldn't wait to corrupt you.

While you were bent over on his desk, he worked his fingers into the waistband of your cotton panties and started to pull them down your thighs. You felt shame and arousal simultaneously as your teacher studied your glistening pussy. You felt as he leaned in and planted a kiss on it. His mouth made its way to your clit, and he gently flicked his tongue across it. You let out a cry of satisfaction. Nobody had ever done that to you before.

"You're not supposed to be liking this, you little whore. I'm punishing you," he smirked, but he moaned with your sensitive bud between his lips, and it sent a vibration through you, indicating how much he was enjoying it, too. How could this possibly be a punishment? Were you really that unholy?

You tried to hide the fact that you loved it, but Mr. Sturniolo's tongue slithered into places that even you hadn't touched yourself before, and you were engulfed by pure enjoyment, whimpering and trembling under his control. He abruptly stopped and delivered another hard thwack against your ass, but this time, it was with his hand, and it made you jump. "I want you to sit on the edge of my desk again," he told you, helping you out of your panties all the way.

You turned yourself over, so you were perched at the edge of Mr. Sturniolo's desk, and you clamped your legs shut again, humiliated by how wet you were getting. "Ah ah ah," Mr. Sturniolo shook his head and waved his finger at you. He pried your legs apart again, forcing your knees to open, biting his lip as he got a better view. "Look at how wet my punishment has you. You're a very naughty girl," he whispered, burying his face back down into your pussy.

You couldn't help but watch as his tongue moved in small, fast circles over your most sensitive spot. It felt amazing.

"Mmm, oh my god. Yes, right there," you moaned while you rolled your hips forward. He looked up at you with his seductive eyes, and you could tell he was secretly enjoying your taste while you let out a slew of unintelligible sounds.

"You're so good with your mouth that you're making me speak in tongues, Mr. Sturniolo," You giggled, running your fingers through his hair. "You think you're clever, huh?" He whispered in between licks, looking up at you with his dark stare.

You let your head fall limp, let your eyes roll back, and lost yourself in the feeling of your favorite teacher's soft velvety tongue bringing you the most pleasure you'd ever felt in your life. Your stomach felt like it was dropping and caving in, and your legs began to tremble while Mr. Sturniolo called you a naughty little girl and ate you like you were his first meal in years.

Your orgasm reached a crescendo, breaking over you like a force you couldn't control. "Yes, Mr. Sturniolo!" You called out while you grabbed onto his brunette locks and held him against your pussy while you bucked your hips wildly. You knew it was probably wrong, but it felt so right.

You immediately became sensitive, and your teacher looked up at you with his ocean blue eyes. "You feel that? Feel that evil energy your body? You did such a good job for me," he told you, leaving a trail of kisses up your thighs while he praised you. You stared down at him wide-eyed while you called your breath back to you.

He started fiddling with his belt buckle and then his zipper, telling you, "There's one more demonic force we need to take care of.." You watched as he unleashed a beast from his pants. It stood erect in front of you, big and veiny, and he placed his mushroom tip against your hole before you had much time to react.

All your hard work to become a nun, all these years you'd spent warding off temptation, it was all gone with a single thrust from your gorgeous teacher. It was all ruined just like you were about to be.

"Ah!" You gasped as he entered you, breaking your virginity, and as he gently moved his hips back and forth, hushing you and telling you the pain would be all over soon, he noticed a bit of blood emitting from you while he stretched you out. He delighted at the sight of it and relished in the way it made it even easier for him to slide in and out of you.

He pulled you into a passionate kiss, holding either side of your face while his tongue swirled around against yours. You could have sworn he tasted the way whiskey smelled, and you didn't want to assume Mr. Sturniolo was disobeying God by not treating his body as a temple, but at this point, you'd started to heavily question his ethics and moral standing with the divine creator.

But nonetheless, you loved it. You adored his sweet saliva, his smooth lips, and his demanding kiss. The suffering you were experiencing from losing your virginity soon transformed into ecstasy. You loved the way Mr. Sturniolo felt inside of you, the way he looked at you, and the way he had you desperately pinned beneath him. He cupped your face while his piercing blue eyes burned through you. You hooked your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck as he filled you, hitting a delicious-feeling spot every time.

"Such a bad girl. Pleasuring yourself in my class, hmm?" He cooed, his words swimming around inside your mind and satisfying a craving you had to be talked to in such a way that you didn't know you had until this experience. "Yes, sir. I'm a bad girl," you whined. While he delivered a few more compelling thrusts and groaned into your ear, "Come on, be a naughty girl and come all over my cock," you felt yourself begin to give into the feeling.

In your mind's eye, you were innocent Eve in the garden of Eden, and Mr. Sturniolo was both the serpent and the apple, leading you back to original sin, tempting you with the desires of the flesh, and introducing you to a world of hedonistic pleasure. The impurity of it all, the forbidden nature of what you were doing, and the adulterated thoughts that filled your mind tipped you over the edge.

Your orgasm hit you powerfully, and your no longer virgin pussy spasmed around Mr. Sturniolo's cock and coated it in your juices that slowly leaked onto his length. "That's it," he smirked, and then he began to moan loudly as he rhythmically pumped his seed into you. You could feel its warmth fill you, and he stared down at your hole while some of his milky liquid dribbled out.

"Don't tell anyone about this exorcism. They wouldn't understand the desperate measures it took to cast those demonic forces from you. It's best off if it stays between the two of us. I hope you learned your lesson. You're dismissed," Mr. Sturniolo huffed, sneering at you and fastening his pants.

taglist: @bsturnzmtt @sturniolo-girl @munchingmini @butterbean-01 @coolasice01 @theyluvme-2315 @zariyam @brookiecookie-18 @maggot3647 @slut4chriztopher @miss-delicious @strnlslvr @sleepysturniolo @schlutt4matty @sofieeeeex @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut @matts-myloverboy @mattsfavbigtitties @new2024cats4life @witchofthehour @slutforsturnioloss @jaysturniolo @sturniolosweetheart33 @whoahoahoahoahoa @ilovechrissturniolosposts @sturnrc @smt-obsessed @sturnioloxlver @that1fangirll @aalirosesblog @hrtz4alex2211 @luvhsien @sp3ncerslvt @sturniolo-munch44 @jakewebberswifee @karttpet @ssturniolooss @thenickgurl @sturniolo-fann @sst7niolo @slxtformatt @chestersturniolo @riowritesitall

[jadeylovesmarvelxo]

Part one

Previously; You heard Eddie say that you weren't his type, you're devastated and decide to distance yourself, Eddie notices this and realises how much he misses you...and how much he likes you 💞

Part two warnings, Eddie making a fool of himself, the boy has a serious crush. Mutual pining, idiots to lovers.

💞💌

Now that Eddie has noticed you, it's like he can't stop. He looks out for you in the hallways, secretly hoping that you'll talk to him like you used to.

"Dude, would you go and speak to her instead of gawking at her like an idiot" Gareth snaps, Eddie throws him a dark look and looks away from you.

You're chatting to Robin animatedly and you're just mesmerising. You never opened up like that around Eddie, he's worried he's unknowingly made you nervous around him.

Gareth mentioned about the crush you had on him, was that still the case? He's frustrated because he wants to talk to you, but he feels flustered and unsure what to say.

A rarity for him according to the rest of Hellfire. Assholes. They were right though, he could run his mouth about Jason and his band of buttheads, talk for hours about D&D and heavy metal.

But how is he feeling right now around you? Well this was different. He could be shy if he was attracted to someone but he always knew what to say, even if it was some inane babbling.

Around you though he drew a blank, babbled and blushed much to the rest of the gang's amusement. Fuck they would never let their fierce dungeon master forget that you turned him to absolute mush.

If he could have one proper conversation with you before the week is out then he would be a happy man.

Seeing you being so open around Steve doesn't help either, envy claws at his insides and he feels irrationality jealous of Steve Harrington.

Gareth takes pity on Eddie's failing to talk to you and mentions about the drawings you had done for Hellfire.

"She's really good dude, maybe you could start the conversation with that" this perks Eddie up and he decides to just go for it and speak to you.

He walks over to you as you're chatting to Robin as Eddie approaches you peer up at him and smile. "Oh hi Eddie"

"Uh, hi sweetheart, Gareth says you had some drawings for Hellfire. Would you like to show me them. If you want?" He asks you. Crosses his fingers behind his back.

To his delight you agree. "Sure, I was meant to show you a little while back but uh I was busy, I'd love to show you" he gestures to you to follow him and the two of you head to the drama room where Hellfire is hosted.

Carefully you lay out your drawings on the table, you feel like your whole body is buzzing with nerves as he leans over you to take a look. His fingers caress over the drawings and he lets out a soft gasp of surprise.

Your drawings are amazing and he tells you and you beam at him, pleased that he likes them. Eddie pauses as he shifts one of the pictures away and his eyes widen, "Is that me?" he takes in the photo and you move it away mortified.

The drawing was of Eddie as the Dungeon Master but exaggerated with certain D&D elements and bats that represented one of his tattoos.

"That's an incredible drawing sweetheart" you duck your head to avoid his gaze, that familiar shyness you feel around him, coming back tenfold.

"Thanks" you murmur and you swear your heart might beat out of its chest when he moves closer to you, his breath almost tickles your neck.

"Can I keep this?" He asks and you nod feeling delighted that he likes it so much. You're still confused why he's talking to you so intently and with interest now but you put it out of your mind.

Maybe the two of you could at least be friends? It might help you finally get over him. It wasn't a foolproof plan and you could end up falling even more for him but it was worth a shot.

...

To your surprise Eddie comes over to chat to you all week at school and in Family Video, sometimes you feel like he's making excuses just to talk to you. "Someone's got a crush" Robin teases and Steve doesn't look happy as you help Robin unpack new stock.

"Took him long enough to realise it" you shake your head and ignore the butterflies in your stomach at the thought of Eddie liking you. It couldn't be true though could it?

"He doesn't, he's just interested in my drawings" you explain and you feel the brief hope you had slipping away.

"Yeah...that's totally why he's staring at you like a lovesick puppy, your drawings" Robin subtly nods over to Eddie who nearly knocks several videos over when you catch his eye. There's a sweet goofy grin on his face and a pink tingle to his cheeks.

You had never seen Eddie blush before, he was usually so confident, the blush was endearing. Wait why was he blushing? Surely it couldn't be because of you could it?

No don't be silly. He likes Megan, you're not his type. "He doesn't have a crush on me" you shake your head refusing to believe it.

Robin brightens then gently nudges you to the front of the counter. "Well, he's coming this way, so..." You smile as Eddie walks over to you and is quiet for a few seconds before he blurts out the question he's been dying to speak to you in private.

Curious at what he's going to say, you decide to take your break a little early since the store is quiet for now, you follow him outside and can't help notice how jittery he is. Why was he nervous? Did you make him nervous? The thought was a tiny bit thrilling.

Eddie seems to be struggling with what to say, you wait patiently as he takes a deep breath then it all comes out in a mumbled rush.

"Sorry, what was that Eddie?" you move closer to him, confused at what he's saying, it was all jumbled and quiet. He flushes a little bit then steels himself instantly looking determined.

"Gareth said you had a crush on me and I'm wondering if that's still true?" He blurts out and you freeze. Ah shit.

"Does it matter? You don't like me that way, I'm not your type" you wince at the sadness that colours your tone.

"You're wrong" his voice turns impossibly soft and you stare at him puzzled. You heard him say that you weren't his type.

"I heard what you said to Gareth and you were hoping Megan noticed you" you point out to him, he blushes and nods, not denying it.

"Yeah I was a dumbass, when you weren't around I missed you like crazy and realised how much I really do like you and I'm not interested in Megan, not anymore" Unbelievable, you shake your head torn between amusement and being completely stunned.

"You sure do take your time Eddie Munson" you eventually reply to him and he gives you a heartmelting smile and on an impulse you kiss his cheek, then at that moment Steve yells that your break is almost done. Great, just great.

Picking up your bag, you wave goodbye to Eddie and rush to get back inside, Eddie touches his cheek where you kissed it and a big smile breaks across his face. He's dazed and happy for a few seconds, then he comes to. "Hey, princess. Will you let me take you on a date sometime?" He yells over to you.

You peer up at Eddie through your lashes, "Sure...definitely sometime" you smile at him then turn away, try to control the fact you want to squeal out loud. You're trying to act cool and nonchalant.

Eddie who has no compunction about expressing how he feels practically struts his way back to his van. You stifle a giggle and know the sometime date will be soon, very soon.

❤️🫶

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Monster, Inc. 2

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as age gap, noncon/dubcon, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: your boss is an asshole, you know this. But what happens when he turns his wrath upon you? (plus!reader)

Characters: Lloyd Hansen, this reader is known as Missie.

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself💜

💼Part of the Bad Bosses AU💼

“Mr. Hansen,” you trill into the foyer, “I have your breakfast.” 

You ease shut the door behind you and pause to kick off your kitten heels on the mat. It’s one of those days your boss has decided to work from home but it doesn’t make your day any less jam-packed. You wait for an answer, not that you ever get one, and proceed. 

You go to his office and find it empty. You frown. You leave his breakfast on the oval island in the kitchen and bounce around to the bottom of the stairs, “Mr. Hansennnnn.” 

Nothing. You check your phone. By chance, had he changed his mind. Is he at the office waiting for his organic egg white wrap with spinach and feta? You don’t see any new emails or missed calls. You hum and teeter in indecision. You don’t go upstairs.  

You tap on Mr. Hansen, listed under your favourites, and put your phone to your ear. You wait and hear the distant ringtone. The line goes dead as the call is dismissed. You sigh and try again. What is he up to? The same thing. He declines your call and you shake your head at the echo of the curtailed ringtone. 

Fine, you can wait for him to come home. Sometimes, you feel like you’re looking after a spoiled child. He reminds you of your baby brother and how your mother would struggle to get him out of bed for school. Rami was always such a brat. 

If he takes a while, you’ll reheat the wrap in the air fryer. You surpass it and enter the laundry room. You put the dryer on fluff to refresh the load the maid left in there and pace around impatiently. You go through the RSVP requests for Mr. Hansen and decline those you know he’ll roll his eyes at. 

The dryer finishes its quick tumble and you fold the delicates into the waiting basket. You finish and carry the aromatic clothes out through the kitchen and to the bottom of the stairs. Again, you chirp up after Mr. Hansen. 

“I’m coming up with your laundry, sir,” you warn as you get no answer. 

You warily begin the ascent as you clutch the handles of the basket. You peer around the hall and continue on down towards the left. Slow, shuffling steps towards the slightly ajar door at the end. You go to set down the load by the door frame and the door swings open abruptly. 

“Missie!” Lloyd grabs you and pulls you inside as you squeal. “There the fuck you are.” 

“I called--” you choke as he keeps a hold of your arm and drags you across the bedroom, “sir, your breakfast is downstairs--” 

“Missie, shut up!” He snarls as he urges you on and you scramble to keep from tripping.  

He shoves you through another door and your hip hits the frame with a thump. You rub it as he lets you go and you turn to face him as he follows you in. The space is made brighter by the four bulbs under glass shades that shine over the mirrors. You reel as you try to steady yourself after his sudden seizure. 

You realise he’s in no more than a pair of silk black boxers, if you can call them that. They’re short enough that they barely touch his thighs. His thick muscular thighs. The elastic clings to his equally firm torso and you try not to show your discomfort. 

“Sir, what’s going on?” 

“Do you see it?” He turns and pulls a small round mirror closer as wiggles his upper lip. The mirror is attached to a bending arm and tilts all around. “Missie, tell me I’m seeing things.” 

He grabs your shoulder and points to his mustache with his other hand. Amid the sandy brown cluster of neatly trimmed hair is a single silver strand. It’s not very obvious unless you’re looking for it. 

“Uh, your mustache?” 

“The goddamn grey!” He snarls and shakes you, “this is all your fault.” 

“What?” You squeak, “my fault?” 

“That goddamn cake! Forty-six? Like you’re rubbing it in my face,” he lets you go and turns back to the large mirrors, leaning in to push out his upper lip with his tongue. He growls, “I hired you to lessen my stress so why the fuck is this--” He faces you again and points at his mustache, “happening?” 

“Sir, um, well, you could pluck it--” 

“Fuck off!” 

“Dye?” 

“Shut up! You stupid bimbo,” he snarls and crosses his arms, leaning against the marble counter, “I don’t need your stupid ideas.” 

“Yes, sir,” you nod, “ but, er, why... what did you need? I could bring your breakfast up--” 

He looks at you so sharply you swallow your question. He curls his lips and huffs. His eyes crawl down your body and he angles his head coyly. 

“You pull with that ass?” He scoffs. 

“Excuse me, sir--” 

“You heard me? Lotta of chubby chasers? Feeders? Weirdos?” He says. 

“Sir,” you resist a frown, your cheeks trembling, “that’s... not work.” 

“You’re on my dime, I’m asking, so it’s work,” he insists. He drops his chin and looks down at himself. He flexes his chest, “I know damn well you’re not getting grade A meat like this.” 

You avert your eyes and sniff, “sir, I’m single and not looking but I appreciate you asking.” 

“Ugh, are you always so annoyingly happy?” He sneers. 

“It’s a nice day, sir. Bright out. And you know, a lot of women would say that grey makes you more distinguished,” you suggest, “now your mustache matches your head.” 

His eyes dart back to you and he stands straight, “what?” 

“Well, er...” you gesture vaguely up, “you know...” you touch your temples. His are shaved but you can still see the lightness there, “er, nothing, sir. I’m just uhhhhh rambling. Anyway, I will go warm up your wrap--” 

He blocks you, jabbing you in the stomach as he corners you in the bathroom, “I don’t have gray hair.” 

“Sir, you don’t, I’m colour blind.” 

“I don’t,” he insists again. 

“No, sir, no greys.” 

“I fucking don’t,” he barks and turns to the mirror once more, touching the sides of his head. His eyes are fiery in his reflection and scale over to you again, “get the fuck out!” 

“Sir,” you smile and cheek twitches. Oof. It isn’t going to be an easy day. 

[yantako]

Hello! Can i request yandere Malleus , Floyd and Kalim with an s/o who cant feel fear? (Its not that they are brave or anything its a real problem in their brain that they of course cannot fix)

Hi there! Thank you so much for the request!

I have definitely heard of this brain disorder before and honestly, it is really scary to think about it. Not sure if I'm doing it justice though, please forgive me if it doesn't sound like the condition! ><

Anyway, without further ado, let's begin!

Warning: Yandere and dubious elements.

Yandere with a S/O who can't feel fear

ft. Malleus, Floyd & Kalim

Malleus Draconia

• When you two first met, he was surprised that you smiled at him instead of being shocked or scared of him.

• However, because of such a reaction, he grows an interest in you for being so 'brave'.

• Everything would go well with his talks with you, getting to know you better and all, and slowly he started developing feelings for you.

• He'd always known you for being fearless about everything, even in the dangerous situations that you sometimes put yourself through from what he has heard from your stories.

• However, he started to feel curious about what your fearful face might look like and decided to play a small trick on you. Would maybe a giant dragon suffice in scaring you?

• When he saw your first reaction was lacking in fear, he'd try again with bigger and bigger moves. Malleus could feel his tiny smirk slowly distorting into a frown filled with worry and pain. It only became full-fledged anger at the point where it seems as if you didn't even care when the dragon was about to kill you [ of course, with you trapped with no room for escape ]. You didn't even seem remotely afraid as you tried to think of a way to combat this. However, when the situation is so bleak, you used your rational mind to think of the most painless way to go, and that is to tank the hardest hit in hopes of a one-shot KO.

• When you were about to be hit, Malleus immediately stopped the illusion and merely hugged you tightly. He had just wanted to see another side of you but ended up making himself feel like a disaster for putting you through that. He even had some thoughts if you would just give up your life so easily, why didn't you call him to help you?

• You felt pleasantly surprised that he was suddenly in front of you. Happy to see him, you gave him a smile, but also a knowing look when you realised what was going on just from his expression. It's about time you tell him about it.

• When he hears about your condition, his heart sunk.

• From then on, he has you kept by him the entire time. He had a mindset that if you can't feel fear, you won't know your dangers. It only made him more fearful for you.

• He becomes a lot more possessive over you and warier of the people around you, going so far as to cast spells on you without your knowledge.

• He becomes way more protective each time you get injured, on the basis that you cant feel fear even if you explained to him multiple times that you do know your dangers.

• He would do anything to keep you protected at all costs.

Floyd Leech

• Shrimpy! Aren't you scared of me?

• You just witness him punching a bloody student in a secluded area in school. Of course, you did stare for a while and wanted to leave as you presumed this to be troublesome and dangerous for you if you remained.

• However, this tall eel immediately noticed you and dropped the student he was holding. His eyes glinted as if he saw a brand-new toy being served up to him.

• He peered down at you threateningly after cornering you at a wall. However, even as he did that, you didn't show as big of a reaction as he wanted to see. Weren't you supposed to be squirming under him like a worm? Hey, why are you looking away when he's glaring at you!

• At first he thought it was very boring that you gave him such a lukewarm reaction, but when he figured that you were trying to find a way to escape calmly, his curiosity peaked again. He understood that normal people would be in a state of panic and give him their fullest attention in case he would hit them, however, he didn't feel any sense of fear from you but rather, a very cold way of ignoring him.

• With his interests piqued, he decided to let you go after attempting to scare you with his threats. He found it amazing that you showed no signs of fear in such a situation and decided to make his next days fun in school by harassing you.

• He continuously placed you in dangerous situations, even to the point of near-death situations, to simply observe and find entertainment. Well, that is until you actually got a near-death experience which scared the fuck outta him.

• Looking at your pale and weak figure lying in the infirmary, he thought about how much danger he had put you through. Regrets came washing over him. Initially, he thought it was fun and entertaining to watch your fearless gait. But now, he could hear alarms ringing in his head whenever he thinks you are in danger. In some magical and mysterious manner, somehow, he became smitten for you.

• Ever since then after you recovered, Floyd seemed to have a flipped his treatment of you. He would protect you fiercely from even the smallest threats, growling and even resorting to violence even at small teasings people do to you.

• He finally felt as if he had something he needed to do, something motivating him. He had to protect you even if he had to resort to violence and intimidation. He finally got a spark in his heart and he would do his all to protect this spark. Finally, something he could not get bored of. If you aren't scared by his actions, that means you allowed him to do so, right?

• Shrimpy ignited something in him, so you better accept it, okay?

Kalim Al Asim

• Hm? He doesn't understand it. What do you mean you can't feel fear?

• Even after explaining it to him, he still does not understand it.

• That is, until you were kidnapped because of him. When he found you all battered up but yet lighting up when you see him. He had questioned you all the essentials. Why didn't you scream? Why didn't you call for help? Why do you still look so... okay about this situation?

• You chuckled as you joke. "At least I wasn't killed or hit so badly."

• Kalim stared at you for awhile before getting reminded of what you had told him before.

• Ever since then, he decided to take your safety into his own hands, having bodyguards around you and even giving you your own aide so that you could be protected. He just wanted to keep you safe, so please allow this of him, alright?

• Privacy? Is that more important than your safety, darling?

[joelalorian]

Fall Into Me - Chapter Nine: I'd Fall for You Twice if That's What You Wanted

dbf!Joel x f!reader

Summary: Joel is hanging on by a thread as a single father to a tenacious 10-year-old Sarah. Feeling like he's drowning, like the world is about to spit him out, he needs some help before he breaks in half. At your dad's insistence, you show up in his life and change everything.

Story is inspired by the song Fall Into Me by Forest Blakk. Chapter titles will be lyrics from the song.

Word Count: 3.2k

Chapter Warnings: Explicit, under 18 take a hike. No outbreak AU. Lots of feelings. Sarah, Tommy, Emily, and JB unknowingly banding together for the win. Joel is his own warning. Inappropriate (or entirely appropriate?) use of a massager. Age gap of about 9 years (Reader 24/25, Joel 33/34). No use of y/n. Reader has a nickname used only by her dad and Joel uses various terms of endearment (darlin', sweetheart, etc.).

Thank you so much to everyone who reads this self-indulgent story and extra thanks to those who comment and/or reblog - you all make me feel like a rock star!

Dividers by the wonderful @saradika-graphics

Chapter Eight | Main Masterlist

“Girl, you’ve got it baaad,” Emily teased, watching you eye your phone every five seconds. The pair of you were getting drinks at your favorite watering hole the Saturday before your first full week of officially teaching.

“I can’t help it, Em. He’s got this, like, hold over me or something,” you replied sheepishly, one hand tucking your phone away in your back pocket. You were starting to annoy yourself with how often you checked for texts from Joel.

“You’re in love, that’s what happens.” Emily shrugged and sipped at her fruity mixed drink. “How’d the holidays go?”

Your expression lit up as you told Emily about your first major holidays with the Millers. Having spent some holidays with them while you were still away at school, your dad already fit into their family dynamic seamlessly. You were a happy and much-loved addition to the festivities and there was plenty of laughter among the adults at how badly Tommy botched dinner for both Thanksgiving and Christmas. Why Joel and your dad ever let him try again after the wreck that was Thanksgiving dinner was beyond you. Thankfully, your dad saved the day both times with his unparalleled grilling skills.

“So, it’s safe to say that JB’s still happy about you and Joel being together?” Emily asked after your own laughter at recounting the mess died down.

“Is he ever,” you replied with a shake of your head. “He loves to rib Joel on making an honest woman out of me. Joel takes it in stride, but I’m kinda afraid that it’ll scare him off if my dad keeps it up.”

“Oh, please! That man is clearly head over fuckin’ heels for you. Hell, he’s already told you and JB that he loves you, he’s not goin’ anywhere!” After taking another sip of her drink, Emily shot you a pointed look. “When the hell am I gonna meet Joel, anyway? I feel like you’re actively hiding him from me.”

You stilled.

Were you doing that? You didn’t think so, not at first, but… If you were honest with yourself, there was an element of truth to Emily’s accusation.

“Shit, Em. I’m not doing it purposefully, I swear,” you replied beseechingly, pausing to figure out how to properly explain things. Finding a scratch in the tabletop suddenly fascinating, you stared at it while continuing. “I just have to share him so much already, between Sarah and my dad, even his brother – not that I begrudge him spending time with any of them, especially Sarah! It’s just… when I have time with him, I want to keep him to myself. You know what I mean?”

God, that made you sound so selfish. You looked up to find Emily grinning at you.

“What?” you asked, confused.

“I’ve never seen you so in love. It looks good on you.” Emily clinked her now empty glass against your half-full one. “Just promise me that I’ll get to meet him soon. We could do a double date or something, so it doesn’t take away too much of your precious alone time.”

Over another round of drinks, you made plans for a few Fridays from now, quietly hoping Joel wouldn’t mind.

Heading home, you longed to see Joel, but it was late, and he was spending time with Sarah. He went to great lengths to make sure his daughter did not feel left out or neglected while the two of you explored your relationship, setting aside time for just the two of them to hang out. You loved that about him and knew how important that quality time was for Sarah. Besides, you planned to head over there tomorrow to get a little quality time of your own ahead of the busy week ahead.

In the morning, you slept in and lazed around the house for a while, taking the opportunity to relax and ease into your day while your dad puttered around until mid-day. You hadn’t heard from Joel, but that didn’t bother you – he knew you planned to come over. Around one o’clock, you headed over to the Millers, picking up some pizza and beer on the way.  

Pulling up in front of the house, you found your usual spot in the driveway taken by your dad’s truck while Tommy’s truck blocked the remaining space. With a huff you parked along the curb. You would have ordered more pizza if you knew everyone would be here.

“Howdy boys,” you greeted as you walked in. “I come bearing pizza and beer, though I fear we’ll need lots more with this crew.”

Only one set of eyes turned away from the football game playing on TV as they all greet you in return. Getting up from his beloved corner spot on the couch, Joel took the pizza and beer from your hands and placed them on the coffee table before pulling you into the kitchen for a proper greeting.

“Hi darlin’, I’ve missed you,” Joel murmured, his voice already raspy from yelling at the TV. He pulled you close until your bodies were flush together and kissed you deeply. Like a magnet, your fingers threaded through his messy curls, tugging gently as he nibbled your bottom lip.

“Mmm, I missed you, too, handsome. Didn’t know you were having company.”

Joel flashed his big cow eyes at you, eyebrows pinched together regretfully. “’M sorry, baby. I didn’t know they were coming by to watch the game ‘til they got here. Apparently, my TV is the best, so here they are. Hope that’s ok. I’ll kick ‘em right the hell out if you want me to.”

The thought did cross your mind.

“Nah, enjoy the game with the boys. I’ll sit with you guys for a bit then hang with Sarah until they leave.” Still wrapped in each other’s arms, you nuzzled the tanned skin of Joel’s neck and he hummed.

“You gonna stay over?”

You shouldn’t, not on a school night – your first as a bona fide teacher – but you had so little time together. “Sure. Just don’t keep me up too late, Mister. Those kids are exhausting, and I need my energy for the first day.”

“Miller! Stop neckin’ with my daughter and get your ass out here!” your dad’s voice bellowed through the house, causing the two of you to spring apart.

“Jesus, Dad,” you sighed, pecking Joel on the lips one last time before following him out to the living room. When would the game be over?

Surprisingly, you enjoyed the time watching the game with everyone. Even Sarah came down to join you all at half-time, book in hand, and sat between you and Joel reading. It was a lovely afternoon and a lovelier night as Joel held you in his arms, whispering words of praise into your hair until you fell into a deep slumber.

Your first week of teaching passed in a blur. After a month of assisting the prior teacher before his official retirement, the students knew you and respected your authority, setting the stage for an overall lovely experience. You started off with earth science lessons and most of the kids were engaged and eager to learn. Of course, you had a few little challenges with difficult students testing their boundaries, but you felt good about the way you handled each situation.

You stayed later after the students were dismissed, using the time to organize the room to your liking and get the lesson plans in order. Sarah perched at one of the long wooden tables working on her homework while you completed your tasks. The pattern offered you and Sarah some quality time together and the young girl found great enjoyment in putting you on the spot, especially when her dad was the topic at hand.

“JB keeps telling dad he needs to marry you,” Sarah blurted randomly Friday afternoon. “Do you want to?”

Staring at her wide-eyed, unsure what to say, you merely shrugged. Why was everyone so focused on the two of you getting married? You only started dating a few months ago!

Tilting her head to the side with a little smirk, Sarah replied, “That’s not a ‘no’.”

She was getting to be as bad as your dad and Tommy.

“You could be my stepmom! I always wanted one since I didn’t get to have a regular mom.”

Despite Sarah’s cheerfulness at the idea, your heart ached for all the real mom-related experiences she didn’t get to have. You knew exactly how that felt. If marrying Joel wasn’t already something you hoped for in the future, it would be after hearing Sarah expressing her desire for a stepmom, for you as a stepmom.

Sarah kept talking, while you lost yourself in thought.

Would you be a good stepmom?

God, you hoped so.

You never had one, JB chose to never get too serious with anyone after your mom, but you heard enough horror stories from your friends about their own stepmoms through the years. It sounded like a thankless job. But all the people you knew with stepparents had both birth parents still in their lives, so maybe your experience would be different.

The late bell chimed, drawing you out of your ever-spiraling thoughts.

“Come on, nugget. Let’s get you home,” you said, pushing thoughts of marriage and step parenthood to the farthest recesses of your mind.

“If you’re not gonna marry my dad, could you at least move in with us? It would be so great if you lived with us!”

Jesus fucking Christ in a handbasket. This kid sure knew how to keep you on your toes.

Leaning over the bar top with hunched shoulders and an aching back, Joel picked at the label on the beer bottle. He didn’t often visit the bar after work, not since Sarah came into his life, but he finally had some extra money and felt like treating himself. You stopped letting him pay you months ago, when the two of you became more to each other than just babysitter and boss, and he stashed that money away each week, saving it for what he didn’t know.

At his side, Tommy carried on about some chick he met a few weeks ago. A pretty attorney who was way out of his league and already turned him down twice. Like a dog with a bone, Tommy showed no signs of giving up yet.

“You better be careful, brother. She may get a restraining order against you if you don’t take it easy,” Joel said, voice a rich rumble.

Tommy waved him off with a chortle. “Oh please. She’s loving it. Chicks like that like being pursued.”

“If you say so.” Joel didn’t know this woman or what she liked, but he knew for a fact that you would hate it if a guy relentlessly pursued you after turning him down, not once, but twice. He smiled at the thought of you kicking a guy like that in the fucking balls to prove that you were very much not interested.

He full on laughed at the thought of you kicking his little brother in the balls, causing Tommy to glance sideways at him.

“What’s so funny, huh?”

“Nothin’,” Joel grumbled, clearing his throat. Thoughts of you continued to invade his mind, just like they always did. You were always on his mind, and he loved it. If only you were always in his bed… Joel cleared his throat. “Hey, uh. How do you know if it’s too early to ask a girl to move in?”

Tommy groaned. “Why you always askin’ me this shit? How am I supposed to know? I have less actual relationship experience than you do.”

“Who else am I supposed to ask, huh? JB? Don’t imagine that’d go over too well,” Joel replied with a defeated shrug, but Tommy conceded the point.

“You need more friends, man.” Clearing his throat, Tommy gave it a moment’s thought. “Well, the way I see it, you love her, and she loves you, everyone knows it, and JB and Sarah are both happy for the two of you. Moving in together seems like the logical next step, right?”

Joel nodded, still uncertain.

“Only the two of you can know if the pace is right. Seems to me like you both waited long enough for the right one to come along. You’ve both been through some shit, why waste any more time?”

Damn, when did his little brother become so insightful?

“Alright, I get your point. Do you think she’ll say yes if I ask?” As secure as he was in your love for each other, Joel still floundered a bit at each new step in the relationship department.

“I dunno, brother. You’re just gonna have to grow a pair and find out.”

“Fuckin’ grow a pair,” Joel grumbled, punching Tommy in the arm, hard.

The pair bickered through another round, like brothers do, before calling it an evening. Eager to see you and Sarah, Joel didn’t want to waste away the evening in the bar with Tommy. As they walked out to their trucks, Tommy stopped Joel with a hand on his shoulder.

“Listen, brother. In all seriousness, I think she’ll say yes, so just ask, ok?”

Joel nodded his thanks and confirmed plans for watching the game at his place on Sunday, before climbing into his truck. The trip home didn’t take long, and for that Joel was grateful. His back ached after a busy week of hard labor followed by an hour sitting hunched over the bar. He’d kill for a massage.

The house was quiet when he walked in, no sign of you or Sarah on the ground floor. Kicking off his work boots and dropping the truck keys onto the hook near the door, Joel slowly climbed the stairs to the second floor.

Light flooded into the hall from Sarah’s bedroom, the sound of giggles and low voices echoing in the air. He moved slowly, quietly, until he could just peek around the door jamb. You sat on Sarah’s bed, the little girl perched in front of you, as you braided her wiry curls.

The sight melted Joel’s insides into a gooey puddle.

This. This was exactly what he wanted to come home to everyday.

He had to ask you to move in.

Just as he straightened up with a silent groan, ready to enter the room, Sarah’s sweet little voice left him frozen in place.

“I think you’d make the best stepmom.”

“This again,” you griped playfully. “You do, huh? Why?”

Was this something Sarah brought up before? Joel held his breath, waiting for Sarah’s response.

“Because you love my dad and you love me, you’re always kind even when things go wrong, you’re smart, and you like spending time with me. But most of all, because you do the things a mom does even though you’re not my mom and you don’t have to.”

He caught your gasp even though you tried to hide it from Sarah. You were as affected by Sarah’s heartfelt, innocent confession as he was. His adorable, sweet little girl knew you’d make a great stepmom and he agreed with all her reasons. If possible, he fell further in love with you in that moment after seeing you through his daughter’s eyes.

“Well, you’re right, nugget. I do love you and your dad, and I hope that one day, when the time is right, I can be your stepmom. Until then, we’ll just keep doing what we’re doing, ok? I’ll still love you to pieces even without the official title.”

You choked out the words, on the verge of tears, and Joel felt his own eyes begin to water. Unable to bear it any longer, he swept through the doorway and pulled you both against his chest in a big bear hug. His precious girls. He loved you both more than words could express.

“Daddy! You’re squeezing too tight! Imma burst!” Sarah shrieked with laughter as he tossed her onto the bed and began tickling her with one hand, his other still holding your close.

“Did you…” Your eyes searched his, a hint of worry hiding in their depths, and Joel grinned, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead.

“I heard it all,” Joel confirmed, confidence bolstered knowing you wanted to marry him at some point. Conveying every feeling held in his heart through his eyes, he added, “Move in with us. Please.”

Your eyes flicked back and forth between his, searching for confirmation. “Are you sure?”

“I’ve never been surer of anything in my life, darlin’.”

The three of you celebrated with ice cream after you agreed to move in with them before putting Sarah to bed. By then, Joel’s back ached something fierce and you offered to use the message gun he forgot he had.

“Lay face down on the bed, my love,” you directed, watching with adoration as he tugged the shirt over his head, jeans hanging low on his hips. The muscles rippled in his arms and back as he settled on the soft mattress. “Ready?”

“Yes,” Joel murmured, huffing when you climbed over him to straddle his ass.

Turning on the massage gun, you put it on the middle setting and pressed the ball against the flesh of his traps. Even through the device, you could feel how tight those muscles were. It must be where he held his tension. Over the next half hour, you worked the massager over his back, soaking in the grunts that bordered on pain and relief. Somewhere along the way, the groans turned pleasurable, and Joel rolled onto his back, leaving you to straddle his thighs as the bulge in his jeans grew.

Joel’s hands moved to undo the button on his jeans, but you batted his hand away with a mischievous grin. With wide, wondrous eyes, he watched you adjust the setting on the massager and run it along the seam of his pants.

“Oh fuck,” he hissed, cock twitching with interest at the vibration. “Don’t stop.”

Hands gripping your hips, he bucked up into the delightful buzz of the massager, a steady stream of moans falling from his lips as the vibrations spread from his balls upwards to the head of his cock. Fuck, if it felt that good through his jeans, how good would it feel directly on his cock?

“Do you want me to increase the speed setting?” you purred, pressing the massager harder against him.

“Oh God, fuck. Yes… ungh. Please.” The words fell from his lips in a series of whimpers as you adjusted the settings. Within moments, he moaned a bit too loudly and came in his pants. You didn’t let up on the pressure though, the vibration drawing out his orgasm until every last drop of his load was blown and his body nearly convulsed with the overstimulation.

Chest heaving, he watched you switch off the massager and run your fingers along the large wet spot on his jeans, his cock twitching tiredly in response.

“That was fucking sexy,” you murmured, enthralled with the mess you just made of him.

“Yeah? Lemme see that thing. Think it’s my turn now, pretty girl.”

Tbc

Taglist: @mellymbee @untamedheart81 @anoverwhelmingdin @runningmom94 @leilanixx

@pedropascalfan221 @lovelyjess69 @sarahhxx03 @sofiparallel @tammythr

@lulawantmula @islacharlotte @allyourfavesinoneblog @lover-of-books-and-tea @pedropascalsbbg

@ashleyfilm @brittmb115 @lilmizmoz @loveisacowboyyy @shotgun-shelby

@deninoe @casssiopeia @caitlynsixxx @skysmiller @missladym1981

@marirxse @lizzie-cakes @tynakub

[psfortune]

Not over yet. - (1)

pairing: stalkerexbf!jungkook x female!reader

@ what was leah listening to? : one of the girls - the weeknd

⋆ summary. what do you do if your being stalked? call the police obviously. if you don't and something happens...you cant blame anyone.

⋆ warnings . 18+ mdni... dark/psychotic!jungkook, kidnapping, jk has no morals whatsoever, dirty talk, breeding kink, past relationship mentioned, fluff if you squint, unprotected sex , debatable happy ending , yandere elements, pwp , reader is a big overthinker, major angst dump, jungkook get jealous super easily, misunderstanding, jungkook is mean

Wordcount !!! 846 words ( short chapter )

no smut in this chapter but definitely in the next few. -

༉‧₊˚. this work is pure fiction. no acts performed in this are linked to the charecters that partake in the storyline. please refrain from reading if uncomfortable ༉‧₊˚.

He's been sitting there for hours now. Just sitting, not using the cracked mobile placed next to him or....even blinking? He is doing something obviously but not the most productive thing to do at all.

Watching you.

If you said that was the most creepy thing you've experienced today, you'd be wrong. Completely fucking wrong. What had you done to deserve this? To be locked in this shitty basement on a mattress that must have been bought in the medieval times, that is if they even had mattresses in those times. You'd been Jeon motherfucking Jungkook's girlfriend. Your stomach let out the most horrifying growl which broke the deafening silence.

A low chuckle echoed around the room as footsteps padded towards you. You held your breath and snapped your eyes shut. Trying your hardest to act like you were sleeping. Too bad you never payed attention in the classes your mother splurged on.

' Oh darling...you've never been the best at acting have you? ' a husky voice said. ' I know you're awake. ' a hand brushed your face, your body shivered involuntarily as it trailed down. hooking your chin and forcing you to look up.

Anyone would say he's a beautiful sight. A fallen angel perhaps. Not you though. To you he's the devil on earth. Fucking satan maybe.

He's a Monster.

⸻ . ࣪   . 　♪⃝ Flashback....2 years ago

' Morning love, ' Jungkook sighed. ' sorry for waking you up so early, I completely forgot about the meeting '

You smile at him and peck his cheek, ' Thats okay, I needed to wake up anyway ' you mutter while buttering a slice of bread. Jungkook gives you a side-ways glance ' Why's that? ' he says absent-mindedly, picking up his phone you check unread emails from work. ' I'm meeting up with a few friends from high-school, sort of a reunion i guess' you say awkwardly, hoping begging internally he won't ask which friends. ' That's nice....who's gonna be there? ' well, shit. the universe is definitely not on your side today. ' oh......uhm, just Lilya, Ana, maybe Siena and a few others ' it wasn't lying....they were going to be there...you just hadn't listed the names of ' a few others '. Luckily, Jungkook bought it, relief flooded your face as he walked out the door.........after a rather long make-out session. He did love his kisses, you smirk.

Everything was great. You had missed your old friends. As it was shown, so did they. You had especially missed one person in particular. Your best friend...Min Yoongi. You sweared you weren't crying when you pulled away from a bone-crunching hug that probably lasted a few minutes but it felt that a few seconds. That made you realize how long it'd been since you had seen him. You sat next to him when eating,smiled at him as much as you could, making the most out of the day......it was perfect.

until it wasn't

You turned your back for two seconds tops. You heard a low groan and whipped round only to find yoongi lying on the floor face-down a shadow cast across his body.

jungkook's shadow.

He stared at you with bloodshot eyes,his large frame shaking with rage. The room was quiet. deadly silent. then broken by the scared whisper of a worker as she whispered into the telephone, undebatably to the police.

' what do you think your doing huh?! FUCKING LIAR ! ' lilya, ana ....and maybe siena ' ' he says mocking you ' AND NOW I SEE YOU WITH THIS PIECE OF SHIT HUH? ' he let out a low sigh

Jungkook's eyes switched from yours to the workers and anguish washed over his face, he frowned and grabbed your arm.

' Hurry up, love. If we leave now we can get away.....love? ' it was too quick. the change in tone that is. Something bad will happen if you go with him. You just know it. So of course you stay rooted to the spot. he looked at you a questionable look etched on his face as he kept trying to pull you along with him.

You shake him off ' No. ' you state. Jungkook looked bewilderered ' What do you mean no? Babe there's no time hurry up. ' you shake your head ' No. Jungkook. I mean it. I'm done. This, ' you beckon around and point at him then yourself ' is done ' you finish.

In a moment of anger he lunges at you and grips your hair pulling it hard, making you gasp ' you fucking slut. you're leaving me? ha...this is for him isn't it ' he points at yoongi's still unconscious figure on the floor. ' you've been cheating on me haven't you, well listen here you- ' he never finished that sentence as several police officers strode in and manhandled jungkook until the hadcuffs were securely on his wrists. What Jungkook had done was assault. That was 6 months in prison. Minimum. As the officers dragged him out of the place he shouted something that made your blood curdle.

' you wait bitch. i'll come for you. just wait '

⸻ . ࣪   . 　♪⃝ Present......

You scurry away from him desperately ' JUNGKOOK....PLEASE. ' you sob out ' WE'RE OVER JUST LEAVE ME ALONE !!! '

he chuckles darkly

' but darling we're not over. not yet '

oh my lord.....i cant believe i just wrote that 😭

this is my first post and it going to be a series so... make sure to read the next few chapters 💗

[signoferoda]

WATER BUG - HS

Summary- The styles family have a fun day at the beach where Novie learns how to catch the waves

The sun rose high in the sky, painting the sandy shores of the beach with hues of gold and orange. Novie, at three years old, bounced with excitement, her chubby cheeks flushed with anticipation as she clung to Harry's hand.

"Are we going to the beach, Daddy?" Novie asked, her eyes wide with excitement, she was unable to contain her happiness, jumping up and down, tugging on her father’s hand repeatedly.

Harry chuckled, ruffling her hair affectionately. "That's right, lovie! We're going to have a fun day at the beach!"

With a cooler packed full of snacks, beach toys, and sunscreen in tow, the Styles family made their way down to the shore. They were on their summer break from school so had escaped to Italy for their annual holiday, The salty breeze teased at their hair as they walked, and the sound of crashing waves filled the air with a sense of excitement.

As they reached the water's edge, Novie's eyes widened with wonder at the sight before her. The vast expanse of sand seemed to stretch on forever, meeting the sparkling sea in a perfect line on the horizon. "Wow!" she exclaimed, her tiny voice filled with awe. She was older now, having more understanding of the beach since her last visit.

Theo and Blake, the older brothers, were determined to make Novie's first proper beach day unforgettable. With boogie boards and surfboards in hand, they led Novie down to the water, their laughter mingling with the sound of crashing waves.

"Come on, Novie! Let's catch some waves!" Blake called out, his grin infectious as he waded into the surf. He was 13 years old and definitely the most crazy kid out of the four.

Theo nodded in agreement, his eyes sparkling with excitement. "Yeah, you'll love it!" he added, his voice brimming with enthusiasm. As the oldest at 15, he knew he had a big responsibility of making sure his baby sister was safe but also having the most fun.

However Y/N and Indi, known for their tendency to worry, couldn't shake off their concerns about potential dangers lurking beneath the water's surface. They stayed close, keeping a watchful eye on Novie as she wandered along the shore, her small feet sinking into the sandy ground.

"Be careful, lovebug," Y/N called out, her voice tinged with concern. "Watch out for any jellyfish!"

Indi nodded in agreement, his brow furrowed with worry. "And don't swallow too much saltwater, okay? Dad says It's not good for you."

But Novie was too caught up in the excitement of the moment to pay much attention to their warnings. With Theo and Blake by her side, her two protectors, she felt invincible, her laughter ringing out like music in the air as they splashed and played in the waves.

Theo and Blake couldn't contain their excitement as they rode the waves with Novie, their laughter echoing along the shoreline. Novie squealed with delight each time a wave lifted her boogie board, her tiny hands gripping onto the sides as she rode the surf alongside her brothers.

Y/N watched nervously from the shore, her heart fluttering with every splash and wave. "Be careful, Novie! Theo, make sure she doesn’t go too far out” she called out, her voice filled with motherly concern.

Indi, standing beside her, nodded in agreement. "Yeah, be careful please" he added, his eyes scanning the horizon for any sign of danger.

But Novie was totally in her element, her laughter ringing out like music in the air as she splashed and played with her brothers. With each wave that crashed against the shore, her confidence grew, and soon she was riding the waves like a pro, well as pro as a three year old could be.

While Theo, Blake, and Novie were caught up in the excitement of surfing, Indi found himself drawn to a different aspect of beach life. He stayed close to his parents, content to explore the shoreline at his own pace. Y/n encouraged him to collect seashells and driftwood, marveling at the intricate patterns and shapes they discovered along the shore.

"Look at this one, Mum!" Indi exclaimed, holding up a particularly beautiful conch shell for her inspection. "Isn't it so cool?"

Y/N smiled, her eyes sparkling with pride at her son's curiosity. "It's beautiful, Indi," she replied, her voice filled with warmth.

Harry, sensing Indi's interest, knelt down beside him, his gaze following the line of the horizon as he listened to the rhythmic sound of the waves. "Did you know that each shell has its own story to tell?" he asked, his voice soft and contemplative.

Indi shook his head, his eyes widening with curiosity. "Really? What kind of stories?"

Harry grinned, his eyes crinkling at the corners with fondness. "There are so many stories," he said, his voice filled with excitement. "Some shells have traveled long distances across the ocean, while others have been home to tiny creatures for years."

Indi listened intently as Harry shared stories of the sea, his imagination soaring as he imagined the adventures behind each shell.

As the afternoon wore on, the sun beat down relentlessly overhead, casting a warm glow over the beach. Harry watched with pride as Novie rode the waves, her smile lighting up the entire shoreline and as his youngest son collected different shells for each of his siblings.

But as the sun reached its peak, Harry noticed that Novie's cheeks were starting to flush with heat, and her movements were becoming sluggish. Concern gnawed at his heart as he approached her in the water.

"Hey there, little surfer," Harry said, his voice gentle as he lifted Novie out of the water and onto the shore. "I think it's time for a little break, don't you?"

Novie nodded sleepily, her eyelids drooping with exhaustion as she nestled into Harry's arms. "Nap time," she murmured, her voice soft and sleepy. She normally had naps earlier on in the day, but y/n let her play, they were on holiday after all.

With Novie cradled in his arms, Harry made his way back to where the rest of the family had set up camp beneath the shade of an umbrella. Y/N rushed forward to meet them, her eyes filled with concern.

"Is she okay?" Y/N asked, her voice tinged with worry as she brushed a gentle hand against Novie's forehead.

Harry nodded, his expression reassuring. "She's just a little tired and overheated," he explained. "Think a nap in the shade will do her good."

Y/N breathed a sigh of relief, feeling the tension melt away from her shoulders. "Thank goodness," she whispered, leaning in to plant a gentle kiss on Novie's forehead.

Indi, sensing his mother's relief, let out a sighs of his own. "I'm glad she's okay," Indi said, his voice soft with relief.

Theo nodded in agreement, his eyes filled with brotherly concern. They had followed their dad up to the shade. "Yeah, me too. We'll have to be more careful next time," he added, shooting a meaningful glance at Blake.

Blake's smile faltered, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment. "My bad, guys. I guess I got a bit too excited," he admitted, a touch of remorse in his voice.

But Harry shook his head, a smile playing at the corners of his lips. "No harm done," he said, his voice warm with affection. "We're just glad Novie's okay. You have to remember that she’s just a baby bud, she gets tired quicker." Harry spoke, earning a nod from his son.

Harry tucked Novie into a cozy beach towel under the shade of the umbrella, and took a seat with her, gently rocking her to sleep. Y/N nestled close, her arm around Novie, and Indi, Blake and Theo joined them, taking some drinks out the cooler, winding down from a long day.

"I still can't believe she rode those waves," Blake said, his voice filled with admiration as he glanced at Novie sleeping peacefully. "She's fearless."

Theo nodded in agreement, his gaze fixed on his little sister with a mixture of pride and protectiveness. "Yeah, she's something else," he said, a hint of awe in his voice.

“She’s our water bug” Indi smiled, moving to grab Novies small hand in his own. The image making Harry and y/n audibly awe and flash a quick picture of them.

Eventually, as the sun dipped below the horizon and the sky turned shades of pink and purple, Harry felt Novie stir in his arms. She blinked sleepily, rubbing her eyes with tiny fists before snuggling closer to her dad.

"Hey there, sleepyhead," Harry whispered, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "Did you have a good nap?"

Novie nodded, her eyes still heavy with sleep. "Mm-hmm," she murmured, a sleepy smile tugging at her lips.

Y/N leaned in, brushing a strand of hair away from Novie's face. "You did so well today, lovie," she said, her voice soft with love. "We're so proud of you."

Novie beamed, her eyes shining with happiness as she snuggled closer to her family. It was the best beach day.

[altruistic-meme]

skk fic rec time !!! 🖤🖤

okay i officially have more skk fics bookmarked on my ao3 than my sister has fics in general bookmarked on hers. so. it is time for another ficrec list by abram, bsd/skk version this time!!!

i have no idea yet how many fics will be on this list. i will go until i decide to stop. but as of right now i have 124 bsd fics bookmarked and i definitely won't be listing all of them so if anyone wants a pt. 2 then i certainly have the material to do that.

i'm not putting warnings with the fics, but bc this is BSD please do take note of tags and warnings that are given! i read a lot of fics with darker material so do be cautious!

One-Shots:

keep you alive, set you on fire by flyby @orbitalflyby (Explicit, 23k) Dazai steps out in a dress and heels for a mission, since the gown won't fit Yosano. He's only supposed to spend an hour or so leading their targets on a dance around a charity gala, but the unexpected arrival of a certain Port Mafia Executive threatens to disrupt all his plans. And when he and Chuuya find themselves finally face to face, they end up entwined in a tense game of mutual provocation...

~

Don't Pull Your Punches by kanekei (Teen and Up Audiences, 5k) Everyone thinks that their partnership is a series of Dazai being a troublemaker while Chuuya is helplessly dragged along for the ride. That couldn’t be farther from the truth. Some days it feels like Dazai is the only one aware of how insane Chuuya actually is. OR: 3 times Dazai cleans up after Chuuya + 1 time he doesn’t bother

~

The 5 Elements of an Apology by artemisiatea (Teen and Up Audiences, 6k) in which dazai learns that change is hard, but accountability is harder

~

Tea Over Rice by the_most_happy (Teen and Up Audiences, 8k) “Oi, Dazai— what would people say if they saw us?” Dazai gave him a puzzled look. “That we’re happy,” he answered. He made it sound simple; he made it sound pure. “They would say we’re happy.” They never stopped being Double Black — just different clothes and less blood on their hands. [Or: What if Dazai and Chuuya escaped the Port Mafia together?]

~

Lost All Judgement by todxrxki (Teen and Up Audiences, 12k) “Uh, sorry, but unfortunately I already have a date to the dance.” “Oh, really?” Tachihara says, sounding disappointed. He pauses for a second, clearly processing what Chuuya’s just told him, and then says, “Who is it?” Chuuya certainly hadn’t budgeted for this. Panicking, he tries to think of the people that he knows that are single, and before he knows it, the first name that comes to mind is slipping out of his mouth. “With Dazai.” / After a momentary lapse in judgment, high school student Chuuya ends up having to pretend to date his enemy Dazai to get Tachihara off of his back - and quickly finds it's nowhere as bad as he'd imagined.

~

oh darling it's alarming to think of us apart (you know you've got me in your pocket) by interludewings (Teen and Up Audiences, 20k) “Okay so if we’re both still single when we’re twenty two,” Dazai’s smile grew even wider. “Let’s marry each other.” By the time Chuuya’s twenty two, he’d probably be in a relationship with someone else, and the possibilities of them even remembering each other were slim to none. And so, Chuuya gave his answer. “Fine, let’s do that.” In short, fifteen year olds Dazai Osamu and Nakahara Chuuya made a stupid promise one day in their school library out of boredom, which leads to the next seven years of their life filled with fighting, burnt notebooks and late night conversations.

~

The Undercover Mission by OldSauk411 (Teen and Up Audiences, 16k) It all started when Atsushi was sent to drop off some papers that the Port Mafia had let them borrow. That was when he saw her, the woman with orange hair and blue eyes standing in the Port Mafia's hallways and talking. She was beautiful if he was being honest. However, after he left, he forgot about her- at least until a few months later, when the ADA and the Port Mafia teamed up for an undercover mission. One that was led by said 'woman'. Aka, Chuuya Nakahara. _____ Or: Atsushi sees a woman from a distance and thinks she's beautiful, up until the Port Mafia and the ADA team up for an undercover mission and it's revealed that the woman was actually Chuuya Nakahara.

~

Nothing but your spine by osamuchuu (Mature, 6k) “Oi, Dazai. We’re here.” Chuuya reached into the car to shake Dazai’s shoulders a bit, rearranging his coat to lay over the man’s back. Dazai swayed and blinked up at him. Whatever painkillers he’d been given had stolen the sharpness from his face. Dazai looked fifteen again, wide-eyed and vulnerable. And then he smiled. He smiled and Chuuya’s heart stuttered because it was so fucking real, so small and different from all the painted faces he wore now. This was dangerous.

~

strange loyalties by finalizer @tarmairons (Mature, 13k) “The Agency dorms are being fumigated,” Dazai explained cheerfully. “So, I offered—Atsushi can stay with us.” Or: Atsushi's observations from inside Yokohama's strangest household.

[sidenote: this is actually a sequel fic and while i loved the first one, this one really just took me to a whole other plane of existence which is why it's the one on the rec list. i do also rec the first one though!]

~

Yokohama public High School- almost as crazy as their pep rallies by BlowingYourMind (General Audiences, 20k) "The slacks! They're way too tight on him! Exactly no teachers ass should be like that, the students may be offended-" "Dazai, I think you're the only one that notices, and maybe refrain from eyeing up your co-workers like that-" "But how can I not!" Dazai huffed "It's right there in front of my face, it's hideous!" Oda sighed. he was just an average man with an average job gaining an average salary, but he would need to find a way to help Dazai and his obvious crush on Chuuya Nakahara before he lost his sanity. Or The story of how Chemistry teacher Dazai Osamu fell helplessly for coach Nakahara Chuuya, and the student body's many attempts to get them together.

~

If you refuse to listen I'll say it twice, love of my life by olympiansally @olympiansally (Mature, 15k) There’s Atsushi, Dazai’s star pupil. There’s Fyodor, arguably Dazai’s soulmate, a single mind in two bodies. There’s Kunikida, Dazai’s partner. There’s Oda, the reason Dazai wants to live. And then there’s Chuuya. If he asked Dazai to define him, to name his purpose, Chuuya already knows what he would hear. Chuuya is his dog, Chuuya is a slug, Chuuya is a chibi. And sure, maybe he is. But none of that is enough. Or, Chuuya can’t figure out what he means to Dazai exactly, but if he would only listen, he would realize that Dazai has been telling him all along.

~

In the throes of Corruption by BlowingYourMind (Teen and Up Audiences, 7k) Dazai’s ability ‘No longer human’ ironically made Chuuya human. It stripped him of the god that set his insides to flame and wreaked havoc. Corruption was terrible to Chuuya but Dazai’s touch never was. Or Five times Dazai helps Chuuya through the throes of Corruption.

~

hide the truth by writingfromtheshadows (Not Rated, 24k) When Chuuya wakes up in the middle of an ongoing fight without any memory of how he got there or what happened to him, he ends up turning to someone saved as 'bandage-waster' in his phone. Somehow, it just feels like the right decision.

~

Dream a little dream of me by BlowingYourMind (Teen and Up Audiences, 9k) "What would you like to dream of, Chuuya?" Dazai asked, and his partner shifted in the bed before settling down. "I dunno idiot, you pick." Dazai hummed, "I believe I can arrange that." Chuuya's eyelashes fluttered against Dazai's palm as Dazai continued to speak, voice turning into a whisper as he spoke late into the night. Or Chuuya can't dream, and Dazai has a soloution that quickly turns into a routine between the two of them.

~

Multichapter fics (all complete)

in the mirror, i bloom by ephemeralis (Teen and Up Audiences, 12k, 2/2) It twists him, turns him, curls in his chest like something alive, something he knows but can’t dare to name. Chuuya curses the red-black petals that fall from his lips, these nearly rotten things that tear him apart from the inside out. Part of him wants to rip his own traitorous heart out, through a ribcage shattered by feelings he can’t contain. Anger is easy, a thing he’s learned to control. This— whatever the hell this is— is not. Or at least it’s easier to feel as though this is beyond his own control, because Chuuya is not in love. (It feels like a lie even to himself.) After he's hit by a strange ability, Chuuya is forced to consider truths he'd much rather keep hidden- but not everything is as simple it seems.

[sidenote: this was the first bsd fic i ever read and HOOOOLLY CRAP what a beautiful way to join the fandom. i've reread this fic several times since. stunning.]

~

where your loyalties lie by writingfromtheshadows (Explicit, 163k, 20/20) Loyalty is the foundation of the yakuza code, something that was drilled into Chuuya at an early age. However, his lessons did not cover how to manage a political marriage with his organization's oldest rival.

~

Inseparable by milwritsecausewhynot (Teen and Up Audiences, 107k, 21/21) Best friends is too simple a term to squash the entire dynamic of Dazai Osamu and Nakahara Chuuya within. Sure, they’ve known each other since they were children, and they’re each other’s #1 on their best friend lists on Snapchat, and Chuuya’s been seen one too many times in his hoodies. People have also noticed how Dazai’s main muse for his volunteer hobby of polaroid photographer is the redhead himself. But the pranks they pull on each other isn’t much of a ‘best friend’ thing to do. Especially when one of the pranks get pulled so far, That Chuuya is forbidden from seeing Dazai ever again. And though he sees no good coming from such a forced separation, the one thing that can enhance their futures together is propelled forward at a faster speed than either of them could have ever imagined: Coming to terms with their unusual feelings for each other.

~

Do I Get My Worthless Reward Yet? by World_Ender22 (Teen and Up Audiences, 40k, 10/10) Chuuya has always been certain of two things: he is going to die young, and it will be Corruption that kills him. So when the Boss orders him to use his Corrupted form without an out, he is neither surprised nor distressed. He simply does what he's told. When Dazai learns that the whole thing is a ploy to make him rejoin the Mafia, he plans to beat Mori at his own game... starting with convincing Chuuya to join the Armed Detective Agency. / Soukoku

~

When I Awake by wildflowertea @wildflowerteas (Mature, 235k, 23/23) Dazai Osamu has been in a coma for exactly one year, seven months, and twenty-two days. But Death still refuses to take him. Trapped in the space between worlds, and unable to die, Dazai waits, killing what precious time he may have left and hoping—praying—that his family will pull the plug and move on. He doesn't expect someone to move into his old apartment instead. Nakahara Chuuya, two-time Grammy awards winner, and freshly unemployed pessimist, has never believed in fate—much less the supernatural. But the lively—if a bit annoying—ghost of his apartment's previous tenant, might just change everything.

~

hopelessly devoted by soukocacola (Explicit, 188k, 18/18) "Get your grades up." Oda tells him. "Then we'll talk." Well, Dazai thinks. If he's going to be miserable, the least he can do is make Chuuya miserable, too. Maybe then Chuuya will ditch him and Dazai can fail out of college with no regrets. 

~

His Prized Experiment by fauxtales @fauxfroot (Mature, 94k, 18/18) "As terrifying as it could be, there was something just so freeing in using Corruption. It is, after all, his strongest state. No one can harm him when he uses Corruption; he is all but invincible. There are days when he lets himself dream. There is the part of him wondering if that’s just the god or his instincts trying to convince him to unleash pure chaos and destruction on the world, but that thought is easy enough to push away. He has no control in that state after all." As a teenager, Chuuya is subjected to experiments at Mori's hand in an attempt to find a way to control Corruption. Now, years later, Mori has decided it's time to revisit the experiments. Dazai is having none of it. But can they really leave their entire life behind?

~

death offers no absolution by Zairielon (Mature, 62k, 10/10) After so many years in the Port Mafia, Chuuya thought he couldn't be phased by anything - that he had carried out the worst orders that would ever be given to him. Then he sees things he never saw before. He sees horror, cruelty, needless suffering. He sees death in every step he takes. Chuuya is only human, too. Eventually, he breaks. OR, Chuuya leaves the Port Mafia and attempts to escape his bloodstained past.

~

from a to o, i love you so by anticide @anticidic (Explicit, 22k, 3/3) Here they were dancing a dangerous tango and crossing lines and blurring boundaries that neither Fukuzawa nor Mori would take kindly to. Dazai was supposed to have gotten over Chuuya, not melted in his embrace and bound them together for an eternity. (Or: Dazai and Chuuya's unconventional relationship sparks a radical change within Dazai when he wakes up one day under the weather and feeling very, very off.)

~

My Body is Your Body (I Won't Tell Anybody) by thereweregiants (Explicit, 26k, 2/2) Thanks to a rogue ability user, Dazai and Chuuya find themselves switching bodies. ...yeah, there's no way this ends well.

~

Mission - Entrancing Armed Detective Agency by cocktailjjrs (Teen and Up Audiences, 105k, 12/12) “Charming? Have you finally started dreaming now?” Dazai turned to face his longtime partner again “Say what you want, asshole, but people like me better anyway” Chuuya ignored the jab at his lack of dreams, only shrugging in response. “I can bet anything in this world that you can’t be liked by everyone. Your efforts will be fruitless by the end of the day” “Wanna bet?” Chuuya smirked “You’re on!” Dazai returned the smirk “I’ll tell you who your target will be” . . . In which, Dazai and Chuuya are upto their old shenanigans and make a bet. As a result - Bonds are formed, secrets are revealed, money is spent, devious plans are concatenated; someone gets drugged, someone gets punched, someone gets a wakeup slap. And Chuuya's 'brute' image is at imminent risk. All of this - to with the bet!

~

Prey to Your Instincts by skylorr (Mature, 98k, 8/8) He was a beta. He was normal. Barely any scent, no cycles, no mating instincts. Just plain old normal. At least, that’s what he thought. He thought he was normal. But instead, Dazai is currently curled up on his single mattress in the shipping container that he calls home as he sweats profusely and struggles through cramps, pains, and the desire to nest. His mattress has a single thin blanket, which apparently does not satisfy the omega instincts trying to claw their way out of his mind. He was so close, too; days away from his 17th birthday, the birthday that would have officially made him a beta. Hope is a killer disease.

[sidenote: there is also a sequel to this fic that i recommend just as much! it's still a WIP <3]

~

Illustrations of Lying by writingfromtheshadows (Mature, 49k, 20/20) It is more difficult, perhaps, to bear with fortitude the little daily trails of life, than great calamities, because we summon up all our spiritual and moral strength to resist the latter...  Upon faced with the culmination of Mori's plan, Dazai does not go to Odasaku's side. Instead, he relieves Mori of his duties.

~

i'll bleed out for you by StarshipDancer @neonganymede (Mature, 75k, 7/7) What a shitty way to die.... Less than forty-eight hours ago, they’d been impaled together, and Chuuya had feared that the broken metal pole had pinned him in place against a corpse. Now, he worried that a corpse sat next to him, nothing more than a poorly-crafted imitation of his ex-partner. ... And what an even shittier situation to be stuck in. Or, A mission goes wrong, and Soukoku die together. Except, they don't, but now they're stuck in a safe house pretending that they did. And if Chuuya wants to find out what went wrong with Dazai's plan, he'll first have to find a way around the wall of silence that his former partner has built to keep him out.

~

Cigarette Game by chowderpuff (Teen and Up Audiences, 9k, 2/2) Chuuya has a crush on Dazai. Dazai knows this, and he thinks it’s a prime opportunity to mess with his partner a little. After all, why not? Chuuya’s reactions to his flirting are priceless, a new little bonus feature to the game between them, and Dazai actually starts to find it more entertaining than outright arguing. It’s all harmless fun until Dazai realizes that he has feelings too. Then it's decidedly not.

[ author's tumblrs are tagged when i could find them! if you know one who wasn't tagged or if you're an author and would like to be untagged, let me know! ]

[allwaswell16]

A fic rec of One Direction fics where one of the characters is very protective over another character as requested in these two asks. You can find my other fic recs here. Please leave kudos and comments for the writers! Happy reading!

- Louis/Harry -

⚔️ This Multiplicity of Powers by HelloAmHere / @helloamhere

(E, 149k, X-Men au) Maybe there’s a universe where he doesn’t have to keep all his secrets on the inside. But this isn’t that universe.

⚔️ forever is in your eyes by we_are_the_same / @so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed

(M, 125k, supernatural elements) He wants love. He wants to be held and cherished and have a home. Not just a place to lay his head down at night. He wants to be loved the way that Louis had loved creating Harry. He wants his perfect man, but he wants him to be real. He wants Harry to be real-

⚔️ cut your teeth on my heart by @turnyourankle

(E, 94k, bodyguard Louis) Harry has spent years trying to distance himself from the pressure of the Twist name and legacy. But it's going to be hard to avoid when his mum hires him a bodyguard.

⚔️ And down the long and silent street by whimsicule

(M, 86k, historical) Wherein Louis and Harry are on the opposite ends of the social ladder, but their paths still cross on the filthy streets Louis calls his home. The odds are staked against them from the beginning, and even more when Louis' past finally catches up with him.

⚔️ What I Have With You (I don't want with anyone else) by @lululawrence

(NR, 73k, omegaverse) Louis is an asexual alpha, Harry is his aromantic alpha friend and possible roommate, and faking a relationship might be exactly what they need to get their families and friends off their backs.

⚔️ this charade (was never going to last) by @scrunchyharry

(E, 68k, spies) As if the whole ‘industrial spy’ business was not stressful enough, Harry found himself in a hatred-at-first-sight relationship with one of his new coworkers, Louis, a man intent on detesting Harry.

⚔️ your memory over me by @shimmeringevil

(E, 64k, exes) The worst heartbreak of Louis’ life walks right back into it when his parents invite their family friends on an all-expenses-paid trip for their twenty-fifth wedding anniversary. Facing a past that he tried to bury long ago, Louis learns that some people have a way of sticking with you even when they’re gone.

⚔️ and i would search the night sky to find you by devilinmybrain / @thedevilinmybrain

(E, 56k, omegaverse) Harry Styles is a high class, well-bred Omega attending Bosworth Academy - a prestigious boarding school looking over the small town on Kinsey. When he attends a school trip into town though, he meets Louis Tomlinson - a blacksmith and mouthy Alpha who doesn't particularly care for the standards of high society nor for the people in it. 

⚔️ Close to Nowhere by @angelichl

(E, 34k, hate to love) Louis and Harry are psychics who kind of hate each other. They go to Tennessee to investigate a haunting.

⚔️ Until the Pearls Get Lost by LadyLondonderry / @londonfoginacup

(M, 25k, omegaverse) Louis will spend the rest of his life in an institution unless Liam can find someone to take him in and care for him as he recovers. Most omegas with failed bonds are never the same again.

⚔️ Keep Me Closer by zanni_scaramouche / @zanniscaramouche

(T, 18k, omegaverse) Louis expects Harry to react poorly, maybe even file a formal complaint and that’s gonna suck ass but Louis won’t say shit cause he knows he deserves it, so he prepares an apology before Harry’s even turned around.

⚔️ Unraveled by @allwaswell16

(E, 18k, bodyguard) They had reason to believe that Prime Minister Louis Tomlinson might be in danger, and they’d like Harry to act as his personal protection.

⚔️ Meet Me On The Forest Floor by @taggiecb

(M, 15k, fallen angel) Louis is an angel, and one day he does something that causes him to fall from heaven, and into the arms of Harry Styles, forestry officer, who cares for him until Louis can get back on his feet again.

Your Touch Is The Only Thing I Feel by @2tiedships2

(M, 15k, omegaverse) the one where Louis refuses to settle for just any alpha despite intense touch deprivation. Fortunately Harry isn't just any alpha.

⚔️ Heart Eyes by Snowy38 / @snowy38

(E, 10k, blind Harry) Seventeen years old, friends since they were eight, and they’d never been pushed into the kissing cupboard together before.

⚔️ In Shining Armour of Trackie and Trainers by LadyAJ_13 / @ladyaj-13

(T, 9k, famous/not famous) Online dating isn't exactly working for Harry. In fact, it couldn't really be going much worse. But then the door of the bar opens, and the pack of friends walking in parts and - that’s Louis Tomlinson. Louis fucking Tomlinson.

⚔️ I’d Walk Through Fire For You (Just Let Me Adore You) by Neondiamond / @neondiamond

(E, 8k, omegaverse) Firefighter Louis is having an uneventful shift at the station when a call comes in about a devastating fire in a nearby apartment complex. All of his worst nightmares become reality when he realises it’s where Harry, his best friend who he’s had a relentless crush on for years, lives, and that said best friend is stuck inside among the flames.

⚔️ Just Hold On by SilverStuff50 / @silverstuff50

(M, 3k, famous/not famous) “It’s just not safe. You’re surrounded by people grabbing and pulling at you.” He looks Louis up and down appraisingly. “And you’re so-“ he stops himself when Joni shoots him a warning look.

⚔️ I Hope You Choke (on those words) by Imogenlee / @imogenleewriter

(E, 2k, bodyguard) Never in his career had he seen a musician as reckless when it came to personal safety as Louis Tomlinson.

- Rare Pairs -

⚔️ your crimes are quiet, my love by lightswoodmagic / @lightwoodsmagic

(E, 97k, Zayn/Liam) A darker Miss Congeniality AU that follows Zayn and Liam, MI5 agents, partners since training and best friends, as they race to stop a serial killer. 

⚔️ Can You Feel Where the Wind Is by FallingLikeThis / @fallinglikethis

(M, 3k, Zayn/Liam) Liam still remembers the argument, still remembers the feelings of stubborn exasperation and eventual grudging acceptance, when his father had insisted that Liam needed a security detail while out doing his father’s bidding.

[lovebugism]

i need more of “the customer is always right” before i wither away and die <3 the anticipation of IT happening is quite literally killing me ilysm

THE CUSTOMER'S ALWAYS RIGHT | b-minus

summary: eddie munson takes the unconquerable english midterm that's forced him to repeat senior year two times. dustin henderson gets a pep talk. uncle wayne gives his nephew a warning. you cook your eddie spaghetti some spaghetti. (17k)

pairing: virgin!eddie munson / f!reader

tags: idiots in love, experienced!reader, domestic bliss, staying the night, eddie munson tries to get used to being loved TW probable typos, swearing, discussions of being poor, talks of insecurities, kissing, heavy petting, oral sex (m!receiving) 18+ only!!

a/n: hi. hello. me again. you probably don't remember me because it's been almost TWO MONTHS. i'm really sorry about that btw this semester of college was sent from the actual depths of hell. please take this sixth installment of tcar and find it in your heart to forgive me <3 ily all xoxo

( PREVIOUSLY ) | ( MASTERLIST ) | ( NEXT )

 ˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗

“Okay, this is officially the last time I let you drive me anywhere,” Eddie gripes from the passenger seat of your too tiny car as one excruciatingly happy ABBA song bleeds into another.

He shouldn’t have expected anything less. You’re made of the same stuff you listen to — sunshine and melted ice cream and summer breezes. You match the blue skies above you as you belt the lyrics to the song you seem to know by heart.

The sight makes Eddie grin to himself, still beaming no matter how hard he rolls his eyes.

This was the only good thing about the breaks of his van going haywire and having to bum a ride to school from you — getting to see more of you in your element. 

As much as he loved having you in his passenger seat, bobbing your head to whatever rock song he’d popped into the cassette player, there was something entirely different about seeing you in the driver’s seat.

This car was your safe space, spotted with stickers on the console and polaroids on the speedometer, where you could sing any damn ABBA song you wanted to because it was your own little bubble where nothing could touch you. 

Eddie’s grateful you let him see it, all these parts of you that you reveal slowly to him like so many tiny rays of sunshine.

It’s even better to witness with a full stomach, which was maybe the second good thing about driving with you. You picked him up with time to spare to get breakfast — to take the long route to school and watch the rising sun sparkle over Lover’s Lake. There was no reason to speed through town like a maniac because he wasn’t in a rush. Today might be the first time all year he’s not five minutes late to first period.

He tells you to sing louder when you get all shy and hyperaware of his gaze, feeding you bits of your breakfast — but only on the instrumental parts so you don’t miss your favorites. The boy props his arm on the center console and folds down the wrapper of your greasy, plain biscuit with his thumb so it doesn’t get in the way of your bite. He doesn’t even complain when you try to sing through the mouthful. 

He figures that this is what love is. A part of it, at least. That stupid, philosophical feeling people have been trying to describe for ages is sitting right beside him — with crumbs sticking to the corners of her mouth as she mixes up the words to the Dancing Queen chorus.

Love isn’t butterflies or tight chests — it’s this. It’s letting a person listen to music you hate because you know they love it and not caring that they’re singing horrifically off-key.

And it’s not like Eddie’s in love with you or anything. He’s just got a lot of adoration for you. It’s the kind of innocent affection that makes him love ABBA and think you’re one of the best damn singers he’s ever heard in his life — even though neither would be particularly true if he didn’t care about you so much.

It’s sort of like the love he’s got for Dustin, to still care about the little shrimp even when he’s annoying him to no end. But, at the same time, it’s not like that at all. Because Dustin Henderson isn’t the prettiest girl he’s ever seen. Dustin Henderson doesn’t make him feel like his heart is being trampled by an entire stampede of zoo animals. 

No one quite makes Eddie feel the way you do. But even if he was in love with you, he’s got no way of knowing the difference — between loving and being in love. The only thing he’s really sure of is that he doesn’t know a damn thing. And that the sick feeling in his stomach he gets every time he looks at you can’t possibly be normal.

“Oh, stop being such a baby,” you retort. Your words come slurred and slightly muffled through the bite of biscuit in your cheek. “I know you secretly like it.”

“Of course I do!” he shouts over the catchy bass guitar and your subsequent laughter. “It’s just not the kinda shit I wanna listen to right before I take the biggest test of my life.”

It’s true. The past two times he’s been forced to take Ms. O’Donnell’s impossible midterm exam, he's listened to the exact same song — ‘Ride the Lightning,’ Metallica. It’s the only song that gives him enough of an adrenaline rush to gather the confidence to fail the same test. Twice. 

Eddie Munson is a creature of habit. Today marks the third anniversary of the dreaded day that makes or breaks his high school career, but instead of spending it with Metallica, he’s spending it with you. He wants to believe you’re a good luck charm or some kind of lucky omen, but he’s terrified of getting his hopes up.

Expect the worst, and you’ll never be disappointed. That’s what Uncle Wayne always said.

“I think ‘When I Kissed the Teacher’ has plenty of useful advice, Eddie Spaghetti.”

The boy turns to you with a bemused wide-eyed gaze. “If you’re suggesting I makeout with Ms. O’Donnell to pass her class, I’m gonna hurl— like actually hurl. And I will deliberately do it all over the floor of your car.”

“Would you rather repeat your senior year? Again?”

“Yes,” he answers without missing a beat and with a very enthusiastic nod that makes his wild curls sway around his face. “I would rather be a senior for the rest of my life than kiss Ms. O’Donnell.”

“Well, it’s a good thing you won’t have to, right? Because you’re totally gonna ace this thing.”

This is what you’ve been doing for over a week now — twisting everything negative into something more overtly positive. You meet Eddie’s pessimism and self-doubt with a sort of hopefulness he lost somewhere between the first and second time he got held back. 

You force him to study in the gentlest way possible because you’re never anything but soft with him. You make him pretty little flashcards and flip through them with him on the opposite side of his bed, obviously more enthusiastic about the whole thing than he is. You give him sympathetic pecks on his cheek when he gets a question wrong and kiss him totally breathless when he gets the odd one right.

Eddie would be lying if he said the incentive didn’t help at least a little bit.

There is no hint of impatience or sign of hubris that makes him feel stupid. You just teach him to be kinder to himself with tiny little reminders that you’re doing all this right along with him.

“Considering I’ve failed it twice already, I highly doubt that, sweetheart,” he counters, and he’s kidding — mostly. He says it with a teasing lilt and a twinkle in his squinted eyes, but you know that’s his way of covering up that he’s totally serious. 

He really doesn’t think he can do it, pass this stupid exam. He’s got absolutely no faith in himself — but that’s okay, because you’ve got all the faith in him in the world.

“Well, that’s because you didn’t have me to help you study,” you argue, just before accepting the last piece of biscuit he plucks from the parchment and offers to you.

You speak through the mouthful. “But now you do! And we’ve been going over this all week and—” You cut yourself off to swallow the dry pastry. “—And you totally got this. You’re gonna blow ‘em outta the park, Eddie Spaghetti. I can feel it.”

Your optimism makes him smile even though he doesn’t really feel like smiling. He lolls his head against the seat to look at you, finds you with a pretty grin and tiny biscuit crumbs on the corners of your mouth, and has the sudden urge to tell you that he loves you.

It comes out of nowhere. It bubbles up all at once like vomit and startles him with its unexpectedness. The sudden and unfamiliar feeling makes him feel sick, like he just went upside down on a rollercoaster. Whoever said love felt like butterflies was a liar because it feels a whole lot more like getting punched in the stomach.

The words rise from his throat like bile and linger on the edge of his tongue. Eddie forces himself to swallow them back down again. The unsaid ‘Holy fuck, I love the shit outta you’ tastes far more bitter going down.

“What do I get if I ace it then, huh?” he wonders after an awkward blink of silence.

“Uh, I don’t know,” you shrug. “Your diploma.”

“I meant as a reward, dummy.”

“I feel like graduating high school is enough of a reward.”

“I just think I should be compensated for a job well done, is all,” he proposes with a lopsided grin. The teasing nature of his words drips from his mouth like honey.

You glance at him once, eyes wide and dumbfounded, then back to the road. “Eddie Munson…” you scold in a lighthearted lilt. “Get your head outta the gutter. It’s not even eight o’clock.”

That sort of thing wouldn’t have bothered you before. Any other time, you would’ve been all too happy to pull over and jerk him off in a barren parking lot, relieve all his pent-up stress about the exam in the form of a quick handjob. But you’ve been quite obviously keeping your hands to yourself since he told you he was a virgin. 

You were serious about what you said before, about starting over, and Eddie learned that very quickly. You take to giving him tiny little pecks on the cheek and holding his sweaty hand in yours and hardly anything else — like you’re a couple of kids going steady.

Eddie likes it, though, the comforting nature of your unhurried disposition. He just hates the ache it leaves him with.

“It’s all I’m gonna be thinking about,” he confesses with a scrunched nose. “Just so ya know.”

“As long as it helps you pass,” you respond with the shake of your head.

“As long as it helps me pass…” Eddie echoes, quieter. 

“Just think about the biggest kiss I’m gonna give you when I see you again,” you tell him, flashing him a beam as you slow at a stop sign. You trap your smile between your teeth and flash him a glance that can only be described as whimsical — full of shy smiles and fluttering lashes and sparkling eyes. “‘Cause I’m gonna kiss you absolutely stupid, Eddie Munson.”

A rose-colored hue sprinkles along the apples of his cheeks. He never thought a threat could sound so appealing.

“Cool…” is the only thing he could think to mutter in the moment, too busy trying not to smile too wide. He turns his glowing cheeks towards his lap and purses his smile towards his fiddling fingers. “But, uh, I have Hellfire after school, so… Maybe tomorrow?”

You meet his disappointed glance with a shrug. “You could come over after if you want?”

He wants to. He always wants to.

“It’ll probably be late.”

“Then just stay over.”

Your offer comes effortlessly but strikes a deep feeling of complexity within him. Eddie doesn’t know why it makes him so suddenly nervous, only that it makes his palms sweat almost instantly.

The two of you haven’t crossed that threshold yet — of sharing a bed to sleep. He’d catch you dozing on occasion, slouched against his headboard with your head on his shoulder, and he’d wake you. Not because it made him uncomfortable, but because he didn’t want your neck to ache. 

You’d rouse with a groggy apology — “I should probably leave before Bowie starves to death and I drool all over your shoulder,” you’d tell him. 

And it’s not like Eddie wanted you to leave, but he was more than happy to sleep alone. What if he snores obnoxiously loud or he does something gross in his sleep? If you got instantly turned off by some sleeping habit he didn’t even know he had, he thinks it might destroy him.

Eddie can’t control the front he puts up around everyone when he’s sleeping. And for a boy who’s still trying to impress a pretty girl, that’s a very frightening thought.

“Uh, okay… Are you— Are you sure?” he stammers.

His apprehension confuses you. The offer hadn’t felt like that big of a deal to you. “I mean… yeah? We practically did it over the phone last week. It’ll be just like that — but, you know, in person.”

“Right… Okay.”

“I can make us dinner, and we can watch a movie or something,” you propose and grin at the daydream of it all. You wouldn’t have to miss Eddie if he was beside you all night. You wouldn’t have to drift off to thoughts of him either, because he’d be right there. “Bowie would be stoked if you stayed over. She’s practically obsessed with you.”

The thought makes Eddie smile to himself. His heart swells at the idea that other parts of your life have already started to accept him. It makes him feel all warm and fuzzy in his leather jacket and ripped jeans and chunky metal rings.

“Her mom is too, right?” he asks you, mostly playful. He smirks all smug, but his cinnamon-tinted gaze gleams with sincerity.

“Oh, obviously,” you scoff without a second thought. “Have you seen her? She can’t get enough of you…” Your teasing lilt and soft smile fades as you squint at him. “Don’t tell her I told you that, though.”

Eddie pinches his thumb and forefinger together, zipping them across his lips, then rolling down the window to toss the imaginary lock out of it. 

Wind whips through the small car with vigor, making a wild halo of Eddie’s already less-than-tamed hair. The intrusion forces you to squint, even more so when you laugh. 

The sound of your giggling is like glitter or sunbeams. It’s as bright as yellow and soft like summer rain. It makes him smile, too, because that’s all he wanted to do in the first place — make you laugh. It’s all he ever wants to do.

Eddie cranks the lever to roll the window back up again as you tell him: “And, you know, if you stayed over, then I could give you that reward we were talking about.” 

You’ve successfully stooped to his level now: head stuck in the very depths of the gutter. Most of your thoughts are innocent, cooking for him and holding him while you slept. Others, not so much.

“And that would be…” he trails off with raised brows.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” you squint at him as you turn the steering wheel to pull into the bustling parking lot of Hawkins High. 

The place is as wretched as it always was. It hasn’t changed a bit, just sort of deteriorated with time. The nameplate on top of the building has started to grey and the tiger mural painted on the bricks is fading, but it’s still the same. The familiarity of it all hits you with an ice-cold pang of nostalgia.

“I would,” Eddie nods a very vigorous nod, all innocent and wide-eyed, as you park on the far side of the lot. “I would very much like to know.”

You lean across the console to press a swift kiss to his cheek. “You’ll find out later,” you assure him, lingering just ahead of his face. Closer by an inch or two and the tips of your noses would nudge against one another.

“Have mercy…” Eddie murmurs to himself, eyes and limbs suddenly heavy under the weight of his desire for you. 

You made him promise he’d stay sober for the exam — no drinking the night before, no smoking while he got ready. Before now, he’d been perfectly clearheaded. Then you go and look at him with that look, and he’s instantly drunk on you.

He tries to close the distance between you but succeeds only in brushing your noses together before a loud honk blares from ahead of you. It sends the two of you jerking away from each other almost instantly, heads whipping toward the direction of the too loud beep. 

It comes from Steve Harrington’s maroon Beemer that he’d parked just ahead of your Volvo. Him and his friends file out one by one — Robin from the passenger, Dustin Henderson from the back, and then Steve from the driver’s side. 

The former two are beaming, far too happy for it to be so early. Steve looks more like a victim to the morning as he leans against his open car door. His smile looks like a wince and he props his wrist on the door, throwing his fingers up in the place of an actual wave. Dustin and Robin are far more enthusiastic with their gestures.

You and Eddie wave a tad bit awkwardly back at them.

“Look at him,” the boy says, trying and failing to hold back his laughter. “King Steve. Carpooling his kids like a real mom.”

“I’m pretty sure he’s a babysitter first and a human being second,” you joke, then more seriously tell him: “You don’t have to come over if you don’t want to, you know?”

“I know,” he nods. “But I want to.”

“Okay… I just— I don’t want it to seem like I’m trying to, you know, force you or something—”

“It didn’t.”

“—I was just saying it could be nice, you know? But I feel like it sounded like I was being a little pushy.”

“You weren’t.”

“And I don’t want you to be, like, scared to say no to me or something, you know? It wouldn’t hurt my feelings or anything, okay? I promise,” you ramble, partly lying because you know it would hurt a little, but you’d never tell him that. “The ball is totally in your court, so… Whatever you want to do, it’s completely—”

Your nervous blathering is brought to an unexpected halt when Eddie brings his hands to your face. He cups your cheeks in his palms, brushing his thumbs along the apples of them. The sleeves of his leather jacket tickle your chin. He sprayed his wrist with cologne this morning, you can tell; the musky cedarwood and tobacco are more prominent now. 

The boy laughs softly when the suddenness of his action makes your eyes go wide, chuckling louder when he squeezes your cheeks and makes your lips pout softly.

“I wanna come over, okay?” Eddie assures through his laughter. “And you’re never annoying me when you ask. I promise. I’ll probably say yes to just about anything when it’s coming from you, sweetheart.”

“And you’re not just saying that?” you press, words slightly muffled with the way Eddie’s holding your face.

“I’m not just saying that,” he echoes more confidently. He shakes his head at you, then moves your jaw back and forth with his palms so he’s shaking yours too. You jerk away from him with a grin. 

“I’ll see you later?” he asks you while he collects his things from the floor, which is just the little tin box he carries everywhere. He swears it has everything he needs in it. You assume it’s just a dull pencil and a couple of baggies of weed he plans to sell between lunch shifts.

“Yeah,” you answer with a smile.

He clicks the handle to open the car door, then kicks it open the rest of the way. He rolls his head back and puckers his lips for a kiss. You happily oblige him, meeting him halfway but turning at the last second so his mouth meets your cheek.

“Kids are watching,” you joke at his surprise.

And even though he’d only pecked your jaw, it makes Robin and Steve roll their eyes. “Gag me with a spoon,” the girl gripes as she walks past the hood of your car.

Dustin follows behind her, too preoccupied to care. He’s got an anticipatory grin on his face that reveals the blue and green braces on his teeth. The composition notebook in his hands has the Hellfire logo drawn in red and yellow sharpie on the front of it.

You’ve never met the kid, but he’s exactly how you’d expected him to be.

You heard a lot about him — from Steve mostly, but from Eddie too. Robin has the occasional story about the boy from whenever he visits Family Video. They all call him little shit most of the time, shrimp on occasion, and Dusty Bun when he’s done something particularly sweet.

It’s all from a lighthearted place, though. You figure it must be because Steve Harrington is waking up at seven in the morning to take some fourteen-year-old to school. And Eddie’s even worse — the second Dustin calls asking for a ride, he’s hopping in his van without a second thought.

The boy barely lets Eddie get out of the car before he starts bombarding him with questions about the latest D&D campaign. He prattles on and on about it while they walk towards the school, pointing adamantly at the notebook in his hands. You imagine it’s full of conspiracies and potential ways to beat the Cult of Vecna. 

He’s so invested he doesn’t even care when Robin slips the cap from his hand and flips it backwards.

“Have the best day ever, kiddos!” you shout through your rolled-down car window.

You get a half-hearted wave from Dustin, but he doesn’t even glance at you when he does it. Eddie blows a dramatic kiss your way, but Robin rivals his sweetness with a middle finger and a rouge-tinted smile.

The bell chimes overhead, high-pitched and too familiar. The parking lot empties slowly, and the mindless muddled chatter fades too.

Steve saunters to your car after everyone else heads inside. He folds his arms along the passenger door as he leans down to look at you. 

His hair is un-styled, but in a cool sort of way that only he can pull off. Chestnut strands fall down over his forehead while others are pushed back from where he’s ran his fingers through them. His jaw is dusted with a fine layer of stubble that sprinkles a shadow of a mustache on his cupid’s bow.

You’re both wearing the elements of your uniforms.

He’s got on a pair of faded jeans and the mandatory collared shirt, even though he swears Keith only makes him abide by the dress code. You’re wearing the all black get-up required of all Enzo’s waitresses. The flowy blouse and a-line skirt are now wrinkled from the drive over. You’re only missing your floral apron and Steve his forest green vest.

“How long until your shift starts?” he asks you, voice deep and gruff with the morning.

Your eyes flit down to the flashing clock on your dashboard, then back up to him. “I don’t have to go in until eleven today, but I was gonna see if I could pick up an extra shift.”

He nods and juts out his lips as he turns to squint down the parking lot. He looks back at you with a more hopeful gaze. “Wanna go fuck around at Family Video instead?”

And, of course, by “fuck around,” he means popping popcorn and playing some terrible, terrible slasher film on the television behind the counter that has more boobs and blood than actual plot.

You’ll stop for junk food on the way like you always do and spend the bulk of the movie tossing gummy bears and M&Ms into Steve’s mouth. You’ll waste hours talking about nothing, but it’ll feel like only minutes have gone by when it’s time for your shift.

“Are you kidding?” you scoff like it’s not the best idea you’ve heard all morning. Or maybe second best because Eddie’s proposal of a reward is still swirling around in the confines of your mind. “Of course I do.”

 ˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗

By sunset, Eddie Munson’s got a B-minus on his midterm, a crowd of kids singing his praises, and a date with the hottest woman on the planet. Life, as it turns out, was really starting to look up for the local freak.

“Best… campaign… ever!” Dustin shouts. He’s still so boyishly excited about the whole thing that he has to take in deep breaths before he says each word. 

The emphatic exclamation echoes through the dim, empty hallway of Hawkins High. The rest of the school had left some time ago; all that’s left now are the scraps — the basketball douchebags, the theater geeks, the D&D nerds.

The Hellfire Club gets the entire west wing to themselves, and the unusual vacancy allows them to saunter down the corridor’s length like they own the damn place. 

They don’t have to look over their shoulders for assholes that might trip them or stuff them into lockers. Still bubbling with the after-effects of such an utterly sadistic campaign, they feel like they’re on top of their own little world.

Eddie Munson hasn’t felt this good in a long, long time.

He spins on the heel of his worn-out sneaker and walks backwards ahead of his friends so he can examine each of their faces. He’d unleashed the whole Vecna lives twist that he’d been keeping in his metaphorical back pocket for some time now.

You were the one that gave him the idea, sprung it out of nowhere during a smoke session so many months ago. It feels like it’s been forever now. That was back when you were just his customer, and he was just your dealer — when all you needed was a little free weed, and Eddie just needed to pass a test.

You both somehow ended up with far more than either of you bargained for, but he’s not complaining. He hopes you aren’t either.

Dustin had sort of predicted Vecna’s resurgence. He’d scribbled it down in his journal with all the rest of his endless conspiracies. Well, actually, he suspected that Kas was still a villain and hadn’t slain Vecna like they thought — which wasn’t exactly right, but it was still pretty damn close. Eddie’s never met someone who cared so much about one of his campaigns.

So, needless to say, the curly-haired boy is beaming. His green-blue braces and pearly whites are on full display, partially from excitement but mostly because he was sort of right — in a vague, roundabout way.

Mike had been enthusiastic about it too, but that was before he had to suffer through his best friend’s endless boasts. His brown eyes roll damn near to the back of his skull as he huffs, angled jaw clenching from gritted teeth.

“Well, when you spend eight hours coming up with, like, a thousand different theories, one of them is gonna be right,” he’d finally groused. 

Dustin only smiled at the lankier boy, totally unfazed by his grumbling. “It’s not my fault you have exactly zero work ethic. You’re just mad you lost.”

“Yeah, because staying up all night writing in your diary makes you a real winner.”

“For the last time, Mike, it’s not a diary!”

Lucas was too far away to join in on the bickering. The boy had been distant for a while now, actually. Eddie joked that he must’ve been upset about missing basketball practice with Carver and the rest of his goons, but Lucas hadn’t laughed as loud as he’d hoped. He only chuckled under his breath, shook his head, and said it was just girl troubles.  

Gareth, meanwhile, is still grumbling about Vecna killing his ranger. Even though Dustin’s bard brought them all back with a resurrection spell in the end, he doesn’t like to lose. Eddie doesn’t blame him, but he’d be lying if he said the angry scrunch contorting his best friend’s features wasn’t hilarious.

Jeff had lost his druid too, but he was a much better sport about the whole thing. He usually is, especially compared to the rest of the club. He’s perhaps the only one who doesn’t treat every loss like the end of the world.

“Well, thank you, Ser Dustin,” Eddie responds in a fanciful sort of accent, bending at the waist in a gracious brow. “But I cannot take all the credit, I’m afraid.”

Dustin’s brows pinch together. “What do you mean?”

“He means that his girlfriend helped him put it together,” Jeff lisps.

“No way!” the boy gapes, totally dumbfounded. “The girl from this morning? In the car? She’s… She’s into Dungeons and Dragons?”

“Not really. No,” Eddie shrugs right before flashing a shit-eating grin. “But she is into me, so…”

The less-than-humble brag makes Gareth groan. His sandy curls fall back as he tilts his head toward the ceiling, ocean eyes rolling and then fluttering closed. “If I have to hear about your stupid girlfriend one more time…” he’d griped after the first few times Eddie managed to bring you up in every conversation — about a million of them ago now.

His annoyance doesn’t lessen Dustin’s confusion. “I don’t get it…”

“Gareth's just mad because he’s in love with Eddie’s girlfriend,” Jeff clarifies once more, feigning pity as he pats the boy on the shoulder.

“All I’m saying is, I would’ve tried a little harder to get her attention if I knew she was into freaks,” Gareth grieves, a little forlorn and distantly heartbroken, but shrugging it off like he isn’t all that affected by it.

You were a bit like Steve The Hair Harrington in that way. A little like Vicki Carmichael or, god forbid, Billy Hargrove. You’ve garnered a sort of popularity that’s made you into a sideshow attraction that everyone wants to ride — literally.

You’re popular in a much, much different way than Steve or Vicki or Billy. It’s left you acutely fetishized in an extreme sort of fashion, an object of desire for many in disgusting, lurid ways.

It seems Gareth didn’t go unscathed with his lust for you either.

Well, too little too fucking late if Eddie had anything to say about it. But he would never, because that’s his best friend, so he decides to scoff and tell him: “Like she’d be into you anyway.”

“Oh, please. I’m a total catch.”

“Is there anyone she isn’t into?” Jeff chuckles, too kind of heart to realize the mercilessness in his words. “Isn’t that, like, her whole thing.”

A sharp pang of anger strikes like lightning in Eddie’s chest. It’s ice-cold and red hot, a burst of adrenaline that feels like fight or flight. His hands curl into fists before he even realizes it. If it had been anyone else and not one of his best friends, he imagines he might’ve swung before he even thought about what he was doing. 

Before the words to defend you spill like venom from his mouth, another beats him to the punch.

“Hey,” Lucas scolds from a little ways behind the group, making them all turn to look at him. His brows are furrowed slightly, but the rest of his face is contorted in an unreadable way. His hands are tucked deep into the pockets of the puke-green letterman he wears over his Hellfire tee. “Leave her alone.”

“How do you…” Eddie starts, then squints past the group, gaze zeroing in on the boy. “Since when do you know my girlfriend, Sinclair?”

“She’s friends with Max. And she’s, like, really nice. So maybe we shouldn’t talk about her like that.”

The boy with the wild hair grins something wilder. His gaze is stern but no less playful when he turns back to Jeff. “You heard the kid. Leave my girlfriend alone, Jeffy.”

When the phrase leaves his mouth, for perhaps the billionth time that day, he realizes how often he must say it. My girlfriend, he says. My girlfriend, my girlfriend — because he can’t get enough of how it sounds.

With a grin on his face and his dream girl on his mind, Eddie spins on his heel again to swing open the double doors of the high school’s exit. The chill smacks him in the face almost immediately.

It’s the strange knick of time in early spring where the days are warm, but the nights are so, so cold. This one isn’t any different. A bitter breeze pounds at his chest, ruffles through his curls, and pierces the fabric of his jacket. Eddie’s body mourns the sudden loss of warmth almost immediately.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Dustin continues to whinge, even though the rest of them have more than moved on. “Does— Does everyone know her but me? Mike, do you know who she is?”

The boy perks up at the mention of his name. He tends to get a little reserved unless he’s bickering or talking bout his girlfriend. The kid’s a complete and utter wreck when he’s been away from her for too long. Eddie used to make fun of him for it. Not so much anymore.

Mike runs a hand through his lengthy raven hair, then scratches at the back of his neck. His eyes squint and his nose scrunches. “Uh… not really? I mean, I think she knows El because she knows Hopper, but… I don’t know… No?”

Dustin’s face falls flat at his answer. Or lack thereof.

“Wow. Very enlightening, Mike, as always. Thank you,” he deadpans, then turns back to Eddie. His features go from deadpanned to hopeful: eyes wide, brows raised, lips quirked. “So when are we gonna get to meet her? Do you think she’d do a campaign with us? Holy shit— she could be the fairy! You know, of the Firethorns! I mean, you did just say the campaign was feeling a little empty—”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Take it down a few notches, alright, Dusty Bun?” Eddie chuckles as he slumps a heavy arm around the boy’s shoulders.

“Don’t call me that. We talked about this; that name is reserved for Suzie and Suzie only—”

“Didn’t you guys break up?” Mike wonders with a sort of blandness to his tone that only he could pull off.

“Shut up, Mike,” Dustin bites in response.

It was still a bit of a sore subject for the boy who’d just lost the so-called love of his life.

Suzie was a girl he met at summer camp about a year ago. Things were going pretty well until they weren’t. Something about her family being uber-religious and not approving of Dustin’s more agonistic disposition.

She broke up with him over Cerebro and hasn’t been on the channel since. It was cold. Ice cold.

Dustin still hikes up to Weathertop every now and then with nothing but a packed lunch and the hope that she’ll answer. She hasn’t yet.

And Eddie can make a mockery of just about anything — it’s practically a superpower at this point — but he knows when to leave well enough alone. Even the most innocent question can send the boy into a spiral of despair. Even now, he gets so suddenly weighed down by the burden of his sadness; lips turning downward and the insides of his brows curling slightly.

Eddie smiles a sad sort of smile down at the boy, but he’s too busy moping to see it. He pulls him closer with one leather-clad arm and uses the other to pat the boy on the chest. Their feet stumble less than gracefully over one another. 

“Yeah, you’re never gonna meet her…” Eddie says in a mournful sigh.

Dustin blinks up at him, confused and even more hurt than before. “What? Why not?”

“Because she’d obviously like you more than me,” he scoffs like it’s obvious. “And I can’t have anyone taking my girl, Henderson.”

That confuses him even more. He was more prepared for one of Eddie’s stupid quips than something short of a compliment. It takes him by surprise at first, leaves him gaping for a moment, before rolling his eyes. “Shut up…”

“I’m serious!” Eddie chuckles, all loud and boisterous. The sound echoes through the vacant lot, made somehow emptier by the cold.

He stops walking suddenly and makes Dustin stop walking too. He takes the boy a tad bit roughly by the shoulders and looks down at him like it’s the first time he’s seeing him. 

“I mean, look at you! What’s not to like, huh? You got their hair, the smarts, the personality—”

“And Eddie’s only got one of those things, so you definitely win,” Gareth quips from a few feet behind them.

“Exactly! Suzie was an idiot to let you go, Henderson.”

Dustin winces when Eddie jabs him in the chest. His saddened gaze flits to the pavement for a moment, then back up again. His eyes are brighter now, but still a bit melancholy — sort of like the streetlamp that flickers across the way. A light that’s going out but grasping for reasons to stay burning.

“You think so?”

“I know so, Dusty Bun,” Eddie grins — smiling wider when the kid’s beam falls flat again. He wraps his arm around Dustin’s punier frame. It’s supposed to be a hug, but it looks more like a headlock. “Never change, Dustin Henderson. Never change…”

˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗

Eddie hasn’t been to a sleepover since he was ten.

Fifth grade. Franklin Kowalski’s place in the suburbs. Trampoline in the front yard, pool in the back, and an assortment of soft drinks in a fridge in the garage. Maybe he remembers it so vividly because it's perhaps one of the more traumatizing experiences a prepubescent boy growing out a buzzcut could go through.

He knew he didn’t belong there — not in the good part of town with a bunch of boys in brand-new tennis shoes. Eddie Munson was trailer park trash, through and through. He wasn’t used to new clothes or two-story houses or underground pools. But he didn’t care where he came from. And neither did Franklin. Not at first, anyway.

The other kids were nice enough to him. They offered him their swim goggles when Eddie didn’t have his own and made sure he wasn’t left out of any of their conversations. It was all in a tongue-in-cheek sort of way, though. Their kindness was manufactured, a mask for pre-teen boy cruelty. 

See, they only gave him their goggles so they could laugh when they got tangled in his curls. They only included him in conversation so he could be the punch line to each of their jokes. 

All of it went over Eddie’s head. He was too innocent to realize he wasn’t being treated nicely, he was being taunted. He laughed along with each of their inside jokes because he wanted so desperately to be included, having no idea it was himself he was laughing at.

It took him until two o’clock the next morning to understand. He woke up all alone in the living room and found that everyone else had migrated upstairs without him. They were still awake, still laughing — and Eddie was forgotten in the dark.

He nearly cried when he called Wayne. He wasn’t sure if his tears were from anger or from sadness, but they stung all the same. 

He punched the numbers on the keypad with a clenched jaw to keep from sobbing out loud. His gaze was still blurry with unshed tears. It made it dreadfully hard to see, and what little light spilled from the television — which had turned to static after midnight — didn’t help either.

“It’s three A.M., Eds. You sick?” his uncle gruffed into the landline.

“A little,” Eddie half-lied. He twirled the curly wire around his fingertip until it turned purple. He prayed he didn’t sound as sad as he felt. “Everyone else is asleep… ‘M scared I’m gonna puke everywhere.”

Wayne was there barely fifteen minutes later. He drove his rusted pick-up to the suburbs, found his nephew waiting on the curb, and didn’t ask questions on the drive back to Forest Hills. 

Eddie hasn’t been to a sleepover since.

He’s got a feeling this one will be different, though. Because pre-teen boys are a hell of a different kind and you’re… you. 

He’s pretty sure you couldn’t be mean to him even if you wanted to be. You’re nice, far nicer than he deserves. You’re lovely and sweet and decent — every synonym of the damn word in a thousand different languages. It still floors him that it would ever occur to you to be kind to him. 

Eddie doesn’t feel all that worthy of your sunshine. He happily basks in your golden rays anyway. Maybe it’s because he’s selfish. Or maybe it’s because he’s so damn pale — in both the literal and figurative sense.

Eddie packs his overnight bag without a hint of methodology.

He isn’t totally sure of what to bring as he rifles through his disorganized drawers, so he ends up packing bits of everything. 

He does the sniff test for each of his crumpled-up t-shirts. The one’s that smell the freshest get stuffed to the bottom of his bag. He can’t be sure of how many he’s shoved down there now — three or four, maybe five. It makes it harder for his pants to fit, two of the pajama variety and two of denim. 

He grabs multiples of everything, just to be on the safe side. It takes only minutes for his backpack to fill up. He nearly breaks the zipper trying to fasten it, and still, he worries he hasn’t brought enough.

The bag sits upright on his mattress as Eddie bends down to grab the box of condoms that’s been idling under his bed for a year. The cardboard is coated with a fine layer of dust and time. He holds it between his ringed fingers, debating whether or not to finally break the seal and bring a few — just to be on the safe side. That’s when Wayne walks in.

The man isn’t looking at him. He’s too busy wiping his oil-stained palms on an already-stained rag, but his presence is sudden enough to freak Eddie out. The boy jumps like he’s been caught red-handed, scrabbles for a hiding place almost immediately, making the box sputter out of his grip. The thing falls to the ground with a dramatic thud.

He kicks it back under his bed again.

Wayne’s eyes finally flit up to his nephew’s at all the commotion. His bushy grey brows furrow when he finds him standing upright, hands behind his back, totally not suspicious at all. Raising a teenage boy has taught the man not to comment on what doesn’t concern him, so he keeps on swiping his fingers between the fabric of the grimy rag. 

“I finished looking at your van,” he says, accent deep and husky and not of Indiana origin. “Turns out that noise you were hearin’ was a damn rock in the break line.”

Eddie scoffs, then eyes a stick of deodorant sitting on his dresser. “Wow,” he marvels as he swipes the thing from its place. He stuffs it into the side pocket of his bag. “A measly pebble coulda killed me, huh?”

“Should be good to go now, though.”

“Sweet,” the boy nods.

Eddie squints as his eyes flit around his room, head darting in either direction to make sure he’s got everything. Wayne watches him with an identical squint. “Where you runnin’ off to now? You just got home, what, fifteen minutes ago?”

“Uh… I’m gonna go see a friend,” Eddie answers, voice trembling and slightly far away. He unzips his bag again to make sure it’s sufficiently filled. He does a little mental checklist: shirts, pants, PJs, shoes— how the hell is he supposed to fit shoes in here?

You’ve only got one pair of shoes, Munson, he reminds himself. Where the hell do you think you’re going, anyway? A nature walk?

“Oh, right,” his uncle nods. A smile plays on the edges of his lips, but it weirdly still looks like he’s frowning. “The friend.”

“Yeah— Well, she’s my… She’s my girlfriend, so…”

The admission makes Eddie blush in a way he isn’t typically used to. He can’t count the number of times he must say it in a day, but something about saying it in front of Wayne feels different — real.

He turns his glowing cheeks down to his bag and makes difficult work of zipping it back up again.

Wayne doesn’t bother to hide his excitement. The bright emotion is almost unfamiliar. “Well, shit,” the man’s chuckle sounds from the depths of his chest. “Look at you, Eds. My nephew’s finally got his first girlfriend.”

The boy rolls his chocolate eyes. He jerks under the pressure of the shoulder clap Wayne gives him. It’s equal parts annoying and embarrassing — to be talked to like a child in this way. Maybe because most children have long had their first girlfriends by now, and it took Eddie all of twenty agonizing years.

“We were gonna hang out at her place since I passed my English test and everything...”

The excitement washes from Wayne’s tired eyes. They widen, as though in shock, and reveal more of the glassy whites of them. He just blinks at him for a moment, like his words are still processing. “You… You passed?”

“Yep. Got a B,” Eddie nods, a tad bit sheepishly. He finds it hard to meet his uncle’s mystified gaze. “Well, a B-minus, but… Turns out, I might actually graduate this year.”

Wayne seems to experience every emotion at once. He’s surprised, of course — it makes sense. Eddie spent two years failing the damn thing, after all. Then he’s proud, overjoyed that there’s a chance his nephew might finally grow up. He’s distantly saddened by the exact same thought.

The man swallows thickly, as though to down each emotion. He nods and tries his best to smile. “Damn. Good job, kid. I’m… I’m prouda you.”

Eddie isn’t sure whether to take the praise or cower from it. At a loss, he opts to deflect entirely.

“Yeah, well, she— the friend helped me study and everything, so… I feel like we should probably be thanking her, you know?” he half-jokes as he swings the pack over his shoulder. His winces under the weight of it. “I probably wouldn’t have passed if she didn’t force me to read that stupid book. I mean, it’s 1986; who cares about the roaring twenties and blinking green lights—”

“Hm…” his uncle grunts. It isn’t an acknowledging grunt, though. It’s more of a bemused sort of grunt. And he’s got this quizzical twist to his features that makes Eddie confused too.

“…What is it?”

Wayne only shrugs, trying to act like it was nothing, but can’t help but to ask: “You’re real serious about this girl, aren’t ya?”

Eddie, feeling a bit weighed down by such a heavy question, shifts on his feet.

“Uh… A little bit, I guess. Yeah,” he stammers in the place of an honest answer. If he were being totally truthful, he would’ve said something like, “As serious as a goddamn heart attack.” But that might’ve actually given Uncle Wayne one, so he doesn’t answer with all that.

The man seems to hear all the words Eddie doesn’t say, though. He always does. Eddie figures that’s what happens when you raise a kid for fifteen years — you get attuned to their every thought like a superpower or something. 

It doesn’t make it any less annoying, though. Eddie’s never been able to keep a single damn secret from Wayne because he’s a total mind reader. It’s entirely possible Wayne knew Eddie was in love before he did.

“Just be careful, alright?” the man advises. He looks genuinely concerned, eyes glinting and brows pinched, like you’re a treacherous road or poison ivy.

The misplaced cautiousness makes Eddie breathe out a soft laugh. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“C’mon, Eds. Don’t play dumb,” Wayne tells him with a gruff chuckle — not totally unkind, just a Munson sort of curt. “You know what I’m talkin’ about. I didn’t even know her real name until you started bringing her around, 'cause all the kids at the shop call her the—”

“Don’t,” Eddie interjects sharply.

The bitterness in his tone is foreign. It contains the sort of venom he’s more like to spit at Jason Carver or Mike Wheeler if he’s being particularly dickish. Never at Wayne.

But that dormant urge to defend you rises like a sleeping dragon that just got poked in the belly. The words rise like bile in his throat and spew out before he can think to stop them.

Uncle Wayne is a weathered man. He’s seen a lot of the world, too much of it, but nothing’s ever quite taken him aback like this. He’s never seen his nephew’s chocolate button eyes hardened into something so cold.

Eddie gets all hyperaware of the heart on his sleeve and starts to crack under the pressure of it. He deflates, stern features crumbling into something softer.

“It’s different, okay?” he assures with his chin brought down to his chest — brows raised and wide eyes twinkling. It’s the same thing you’d said to Hopper not too long ago. Eddie hopes you met the words as wholeheartedly as he does now.

“And even if I explained all the reasons why it’s different, you still wouldn’t get it.”

His melodramatic tone makes Wayne scoff. “What? ‘Cause you don’t think I’ve ever been a kid in love before?”

“No,” Eddie shrugs playfully. “‘Cause you’re old.”

The foreign tension ebbs all at once with a pair of laughs. One is gruff, a couple of sharp exhales more than anything else. The other is a lighter, far more boyish giggle.

“I’m just trying to look out for you, alright?” Wayne tells him once the laughter fades.

“Yeah, I know. You always do,” Eddie lilts with a disposition that might make it seem like he’s displeased by his uncle’s constant pestering. In reality, he knows it’s saved him from a world of shit.

Like that time he wanted to get tacos from a new food truck that gave the whole town food poisoning. Or when he’d wanted to ask Tina Burton, the most popular girl in school, on a date his sophomore year. 

It was Wayne that saved him the embarrassment from either. It’s like he can smell bullshit or something.

“But this is, like, the first good thing that’s happened to me since Ride the Lightning came out… So, I’d kinda like to enjoy this whole thing while it lasts,” Eddie winces like it’s a joke, but he means it more than anything.

Wayne nods understandingly. “Will do, kid. But first girlfriends are always hard, okay? Remember that. Try not to let it hurt you too much, Eds.”

His uncle claps him once, then twice, on his shoulder before swiping away the grime he’d accidentally spotted there. Eddie lets him, too far away to shrug him off. He doesn’t even move when Wayne walks out of his room.

He knows his uncle means well, but something about his cynical words makes his chest burn. It’s like he’s betting on his relationship with you not working out or something. 

And Eddie knows he isn’t wrong. First girlfriends are hard. He’s heard enough shit from his friends to know that. Hell, Mike and Dustin have spent all year complaining about how complicated relationships are. 

But it’s different. 

Because they’re just a couple of kids and their girlfriends aren’t you.

Whatever form you come in, lover or executioner, Eddie’s more than ready to receive you.

 ˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗

You’ve never cooked for anyone other than yourself. And maybe Bowie.

That’s not to say you were a stranger to dining in company. Binging on takeout with Robin and Steve was routine. You’re pretty sure Benny at the diner has made more dinners for the three of you than you’ve ever made for yourselves — combined. 

But it was different, to make something for someone with your own hands. It took a relative amount of care, an acute sort of attentiveness that only felt deserved for someone really special. 

And Eddie was really special and then some.

There isn’t a word that encapsulates all the special he is. It makes you feel a bit guilty sometimes. You wish you were smarter so you could think of a big enough word to describe how much he means to you. But since you aren’t, you stick to making him homemade spaghetti and hope you can pour enough love into it that he feels all of yours.

Eddie arrives at your apartment before you’re ready for him.

You’d wanted to do more with your appearance by the time he came around — with your hair and your makeup and your clothes. Not because you ever had to, but because you thought Eddie deserved a girl who took extra care of herself in that way.

You got a shower in before you started cooking, but that was it. Your hair is unstyled and air-drying; your face bare and glistening in all its naked glory.

Clad in nothing but a hilariously oversized t-shirt and a pair of fluffy socks, you look more ready for bed than date night.

The knock at your door sends you into a momentary whirlwind. You scramble like someone’s seconds away from catching you naked — like there are four different fires in every direction and you don’t know which one to put out first. The panic is elaborate and fleeting, a bucket of ice-cold water on bare skin.

You figure that’s another part of caring about someone. You make them spaghetti because you love them and get nervous when things aren’t perfect. Love is all things stressful and homemade.

Eddie knocks on your door with several rhythmic raps. They’re evenly timed and spaced out. You recognize the bass line to ‘Crazy Train’ almost immediately. Da-da… Da-da, da-da, da-da. He must’ve been listening to it on the way over.

“Uh, come in!” you waver after an awkward beat. You’re yelling a little because you’re still standing at the stove, stirring the pot of noodles.

The door clicks once when it opens, then again when it shuts. The wall that separates the kitchen conceals your view of him, but you can hear Eddie’s shuffling in the living room from where you are because he’s never done anything quietly in his life.

Eddie toes off his sneakers before he heads into your apartment. You never asked him to do it, so it always confused you as to why. He’d told you, when you asked, that he knows he’s not the cleanest and that he cares too much about your space to make a mess of it. 

He tells you he can’t take care of you in the way he would like — that if he had it his way, you’d never have to work at Enzo’s again; that he wishes he was rich enough so you never had to wait on snobby stay-at-home moms or misogynistic businessmen. But since he isn’t a rockstar yet and The Hideout pays their busboy’s fuck all, Eddie figures the least he can do is not leave shoe prints on your carpet.

It’s boyish and strangely profound and so, so sweet.

He drops his backpack and leaves his sneakers by the doormat like he always does. They fit neatly between the wall and the roughly textured rectangle that reads ‘glad you’re here’ on the front of it. One is upright, the other falls to its side.

Bowie blinks at him from where she idles on her perch, green eyes wide and pupils set in narrow slits. “Hey, pretty girl,” Eddie greets in a quiet coo, scooping her up in his arms. Despite her round belly, the calico weighs no more than a feather. 

She meows once after being so suddenly plucked from her flower petal spot but settles into him instantly. He scratches at her chin to make her purr and revels in the soft buzzing sound she makes. Eddie waltzes into the kitchen with her, cradling her against his chest like a newborn baby.

You look over your shoulder and smile at the sight of them — at your two favorite beings on the planet, so obviously taken with one another. Bowie lolls in Eddie’s arm like he’s made of clouds and cotton candy. Her blinks are slow and lazy, her purrs audible to even you. She’s only this affectionate for him. You can’t even blame her. 

“Smells good in here,” the boy compliments trying his best not to blush at the wide smile you give him. He’s still not used to being looked at so tenderly. 

Failing to feel deserving of it all, he averts his chocolate gaze and flushed cheeks to the counter, where he plops Bowie down beside her half-empty food bowl.

You could only get her to eat so much of it before she got annoyed with you. Now she laps happily at the chunk of cat food like it’s the first time she’s ever tasted its goodness.

“Thanks,” you respond with a slight tremble to the edge of your voice. You turn back to the pot of spaghetti you’ve been stirring for close to ten minutes, eyeing the mixture of noodles and sauce and beef with intent because you need it all to be perfect. “I probably should’ve asked what you liked before you left this morning, but I only know how to make spaghetti, so… I made spaghetti.”

You look back at him, flashing the boy a nervous tight-lipped smile. It makes him grin, too, as he makes the terribly short trek over to you.

“Well, I actually love spaghetti,” he confesses, and it isn’t totally a lie. He just stopped caring for it around the millionth time Wayne made it because it’s one of the only things he knows how to cook too. 

Eddie lingers at your side, hip pressing into the counter, radiating warmth like a sun stuck in human form. You can’t tell if he’s toasty in his leather jacket or if you’re just cozy in the honey-coated tenderness you have for him. You don’t even realize you’re smiling at him when he scrunches his nose at you. 

“You should be careful, sweetheart. I’m kinda starting to think we’re soulmates.”

“That’s crazy,” you marvel, wide-eyed. “I was thinking the same thing.”

“Wow… We really were made for each other, huh?” he huffs with a similar sarcasm.

You try to keep the joke going, but it’s hard not to smile when you feel his hands creep around your sides. His fingers are soft on your waist, featherlight and a little unsure as he slithers along your back. The affection feels foreign on your skin. You bite back a shiver.

“Looks like way,” you affirm with a nod, tilting your head back so you can meet him halfway when he leans down to peck you.

It’s a soft and swift little thing, a brief brush of the lips that doesn’t mean anything but also the entire world. He kisses you just to kiss you — because he likes the feel of you or because it’s the sort of thing he can do now as your boyfriend. Either way, you revel in the unfamiliarity.

“Did the, uh… Did the test go okay?” you ask once he parts from you. You try not to sound like you’ve been agonizing over it all day and more like the thought had only just crossed your mind.

Eddie bites back a smile as he turns to walk to the opposite side of the counter. He makes sure any traces of the smirk have washed away when he hops onto the edge of it.  The forlorn look he gives you is manufactured, all pinched browed and gloomy eyed. 

“Um, no…” he fibs. “I, uh— I failed it again.”

You eye him from over your shoulder and notice how he shifts on his weight, looking down at the tile rather than up at you. It doesn’t cross your mind once that he might be joking. You just hope the flash of disappointment on your features was too quick for him to catch.

“That’s okay,” you assure and cover your chagrin with a smile. You shake your head and shrug. “We just try again, right? Not the end of the world.”

A grin tugs slow at Eddie’s lips. It’s bemused slightly and still sort of sad. He can’t believe how supportive you are of him even after he’s just told you outright that he’s failed — still loving even when he’s not good enough.

He reaches into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulls out a packet of stapled-together papers. It’s perhaps the first piece of schoolwork given to him that wasn’t immediately thrown away. He’d folded it twice in half, then tucked it safely away with the intent to show you later. He unfolds it again to marvel at it once more.

The letter grade is written in red and circled twice. Ms. O’Donnell’s fancy cursive is scribbled just beside it — “Finally! Good job, Eddie! I’m very proud of you!” Even though the boy has never been particularly fond of the woman, her compliment makes his chest swell.

“Oh, shit…” he murmurs under his breath, but loud enough for you to hear.

“Hm?” you hum back in response. You don’t look at him, though, more focused on not burning yourself as you pull a tray of golden brown garlic bread out of the oven.

“I read it wrong…” he answers, feigning surprise. “This isn’t an F. It’s a B.”

The pan clatters to the stove when you spin around the face him. Your eyes are wide and your brows are raised, each of your features agape with shock. You’re not entirely sure how he could’ve misread it, but you’re prepared to celebrate with him anyway. 

Eddie flashes you a pink, lopsided smile as he flips the creased paper around. He puts the grade on display for you with a knowing, mischievous glint in his cinnamon eyes. He’s too pretty and you’re too proud of him — you can’t even care that he was tricking you.

“Oh, my god, Eddie!” you shout with a bubbly laugh, all but launching yourself at him. You have to stand on the tips of your toes to reach where he sits on the counter. The bottom of your stomach digs into the granite as your arms wrap around his neck. 

You don’t realize until you’ve locked him in this embrace that you’ve still got your oven mitt on.

Eddie bends awkwardly to reciprocate the hug, meeting you halfway so you’re not doing all the work.

One hand keeps hold of his midterm, but the palm of his free one spreads wide and warm along your back. The tops of your chests collide, soft and snug. They press together in such a way that it confuses him how he could’ve gone so long without feeling you like this — even in the most innocent way.

His chin settles along your clothed collarbone. With his nose digging into the cotton of your t-shirt, he inhales to find your warm floral scent. Eddies sighs and relaxes against you without thinking. He doesn’t know if anyone’s ever hugged him like this before.

“I’m so proud of you!” you praise, chin bopping on his shoulder. “I knew you could do it.”

Eddie chuckles softly at the severity of your hug, so full of intent — louder when you peck him on his cheek and then the rest of his face when you realize you can’t just kiss him once. His stubble is rough against the plush of your lips as you press them to his jaw and chin and nose and mouth.

He tries to kiss you back, but he’s smiling too wide.

He’s almost certain no one’s ever gotten this much loving over a B-minus.

“It’s ‘cause of you,” Eddie insists.

“No, it’s because you’re smart.”

“Mm, I don’t think that’s it,” he retorts with the shake of his head, too damn stubborn to take a compliment.

His chin pulls closer to his neck when he parts from you. Your noses are barely inches apart, lips so close he can taste them. He could kiss you if he wanted, but he doesn’t want to stop looking at you.

“I’m pretty sure I only passed because I was thinking about you the whole time...” 

His words trail off. He’s got a crooked smirk on his lips like he’s only teasing, but brings his ear to his shoulder and gazes at you that way — so full of love and mischief. You think he might actually be sincere.

“Eddie Munson…” you scold at his suggestive tone. 

A smile dances on the corners of your lips as you pull back from him completely. You finally slip the mitten off your hand as you return to the stove, clicking the knob on the back panel until it turns off again.

“I just hope you’ve been thinking about that reward,” the boy lilts as he slips off the counter. He grins and walks until he’s leaning on the refrigerator beside you. He’s no more than a couple of feet away, but he somehow feels much closer than that. “If I’m not mistaken, I believe we agreed that I’d get something if I passed…”

Eddie’s only teasing. He doesn’t actually want anything. Spending time with you now is enough. Making you blush was just a bonus. 

He’d be lying if he said it didn’t cross his mind, though, far more times than he’d like to admit. 

And truth be told, you had thought about it, too. But that makes it sound too simple. It plagued you, really. First, it was the “oh god, what if he doesn’t pass,” and then the “what the hell am I supposed to do when he does?”

A passing grade isn’t usually that big of a deal. You’ve certainly never received anything from one. But passing a test after failing it the first two times and having to suffer two more agonizing years of school because of it certainly deserved to be celebrated.

Eddie was strange, though. He wasn’t materialistic or overtly enthusiastic about anything other than music and D&D. Maybe if you had more money, you could’ve gotten him a cassette or a new Dungeon Master’s manual. But thanks to Enzo’s salary, you’re lucky if you’re able to pay bills on time. And it sucks because Eddie deserves nice things, and not just for passing some stupid test. 

You hate that you don’t have anything other than spaghetti and adoration to give him.

It’s not fair to either of you.

You’d lamented to Steve about all this over gummy bears and buttered popcorn as Slumber Party Massacre played on the tiny television above the counter. The film was ripe with blood and random nudity, but you hadn’t fully paid attention to a single scene. You don’t think Steve had either because he was too busy trying to fuse two different halves of gummy bears together.

“Okay, you just passed a test you failed two times in a row,” you tell the boy, painting him a picture of your dilemma. “Your girlfriend wants to do something nice for you, but she’s boring and poor. What would you want?” 

“A blowjob,” Steve answers without missing a beat. His brows scrunch together like the answer was far easier than you made it out to be. He shrugs and squishes the strawberry head of one gummy bear onto the blue raspberry bottom of another. “Obviously.”

You didn’t think the answer was so obvious. Especially not when you’re trying to take things slow. It wasn’t an easy feat either — not with Eddie at your place, looking at you with that look. His features drip with honey as rose petal spill from his mouth. It’s like he’s trying to tease you. 

He’s got no idea he’s quite literally dealing with the master of teasing.

“We’ll see how tonight goes,” you tell him, flashing him an arched brow and a knowing smirk as you drag two of your fancy, ten-dollar porcelain plates from the cabinet. “Only if you’re good for me, yeah?”

Eddie quite literally forgets how to speak.

Like, if you’d asked him a question, the only thing that would spill out would be unintelligible murmurs of made-up words. 

His brain turns to mush with the look you give him — a two can play at this game kind of smirk that makes his mind melt. And your words are so effortless, so smooth, like you know just what to say and exactly how to say it to work him like a wind-up toy.

He’s in way over his head. The realization makes his breath hitch.

All he can do is nod like an idiot and let you fix him a plate of your “finest batch of spaghetti.” That’s what you call it, and he figures you must be right because you lay an entire three-course meal out in front of him. Well, it isn’t quite that extensive, but it feels that way.

Plates of pasta, a bowl of salad, and stacks of garlic bread decorate your small square dining table. Eddie almost feels like he’s at Enzo’s, even though there’s never been a world where he’s been able to afford Enzo’s.

You wine and dine him like the finest of them. Even though it’s nothing more than homemade spaghetti and apple juice in wine glasses, it makes him feel special — the kind of special people spend hundreds of dollars to feel. But he gets you for free and fuck, he doesn’t deserve any of it.

He got so damn lucky with you. 

He’s done trying to figure out why. He just wants to be more grateful for it.

Once he’s pleasantly full on a home-cooked meal, you usher him to the bathroom. There’s a bag full of stuff waiting there for him — toothbrush, toothpaste, body wash — all the essential shit that he’d forgotten all about. It makes his chest ache.

It’s less so that you knew he’d forget and more so that you thought about him at all.

Eddie imagines you getting off work, still in your Enzo’s-appropriate skirt and blouse uniform, scanning the aisles of Bradley’s Big Buy for things you think Eddie might need.

It’s mundane, but so beautiful still — to be remembered in the most minuscule of ways.

“—I didn’t know what to get you, and I couldn’t afford a lot, so I just got you that 3-in-1 stuff,” you ramble as you pull the dark green bottle out of the brown paper bag on the counter. You wave it mindlessly in your hand. “I don’t know, it was affordable, and you seem like the kind of guy who might use this sort of stuff, so—”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Eddie chuckles, trying to act like he doesn’t have an off-brand bottle of the stuff sitting in his shower back at the trailer.

“I don’t know,” you answer with a giggle of your own. You shrug and sit the thing back down. “You don’t have to use it if you don’t want.  I just wanted you to have some stuff here so it could, you know, feel more like home…”

Your words strike something profound in Eddie’s chest, a lightning strike or a punch to the stomach. In that moment, he comes to the realization that home isn’t a place. It’s not four walls or the little trinkets that fill it. The people that make you feel all warm and cozy inside, the people that make you feel like you have a place in the world — that’s home.

It’s Wayne and it’s Hellfire and it’s you.

So it’s easy for Eddie to feel at home in your little apartment, and not just because you bought a bunch of stuff to make it that way. 

He’s warmed by the hot shower and the thought that you’re waiting for him in your bedroom down the hall. The idea that he gets this night and so many others you with makes him feel all giddy — like he’s ten years old again and no sleepover has ever traumatized him.

Eddie uses everything you bought, still a little dizzied that it’s for him, but opts to use your vanilla body wash. It’s sweet smelling, with hints of deep musk and high lavender.

The scent of it on his own skin makes him feel like you’re on him and all over him. He has to flip the hot water to freezing before he steps out of the shower. Because, sure, he’s been less than shy about how much he likes you, but walking into your room with a hard-on is a bit more forward than he’s used to.

Eddie finds you waiting for him in your bed. You’re idling at the very center of it, knees up to your chest and back against the headboard, like you’ve been waiting for his return to get truly comfortable there.

You smile when you see him again. It’s that same grin you always look at him with, as though every time you see him is the first time.

He brings an air of cleanliness in with him. He's dressed in fresh pajamas, curls damp and still drying. Steam radiates off his skin along with the scent of freshly baked cookies and flower petals. It’s familiar to you because it’s yours, but it’s different on Eddie in a way you can’t describe.

“You smell good,” you compliment as he maneuvers through the velvet darkness of your bedroom. The black night is evaded only by your dim yellow lamp and the streams of orange that filter through your curtains from the streetlamps outside.

Eddie scoffs as he climbs onto your queen-sized bed. “Did I smell bad before?”

“No. You just smell sweet now. Like a milkshake.”

You shift to make room for him, pulling back your green gingham comforter so he can slip in beside you. Even though you’ve given him ample room to sit down, there isn’t any hint of distance between you. You keep yourself intently pressed to his side despite the several inches of space next to you.

Eddie hopes you never realize there’s a whole world of other places you could be than right next to him. He doesn’t ever want to see a day where you’re separated by more than an inch or two. 

“A milkshake, huh?” he echos as he leans back against the slatted headboard and all your pillows. You twist until you’re practically on your side — hip digging into the mattress, shoulder propped along the cushions, chest pressed against his arm.

“Yeah. Like whipped cream or… vanilla cake…” you trail off, quickly losing interest in describing the scent of him when you’re staring the pretty boy in the face.

One half of him is bathed in shades of golden orange, the other half coated in a deep, deep navy. Eddie’s eyes are somehow darker than any night sky. They swim with their own galaxies and stars that twinkle back at you.

He looks at you and all words lose meaning.

“Yeah, I’m totally stealing your soap before I leave,” he jokes.

You shake your head at him, but smile anyway. “Thanks for letting me know, Eddie Spaghetti.”

Just like all the times before, neither of you realize you’re kissing until you already are. The gravitational pull that brings the two of you together is effortless and natural. You’re like the moon and Eddie’s like the tide — you drag him to you without trying and he bends to your every whim.

Kissing him is easy. It’s like breathing. You don’t ever have to think about it, you just do it. 

You press your lips against the rosy plush of his, and it’s like taking a deep breath of fresh air. It’s an atmosphere kissed by the sun and the trees and the morning dew. It fills your lungs with a new life, makes it impossible to quit kissing him.

But when his tongue swipes against your bottom lip, when his mouth pries yours open to slip the pink muscle inside — that feels like getting the breath knocked out of you. The rough pattern of his tongue slides against your own, and you have to remind yourself to breathe.

Your lungs stop working, your chest aches, and there’s nothing you can do about it but let the moment pass.

Eddie keeps kissing you soft, though, coaxing fresh air back into your burning lungs. He helps you breathe normally again.

You move together like entwining summer breezes. Your thigh swipes against his lap and his hands find your hips to help guide you the rest of the way over. He’s halfway lying down now and you’re looming like an unconquerable mountain above him. Your back arches like a cat’s and your palms cradle his jaw while your tongue makes uncharted territory of his mouth.

The warmth lingering between your thighs presses into his lower stomach. It makes his grip on you tighten, hands pulling your hips further against him until he hears you moan.

The pressure of your clothed pussy against the pudge of his stomach brings you a distant pleasure. What really does you in is the thought of what little separates you — just the fabric of your cotton underwear and Eddie’s faded grey Tatcher Tire t-shirt.

But it’s hard to be indulgent when you’re so stuck in your head. Your mouth moves with Eddie’s on autopilot while your mind travels elsewhere. Because this isn’t supposed to be about you — it’s supposed to be about Eddie. You want to make him feel good for a change, but you have no idea how to go about it.

The foreignness is strange. It leaves you fumbling like you’ve never done any of this before.

In a way, you haven’t. Eddie is different from any guy you’ve ever been with. Not just because he cares about you, but because you’re practically the only girl he’s ever cared about in this way.

He’s a blank slate and you’re scribbled all over.

You don’t want to taint the pristine image he’s painted of you.

“Hey, Eds,” you murmur. The words are halfway spoken against his mouth because you don’t pull away in time to say them clearly. 

Your tongue darts out to feel how numb your spit-slicked lips have gotten after being kissed so ardently. You know they’re probably swollen and more vibrant in their color now. Eddie’s a lot of the same, mouth rosy and obviously kissed.

“Hm?” the boy hums back.

“Do you wanna… Do you wanna do something else?” you ask him, all slow because you don’t want to say the wrong thing. His brows furrow beneath the thin curtain of his curly bangs. The silent question eggs you on. “Would it be okay if I gave you a blowjob?”

Eddie’s eyes widen for a moment. He swears he goes blind because he doesn’t typically see white when he blinks. The question isn’t the weirdest for a guy in this predicament — with a pretty girl on his lap with his spit staining her mouth. It just catches him a little off guard.

“Would it be…” he tries to echo but trails off with a breathy laugh. You say it like it wouldn’t be perfect — to have you between his legs with your warm mouth on his cock, looking effortlessly beautiful while you swallow him whole. 

“Yeah… Yeah, I think that… I’d be a total idiot to say no,” he manages to stammer out, though words have long lost meaning by now.

The sight of his glazed-over eyes, warmed cheeks, and pink mouth makes you smile. He always looks at you like you’re the most amazing thing he’s ever seen — like you're the infiniteness of space or a deep, deep ocean — something profound he desperately wants to discover.

“I feel like you deserve it, right?” you squint down at him, partially teasing. “For a job well done, you know?”

Eddie nods until he finds the words to respond. “Yeah… Right. Totally.”

“Do you wanna lie down? Or would you rather me get on my knees?” you ask him.

Eddie swears he’s dreaming. He isn’t quite sure how you manage to say something so sinful with such sincerity.

“It might be comfortable to stay like this, but most guys like the visual of girls on their knees better so…” 

There is no seductive lilt to your voice, no mischievous teasing to rile him up. It’s just a question of how he wants you, and it’s a very dizzying thought. Knowing he can have you however he wants makes his stomach all whirly and his vision start to swim like he just spun around ten times.

Eddie just blinks at you. His chocolate eyes and heavy lids flutter slowly like he’s trying to look at you through a layer of honey.

It takes him a second to answer because he doesn’t know what he wants — he rarely ever does, but now especially. How is a boy who wants you in every way imaginable supposed to pick only one?

“Uh, can you—” he starts before the words get caught in his throat. He grunts out a cough to clear it. “Could you, um… get on your, uh— your knees? Please?” 

You smile at how politely he phrases it. You don’t think anyone’s ever said please when asking you for a blowjob before.

Eddie fidgets awkwardly beneath you, and you’re not entirely sure why. You’re the one that just offered yourself up on a platter, totally and unequivocally happy to do whatever he wants. He’s not the one that should be embarrassed.

You nod down at him, still grinning like an idiot. “Sure. You can stay sitting if you want. Whatever you wanna do.”

“Okay…” Eddie mumbles in response.

He watches you with wide, inquisitive eyes as you maneuver off his lap and onto the rug beside your bed. When he swings his legs over the edge of it, you settle intently between them. His cock twitches at the sight of you below him, blinking up at him with sparkling eyes that almost look like they’re begging.

Your palms settle on his clothed thighs as your knees press into the woolen rug beneath you. Your chest warms when you’re finally level with his concealed cock. It makes your heart go silly, the sheer thought of what you’re about to do. You don’t think you’ve ever been this excited to suck dick before.

You wait patiently for him to make the first move — then you realize he doesn’t know how because he’s never had to before. Instead, he’s waiting for you to tell him what to do. With button eyes intently focused on your form and hands anxiously gripping the edge of the bed, he’s entirely prepared to move however you want him to.

“Take off your shirt, Eds,” you guide gently.

He listens to you without thinking twice. His fidgeting fingers reach for the fraying hem of his shirt to yank it up and over his head. He has to tug harder when the neck gets caught around his chin.

It isn’t the first time he’s been shirtless in front of you. Between changing and heated kisses, he’s had ample opportunity to get over his lingering insecurities.

For a while there, he found himself comparing his body to all your other more prominent escapades — the Billy Hargroves and the Steve Harringtons. The overtly masculine types with bodies that scream, ‘I peaked in high school.’

Eddie doesn’t look like them. He isn’t as toned or as thin. He’s got pudge on his belly and sparse hair on his sternum in the place of defined abs and pecks covered in layers of chest hair. He doesn’t look at all like those basketball douchebags that could easily model for whatever magazine basketball douchebags read — if they even know how to, that is.

But you don’t seem to care. You love on him anyway.

Even now, your eyes rake over his bare upper half with a gaze that isn’t anything short of hungry. You reach for his face to pull him down for a ravenous kiss that does little to quell your appetite. Your fingers tangle in the drying strands of his hair in the same way your tongues do. 

Eddie’s patient hands curl around the insides of your elbow as he keeps his lips obediently parted for you. He sighs into each of your eager kisses, more than content to let you swallow him whole.

You move down to his jaw and then to his neck. You nose his curls out of the way to sprinkle wet pecks to the warm skin there. You somehow manage to take your time and move with haste all at once — loving on all the places that need loving, but not lingering in one place for too long because there are too many of them to count.

The tip of your nose trails down his milky torso in time with your craving kisses. You press a final one between his ribcage, tongue darting out briefly just so you can hear his breath tremble before pulling away entirely. 

Eddie’s hands remain on each of your arms as your fingers curl around the hem of his plaid pajama pants. It makes his grip unknowingly tighten.

“Wait,” he blurts with his eyes squeezed shut. You tense almost instantly. “Can you— I mean, can we, just… you know…” he trails off, voice tight like he’s holding his breath. It’s probably because he is.

“What?” you pry with wide eyes and the sick feeling like you’ve done something horribly wrong. “Is this… Is this not okay? We don’t have to, like, do any of this if you don’t want. It was just a suggestion, Eds. We can just—”

“No!” he exclaims, eyes flying open to find your panicked ones. He shakes his wild head so vigorously down at you it makes his curls sway. He both wants to quell your worry and plead for you not to stop. “That’s not it. I— I want to, okay? I do. I really… really do. I just… You’re so far away like this…”

His words drip with a soft sincerity, his honeyed eyes even more so.

Your alarm curls into a gentle smile at his reassurance.

You haven’t had many firsts in a long, long time. Your first kiss was on the playground of Hawkins Middle. Your first handjob was in the locker room of the community pool not too long after. Your first time having sex was on a towel in the grass beside Tina Burton’s pool after her birthday party when everyone else had gone to bed.

All your stereotypical firsts happened lifetimes ago, but you’ve had a billion more with Eddie.

You can say with more confidence than you’ve ever had in your life that this is the first time a guy’s turned down a blowjob because you were too far away on your knees. 

“What?” the boy wavers at your silence. Your accompanying smile is somehow more frightening.

“Nothing,” you assure. Your brows pinch together as you smile up at him. “I just… I really don’t think we can be any closer than your dick in my mouth, Eds.”

Eddie rolls his eyes. His cheeks go rosy at your quip. “You know what I mean…”

“Yeah,” you answer softly. “I know what you mean.”

You rise again, this time planting yourself on his thigh. Your knees settle on either side of his leg and dig into the mattress below you, on top of him all over again. The position is a familiar one. The only thing different is a few months’ time and a lack of Fast Times playing in the background.

Eddie tilts his chin to peer up at you. It’s easier this way, he realizes, to be below you and at your mercy rather than above you. Sometimes he thinks you were made to be on top of him like this.

“How about this,” you lilt with a raised brow. “I can just jerk you off—”

“Sounds perfect,” Eddie nods.

A giggle bubbles from your lips. “Let me finish, you weirdo. I can jerk you off, and you can just tell me when you’re about to finish.”

“Okay,” he answers right before his brows furrow. “Uh… why?”

“So you can come in my mouth,” you shrug like it’s obvious.

Your words knock the wind from Eddie’s lungs — it’s like you’ve punched him square in the stomach. Staring up at you through drooping eyelids, he swallows thickly, then nods. “Yeah. Yeah, that’s sounds… Yeah…”

You breathe out a laugh and lean closer to press a kiss to the tip of his nose. You couldn’t help yourself — he’s too damn adorable. Your fingers curl back around the hem of his pants and boxers, dragging them both down in one fell swoop to free his half-hard cock. You tuck the tops of them under his balls.

You’ve seen a lot of dicks in your time — long ones, short ones, thick ones, skinny ones — you could make a damn nursery rhyme of the variety you’ve seen. Eddie’s doesn’t particularly stand out.

It’s middling in length and in girth, not big but not too small either, with a width that won’t hurt to take but will stretch you out nonetheless. 

His cock is pale and a faint strawberry red at the tip. It’s the same rosy color his cheeks get when he blushes. There’s a vein that trails up from his balls and splits like a forking river up to his bulbous head. The bush at his pubic bone is fitting for a metalhead, but it looks like he’s taken a trimmer to the chestnut hair there sometime in the past month or so.

His dick isn’t ugly and it isn’t special, but it’s perfect anyway because it’s his.

“You’ve got a really pretty cock, Eds,” you praise in a low whisper.

He thinks you must be trying to talk dirty, but your gaze gets all shy — quirked brow, curled lip, twinkled eye — like you must really mean it. You seal your compliment with a soft, lingering peck.

“Can dicks be pretty?” he asks you, the question muffled against your mouth.

“Not usually,” you blurt before you realize.

Most guys are gross. They don’t shave because they don’t think they have to. Sometimes they smell bad, too, because they never really learned how to wash themselves. Either that, or they taste overtly of soap because they shoved a whole bar of the stuff down their pants right before.

Boys tend to care less about the situation their cocks are in. Only a handful you’ve been with really knew how to take care of themselves — Eddie for one, Steve for another, and Billy Hargrove on occasion.

“But your’s definitely is,” you promise.

“Um… thanks?” He doesn’t mean for it to come out like a question; he just never thought that exact string of words would ever be spoken to him.

It’s a little bit surreal to receive a compliment on a part of you that most people wouldn’t typically notice — like your shoulders or lips or thighs. Eddie’s almost sure you’ve complimented each of those at some point or another.

You kiss him again, both because he makes it insanely hard not to and because you know that’s the only way to get him out of his head. He’ll never get hard if he’s worried about getting hard. So you keep kissing him, letting him focus on the pattern of your tastebuds and the curves of your cupid’s bow, while you happily do all the work.

Your fingertips trail up and down the underside of his cock. Your caresses are featherlight and meticulous along his warm, stiffening skin, all but coaxing him hard. 

When his cock is totally stiff and standing at attention at his stomach, you part from Eddie to bring your palm to your mouth. You spit a glob of saliva onto the center of it and let the added lubricant help your fist glide along his dick.

A stifled groan rumbles in Eddie’s throat as your fingers wrap fully around him. You’re only touching his cock, but it feels like you’ve embraced every inch of them.

The pleasure feels like static, like he’s just rubbed his socks along the carpet and he’s sizzling with the newfound electricity. He feels it in the tips of his toes and in the strands of his hair.

“Um, just to, uh… save myself the embarrassment,” Eddie cautions shakily. His voice is a few octaves higher than normal and audibly fragile. “I should probably urge you to lower your expectations—” He has to stifle a whine when you squeeze the base of his cock. “—Just a little bit.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that I’m probably gonna come, like, really, really quickly,” he tells you and tries his best to laugh. It’s as shaky as the smile he gives you because you haven’t stopped touching him, even despite his warning. 

Your fist squeezes his cock, then rises again. You pause momentarily to swipe your thumb over his leaking tip before sliding back down again. It’s a slow and methodical cycle that’s going to make him burst far quicker than he’d like.

“That’s okay,” you assure with the shake of your head, brows furrowed because you don’t know why that’s such a band thing. You shrug. “Just means there’s more time for me to make you do it again.”

Eddie huffs out a sigh as his cock twitches in your fist, growing somehow harder at your words.

Your unhurried pace hastens in a way that’s still obviously disciplined. Your hand moves faster until you hear his breath start to race and see his milky white chest splotch with red. Then, when his rapid pants begin to tremble, your pace goes back to normal.

You push him to the very edge of the cliff and then pull him backward before he falls.

It’d be agonizing if it didn’t feel so damn good.

His eyes have long fluttered shut by now. You miss his chocolate syrup irises, but the look of pure serenity on his face is the kind of beautiful most people pay to see. His agape mouth, bared neck, rosy cheeks, and long lashes that tickle the apples of them deserve to be hung in the Louvre. 

It’s a sort of heavenly that everyone needs to admire in their lifetime, but one that belongs to only you. The sheer thought of someone else having him this way makes you angry, sparks raging orange embers just behind your sternum.

Eddie grows quiet. Suspiciously so. He isn’t moaning as much as he was before, and his chest is totally still, as though he were holding his breath. You feel his gentle grip on the outsides of your thighs start to harden. You figure the added tension helps him stay hushed. It’s less so accidental and more like he’s trying not to make noise.

“Let me hear you, Eds,” you urge in a whisper. “It’s okay. Go ahead and whine for me.”

The assurance barely spills from your mouth before he’s moaning for you. It’s a long, drawn-out whine that travels from his chest to his throat and out of his mouth, concluding in a fragile sigh.

The sound makes you double your efforts. You want him to make that noise again — you never want him to stop making that noise for you. So you squeeze harder, rise faster, and pay more attention to his rapidly reddening tip. 

You’re not entirely sure what Eddie likes the most. Most guys moan louder when you do something they like, but he seems to like all of it, so you don’t pay extra attention to one place. You keep jerking his cock, faster still, even when the muscles of your forearm start to burn.

“Fuck—” the boy sighs in a heavy moan, then cuts himself off with a pitiful whine.

He tries to lift his head and open his eyes to look at you, but he doesn’t have the strength to anymore. His head lolls back again when the pleasure begins to crescendo.

Sufficiently stupid, he can’t even find the words to warn you. “I’m— I’m close, sweetheart,” he slurs lowly. “I’m… Fuck… Fuck, I’m gonna…”

He doesn’t finish his sentence. His face screws up, nose scrunching and brows furrowing, as the feeling becomes almost unbearable. It’s all the warning you need.

Your fist holds onto the base of his cock as you dismantle his thigh and settle on the rug again. You don’t think twice before darting forward to lick the dribbles of pearly-white pre-come spilling from his reddened tip.

You wrap your lips around him totally, cheeks hollowing as you suck him there like he’s a piece of candy.

And Eddie dies. He passes away on the spot.

It’s the only way he can describe the feeling.

The crescendo of pleasure — that’s the life flashing before his eyes. The brief moment of numbness is the infinite void of death. The burst of ecstasy that spits from his cock in one, two, three loads is heaven.

It just has to be.

There can’t be a higher pleasure than the feeling of your mouth on his cock and the way you moan around him when his come spills on your tongue.

Eddie whines something pitiful. He loses all the previous inhibition that kept him so quiet he was too scared to breathe. One hand twists in the sheets while the other settles on the back of your hand, not pulling or tugging, just resting there as his hips buck off the mattress. He can’t tell if he’s running away from the intensity of his pleasure or if he never wants it to stop.

You don’t seem to mind that he doesn’t know.

You let his hips jerk wildly even when the tip of his cock hits the back of your throat and makes you gag. It does take everything in you not to laugh, however, when Eddie murmurs a fragile “sorry” through his cries.

And when his fingers knot in your hair, you don’t mind that either. You let him halfway fuck your mouth, even though you’re pretty sure he’s too far gone to notice that he’s fucking your mouth.

You don’t stop until he’s shuddering. Only when you’re sure he has nothing left to give you do you finally pull away from him. You leave a delicate kiss to the tip of his softening cock, no longer the angry red color it was moments ago. Eddie’s stomach clenches at the feeling of blatant sensitivity. His face scrunches as another feeble cry gets trapped in his throat.

You snap his boxers and pants back into place on his waist and rise.

“How was that for your first blowjob?” you ask him, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand.

Eddie just shakes his head in response. He flops back against the mattress, the springs bouncing under his weight, and tries to find the words to answer you.

He doesn’t know how to tell you that he just saw Heaven and Hell at the same time and that you were both God and the Devil. There isn’t any string of words in any language that could explain the otherworldly pleasure you gave him with nothing more than your hand and mouth, so he decides to stay quiet.

With his eyes still closed, he can hear you laughing quietly at him while you slither in at his side. You lie beside him on your stomach. When you’re finally in reach again, he peeks his eyes open and reaches for you, pulling you toward him for a searing kiss.

You think it might be the first time he’s ever done so without asking awkwardly first — as though there was a world where you would ever turn him down. He seems to understand that now, the way he kisses you without thinking twice about it.

His tongue swipes into your mouth. The both of you moan when he tastes the salty tang lingering there. Eddie doesn’t even realize that it’s him he’s tasting at first — that the heady bitter-sweetness on your tongue is his come.

It’s less so that he’s tasting himself, and more so that his taste is in your mouth at all, that makes him exhale a moan against you. The heavy breath of it fans against your cupid’s bow.

“Oh,” you hum through labored pants when you part again. “It was that good, huh?”

“Better,” he answers with a crooked smirk on his swollen pink mouth. He’s finally able to open his eyes and see more than a blur when his high starts to subside. “That was fucking… I mean, that was… fuck…”

His speechlessness makes you giggle. Your gaze stays locked on his profile when he turns to look up at the ceiling.

“That was exactly what I wanted. And, like, I didn’t even know I wanted it, you know?” he rambles. “How did you— How did you know? How do you always know?”

You’re not entirely sure what he means by that, and honestly, neither is he.

You just always know what he needs. You buy him a toothbrush because you know he’ll forget his, and when you touch him, you know exactly what he likes — even though he doesn’t even know what he likes.

It’s like you’re another half of him, and not in the stupid soulmate way everyone always thinks they’ve found. You’re an identical part of him that no one else can fit. He’s only whole with you — like a sandwich cut into triangles or halves of an orange. 

“Well, to be fair, I did ask Steve what a guy would want in this sort of situation,” you admit with a scrunched nose. “I just sort of went with what he said.”

Eddie’s brows pinch together as he turns his head to peer at you again. He blinks at you for a moment, dumbfounded, then sputters. “Wait— You’re telling me I have Steve to thank for that blowjob? Like Steve-Steve? As in Steve The Hair Harrington?”

His dramatics makes you giggle. You hide your grin behind your palm.

“Hope that doesn’t change anything, Eddie Spaghetti.”

You meant it as a joke, as in, please don’t think of Steve every time I give you a blowjob from now on, but your words settle something heavy on the both of you. 

Because you’ve had Steve The Hair Harrington, in more ways than most friends tend to have one another. You’ve had a lot of people like that. There are people in the world with parts of you that most only give away when they’ve found someone really, really special. 

You learned about that too late. And now you feel a lot less special.

Eddie hears all your dreadful, no-good thoughts because they’re also his own. 

He’s a virgin with the town slut, so he often feels like he’s drowning. It isn’t because of you, though. It’s never because of you. The number of people you’ve slept with doesn’t mean a damn thing to him; he just wants to measure up to them.

He wants to be the kind of man that sticks in your head after you’ve been with a thousand of them — the kind you can’t help but remember fondly because there hasn’t been another one like him.

He’s got no idea he’s already better than every person you’ve ever been with combined.

“No, sweetheart,” he assures with the shake of his head. The apple of his cheek rubs against the fabric of your comforter as he looks at you with eyes deeper than an infinite galaxy. His gaze holds all of its own stars, and each of them is named after you. “It doesn’t change a goddamn thing.”

[misc-obeyme]

THE BEEL SPACE FOR KINKTOBER IS FREE FUCK YEAAAAAAH!!!!!!

I was thinking of requesting a silly scenario.... like fem!MC is part of a newspaper club at RAD and their director assigned her to make a note about one of Beel's games in campus. <3

(They ended fucking in the lockers room after everyone left)

Hello, anon!

This ask brought me so much joy lol. Anyway, I tried to incorporate all the elements and included them being in a relationship already, as indicated by your follow up ask!

Hopefully this turned out okay... I'm kinda going through a phase where my confidence in my writing is lacking so it's hard for me to tell, honestly.

Thanks for submitting a prompt!

KINKTOBER 2023

fem!MC x Beelzebub

NSFW MDNI

Warnings: female anatomy and female clothing described for MC, also MC is described as shorter than Beel, semi-public sex, penetration (reader receiving)

You held your D.D.D. up in your hand, the voice recording app running as you asked questions of RAD's winning Fangol team. The demons on the team were in a celebratory mood as they had just crushed the competition in that day's game. As a member of the newspaper club, you had been chosen to attend the game and interview the team members afterward. They lounged around the locker room, most of them letting their coach do the talking.

Every once in a while, you couldn't help looking over at Beelzebub. He was standing near the coach, as one of the star players. He blushed every time your eyes met. Every other teammate seemed to know what was going on. One of them would inevitably pat Beel's shoulder whenever they caught him looking at you.

It wasn't exactly a secret that you and Beel were in a relationship, but you weren't often here in this capacity. Your newspaper club endeavors were more likely to send you to school festivals than to Fangol games. But nobody had been available this time and you were up to the challenge. It certainly had nothing to do with the fact that you knew you would see Beel there, too. Definitely not.

You were glad that the team had won the game. It made this interview a happy, boisterous one. Even so, you were glad when it was all said and done. The other teammates filtered out of the locker room one by one. Eventually it was just you, the coach, who was still prattling on about defense, and Beel, who was still in his uniform.

At long last, the coach finished his speech, thanking you for your time. He clapped Beel on the back and asked him to close up the locker room when he was finished for the night. Beel agreed and the coach left, leaving you and Beel alone in the locker room.

You stopped the D.D.D. recording and put it in your bag before smiling at Beel.

He came over to where you were standing.

"Congratulations on winning the game," you said. You pulled him down so you could give him a quick kiss.

"Thanks, MC," Beel said. His hands went to your waist, pulling you closer. "The best part was seeing you here after we won."

You blushed a little, but it wasn't like you weren't used to Beel saying sweet things like this. "I just happened to be the only one available to write the article about it."

"You'll write an amazing article," Beel said. He put a hand on your cheek, tilting your face up so he could kiss you again.

You tugged on his jersey. "Why are you still in your uniform?"

Beel looked at you seriously, but you saw the blush that spread across his face. "I was waiting until you could help me take it off."

You looked at him in surprise. It wasn't exactly unlike him to tell you exactly what he wanted, but you still hadn't been expecting it. You smiled. It was so cute the way he was so serious about it.

You obliged, pulling the jersey up in an attempt to get it over his head. Beel helped you, removing it fully and dropping it on the floor.

You had to work a bit to remove all his pads and gear, but it was worth it when he was standing naked before you. You were pleased to see his cock was already hard, your own arousal pulsing through you.

Beel kissed you, pulling you into himself. He turned and pushed you up against the lockers. You could feel your back pressing against hard metal, but it wasn't too uncomfortable because you were still wearing your uniform.

Beel lifted you and you instinctively hooked your legs around his hips. You gasped as he kissed your neck, your heart racing, your hands gripping his back and shoulders.

You clung onto him the best you could, but you wanted to feel him. His name came out of you in a pleading whine. "Beel…"

Beel put his hand up your skirt, reaching between your legs to push your underwear aside. He circled a fingertip over your clit, making you gasp at the sweetness that ran through you. Then a couple of his fingers went inside you, gently pumping in and out, preparing you to take him.

You squirmed against the lockers and tugged at Beel a little. He responded right away, pulling out his fingers and repositioning himself. You moaned as Beel carefully pushed his cock inside you, his lips still on your skin.

You tightened your legs around him as much as you could, holding on as he set a fast pace. The lockers clanked quietly behind you in a regular rhythm. You let your head fall back against them, creating a slight thud. Beel pulled away from you, pausing to hoist you better, putting a hand behind your head.

You were about to protest, to say that you were fine, to tell him to please keep going, but he had already begun thrusting again and the words fell way to moans. The angle of his cock inside you was so perfect, hitting the right spot every time, over and over. The bursts of pleasure shot through you until you could feel yourself tightening around him.

You cried out his name as you came, your hand grasping at his bare shoulders, running up the back of his head, fingers in his hair.

Beel mumbled your name over and over as he came inside you. Then he was kissing you all over, your cheeks, your eyelids, your nose, your lips, as though he just couldn't help himself.

Since you were already in the locker room, it was easy for you to clean each other up. Beel was attentive to your every need, even checking to make sure the metal of the lockers hadn't hurt your back.

When you finally left the locker room holding hands, everybody else was long gone. A few days later, you received an abundance of praise for the article you wrote about the Fangol team's victory that day. Any time Beel brought it up, the two of you would look at each other and blush.

flufftober | kinktober | masterlist | Thank you for reading!

taglist: @anxious-chick @t0tallycoolname @libidinous-weeb

[biasbuck]

BiAsBuck’s ficrec Fridays

Happy Friday everyone! I'm back again with another round of the fic I've been reading this week (when I wasn't busy reading Chuck Tingle's excellent satirical Hollywood horror novel Bury Your Gays). ALSO I've just got to 7x04 in my complete series rewatch, let's go, lfg!!! You can find previous rec lists here.

23 August 2024

the parts we play by @calinaannehart ok I know I recced this last week but it's finished now and it stuck the landing SO beautifully and seriously if you've not yet read this Buck is a Hollywood actor shadowing the 118 much to Eddie's initial frustration au fic then what are you doing? It's beautifully characterised, has such fun multimedia elements, and all the perfect romcom beats whilst also just being a glorious celebration of the firefam and Buck and Eddie. Read it!

piece by piece, rubble to rubble by @sharpbutsoft 'Christopher Diaz doesn’t believe in hell, but if he did, he thinks it might resemble back-to-school shopping at Westfield Mall with his Dad and Buck.' in which Chris is frustrated by his own descent into teenagerdom and the pitfalls of clothes shopping, Eddie is a very patient loving Dad, Buck helps, and things go very wrong. A satisfying 'trapped hurt/comfort leads to will reveal' scenario, with Buck and Chris bonding and being brave in the face of danger and uncertainty.

from the ashes by @exhuastedpigeon sees Eddie post-season 7 finding inspiration amongst a burned out art studio, and picks up a creative skill he put away as a teen. I really loved seeing him reconnect with a part of himself he'd hidden and the emotions it brought out, as well as the descriptions of how he captures all the colours and landscape of his family and heart through his art. This feels like a lovely unintentional companion piece to be read alongside when i see stars, that's all they are by @ithilien-writes which I recommended last week in which Eddie takes poetry lessons and I just love how we're all in agreement that Eddie is in need of some art therapy, community and creative expression to unrepress those feelings.

you're almost home (i've been waiting for you to come in) by @sibylsleaves roommates fic! In which Buck moves in with Eddie after he and Taylor split, Eddie has a revelation at Hen & Karen's vow renewal and comes out, domestic bliss ensues, and then Buck gets extremely in his head about it. A delicious mix of uhauling and slow burn, with angst, fluff and yearning galore. (I also really liked James in this, how do we manifest him, he was such a great oc.)

of waterfalls by @standback ballet dancer Eddie!!! In which Buck goes to physical therapy at the gym and is infuriated by how hot and good Eddie is, of course. But soon they become best friends and support each other along the way. With twists and turns from Eddie not being part of the 118, and some really lovely world building into Eddie's dancer world. I LOVE this concept, and particularly how Shannon was incorporated into the backstory that got them there in a way that was so seamless. When the dream belongs to someone else, how do you know where to draw the line? When do you let yourself find a new dream?

PS - quick one this week as it's been a busy one, but insert usual call out for more henren fic here. Feel free to self rec! And please share and reblog :)

[dailyhelldorm]

[TL] Hokuto 3☆ Story / A Proper Study Session?

Scenario Writer: Happy Elements (Happy Elements株式会社) Characters: Hidaka Hokuto, Kunugi Akiomi, Shiratori Aira Season: Winter

Hokuto: ーAnd then, this will be your answer. Do you understand? Aira: …I am sorry, I didn’t get any of it at all. Hokuto: Why is it so? From what point did you not follow? Aira: S-since the beginning. Hokuto: What did you just say…

[Let's start! ♪]

Location: Seisoukan Book room

Hokuto: Alright, so this is the place where they put the book describing the role huh? I get most of the gist now, so let's call it a day and return to my dorm.

Aira: Haa...

Hokuto: (Huh...? The one over there looks like Shiratori-kun, what's the matter with him? How to put it, I feel the air around him is quite heavy.)

Aira: (It is not gotta end, not gotta end!!)

(You are telling me to finish all these dozens of math prints by tomorrow... That's impossible! There is no way I can do it!)

(Urgh, but my math test result is just too awful, I felt so bad... Especially with that kind of grade...)

(But that was because I was busy with work recently! I didn't have the time to study for the test!)

(Hah... I just keep complaining, but not that it will help me lessen this mountain of homework... If I knew things would be like this, I would have asked Hiro-kun to help me study.)

(It can't be helped, I just have to push through. Let's start with the first question...)

The first question...?

What the hell is this, I can't understand anything at all!

Hokuto: You must keep quiet inside the book room, Shiratori-kun.

Aira: Wah-wah, Hidaka-senpai! I'm so sorry! Did I just say everything out loud?

Hokuto: It is fine since there is no one other than me here, but you should be more careful. You need to mind the precise manner when using common places like here.

Aira: Yes, I will be more careful in the future...

Hokuto: Aside from that, what’s the matter? You are making a lot of funny faces by yourself just now.

Aira: Y-You saw that...!? No way, I am so embarrassed~!

Hokuto: No, it was quite interesting to see, I might refer to it in the future. Acting requires expressing a lot of complicated emotions after all.

Aira: B-but still, being stared at by Hidaka-senpai like that!

Hokuto: I forgot to greet you. Sorry about that. Moreover, you seem to be troubled by something?

Aira: Ah, you see, my math result is quite terrible, so I was given a lot of these homework papers. However, I don’t understand any question at all…

I was going to ask Hasumi-senpai to teach me in our ‘Keito Lecture’ activity, but unfortunately, it seems that he has a job today. I have to make it through by myself somehow. 

Hokuto: I see. Well, you normally have to balance between studying and idol work. The problem here seems to be that even when you have the time to do your homework, you often feel unmotivated with your study.

Aira: Urghgh, you got that right, I can’t retort…

Hokuto: By the way, how much did you score on the last test?

Aira: Uhm… I-I got three points.

Hokuto: Hmm, that is quite alarming. If you already stumble with schoolwork since the first year, all the practical questions will get more difficult when you move up to the next grades.

Aira: No way, if I can’t keep up with my study, how am I going to continue to work as an idol anymore!

Hokuto: I know. How about I will personally tutor you, Shiratori-kun?

Aira: H-Hidaka-senpai will?

Hokuto: Ah, I don’t have any subject I’m fundamentally bad at, and I am better at studying than most people. Moreover, helping a troubled junior is what a normal senior should do.

Aira: Really!? Thank you so much! Please help me with your guidance!

Hokuto: Alright, let us start swiftly. What questions do you not understand?

Aira: Erm, it is this question. ‘The little brother has left the house early and the big brother notices that he has forgotten something. How long will it take for the big brother to chase after him?’

Hokuto: Fumu… This is not a question for high school freshmen, rather this is a question you learned in middle school.

Aira: Ahaha… My grades are so bad that I guess I am being told to go back to the basics. I doubt that I can solve them later on…

Hokuto: I see. Then let’s start right away. The walking speed of the little brother is 80 meters per minute…

(Several minutes later)

Hokuto: ーAnd then, this will be your answer. Do you understand?

Aira: …I am sorry, I didn’t get any of it at all.

Hokuto: Why is it so? From what point did you not follow?

Aira: S-since the beginning.

Hokuto: What did you just say…

Aira: But how should I put it, this question doesn’t make any sense to me in the first place. I get confused because why there will be some kind of situation that makes the big brother run after his little brother to give him his stuff like this?

Hokuto: Hmm. If that is so, how about you replace these brothers with someone you are familiar with?

Aira: I see! Is there anyone who can fit in this situation? If any brothers I am familiar with… Maybe Hiro-kun and Rinne-senpai?

Hokuto: Certainly they do fit in the situation of delivering the forgotten item, but the big brother might end up stopping by a pachinko lot midway. In the end, he might not be able to meet up with the little brother.

Even if we change to let the little brother come after him, underage can’t go inside the lot anyway.

Aira: Ahaha, I get the point. Then how about the Sakuma brothers?

Hokuto: In those brothers’ case, if the big brother is chasing after the little brother, then the little brother will never let the big brother meet up with him.

Aira: I can totally see that! Every pair of brothers we know is super wacky ♪ None of them might gotta match the question here though!

Hokuto: Then how about thinking of Shiratori-kun as the little brother being chased after?

Aira: I am the person who is being chased after? Uhm~ who will be the other one here?

Someone I’m familiar with and can notice when I forget my stuff… might be Tassun-senpai. Ah! But having my favorite idols come after me to give my thing back might be the best thing ever!

After all, we all live together under Seisoukan anyway ♪ Maybe after ‘Pretty 5’s activity, Tomoe-senpai is going to chase after me to give back my forgotten item~ Ufufufufu ♪

Hokuto: Hmm, Tomoe-senpai you say… For sure, he will notice that you have forgotten your thing, but he might not be the one to directly pursue you. Maybe he will make Sazanami run after you in his place, or call a taxi and have them drive him back to Seisoukan.

Either way, instead of chasing after you, he might arrive at the dorm before you do.

Aira: I’m totally fine with that, especially when Tomoe-senpai is waiting for me at the dorm, right? If that really happens, I would want to forget my stuff every day ♪

Hokuto: I see. You can think about it in that way. Then what if I’m the person who forgets their thing, who will be the one delivering it?

Aira: Hidaka-senpai and Akehoshi-senpai often are together, right? How about Akehoshi-senpai?

Hokuto: Instead of myself being on the receiving end, I think he will be the one who forgets his stuff and needs me to deliver it for him.

Aira: Then how about in this question’s case? If you put it in context, Hidaka-senpai and Akehoshi-senpai might fit perfectly ♪

Hokuto: Hmm? I don’t think so. If anything, this question isn’t really about us…

Aira: Ahaha ♪ Maybe you are right about it!

Hokuto: Actually on our last day off, I was together with Akehoshi in Seisoukan, and weー

Location: Yumenosaki Staff Room

(The next day)

Akiomi: My goodness, why you didn’t finish your homework?

Aira: I’m sorry! You see, there were a lot of things happening… Ehehe ♪

Akiomi: What are you laughing about!

Aira: M-my apologies!

Akiomi: Whatever your reason might be, missing your deadline is a no-good thing, both in your normal idol activity and in your own regular life! Do you hear me, in the first place, your math test result is…

Aira: (Urgh~ Today’s lecture will be hella long as well…)

(In the end, I couldn’t finish any of my homework, but I am super happy that I got Hidaka-senpai to tutor me ♪ Hidaka-senpai actually has a lot of funny particulars about him.)

(I only knew Hidaka-senpai’s idol side before, but when I tried to talk to him, he was a more interesting person than I had expected ♪)

(Next time if I have another homework assignment, I want Hidaka-senpai to tutor me again~)

[The end ☆]

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

End Game 2

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, stalking, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your gaming buddy asks to meet up but it doesn’t go exactly as planned.

Characters: Andy Barber

Note: we're here to boo Andrew.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

“So, you’re coming?” Jacob’s voice quavers with excitement. You can’t imagine how he’d sound if you said no. You hate letting people down, it seems to be all you've ever done.

“Uh, yeah,” you say as you steer around the track; opting for some MarioKart over Minecraft that night, “boss says it’s no problem to get the days off. Just have to make it up after. Is... Is everything still good on your end?” 

“Oh yeah, sure thing,” he assures buoyantly, “I can’t wait. Did you still wanna split the airBnB?” 

“Actually, I got a place to stay for the night then I’ll take the early bus back,” you explain as Princess Peach knocks you off the track, “argh!” 

“Right, that’s good,” he says, “good to know you won’t be stranded out there.” 

“Mhm,” you use your boost to catch up to Peach and get your revenge. You don’t mention that Kara will be with you at the con. You just want to be sure this isn’t something wonky. “It’ll be nice to get out of town. My grandma will probably be happy to have the place to herself.” 

“Yeah,” he scoffs, “what’s her problem anyway?” 

“Just the way she is. She likes her space,” you shrug, “I don’t know, I don’t think she expected to be raising her granddaughter...” 

“Ah, yeah, I guess that would be stressful,” he says, “still, seems like you’re not too bad to be around. Got a job, go to school, all that. Think my dad would love it if I put in half as much effort.” 

“Yeah? You make him sound like a hard ass.” 

“Can be. Lawyer, so kinda his schtick,” he chuckles. 

“Oo, fancy,” you snort. Maybe if either of your parents had been lawyers, you wouldn’t be living off your grandma’s resent.  

“I guess. Never really see him that much...” he grumbles. 

“Hm, well, no winning, is there?” You mutter. 

“Not really,” he sighs and hisses, “ugh, Toad!” 

You chuckle and cross the finish line. A respectable second. You wait for him to finish and stifle a yawn. 

“Tired?” He asks. 

“Little.” 

“Me too, long day,” he groans, “neck’s killing me.” 

“Oh, what’d you do--” 

“You know, I’m-- an idiot. Was messing around on my bike.” 

“Of course,” you snicker, “well, if you don’t mind, I’m gonna sign off. I don’t wanna keep my grandma up and my head’s starting to go.” 

“Sure, I gotta get up early anyway,” he sounds less than enthused. “Good night.” 

“You too.” 

“Tomorrow?” 

“Can’t, work. Day after?” 

“Okay, I’ll make it work,” he confirms, “I’m excited about meeting up. Aren’t you?” 

“Yep,” you try not to show your doubt. You’re still not really sure about everything. 

“Can’t wait,” he rasps and the silt in his tone makes you shiver. 

“Yeah, er, bye then,” you hit end session and take off your headset, your ears tender and a bit sweaty. Even if it is awkward, at least you’ll get to hang with Kara for a bit. You haven’t seen her since grad. 

🎮

You’re already exhausted and you’re not even inside yet. The line for the convention is bustling and your excitement keeps you going as you and Kara gab away and move with the slow crawl. The sun beams down and has you sweating, though you could easily blame that on your nerves too. 

“So, this Jacob... is he cute?” She winks. 

“Kara,” you roll your eyes, “it’s not like that. Really. We just game.” 

“Oh yeah. But do you want it to be more?” She teases. 

“You know I’m not really into all that. I don’t have room for a boyfriend in my life.” 

“So boring. Never change, girlie,” she nudges you playfully. “But really, that’s smart. Calvin is too much. I’m thinking of cutting him loose.” 

“Again?” You squint. 

“Not my fault he keeps coming back,” she giggles. 

You peer around, searching out a familiar face amid the ocean of strangers. You haven’t seen Jacob yet. You’re almost hoping he doesn’t show up. Then again, why wouldn’t he? He paid for you to be here. The reminder of the fact strikes guilt in your chest. 

You pause as your eyes catch another pair, further back in the queue. An older man with a beard. He stands out among the crowd. He wears a tidy button-up where most wear graphic tees or cosplay attire. He stares for a moment before he turns away and looks down, probably at whatever kid dragged him there. 

“Well, what are you going to do if he sees you and falls in love?” Kara asks. 

“Whatever,” you roll your eyes. 

“If he’s a nerd like you, how could he not?” 

“Hey,” you frown. 

“What? You’re like the sexy gamer girl type. Isn’t that what dudes want?” She shrugs. “Let me see his pic again. He’s a skinny little thing. He’d definitely be into you.” 

“Urgh, stop,” you cross your arms. 

“Sorry, I’m only playing. You just seem so nervous, I’m trying to loosen you up.” 

“I know,” you puff, “it’s just... I should’ve just said no. This is stupid. I don’t know why I even agreed.” 

“To get out of that shithole,” she snips. “Why do you think I hauled ass the minute I popped by grad cap on?” 

“Mm, yeah, I just hope... do you think he really wants that? Maybe I gave him the wrong idea. Oh, Kar, I really didn’t mean to lead him on.” 

“No, no, I’m sure it’s nothing you did if he does. I mean, he’s probably a virgin so...” 

“That’s mean,” you pout. 

“What, so are you,” she laughs. 

“Exactly,” you shake your head and drop your arms, a buzz jittering your skirt pocket.  

You look down at yourself as you slide your phone free. That was probably a bold choice but it’s so damn hot out. Besides, your Pikachu tee is loose enough to counteract the denim sheath. You turn the screen up, shading it with your hand as you read. 

‘Sorry, not going to make it. Something came up. 🙁' 

You frown and reread the message. Really? You came all the way here, took time off of work, and he’s flaking? 

“What’s up?” Kara asks as she clicks her manicured nails impatiently and stands on her toes, trying to see past the bodies ahead. 

“He just cancelled,” you mutter and type in your reply. 

‘Oh no. Hope it’s nothing bad. Maybe another time.’ 

You hit send and drop your shoulders. You’re surprised how disappointed you are. More so about the wasted effort than anything. Even if you are a bit relieved, it’s shitty. 

“Ah, bullshit!” Kara sneers, “what the hell? What did he say?” She reaches for your phone and you hold it out of her grasp. “That fucker.” 

“It’s probably not his fault. Shit happens.” 

“Babe, you’re gonna settle for a lot of nonsense if you keep that attitude. I’d be friggin pissed if I was you. He brings you all the way here and now he’s too good for you. I bet he saw some cute girl in line and she smiled at him once so now he’s ditching,” she scowls, “I hate boys.” 

“I’m sure... it’s nothing,” you say glumly as your phone vibes again. 

‘I’m real sorry. I hope you still have a good time. Take lots of pictures.’ 

You don’t respond. You lock your phone and put it back in your pocket. It never feels good to be stood up. Even then. 

“You know what, screw him,” Kara snarls, “let’s go in there and buy you the cutest plushie you can find. Hell, maybe you can find an even cuter guy.” 

“Kar,” you warn her. 

“Fine, just the plushie. Maybe two,” she trills, “forget that loser.” 

🎮

The chaos of the convention wipes away the dark cloud over you. You’re almost thankful that Jacob gave you the opportunity to catch up with Kara. You didn’t realise how much you missed her. It’s perfect day where you can forget about your grandmother and your lame job and everything else. 

You rush around from booth to booth. You look at fanart, handmade figures, and stuffies. You’re mindful of your wallet and how empty it really is. You’ll get one thing and a snack. That’s all you can afford.  

As the hours roll by, your early morning bus ride and time spent standing out in the hot sun catch up to you. You feel your muscles starting to ache and your eyelids turning fuzzy. You yawn as you shuffle behind Kara as she waits in line to get a signature from the one D-list celeb she’s heard of. You’d get one too but it’s way too expensive. 

“Hey,” you rub your cheek, “mind if I sit and wait? I wanna grab a soft pretzel anyway.” 

“Sure,” she agrees easily, “looks like it’s gonna be a while.” 

“Want me to bring you a drink or something?” You offer. 

“Nah, just text me where you are so I can find you,” she says. 

You leave her reluctantly. You’d rather not be wandering alone through the hordes but your feet are killing you and your stomach’s been roaring for the last hour. You stand in line for the pretzel stall and get yours with cinnamon sugar and syrup. Messy but delicious. 

You find a table in the corner and settle in. You put your phone beside the napkin and tear apart the doughy goodness. Your phone lights up with a notification from the merge game you like to play and you see several other icons; missed messages. 

You focus on your snack, savouring each bite, as your eyes drift around the crowded centre. You can barely see some of the booths as hordes cluster around. Some cosplayers bat at each other with toy swords as children fight over the arcade machines. You’re overwhelmed by the sheer amount of activity all around. 

You put your head down trying to block out the lights and noise. You feel yourself getting overstimulated. It’s like when you’re in the lecture hall and suddenly you can hear every sniff, sneeze, and keystroke. You close your eyes as you wipe your fingertips on the edge of the napkin, only half-finished your pretzel. 

“Looks good,” a deep voice cuts through the blaring din. 

As you recognise the timbre, your heart squeezes and the world pinpoints at the centre of your skull. You open your eyes and slowly raise your head. You blink dumbly at the unfamiliar man stood in front of you. You think you’ve seen him before, or at least he sticks out from the typical convention attendee. 

It isn’t that he’s too old, there’s lots of older geeks hanging around but they have neckbeards and greasy combovers. His hair is tidy and his beard trimmed close. His clothing also lacks the typical Dorito dust or anime character. You remember, he was outside in the line. 

“Uh, hello?” You utter. 

“Sorry I’m late,” he says as he pulls out the chair across from you. He sits as your insides plunge. You know his voice. 

“Jacob?” You murmur in shock. How? Why? This isn’t the stringy teenager you met online. 

He nods, his jaw tensing, and he crosses an arm over the table, pointing to your half-eaten pretzel, “what’d you get on yours? I can’t decide between sweet or savoury.” 

“Who... are you?” You croak, head spinning as your eyes prick. You knew something was weird. You knew you weren’t talking to Jacob or whoever that boy was in the pictures. 

He takes a breath and lets it out slowly. As his chest deflates, you do too. He’s older than you, bigger than you, and by the looks of him, a lot better off. Why the hell would he be chatting with you? Why would he lie to you? 

“You’re right. I’m not Jacob,” he confesses, the colour draining from his face. He steeples his fingers and considers his next words carefully. You sit back and hug yourself defensively. This is fucked. “My name is Andy, Jacob is my son.” 

“Your son?” You eke out, “why-- why would you lie?” 

He cringes and takes another breath, “he was my son,” he corrects himself, “he... passed.” 

You feel like you’ve been struck. Your mouth falls open, stunned. Not only did he hide behind his son’s photos, but his dead son’s. Oh, god. You feel sick. No, you feel stupid. 

“Look, please, just hear me out. I just—it wasn’t meant to go on this long. When I first lied to you, it was supposed to be that one time. I was... I was lost. I just lost Jacob and I was going through his things. I started playing because I missed him. I wanted to feel like he was still there--” 

“No, no, you got on discord and you started talking to me. As him!” Your voice shakes and your eyes tinge. “That’s not just missing him.” 

“I know, you’re right. I lied but... I got lonely playing by myself so yes, I went onto that discord. You were nice. You didn’t call me a noob or whatever. And... and after work, looking forward to hearing your voice, it got me through a lot of pain. Being alone in that house after so long, I couldn’t cope--” 

“So you lied to me?” You stand and snatch your phone, nauseous to the core, “you manipulated me. How do you know—if you had just been you that I would’ve been any different? If you just wanted to play games, to be friends--” 

“I was scared--” 

“I don’t care if you were scared,” you hiss as you stomp forward. “You’re an adult.” 

He stands and blocks your path. You recoil, put off by his height. He’s a lot bigger on his feet. 

“Please, move or... I’ll scream,” you breathe. 

“You don’t have to do that. Just hear me out,” he pleads. 

“I don’t want to hear anything else from you, Jacob. Or Andy. Or whoever you really are,” you sneer, “move.” 

He shudders and hangs his head. He makes himself seem small as his shoulders round and he backs out of your way. You bite down and march past him.  

You need to get to a bathroom. Now. You’re going to spew up your guts. More important, you need to get yourself together before you go find Kara. She can’t know this happened. It’s too embarrassing.