#this has been bouncing around in my head for like a week now so now YOU get to see it!

[coldfanbou]

Saleswoman

Who would've thought Yuna made a good saleswoman...Well, I would have. Anyway, here's the fic for the week; originally, I was thinking of doing a Yuna gangbang fic, but then Eros presented a saleswoman concept I liked in a writer discord and thought would be easier than a gangbang.

Length 2.1K

Yuna X Mreader

Having seen good reviews about the new mattress store, you look up the location. Your mattress has had a depression in it after years of use, and you needed another. The reviews praise the staff for their help in deciding. You set aside time to head out, ensuring you researched the different types of beds beforehand. You arrive at the store just a few minutes after they open; you take in the grand scale of it. You next notice how empty it was, considering the many reviews you thought the store would be full. You don’t even see any workers as you walk through. 

Shaking your head, you move through the store and look at all the different bed models. They had various kinds of technology, all meant to aid sleep, or so they claimed. You tested a few beds laying on them to see how they felt. You had decided beforehand you wanted something that was a little firmer, so you focused on those. As you tested another out, you shut your eyes, imagining what it would be like to sleep on it for years. This one was too firm, having very little give. You open your eyes to see the face of a young woman staring back at you. “Hi! Welcome!” She greets you. You jump, shocked that you hadn’t noticed her walk up to you. “Oh, sorry for scaring you. My name is Yuna, and I’ll be your special aid today.” She says with a wide grin. You look the woman over as she fixes her hair. Yuna didn’t look like someone who worked her. She wore a white sleeveless crop top from a nearby university and matching white shorts. Her red hair stood out against her clothing, attracting attention to her face. 

“I saw you lay on a few models. Did any of them interest you further?” Yuna asks, her hand behind her back as she listens to your response.

“Well, there was the smart bed and one over there.” You say, pointing out a mattress that wasn’t too firm or soft. “The second one is what I’m leaning toward. It’s a lot cheaper.”

“That’s true, sir, but the smart bed is much better for your sleep and other activities.” She states. 

You find her comment odd, “Other activities?” It takes you a moment to connect the dots; when you realize what Yuna meant, she nods.

“Yes, sir. I did mean that.” She states, “Now, if you’d like to test them out, please follow me.”

“But I already did.” You’re confused again, not understanding what she means.

“For the…other activities. You need to follow me.” Yuna says, walking ahead of you. She checks to make sure you are following her, smirking as she sees you are. Yuna stops at a door at the end of the building, picking up a mounted phone. “Hello? Yes, we’d like to test out the Genie smart bed and the Dura hard mattress. Okay, thank you.” Yuna hangs up and spins around on her heel. It’ll be just a moment; they have to set everything up. You see the hunger in her eyes as she looks you up and down. She licks her lips and smiles at you. “I’m sure you’ll like the Dura brand, but the smart bed is the way to go. I’m sure your girlfriend would love it.”

“I don’t have a girlfriend.” You respond, fixing Yuna’s error. “Why do you recommend it so much?”

“It has a lot of nice features; I can show you soon,” Yuna says just as the phone on the wall rings. She picks it up, talks to the other person on the line, and grows her smile as she places the phone back on the hook. “Everything is ready; please come in.” Yuna opens the door; the room is decorated like any regular bedroom, with only one thing standing out: both beds you had been thinking about were set up in the middle. Yuna grabs your hands, taking you to the cheaper bed, placing her hands on your chest, and pushing you onto it. She lifts her shirt, her perky breasts bouncing slightly. “First one of the day,” Yuna whispers to herself as she places a hand on your crotch. You’re taken aback at her advances but willing to go along with it. You wouldn't, couldn’t deny her. She feels your bulge grow larger, her eyes widening for a moment as her lustful smile appears.

She unbuttons your jeans, pulling them down. Yuna giggles as she sees your bulge being held back by your underwear. She bends over, planting a kiss on your cock through your underwear, “You’re so big,” She says with a giggle. Yuna pulls at the hem of your underwear, feigning shock as your cock pops out. You see her shining teeth as she smiles and grasps your cock. She strokes it gently, watching it fully harden in her hand. Yuna kisses the tip of your cock before tracing her lips with your cock.

You grunt her name; her warm lips surround the head, wrapping around it as her tongue moves across it at an agonizing pace. You’re squirming, wanting her to do more. “Relax, baby. I’ll give you what you want in a minute.” She says, her hand pumping your cock as she moves closer to your ear. “Once your cock is in my pussy, you’ll see who I really am.” Yuna’s low, sultry voice sends shivers down your spine. She runs a finger down your chest until she returns to your cock, her lips pressing against it before separating and taking you in. Her tongue runs along the underside of your cock, slowly moving from side to side as she strokes the base of your cock. 

“How are you so good?” You moan out, throwing your head back as she takes more of you into her mouth. Yuna ignores your question for the moment, too focused on your cock to answer. Your hips buck, sending your cock into the back of her throat, surprising Yuna. 

She pulls back, her saliva dripping onto your cock. “Ah, if you wanted more, you could have just said so.” She pushes herself back onto your cock, making it disappear. You feel Yuna’s throat tighten around the head. You fall back onto the bed, lying down as you explode in Yuna’s mouth, sending waves of cum down her throat. Yuna’s cheeks fill with your semen, puffing up as she pulls away. You sit up slowly, watching her as she lowers her jaw to reveal a mouthful of cum. Yuna swallows it, moaning slightly as she revels in the salty taste. 

Yuna takes a step back, undoing the button on her shorts and pulling them down, shivering as the cold air hits her cleanly shaven pussy. “Move back a little.” You follow her orders, centering yourself on the bed. Yuna crawls over you, her modest breasts swaying. She reaches down, grabs your cock, and runs it between her wet folds. Yuna’s soft moans arouse you further, making you want her more. She Presses the head against her entrance, slowly dropping on it. She takes a deep breath, groaning as she feels your cock stretching her. Yuna places one hand on her lower abdomen, feeling your cock make its way through her until it knocks against her womb. “You’re tearing me apart,” She whimpers. “I need a moment.” Yuna focuses on the sensation caused by your cock. 

You sit under her, desperate for more, her tight cunt feeling too good to just sit there. You grab her hips and begin thrusting, surprising Yuna. “I’m sorry, but I need you.” You moan, thrusting into her quickly. Yuna places her hands on your chest, trying not to collapse on top of you as you split her apart. You catch her expression, her furrowed brows and shut eyes showing slight discomfort as you knock against her womb. Yuna’s expression soon softens as the pleasure overcomes her. 

Yuna’s moans echo in the room; her head tilts back. She looks to the ceiling as she feels her climax approaching. “I’m gonna cum.” She mumbles. You were still a little ways away from your climax. You speed up your thrusts, trying to cum with her. Yuna felt your cock piston in and out of her; she felt like a toy being used and was loving it. A delighted smile appears on her face as she cums on your cock, her walls tightening around you as you continue to ruin her. The young woman’s strength gives out, sending her onto your chest as you near your climax. She mumbles something; it’s inaudible initially, but Yuna repeats herself. “Cum- cum in me,” she says. You moan Yuna’s name, repeating it as you impale her and shoot your cum into her pussy.

You feel Yuna’s walls milking you for your cum as you both start to relax. She stretches out her hand, pointing to the other bed. She gulps softly, saying, “We have to try out the other one.” You nod your head, already tired. Running your hands along her back, Yuna shudders as she feels your hands come to a stop on her ass. You sit up, struggling slightly as you move over to the other bed with Yuna still having your cock inside her. She grabs a remote and holds down one of the buttons, causing the back to raise and letting you be in more of a seated position. You found it convenient. Yuna gives you a dreamy smile as she tosses the remote and begins moving. 

You’re seated position puts you much closer to Yuna’s breasts. You notice now her small brown nipples; they move softly as Yuna bounces on your cock. You lean in, dragging your tongue over one slowly, flicking it with your tongue at the end. She gasps, and her body shivers at your tongue's warmth. 

“W- What do you think?” Yuna mumbles as she rides you like her life depended on it, her walls squeezing you as you hit her womb. You can tell Yuna is trying to speak more, but the pleasure she’s receiving is making it difficult. Moans flow out from her as her walls tighten around you again. Yuna could give you no warning as she came. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head as she reached her second orgasm; her voice was becoming hoarse from her moans.

You get Yuna off you, laying her beside you. The moment you do, she turns to you, “You didn’t cum.” She says softly. “I want to feel your cum.” Yuna’s hand slithers down her body, spreading her lips for you. You stare at her glistening pussy, it makes you hard, and you find yourself unable to resist Yuna’s invitation. She grabs the remote, lowering the bed back to its original position. “There, easier for you.” She says, licking her lips as she imagines you inside her again. “Go on, fuck me.”You align yourself with her cunt and push in quickly, feeling like you’re being sucked in.  Yuna’s moans bounce off the walls, fueling you to start thrusting. You lift her hips off the bed, giving yourself a better position and allowing you to go deeper into Yuna’s cunt. Each thrust creates a bulge that Yuna presses down on, making her walls tighten around you. Her moans grew louder; she was getting more pleasure out of it, too. Neither of you last long, your quick thrust making you both cum again.  You collapse on top of Yuna, feeling parts of the soft mattress. 

You watch her grab the remote, feeling the bed become firmer. “So what do you think? How was the smart bed? Better, right?” Yuna mutters, slowly regaining her composure as time goes by.

“I think you��re right. It is better.”

“I told you.” She replies, a smile on her face.

You and Yuna hammer out the details as you lay beside each other, your cum oozing out of her cunt, and you end up buying the smart bed. You don’t know if Yuna being naked at the end helped her convince you, but you were buying the bed. Yuna felt satisfied with herself. After you had left, she went to the staff room, skipping all the way there while still naked, happy to have made a good piece of commission on the sale. She showed off, annoying the others as they stood there watching cum run down her legs. You write a review for the store, writing about the helpful staff much like the others before you.

[odetojupiter]

sometimes i’m having a good day then i remember how deeply entrenched andrew’s actions are within his abandonment issues.

outside of the abuse he faced in the foster system, we know he bounced from home to home, which only taught him that he wasn’t wanted. the first person who made him feel wanted was cass, and he was so desperate for that that he was going to put up with drake just to keep it. i’m sure in juvie when he started working through his issues he realised that cass didn’t want him more than she wanted to protect drake. there’s no way she didn’t know but she didn’t interfere because she refused to choose andrew over drake.

he makes a deal with aaron, which puts his life on the line and only asks aaron to stay with me only me, because he’s never been anyone’s first choice, people always chose his abusers over him. and that makes aaron mourning tilda feel like another betrayal. i could’ve died too i could’ve died, he thinks. but aaron won’t hear that. he makes a deal with kevin because kevin won’t stay without protection. andrew’s protection is kevin’s reason to stay, so andrew tells him, find me a reason to as well. because by then he knew aaron would leave as soon as they graduated, and kevin would go pro and andrew would be alone with no deals keeping him alive. he offers neil a similar deal, tells him stay and ill protect you. because throughout his life he’s been taught over and over that people don’t want him. so he has to offer up everything he has to convince them he’s still useful, even if he’s unwantable.

but then aaron kills drake, putting his entire future at risk just to save andrew. neil agrees to be tortured for weeks on the off chance it would prevent andrew from being hurt. kevin never gives up on andrew, never stops trying to hand some of his passion over. neil breaks his deal, saying i’ll hold up my end, i’ll still stay, but you don’t have to give me anything because who you are is enough.

and that’s never happened to andrew before. no one has ever chosen him, chosen to stay with him.

and then, that same day, neil is gone. and until they find the abandoned bag and phone and keys, there’s a voice in andrew’s brain saying u should have known u should’ve learned by now no one will ever stay with u, they all leave in the end. but no, neil was taken, and now andrew realises neil broke off the deal to protect him, to prevent him getting hurt in the crossfire because neil knew this was going to happen. he was willing to die for andrew.

and, in the end, he kills for andrew too. that makes two people who have killed for him, just like he did for aaron and tried to do for nicky. he doesn’t like it, thinks their lives are worth more than mine they shouldn’t put them on the line for me, but they do it anyway.

but still, andrew knows he isn’t wanted. he’s been taught that lesson over and over throughout his life, and the last time he tried to forget that lesson it nearly killed him. that doesn’t change the fact that aaron and neil didn’t leave, even after their deals ended. it’s something he’s still trying to wrap his head around. people staying, people wanting him to stay.

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[bethrnoora]

i KNOW she is running the bureau slack workspace like the FUCKING marines

[brotheralyosha]

“There's something to that in both directions," said Ekaterin mildly. "Nothing is more guaranteed to make one start acting like a child than to be treated like one. It's so infuriating. It took me the longest time to figure out how to stop falling into that trap." "Yes, exactly," said Kareen eagerly. "You understand! So—how did you make them stop?" "You can't make them—whoever your particular them is—do anything, really," said Ekaterin slowly. "Adulthood isn't an award they'll give you for being a good child. You can waste . . . years, trying to get someone to give that respect to you, as though it were a sort of promotion or raise in pay. If only you do enough, if only you are good enough. No. You have to just . . . take it. Give it to yourself, I suppose. Say, I'm sorry you feel like that, and walk away. But that's hard.”

Lois McMaster Bujold, A Civil Campaign

[queer-ecopunk]

So, I'm trans. And several years ago, I was at my great grandfather's funeral. 17, newly on T, barely out to anyone other than my close friends and family. And I'm standing there at the refreshment's table, surrounded by strangers and members of my family's church, when George walks up to me.

This man is ancient, bent like a finger and frail. Tufts of white hair surround his wrinkled face. Like always, he's wearing thick glasses, massive hearing aids, and his veteran's hat. George was my first introduction to the concept of war, when he told me as a child why he was missing two fingers on his hand. He's been a fixture at church since I can remember. I've only ever seen him at there or in uniform at parades, the rest of his time spent in a nursing home somewhere. He picks up a deviled egg and says, in his quiet voice,

"You know, before your grandfather died, he told me that now he had 3 grandsons."

I'm frozen in place. I don't know what to say to that, if I should say anything at all. This is not a conversation I expected to have, especially not with this man. But he continues.

"I didn't know what he meant! So he explained it to me."

And I can imagine it. My great grandfather, uninformed and opinionated but supportive, explaining to his friend the news he barely understood himself over after-service coffee and cookies. His eldest grandchild was now a boy.

"And, you know, I didn't know what to think."

Here, George looks me up and down. This 90-something year old war veteran, who knew me mostly as the little girl playing in the church kitchen with his wife, processing what my great grandfather had really meant. It feels like a long pause, even thought it probably passed in a second.

"But you look good. So, eh!"

And then he smiled, shrugged, and walked away without another word. If I was fine, if I was happier, then that's all that mattered.

George passed away this week, at the age of 99. This memory has been bouncing around in my head for a while, but I wasn't sure if or how I should share it. It was a conversation that meant very little, but also meant the world. It was scary, and funny, and the moment when I realized that sometimes the people you least expect will accept you. Sometimes, even if they don't fully understand, even if they barely know you, someone will choose to support you. And that will always matter.

[ynsbarbbb]

love me harder | m. verstappen

hypothesis - max is on the brink of losing you. however, after a fatal accident…

pairing - max verstappen x fem!driver!reader

[fic is inspired by “love me harder” by ariana grande ft. the weeknd

“baby, in the moment, you’ll know this is, something bigger than us and beyond bliss”

“could you just look at me?” you yelled as max just kept walking a few steps ahead of you.

“can’t. race is about to start.”

stepping into a quicker pace you place yourself in front of max and the garage door, “when was the last time you told me you loved me?”

your eyes searched his face, desperately trying to find a glimpse of the max that you knew, the max you fell in love with, the max you married. the hand you placed on his chest, you could feel the steady rhythmic thump of his heart.

“you really want to do this now?”

“yes! i never see you anymore!”

max scoffed, eyes rolling as he looked back down at his phone, “sorry that i’m busy.”

your hand fell back to your side, “i’m busy too max, yet i still try.”

he nodded his head, eyes not lifting from the rectangular square. you sighed, your hands landing on your hips. is this what you’ve become now?

“is our marriage still worth fighting for, max?”

he looked up. eyes piercing through yours. you cannot believe the words just left your mouth, but it felt relieving to finally utter the words that has been haunting you for weeks.

“i’m not doing this with you right now, y/n,” max steps around you, “good luck with your race.”

~~

it was a millisecond.

you missed the turn by a millisecond and hamilton came crashing into you, sending your right wing and two tires flying. the car skidding across the track and landed upside down.

the force of the impact shoved your head against the steering wheel, hard, bouncing back against the seat.

damage had been done. to you and your car.

to lewis’ as well.

unbeknownst to max, who was in the lead, adrenaline coursing though his veins at the thought of his fourth podium for the season.

he was thriving, the car succumbing to his every command. the engine roaring sending shivers throughout his whole body.

the grin on his face turned devilish. he’s so close.

“max,” christians voice in his ears broke his train of thought, but his eyes never once lost sight of the track in front of him.

“the car’s doing great, no need to worry. podium is secure,” max declared excitingly. he took the turn, groaning at the strain it took on his body.

“though, sainz is on my tail the whole fucking time.”

christian sighed, not at all what max had expected, but he couldn’t be bothered by his team principal’s pms at the moment.

“max, there was a crash.”

another turn, another groan.

sainz could be spotted in max’ peripheral vision. he pushed the car harder, engine roaring, sending max flying away from carlos.

“who crashed?” he asked as he fiddled with the buttons on the wheel, checking if everything is still steady. he has at least seven more laps to go.

“y/n.”

dead silent.

heavy thick as your name registered in his mind. the grin that has been on his face had been wiped down. his lips sticking to his teeth.

“max?” christian asked, waiting a few moments. there was no response from the dutch.

he felt as if his body went numb, limb for limb. his arms felt wonky - not like the grip he had on the wheel mere moments ago. his breathing became shallow, his lungs struggling to capture enough oxygen, his brain malfunctioning.

next thing he knew he was crashing into sandbags.

the impact knocking sense back into him. sand dust flying everywhere.

“max!” christian exclaimed, “are you injured?”

“how’s she? is she alive?” max frantically asked. you didn’t have a choice - you had to be alright. you couldn’t be hurt, max would loose his head if you where. who crashed into you? how hard was the impact?

max got out of the car, “christian, fucking answer me!”

the line was silent for a couple of moments, “she’s stable. unconscious, but stable. no further news yet. she has been rushed to the ER.”

cars blasted past him, deafening noise drumming his ears.

“i need to get to her.”

“max, the race -“

“fuck the race, that’s my fucking wife!”

~

the doors of the ER bursted open, a very sweaty, and breathless max stood there, his eyes frantically looking around for anyone who could assist him.

he still had his suit on, christian hot on his trail.

“y/n, i need to know where y/n verstappen is,” he asked, accent thick as he slapped his hands on the receptionist desk.

she looked up at him, “any relation?”

max scoffed, “my wife.”

her fingers made quick work on the keyboard, “your wife is in surgery.”

max’ shoulders slumped and christian took hold of it, shooting a quick thanks to the nurse and led him in another direction. he swiped his hands though his hair, pulling at it, feeling his frustration grow and bubble at the bottom of his throat.

he could scream.

max paced the hallway, up and down. maybe minutes - maybe hours. he didn’t know. all he did know was that he’s staying.

why didn’t he tell you he loved you. with every fibre of his being he loved you. he craved you, constantly. the thought of you was all that he needed to survive - but knowing that you were his wife, made him whole.

you were the person who stood by him whilst he was working through his troubles with his father. on the nights when fear surrounded him, the comforting hand of you, his wife, brought him peace. on the days when he was on his happiest, it was on the days he spent with you.

you made him. you showed him to be max verstappen.

his wife.

~~

news spread around the paddock, like a wild fire. sky sport tv airing out to fans and viewers to keep you in their prayers and thoughts.

some of your and max’ closest friends took off straight away to the hospital, supporting max even though he didn’t even acknowledge them.

they were still there.

an apology from lewis was sent out world wide, and he even made an appearance to max, but the dutch only glared at him, taking hold of his collar, making his friends jump and take hold of max.

“if she doesn’t make it out of here, you’ll regret ever setting foot on a paddock again. i’ll kill you.”

his voice was icy as he spat the words at lewis, baring his teeth. daniel stepped in between the two and pushed max back by his chest.

max’ eyes never left lewis’ retreating from.

~~

“verstappen, y/n.”

max was in front of the doctor in a second, his eyes pleading his for good news. the doctor smiled at him and gave him what he was searching for.

“she’s asleep, but she’s an extreme fighter. you’ve got no worries, mr verstappen.”

he swore he could cry.

the doctor told him the room you were in and max wasted no time rushing towards it.

he searched the numbers above the doors for room one-o-one. his number. a bit of pride bursting in his chest, fate really had put you two together.

max stepped into the room and his heart broke.

machines connected to your heart, the beeping sound being the only indication that you are in fact alive. various cuts and bruises formed along your face. a neck brace adorned. oxygen mask on your beautiful face.

max stifled a sob as he crashed into a seat near your bed, scooting closer and taking hold of your hand. his thumb drawing patterns on your knuckles.

even in your unconscious mind your body still knew that it was your max, the heart monitor speeding up slightly.

it caused him to chuckle, “mijn schatje, mijn alles, i am so sorry. this should’ve never happened to you.”

he squeezed your palm, pressing a tender kiss to the flesh, “fight, stay strong for me, yeah? so that i can love you right this time.”

~~

a gentle knock at the door roused max from his sleep. his hand was still tucked in yours.

max turned towards the door, lando stood there.

a soft smile on his face with a gym bag in his hand, “mate, i brought you some clothes - the suit can not be comfortable.”

he chuckled and motioned for his muppet friend to come in. lando placed the bag by the door and walked closer to stand next to max. he placed a firm hand on his shoulder.

“how’s the missus?”

max looked at you, a lump the size of a bull frog lodged itself in his throat, “she’s good, doc said she’s a real fighter.”

“she is a verstappen, ey?” lando nudged max’ shoulder who just chuckled in response. he felt guilty, ashamed, contrast to who he was. he shouldn’t have had to treat his wife like shit. you just wanted to know he loves you.

“look, mate, don’t beat yourself up about what happend, see this as a new beginning.”

max nodded, “she just wanted me to say that i love her. shit, i should’ve just said it to her. the crash-“

“is not your fault, you couldn’t have possibly predicted an accident to happen.”

he shook his head and looked at the bag by the door, “i’m going to change, would you mind maybe staying here. i don’t want to leave her alone.”

“yeah, of course mate.”

~~

two weeks later

“don’t strain yourself so much, schat,” max’ voice was gentle as he looked at your from his seat on the couch. within mere moments he stood in front of you, large palms pressed to your hips to help you walk the last few remaining steps.

this last couple of weeks changed. your marriage changed. max changed.

he was waiting on you hand and foot, even though you have told him multiple times that certain things you can do on your own, he still insisted.

the one noticeable change for yourself and everyone surrounding you was the fact that max openly, whenever he got the chance told you he loved you.

whether it be when you’re making dinner, doing dishes, walking beside him on the paddock - he’d say he loves you with a kiss pressed to your temple. it was and still is absolute bliss.

your recovery went by fast, splendid as your doctor had put it. with time and patience, he said, you’d be back on the track in no time.

when your socked feet took the last step, max couldn’t help the face splitting grin that adorned his face.

“look at you go, speedy,” he smiled as he took hold of your head and pressed a tender kiss to your forehead. speedy. the nickname max had dubbed you the moment you overtook him when you first met.

speedy. the nickname max had dubbed you the moment you stole his heart.

speedy. the nickname max had used in his vows the moment you took his last name.

max made sure that you didn’t strain yourself too much in the recovery process, he treated you like you were his fine china, bubble wrapping your heart and by God, swearing that he’d never let his actions and words ever hurt you again.

he poured so much love into you. you practically glowed in comparison to when the argument had occurred.

his love.

his wife.

max made sure you knew how much he adored you, loved you, craved you.

“ik hou van je, mijn schat.”

and you knew he did.

fin.

[lokis-army-77]

A Text Away

Modern!Eddie Munson x fem reader

Word Count: 1.7k

You've been horny all day and Eddie is at band practice... but you know a way to get him home.

Warning: 18 +. face sitting/riding, breeding kink, multiple orgasms, p in v, unprotected sex.

And thank you to @strangerxperv for the absolutly fabulous idea 💗

Masterlist

After a long day at work, there were two things you wanted. One, a nice hot shower, and two, your boyfriend to fuck you into next week. 

It wasn’t Eddie’s fault that watching him get dressed to go work at the local record store made you horny. He couldn’t help the fact that every time you saw the little trail of hair dipping past the waist of his pants, your legs clenched, and your body grew warmer.

You dealt with your racing thoughts all through your own shift at the bookshop, imagining your return home and how good he would feel against you. 

Only, he wasn’t home when you unlocked your apartment door. 

Sighing in disappointment you trudge to the bathroom to start warming the water. As you wait, you text Eddie.

Where are you? I need you..  like really bad.

Your phone dings a few minutes later while you are in the middle of scrubbing shampoo in your hair.

Wiping your hand off on the towel, you reach for your phone, lying on the small shelf above the towel rack. 

Eddie had responded.

In a bit baby. I'm at practice.

You pout as you read the text only to smile mischievously. You message him as fast as you can with one dry hand.

But Eddie.. if you come home I'll sit on your face. And I mean really sit on your face.

There is no ding of a notification once you set your phone back down and continue your shower routine. 

Twenty minutes later, you've given up on Eddie answering you, have put on your comfiest pajamas, and are now snuggled up in bed. 

You're startled when the front door slams open and you hear thick boots pacing in your direction. 

"Take your fucking pants off right now," Eddie commands as he bursts into your shared bedroom. 

You're sat up, back against the headboard, staring at him, bewildered as he practically flops backward onto the bed.

When he hadn’t texted you back you assumed he just wasn't interested at the moment, you never could have imagined this. 

You start to giggle when he starts making grabby hands at you. "Pussy on my mouth, now." 

When the words leave his mouth, you practically choke on a laugh. 

"Babe, quit laughing and get up here. Set on my fucking face like you promised." He grumps. 

You have no choice but to obey as you say, "Okay okay, patient much?"

It's only fair that you tease him a little. So you slowly emerge from under the covers, fingers delicately pulling at the waist of your pajama pants. 

Eddie watches with a hunger in his dark brown eyes. His tongue flicks out to wet his lips when you begin to tug your pants down. Slowly but surely you are exposed to him and he almost dies when he realizes you weren't wearing panties. 

Before you can even get to your knees, Eddie is gripping your ankle and pulling your body down the bed to him with a strength acquired from years of hauling heavy amps and other musical equipment from place to place. 

"Eddie!" You squeal, more laughter leaving you when your head falls, bouncing on the mattress. 

"You're going too slow, baby." He cries, letting his hold up but hands never leaving you.  

You shake your head, a knowing smirk playing on your lips. Finally, you get to your knees and straddle him. He is impatiently pulling you up his body, only stopping when you are hovering over his face. 

Your eyes meet his as you stare down between your legs. He'd got a big, goofy grin plastered on his face. 

"Fuck." He sighs. "I've died and gone to heaven." His large hands wrap around your legs and right before he pulls you flush to his mouth he says, "Don't hold back."

When his hot mouth makes contact with your waiting pussy, you gasp. The need you had been feeling all day long now has an outlet. 

Eddie's tongue swipes through your folds, lapping up the arousal that had already started to seep from your cunt. His nose rubs against your clit, pulling a strangled moan from you. 

A hand shoots down to tangle in his hair when his tongue plays at the rim of your cunt, flicking ever so slightly in and out of you.

He's like a man starved as he devours all that is given to him. You feel his fingers moving up to your hips. There's a slight pressure as he pushes you and in a flush of worry, you pull off of him.

The desperate whine that falls past his already swollen lips makes your heart flutter.

"Why'd you move away?"

"You were pushing me.. are you okay? I thought you couldn't breathe." I exasperate.

"No, I was trying to get you to ride me. Hump my face sweetheart." He doesn't say another word, he just grips onto you once more and pulls you down. 

You understand what he wants now, so you lean back, hands resting on the tops of his things behind you, and you canter your hips. Slow and steady you used him for your own pleasure. 

"Eddie-" you sigh breathlessly, head falling back between your shoulders. 

He hums in response. The vibrations travel up through your core and into your body. Shivers accompany them as you feel a knot forming in your stomach.

"Eddie please-" Your knees and arms are burning as you continue to grind yourself against him. "I'm gonna- shit I'm gonna cum."

Your lungs are struggling to fill with air as you get closer and closer to release. Eddie's hands are wrapped over your thighs, fingers searching for your clit. 

When he finds it, you double over. The knot pulls tighter and you feel a sheen of sweat cover your body. 

Quickly, your first orgasm comes to light. There's a blazing fire erupting within you and it takes all you have not to fall flat on your face. Long, drawn-out moans flow from you and Eddie does not stop. His tongue pushed into you, tasting your release. 

His fingers now grip the fat of your ass harshly. He keeps you on top of him and he moves his face from side to side as best he can with you practically smothering him with your pussy. 

This time he does actually push you up off him. He takes a deep breath and groans. "Fuck baby, taste so good." He turns his head, kissing the inside of your thigh and then he bites you. His teeth sink into the soft skin in the crease where your inner thigh meets with your body. 

In a series of fluid movements, Eddie has you on your back in an instant. He unzips his pants and pulls himself out of them, tugging on his hardness before getting into position. Your legs are being pushed back by his hands holding you at the bend of the knee. 

"You're so pretty like this… pussy all wet and needy for me." His voice is muffled by the loud beating of your heart in your ears. "Mmm gonna fuck you full."

You whimper as you feel his hard length run through your glistening folds, his hips jutting against the backs of your thighs. 

"Yeah, you like that? Want me to fill you with my cum?" 

You nod, crying out when his cock finally pressed through the tight threshold of your cunt. "Need it, please, I need it."

"Just my little cum baby aren't you?" He asks, fully sheathing himself in you.

Your back arches off the bed and you groan. Fingernails scratching at Eddie’s forearms. 

He pulls back and slams into you. "Aren't you?"

"Yes!" You cry out. His cock reaches into the very depths of you, the tip hitting in just the right place to make you scream. "Yes! I am, I am, Eddie!"

"Mmm, good. Gonna give it all to you, sweetheart. Gonna breed this pretty fuckin' pussy." His fingers adjust themselves as his grip slips and then he's pounding into you at such a brutal pace. Back and forth, in and out, he is fucking you raw.

Your walls clamp around him, the drag of his cock stimulates you more and you clench harder. 

Skin on skin, the noises that they make are obscene. The squelch of him entering you has your face burning, not in embarrassment but desire. His gruff growls and fucked out moans accompany those other sounds and all they do is make you even more horny. 

Eddie fucks into you with reckless abandon, mind full of images of your belling swollen with his child. How much he would love for you to sit on his face like that, all pretty and pregnant. 

Your toes curl when Eddie flips your t-shirt up to expose your breasts. A strong, calloused hand reaching out for the mound of flesh. He kneads it and pulls on your nipple before swiping a gentle thumb over the hardened bud.

The way he fucks you is savage. Hips snapping at a speed you couldn't imagine, his fingers squeeze your skin so hard you are sure you will have brushes in the shape of his hands all over you. 

The knot pulls tighter once more and your body begins to lock up in anticipation. Your eyes flutter before rolling to the back of your head. Your hands reach for his, interlocking your fingers, hoping he will keep you down on Earth. 

As your orgasm hits once more, you wail. A long, monotone cry bursts from your lungs, whole unattractive but who cares when you feel so so so good? 

"That's it. That's fucking it." Eddie gasps. Your cunt is practical milking him. He's trying to hold off but it's all just too much. A shiver runs up his spine and his balls pull taut. He's lost his rhythm, hips now bucking unevenly and with desperation. 

All it takes is another whimper from you and he's a gunner. With one last hard thrust, he keeps himself buried to the hilt. Your walls are spasming around him, your release gushing out along with his own sticky, milky white cum. 

"Yes, fuck yes. That's it, baby, take all my fucking cum." 

He falls forward, letting go of your knees.  His forehead rests in the crook of your neck and his lips press softly into your skin. He kisses you, a needed juxtaposition from mere seconds ago. 

His breath is warm on your salt-slicked skin as he speaks again. "Such a good little cum baby, taking all that. S'what you wanted, hum?"

You close your eyes, tired. "Yeah," you whisper. "Just what I wanted."

[tinyowlthoughts]

Humans are Space Orcs - Chocolate

"Ugh, I would kill for some chocolate right now."

Gorvan fumbled the holopad he'd been typing on, all four hands brushing against the screen as he tried to keep it from hitting the ship floor. He failed and it bounced off the tiles - thankfully neither breaking, nor denting the flooring. Grimacing, he swept it up with his tail and checked over the casing, before the alarming words registered in his head. A glance at the couch showed the human - Max - hadn't moved - still twisted up in their weird, pretzely way, chin in their weird five-fingered hand as they peered at the passing stars with a far-away look in their eyes.

"You, uh, want...chocolate?" He asked, certain he'd misheard.

"Oh my god, yes." Max heaved a sigh, shoulders rising to their weird, inefficient ears before dropping back down. "Jesus, I'd even eat a Hershey's Bar right now."

Gorvan gripped his tablet with two of his hands, hard enough to crack the casing. "Oh, um - what is a 'Hershey'?"

Max didn't look away from the window, still lost gazing into the galaxy. "It's a type of chocolate bar from Earth. Maybe a Mars Bar or a Milky Way would be better..."

Gorvan huffed through his nostrils, tail lashing anxiously behind him. "Oh. Um. I - er, I forgot I have a meeting with Captain! I have to go." Without waiting for an answer he turned and fled the recreation room, hooved feet clattering against the floor, desperate to report what he had heard. He missed the bemused look Max gave him before returning to his star gazing.

🍫🌌🍫🌌🍫🌌🍫🌌🍫🌌🍫🌌🍫🌌🍫

"Max."

The human paused upon entering the meeting room, seeing the rest of the C7H8N4O2 Star Explorer gathered around the table. All eight were tense in their seats, and the moth-like Elaana looked like she'd been crying. (Well, the species equivalent, which appeared as a dusting of pollen along her sharp cheekbones.)

Taurvin, the captain, was sitting in the largest seat at the head of the table, his considerable bulk looming over the rest of them. Oddly, the first-mate seat to his left was empty. Gorvan was instead sitting in Max's own.

"Uh, hey all. We playing musical chairs?" Max glanced between the empty chair and Gorvan, but when nobody asked for an explanation to their odd human reference (a common occurrence), they figured it wasn't the time for jokes.

"Have a seat, Max." Taurvin motioned to the first mate seat and, with a bit of hesitation, Max moved to take it. Luckily Gorvan, despite being bulky himself, wasn't too much larger than a standard human and the chair was comfortable enough. "We have something important to address."

Oh god above, what had they done this time? Max tried to think back to all the interactions he'd had onboard the last few weeks, but couldn't come up with anything too egregious. Sure, there was the whole joke with 'human snot is acidic' thing but that had been more of a gross-out joke for Elaana, the ships medic, who hadn't seemed to upset when he accidentally sneezed on her a few days later and dropped the act. Epitak, the ships engineer, had been pretty pissed when ze found out Max had taken apart the air filtration unit in their quarters to try and understand how it worked, but ze had also walked him through repairing it, so they thought it was all forgiven.

Oh jeeze, had they found the plans to get a kitten onboard under the 'emotional assistance animal' loophole?

"Max." Taurvin's normally jolly voice was grave, and all the crews eyes were on them as he spoke. "It has come to my attention that you have been expressing some...troubling thoughts."

Okay, definitely the kitten thing then. "Look, I can explain," they started, but Taurvin held up a large, three-fingered hand and stopped them.

"I do not want you to feel pressured to speak to us if you do not wish to. As a member of the Intergalactic Exploration Society, you have access to mental health resources at no cost, any time, anywhere. I will be more than happy to assist you in setting up a link to a therapist through HR and, if required, will grant you time off the ship if you need it. You are the best navigator I have ever seen, and I do not want to lose you."

"Well, thanks, but uh, what do you mean?" Max glanced around the table and noticed that their normally upbeat crew were all showing signs of distress (Elaana was brushing away newly fallen pollen from her compound eyes).

"Max, you requested chocolate." Gorvan reminded them. "This morning, you said you would even eat a substance known as a Hershey Bar from your home planet." The human had never heard the first mate sound so distressed. When Max just blinked, Epitak took over, beak clacking anxiously as ze spoke.

"We understand that many planets have government programs in place for self euthanasia," ze explained, technical as always in his word choice, "but we aboard this ship would much rather assist you in healing rather than lose you, despite what you may feel is best for you. Suicide by theobromine is not the way forward."

"...what."

"It's okay, love!" The pollen was flowing freely from Elaana's eyes now, and she blinked it away with her long lashes. If there weren't a table between them, Max was sure she would have bundled them up in a full-wing hug and refused to let them go. "We'll support you through it all, we promise. You're part of our crew - our family, and we never want you to feel otherwise!"

"Well, uh, thanks. I see you all as family too...?" Max glanced at the four remaining crew members. Dhaca and Lenzoill were quiet but obviously upset, Qhals was staring at the ceiling with their fanged muzzle pulled into a tight grimace, and Ir'ith was -

Ir'ith was smirking.

Max narrowed their eyes at the inventory manager who also served as the ships cook (for the simple fact that he was the only one onboard who could cook). The zad merely shrugged when their eyes met, though his grin was growing.

"I think I'm missing something here." Max admitted, looking between Gorvan and Taurvin. "This is all because I got a chocolate craving?"

"A craving?" Elaana almost lunged across the table at the word, the only thing holder her back Ir'ith's hand on her shoulder. "You mean you've had chocolate before?"

"Well, yeah? All the time." Max was not expecting the horrified expressions they received.

"So humans treat theobromine as a drug?" Epitak asked, aghast.

"Noooo...? It's a dessert. Like, a sweet treat." Max had no idea what was going on now, but by the way Ir'ith's shoulders were shaking, he did. "Hershey's is a candy bar."

"Wait," Dhaca finally spoke up, leaning forward and shoving his glasses (well, glass - one lens for one eye and all) to the top of his head, "theobromine is not toxic to humans?"

"I'm assuming that theo-stuff is chocolate?" When Dhaca nodded, Max nodded in return. "Yeah, no, chocolate isn't toxic to humans. I ate it all the time on Earth."

Ir'ith gave up and cackled, sounding a bit like the grackles Max used to watch in their back garden on Earth. The avian's wings flapped a few times as he laughed, having to lean forward and grasp his stomach with taloned claws to keep himself from falling out of his chair. When he finally glanced up at Max, it was to the flattest look the human could manage, which only sent him into another gale of laughter.

Taurvin sighed, pinching the bridge of his boar-like snout. "I believe this has all been a misunderstanding," he spoke over the cooks laughter, which had turned into squeaky gasps. "Dismissed."

A few befuddled glances were thrown Max's way, but the rest of the crew were quick to leave, avoiding Ir'ith's flapping wings as they squeezed out of the room. Soon only the cook, first mate, captain, and navigator were left.

"Sorry, kid." Ir'ith finally came up for breath, wiping at his eyes as he regained his composure. He fished into one of the many pockets that adorned his poncho and produced a bar wrapped in purple foil, which he tossed to Max. The human caught it and felt their whole face light up. "No hard feelings, right?"

"None at all, dude!" Max tore open the wrapping and took a big bite of the Cadbury Dairy Milk Bar, nearly melting at the familiar, sweet flavor exploding on their tongue.

"For the record," Ir'ith said as he stood, cracking his back, "Zad's can eat chocolate to. Let me know next time you have a craving." He sauntered out of the room, humming happily.

The three sat in silence for a moment, other than the crinkle of the chocolate bar wrapper. Finally, Taurvin cleared his throat.

"Max, I apologize for not conferring with you in private beforehand." The captain sighed. "I did not wish to embarrass you, but an intervention was suggested and I believed that comfort from your crew would be the best way to show the seriousness of our support were you truly entertaining the thought of self euthanasia."

The human shrugged. "It was nice to hear you all care about me, even though I've only been on board a few months," they admitted. "And I got chocolate out of it." He wiggled the remains of the bar.

"Still, if you ever feel the need for mental health services, they are available to you. And if there is ever anything I or the rest of the crew can do to assist you in that way, please don't hesitate to ask." Taurvin placed a hand on his chest and bowed his head, a show of sincerity for his people.

"Well," Max tapped the chocolate against their chin in thought, "there may be one thing. Have you ever heard of cats?"

Next: Bluffing

Original Reddit Prompt:

[peachsayshi]

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄ blessings ⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

↬ summary: nanami kento tries to be the perfect husband and father but when a tough night fighting curses ends badly it results in nanami snapping at his daughter. 

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ minors / ageless / blank blogs (dni) ↬･tags: nanami x female reader; hurt/comfort; nanami has a daughter; domestic drama; being a jujutsu sorcerer is hard; momotarō is a famous Japanese folk tale :c ↬･ wc: 3,383

↬ notes: hi, everyone! I'm currently not really active at the moment so please don't feel disheartened if I haven't been responding to your messages or tagged posts. I'm taking a small break and only coming online for a bit to catch up on some messages, read fics or queue posts. I'll be back to properly posting and interacting soon but in the meantime I wanted to share that I finished up this draft over the weekend. I was actually debating if I should post this but then just decided to go for it! sending all my love xx

nanami’s head is heavy, completely clouded with despair, and it tints his brown eyes a shade of murky gray. the walls of his beautiful home feel narrow, almost claustrophobic, which explains why he’s struggling to catch his breath right now. stepping into the hallway, he instinctively peeks into the dining area to find you and his daughter eating dinner together. she’s sitting on the chair, her legs far too short to even touch the ground, holding a half eaten onigiri between her small hands. you are by her side, sneakily tidying up after her as you brush away the stray beads of rice trickling onto the table. 

a little glow blooms in nanami’s heart at the sight of you both but there is a vicious creature residing in the pit of his stomach that veils the bright light away. 

he quietly takes off his jacket, his bruised fingers loosening the tie around his neck. he clears his throat before announcing with exhaustion to you both that he’s finally home. 

your eyes meet his, the muscles on your face falling immediately. he can practically feel the blood rushing through your veins as worry washes over you. the reaction makes his chest uncomfortably tight, but he knows that he can’t hide his expressions around you like he used to. 

you both move together so fluidly now, like a single body of water that ebbs and flows to its own natural current. 

he escaped the night’s fight with a few cuts and a couple of bad bruises, but there is currently a student on shoko’s table who barely made it through. the young man arrived at jujutsu tech only a couple of weeks ago, but his naive and charismatic qualities turned into fatal flaws in the world of sorcery.

he bit off more than he could chew by trying to take on a special grade curse.  

shoko promised nanami that she would heal the boy, but admitted there was only so much she can do in regards to the aftermath of his injuries. the sorcerer couldn’t bare to leave him behind, but gojo refused that he stay and insisted that he return back home to his pretty wife and adorable daughter immediately. 

“I’ll handle things from here,” is what his superior said, while nanami’s guilt climbed up his throat. 

that student was his responsibility... 

...and he failed him entirely. 

“papa’s home!” his daughter chirps. the pitch of her voice ringing in nanami’s ears to pull him back to the present and far away from the scene where life and death were dancing together in a tango.  “papa, look, look...mama and I made onigiri!” 

her feet bounces up and down, and there’s a touch of a pink against her cheeks when her mouth stretches into a beaming grin. the innocence in her eyes makes nanami falter and he can feel himself falling deeper into the abyss. for a minute he resents himself for selfishly bringing such a beautiful thing into this world, only to gamble with the fact that she may potentially be in his shoes one day. 

he begs for that outcome to never happen, beseeches whatever higher power above him that exists to spare her from this life. she should never have to go through this, never have to experience these heartbreaks that only wither a person down. 

“I can see that,” nanami replies in a low voice before shifting his attention to his feet. 

right now, he can’t stomach an ounce of her purity, and it radiates around her like a halo. she's so unbothered by his presence, so completely unaware of the sudden change in the atmosphere around her... 

“we made tuna, salmon, and veggies...” she babbles on. 

“how nice...” nanami curtly interrupts, before anxiously running his fingers through the strands of his messy blonde hair. 

“which one do you want, papa?” she questions eagerly, pointing her sticky hands at the plate to show off the selection of triangles. 

“sweets,” you interject just as nanami turns on his heel to walk in the other direction, “how about we finish up eating our dinner, and we can save some for your daddy tomorrow...”

“nooo!” she whines far too loudly, which forces nanami to stop dead in his tracks. he glances over his shoulder to see her puffing out her bottom lip with disappointment, “you said...you said we make it so we eat together!” 

she’s only six. 

she can’t perceive that her father is struggling to hold himself together. deep down inside nanami knows that, but it isn’t enough to keep his cool. he doesn’t know why his daughter’s insistence causes him to pinch the front of his brows with annoyance or why he shoots a frustrated look in her direction. 

he doesn’t know why he’s suddenly picturing shoko calling the student’s parents to deliver the news that the man who was supposed to protect their child was unsuccessful in his duty. 

he doesn’t know why he feels at fault for everything that happened, even though the circumstances of the events were completely out of his control.  

he doesn’t know why he’s imagining himself on the receiving end of a very similar call, or why he can’t stop picturing his precious daughter on that table instead…

all of this pummels into him, and the monster emerges out from it’s cave.  

“be quiet and stop making such a fuss.” 

his voice comes out sharper than expected, and the expulsion of his frustration allows him to see the crystal clear picture before him. 

the room is dead silent. 

your face is in full shock at the hissing tone of your sweet husband snapping at his darling baby girl who he only ever speaks to with a gentle voice. 

what truly unravels nanami is the look that his daughter is giving him - her angelic features are sullen, but her eyes remain wide with surprise. her bottom lip is slack, and the only sound he can hear is her uneasy breathing. her eyes, the most beautiful gems in existence, twinkle as tears begin to form and she tries to quickly blink them away before turning her attention back to her plate.  

nanami doesn’t know he managed to stop time itself but the three of you remain frozen in place. 

he regrets his words immediately. 

he wants nothing more than to pull his precious girl close into his chest and smother her with apologies. the part of him with sense tells him to follow through and make things right with her, but instead he begrudgingly continues to wallow in his own self pity as he walks over to his room. 

･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･

the house is unusually quiet now, the music of domestic joy morphing into hushed murmurs and whispers outside your room door. you settle your crestfallen daughter into her bedroom before moving to check on your husband next. 

fresh out of the shower, nanami is seated on the edge of the bed with his exhausted eyes pressed firmly into the palms of his hands. he exhales a heavy breath, his dirty work clothes still piled just outside the bathroom, and your heart nearly collapses seeing him in such a state of disarray.

you kneel before him, two hands sliding across the soft material of his sweats as you brush them along his thighs before carefully bringing them up to circle around his wrists. 

“kento?” 

he allows you to pull his palms away but your throat constricts when a band forms tightly around your neck. you swallow the lump with an upturn of your brows as you are greeted with red, exhausted eyes. you cup that handsome face in your hands, your thumbs sweetly motioning back and forth across his cheeks as you try to soothe the tension away. 

after all this time together, it hurts you to see that he still tries to hide his tears. nanami constantly holds himself to the highest standard, always ensuring that he can solidify himself as the rock for you and your daughter to depend on through thick and thin. it’s so rare for you to see him crack, to watch him crumble under the overbearing weight of the things that he is burdened to carry. 

“you had a rough night,” you point out in a low, sympathetic voice and he simply just nods his head in acknowledgement. 

his eyes flutter close again when you lean forward to press a tender, reassuring kiss on his brow. “you want a talk about it?” 

the way his voice shakes makes you shiver, but you tentatively listen as he relays the events of the night before finally concluding that satoru called him only a few minutes ago to reassure him that the student in question is alright. 

“he lost an eye, but at least he’s alive...” he concludes somberly, the warble in his final statement prompting you to wrap your arms around his neck as you pull him in for a protective hug. 

nanami receives it with gratitude, strong arms circling around your waist as he buries his nose into the crook of your shoulder and breathes in.

your scent is a reminder of his permanent sanctuary.

a safety, a reassurance of home.

you stroke his blonde locks between your fingers until he exhales, "i'm so sorry," he breathes, "I...I didn't mean to snap like that..."

a tiny smile tugs at the corners of your lips, and you unravel yourself to cup his jaw into your palms once again. "I appreciate the apology, but I don't think I should be on the receiving end of it..." you hint sweetly.

nanami closes his eyes guiltily. "I'm a horrible father."

you click your tongue with disappointment, your face falling as your disapproval pinches between the space of your brows.

"you're just human," you remind him defensively, "you're a wonderful father, the best man that our daughter can look up to"

"did you see the look on her face?" he replies, his voice unnaturally small. the tender expression he gives you is filled with regret, and it's enough to make your heart ache all over again.

"kento," you contend, "don't do this to yourself. we're both going to have days where we mess up, but that doesn't mean that the problem can't be fixed."

you thread his hair between your fingers, like your brushing through rays sunlight. "she's waiting for me to read her a bedtime story," you explain, "but I'm sure she would rather be with you instead..."

"I doubt that," your husband replies as he reaches for your hand to kiss the inside of your palm.

"we will always love you, kento," you answer back, "unconditionally. on your good days and your bad ones"

he didn't even know how desperately he needed to hear that, for your certainty to remedy away all his sorrows, until they actually left your lips.

your husband's throat tightens, tears pricking his eyes once more but he hides them away when he leans in to seek out a kiss from the woman whose heart he deeply adores.

･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･

nanami leans his shoulder against the frame of his daughter's room. his heart patters lightly, making him realize that he might actually be nervous. it's strange, he thinks, that he would feel hesitant to approach his own child considering that he was her guardian but nanami had never allowed his professional life to fracture into his personal one like this before.

she's seated on the floor next to a pile of books and her stuffed rabbit secured tightly underneath her arm. there's a warmth in his chest when when he makes note of the soft toy, because he purchased that himself the day she was born and the pair have been inseparable ever since.

he clears his throat, bringing his scuffed knuckles to gently knock on the door.

"my love?" he calls out to her.

his daughter perks up, her breathing changing slightly as it rises and falls with a hint of apprehension. she glances over her shoulder to see him.

"where's mama?" she asks, her question shattering the man into a million pieces at her subtle dismissal.

"taking a shower," he answers cooly, "but I'm here to get you ready for bed..."

her lovely eyes refuse to lock into his own, and she simply tucks her lip between her bottom teeth to avoid giving nanami a reply.

she looks so much like him when he was a child. he remembered when his parents used to scold him too, and how he would also hide away in his room. the only difference is that nanami's parents were far more traditional - a time where elders were never submissive to young hearts.

"may I come in?" he requests politely, ensuring that his daughter knew she had a choice if she wanted to speak to him.

her nostrils flare slightly while she considers him, but to his relief she nods her head eagerly.

nanami steps into her room, always feeling largely out of place amongst her things. "did you find a story for bed?" he asks.

she again quietly nods her head and picks up her favorite book; a compilation of japanese folktales with beautiful illustrations. you both have been reading one for her each night ever since she got it it as a present from her grandparents.

he crouches on his knees to meet her at eye level. "you've really been enjoying this one, haven't you?" he carries on, hoping to coax more words out of her.

“yeah,” she replies in the same mousy voice of uncertainty. she shifts her attention away when she stands on her feet, clutching onto the stuffed bunny tightly while her other hand swings the book by her side.

“and what tale are we reading tonight?”

she shrugs her shoulders with indifference, a hint of pink blushing her cheek. “I dunno. I…I can just until mama is ready…”

nanami visibly slumps. her rejection an entirely new painful experience that he's never endured before. he scratches the back of his head anxiously, finding himself at a loss for words. the seconds pass, an awkward bubble surrounding both father and daughter. it’s only broken when nanami exhales a sigh, and reaches his hands towards her waist to draw her into his frame.

“darling,” he addresses tenderly, “can you look at me?”

“no, you were mean…” she blurts out, her bottom lip trembling slightly.

nanami’s heart sinks.

that’s the first time he’s ever heard those words from her lips.

“I know,” he murmurs shamefully.

her mouth forms into a tiny button of a pout but she meets his eyes for the first time as he acknowledges his behavior.

nanami arches forward to kiss her forehead, “I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that, sweetheart. I’m so sorry if I upset or scared you”

she fidgets with the book in her hand. “did you not want onigiri?” she asks, her innocence tugging the corners of her father’s lips into a small grin.

“it wasn’t the onigiri, my love,” he reassures, “daddy just…had a bad day at work…”

“why was it bad?”

nanami sighs once again.

she still doesn’t know that he’s a sorcerer. you’ve both reduced his position to her by simply explaining that nanami “helps and protects people".

thankfully your daughter doesn’t pry too hard to ask any further questions.

“someone I know got hurt. so, daddy was a little shaken up when he came home…”

"shaken up?"

"scared, my love"

his daughter shakes her head in disbelief, “nu-uh, you never get scared, papa” she rebuts.

nanami huffs out a laugh, flashing her a full grin now as he brings his fingers to his chin to to ponder her sweet statement. he quirks his brow and cheekily replies, "we can't all be brave like you," in an attempt to lighten the mood.

his daughter narrows her eyes towards his hand, her mind instantly distracted with other things already. "you got hurt too papa!" she gasps, dropping the bunny by her side to point at his knuckles.

nanami glances at his fingers covered in red marks.

"wait!" she exclaims as she places the book by his side. "I have something!"

she spins on her heel and rushes towards one of her drawers. meanwhile, nanami just takes her in with his love soaked eyes, watching as she rummages through her stuff with determination until she scurries back his way.

"got it!" she squeaks with a smile, and to his surprise she jumps right into his arms with such nonchalance it nearly make him crumble on the spot.

your voice echoes in the back of his mind: "we will always love you, kento. unconditionally. on your good days and your bad ones"

"mama bought it for me," she explains, regaining her father's attention once more.

nanami rests his cheek on her shoulder, and inhales her powdery scent as he keeps one arm warmly secured around her waist. he watches her peel off the plaster of the band aid, lbefore grabbing his hand and placing it unevenly over his knuckles.

"now a kiss!" she adds, as she brings his hand to her mouth and exaggerates a loud "mwah" sound for emphasis. "mama says the kiss is what makes it all better"

nanami instantly feels significantly better from this remedy of love. he extends his digits out, and looks at the hot pink "hello kitty" band aid that now rests comfortably on his knuckles.

"thank you, my darling," he coos and peppers her cheek with a few kisses before turning her to face him once again. "you made me feel a lot better"

she flashes him an equally large smile in return, showing off her missing teeth.

"I did?"

nanami chuckles as he scoops her up in his arms to give her a well deserved bear hug. she laughs as he stands on his two feet, and sheds away any lingering thoughts of apprehension that may have stuck.

"you always do," he reassures, his soul vibrating back to life when he feels her return his embrace. “you think you can forgive me for how I spoke earlier?”

“yeah,” she confirms and squeezes him just a little tighter. "I love you lots, papa"

"oh, my angel," he hums, "you have no idea just how much I love you too..."

･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･

after winding down from your evening pampering session, you decide to pass by your daughter's room to check on your little family. you peer through the cracked door to find nanami spread out on your daughter’s bed, with your daughter curled into side and her head resting on his chest.

“did I come from a peach too like momotarō?” you hear her ask, but your heart flutters at the sight of your husband’s pearly whites.

you’ll never get over how much you love seeing him smile with such genuine emotion.

“no,” you hear nanami reply calmly, his finger lightly holding the page open. “you remember your mother explaining how you used to live in her stomach first?”

“oh yeah,” your daughter replies with a hint of disappointment over the fact that she was not birthed from a piece of fruit as mentioned in one of her favorite folk tales.

“shall I carry on?”

“uh-huh,” she answers and she readjusts her position to get even more comfortable. "I think if we look hard enough we might find momotarō..."

"you think so?" your husband wonders with honest curiosity.

"I know so, papa!"

"how many peaches do you think we need to check?"

"hmmm," she mumbles, "maybe a million?"

"a million?" your husband dramatically replies, "that's a lot of peaches don't you think,"

"I mean, it's less than a billion..." she responds quite matter of factly.

you catch his gaze from between the door that’s ajar. his expression fully relaxes, and you smile knowingly in his direction at the sight of father and daughter making up.

“papa?” his daughter questions upon his sudden silence, but your husband keeps his focus on you as he hums in acknowledgement before replying, "you're not wrong, but it'll still be quite a challenge to cut through a million peaches..."

"we might need some help," your daughter adds on.

you blow him a secret kiss as to not interrupt further, and quietly close the door before heading back to your bedroom.

[uluvjay]

New years- L. Norris

Lando Norris x fem! Reader

In which your boyfriend can’t take how good you look during new years celebrations and fucks you in a club bathroom

Warnings?; Smut, fingering, p in v, unprotected sex(plz use protection), public sex, slight exhibitionism, slight candaulism kink, kissing, cursing, sorry for any errors

Day 12 of my ficmas celebration!

Lando’s eyes watched your body intensely, the way your hips moved against the front of your best friend, arms swaying in the air, your hair flying around as you swung your head along to the beat.

He was stood up in the dj booth besides Martin while you and your friends took over the dance floor, you had decided to wear a black silk dress out, the tight material stinking to your now sweating body-leaving even less to the imagination.

“Why don’t you just go down there?” Max laughed from beside him, causing him to come out of his unholy thoughts.

“What do you mean?”

“Mate you’ve been eye fucking her since you got up here, everyone can see you undressing her with your eyes.” Max laughed at his dear friend.

“She’s having fun.” Lando mumbled with a small shrug

“When has that ever stopped you before?”

Lando knew max was correct, it didn’t matter what you two were in the middle of or what you were doing, if he wanted you he was pulling you away from whatever it is that’s occupying your attention.

Lando ignored his friends giggles as he turned and made his way out of the dJ booth and onto the dance floor, fighting his way through the crowd of sweaty and drunk bodies until he found you.

“Lando!” You beamed as your boyfriend came into sigh, his tight dress shirt showing off his tanned chest and necklace you’d gotten him for his birthday.

“Hi baby.” He smiled back and pulled you into his arms, his hands landing low on your waist as yours wrapped around his neck.

“Are you having fun?” He questioned, looking down at your sweaty frame.

“Mhm, Martins playing all my favorites tonight.” You smirked knowing your boyfriend may have had something to do with that.

“So that’s why you’ve been down here moving like no one’s watching?” He teased

“M’ just having fun.” You grumbled.

“I know baby.” He laughed.

“Will you walk with me to the bathroom? Don’t wanna go alone.” You asked, the club was usually busy but with the added new year eve celebrations it was even more packed than usual.

“Of course.” He smiled and pulled away but not before sliding his hand into yours and allowing you to lead the way to the woman’s room.

His eyes dropped to your plump ass immediately, watching the way it bounced as you walked-he couldn’t wait to get home and fuck you into next week.

He hadn’t even realized that you two had made it into the bathroom until he felt your warm hand leave his. Looking up he heard your small grumbles about needing to pee as you made your way into one of the stalls.

And Lando hated to admit the way he felt his already aching cock stir at the sound of your pleasurable sigh that came from your mouth once you were able to go.

He wasn’t completely sure if that’s what made him push you back into the stall when you tried to exit, or if that’s what made him pull you into a breathtaking kiss.

His hands were gripping tightly onto your ass as yours tangled into his messy curls, lips moving in sync as his tongue slid into your mouth fought yours for a moment before taking over.

He basked in the small moan you let out when his hands began to slide underneath your dress but a pout is what quickly formed when you pulled your lips from his.

“Baby we can’t do this here, we’re in public.” You spoke, head leaning against the side of the stall while Lando looked down at you.

“We can be quiet.” He smirked, his large hands still making their way in between your legs.

“La-oh” you began but were cut off as one of his thick fingers slid inside your cunt.

“No panties?” He smirked down at you as your mouth fell open from his second finger sliding in.

“D-didn’t want pantie lines.” You whimpered

Lando leaned down nice and close to your ear, fingers speeding up.

“Liar, wore them with it a few weeks ago.” He whispered before swallowing your deep moan with his mouth, lips moving sloppily against yours.

He continued working you with his fingers, speeding up and slowing down to pull wanting moans from your throat.

You could feel yourself right on the edge, the fire in your tummy burning hot as your thighs began to shake, all Lando had to do was-

“No,no why’d you stop.” You cried as he pulled his fingers from you, popping them into his mouth as he sucked them clean of your juices.

“Because I want you to come on my cock, not my fingers.” He smirked, moving his wet fingers down to undo the button of his pants before sliding them down along with his boxers, just enough for his aching cock to slip out.

Your mouth watered at the sight of it, his tip was red and swollen begging for the smallest bit of attention. A bit of precum had ran down to meet the prominent vein that spread along the topside of his cock, and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t ready to drop to your knees right then and there.

Lando knew the look in your eye and by the way you unconsciously licked your lips he knew what you wanted, but right now wasn’t the time.

“I’ll let you get a taste once we’re home, but right now all I want is to fuck you.” He spoke lowly as his hands came to the back of your thighs and signaled for you to jump.

You wrapped your legs tight around his waist, dress rolling up your thighs the perfect amount for him to slip right in. Your back was pressed firmly against the side of the stall as he reached down to pump his cock a few times.

And soon you were gasping at the delicious burn that filled your body when he slipped in, filling you to the absolute brim.

He moved his hips slowly, allowing you a moment of adjustment before he was quickly changing pace and fucking into with fast but deep strokes, basking in the way your eyes rolled every time his tip hit the spongy spot inside you.

“Fuck lan, j-just like that.” You cried, hands coming up to grip his already messy curls.

The sounds of your mixed whimpers and skin slapping filled the tiny stall, Lando’s movements never ending even as you heard the door open and a pair of heels against the floor.

Your eyes went wide as you looked at Lando, however you were only met with an evil smirk and a look of pure determination.

The little shit had brought a thumb between your thighs to play with your sensitive bud, earning Lando a look of pure hopelessness as you both knew there was no way of keeping you quiet now.

“Lan-ngh!-shit.” You whimpered as you could feel the denied climax from earlier creeping back up, the burn returning to your lower stomach even more intense this time.

Lando groaned at the way you began to clench him, “fuck baby, so tight.” He growled.

You two were so caught up in each other that you almost missed the gasp that came from a few stalls down, your eyes grew wide remembering the girl that had came into the bathroom.

However Lando still didn’t care and simply brought a finger to his lips, signaling you to stay quiet. However that was quite hard as his hips began moving at an unforgiving pace and you were knocked over the edge.

Your head slammed against the stall as your climax overtook your body, you brain short circuiting at the overwhelming feeling in your body as Lando continued fucking you through your high.

“Shit baby, I’m going to come.” Lando cried as he could feel his own fire growing in his stomach.

“Go on lan, fill me up” you encouraged the boy, hands tangled in his damp curls, brushing back the ones that had begun to stick to his sweat covered forehead.

“Fuh…fuck!” He growled as he stilled inside of you and you felt the familiar twitch of his cock inside you before your walls were painted white with his release.

He pressed his forehead against yours as you both caught your breaths and it was the sound of the bathroom door opening and the chant of “happy new year” from outside that brought you both back to earth.

“Happy new year baby.” Lando giggled as he leaned down and pressed his lips against yours softly.

“Happy new year my love.” You cheesed looking up at him with soft and tired eyes, he smirked at the fucked out expression on your face and realized you two should probably get cleaned up and head home.

Exiting the bathroom after getting cleaned up and fixing yourselves you made your way back to the group up by the dj booth where you were greeted with Max and Pietra who both held smirks on their faces.

“Looks like you two had some fun bringing the new year.” Max spoke with a giggle.

“Yeah, I’d say it was pretty nice.” Lando spoke, breaking into laughter as you elbowed his side.

“Wasn’t nice for the girl a few stalls down” you mumbled slightly embarrassed.

“Ehh she’ll be fine, she got a free show.”

“Lando!” You scolded but he only laughed harder and pulled you into a kiss.

“Love you” he cheesed

“Yeah, yeah, I love you to.” You grumbled but snuggled into his side as his arms held you tight.

-

Happy new years my loves!

Also the last fic of my celebration🥹

[luveline]

Hey my lovely, could i equest a blurb where reader seeks one of spencer's hugs and he's all soft and mushy about it!! I just think he'd give really warm hugs and want one so bad!

shy!reader + post!prison Spencer have a hug

Spencer understands why you might find him intimidating. He did go to prison for a few weeks, and even if the idea of his being a potential felon didn’t scare you, there’s nothing wrong with being nervous around the unknown. You’ve had a few more weeks to get to know the others on the team. He tries not to take it personally that you’re closer with some of them than you are him. 

Plus, you’re awfully shy. 

Spencer’s been trying to communicate that he’s an idiot. He was shy, once, and he tends to be shy about things now, too, even if he’s taken to hiding that. He hides a lot, these days. 

But things aren’t hopeless with you. You’re inarguably his best work friend now that Morgan’s not around, taking the desk next to his —through coincidence or insistence, he has no idea. 

“What flavour do you have today?” he asks. 

You show him your bag. The convenience store outside of work has the strangest sweets from all sorts of places. You’ve been bringing in a different bag each day, and you always share. “Today is apricot and peach ‘millions’,” you tell him, shaking the bright pink bag like a rattle. 

Inside, the millions bounce against each other like miniscule polystyrene balls but with a heavier weight. 

“Awesome!” he says, holding out his hand. “Please?” 

You rip the corner and tip a generous helping of candies into his palm, doing the same in your own hand. “Ready?” you ask. 

“Three, two, one.” 

You both tip your heads back at the same time. Apricot and peach are similar flavours, and Spencer can’t tell the difference when they’re both in play. He can also taste apple juice and the sharp citric acid flavour they put in every candy. 

He can’t tell if you like them. He quite enjoys it, will happily eat the leftovers if you’re not interested, but your attention isn’t on the candy when he looks up. You’re staring straight at him. 

“What?” he asks, perturbed. 

“Nothing, just. Had a rough morning. Thanks for trying the candy with me.” 

He frowns. “I’m sorry. Let me know if there’s something I can do to make you feel better. I can make you a cup of hot chocolate?” 

“Don’t worry about it.” 

Spencer’s sure that to an outsider, he and the team appear to travel to a hundred cities a month. In reality, cases aren’t as densely packed, especially with the government expanding their profiling teams, and the majority of Spencer’s day is spent answering emails and giving advice to agents, law enforcement, and his colleagues. He doesn’t see much of you (where you’re forced to work ViCAP calibration as newbies usually are, almost like a hazing) but he does take you that hot chocolate around lunch time. Just to make sure you have the option. 

It’s sometime past four PM when you appear again. 

“Hey,” he says, turning to you where you’re paused behind your desk chair, “you're finally done?” 

“Not yet. So many case files to transcribe, opinions to cross check, signatures and…” You wince. “It’s a lot. You already know.” 

“I don’t, actually. I only ever had to do ViCAP as punishment, and I was extremely well-behaved. For a while, anyway.” 

You hesitate with something heavy on the tip of your tongue. You’re like every profiler wherein your tells are self-identified and quelled, but you’re still so new, and Spencer’s an expert. You want to ask him for something, but you don’t think you’re allowed. If he presses the issue you’ll shut down, and if he offers you another cup of hot chocolate you’ll simply drink it without letting him in on the real secret. 

Spencer waits. 

“Spencer, you don’t have to say yes, just… You’re the nicest friend I have, and you always know what I need to hear. Um, I know you don’t like touching people and I wouldn’t ask you to if you don’t want to, but it’s been a really long time since someone hugged me, and…” Your voice gets quieter and quieter, until you’re whispering, and then fizzling out. 

“You want a hug?” he asks, surprised. 

“If that’s okay.” 

“I give really good hugs,” he warns, climbing from his chair immediately, arms opened, an unmissable invitation. “You’ll never get over it.” 

“Really?” 

He can’t believe you came to him specifically for a hug. He’s gonna lose his mind. Gentle, Spencer ushers you into his arms, head quick to duck down, his thumb on your shoulder. 

You could’ve asked anybody in the office for a hug. Penelope would have hugged your brains out. Emily, Unit Chief and secret sweetheart, would’ve taken you off of ViCAP and given you a loving pat on the back. But you didn’t ask Penelope or Emily, you asked him. 

“You don’t have to ask me first,” he says quietly. 

“You don’t like touching.” 

“That’s more to do with germs, and I’m not worried about yours,” he says. “Unless you’re about to tell me you have a headache.” 

“It’s like this pounding behind my eyes,” you say with a laugh. 

Spencer smiles, his mouth and nose to the side of your head. He gives you a good ten seconds of quiet, his palm warming your shoulder, before he murmurs, “Any better?” 

“You’re really warm,” you murmur back. 

Spencer resists the urge to squeeze you. “It's the oxytocin.”

“Or you’re just really, really warm.”

[strang3lov3]

Jet Stream

Joel has his fun with you after learning his shower head has a jet stream setting.

Part two of my miniseries for @noxturnalpascal Can be read as standalone but check out the first part Lather ! Thank you @merz-8 @noxturnalpascal and @tightjeansjavi for all their brainstorming on this fic!

tags-soft dom!joel, maybe not so soft dom! joel, overstimulation station, pet name (good girl, sweetheart, honey, darling) crying, fingering, multiple orgasms both clitoral and vaginal, smoochin’, praise, blowjobs, snuggles

notes- thank you for your patience with me! Hope you’re all having a lovely start to your February, please harass me and spank me to get part 3 and my Valentine’s Day one shot out by next week ❤️💖

Kindly edited by @papipascalispunk ❤️❤️❤️

Masterlist

Joel wakes up early, even on Saturdays. Taking advantage of the little pleasures in life, he watches squirrels and chipmunks run up and down the trees in his backyard, listening to the birds chirp while the sun rises. When the sun rises, he’ll take his morning shower and sigh in relaxation under the hot water. Let it wash over him for a little too long before he scrubs his body. 

But not this Saturday. Today, that steady pelting of water on his back and chest feels like a trickle compared to what it’s usually like. Joel’s been noticing this for a while, maybe you have too. He stands in the shower, annoyed at the glacial pace of the suds sliding off his body. After what feels like an eternity passes, he shuts off the water and examines the shower head closely. Yeah, that’ll do it, he thinks. Limescale. It’s built up around the shower head, into all the grooves. This commonly happens when hard water runs through a house. It’s an easy fix. 

Joel unscrews the shower head from its fixture then dries off. He goes downstairs and grabs a bucket and a jug of vinegar from his cleaning supply closet. He soaks the shower head in the vinegar-filled bucket for about an hour before taking the shower head out, using an old toothbrush to scrub the grooves and holes in the shower head. Joel hears a creak upstairs and quickens his scrubbing, he doesn’t need you coming downstairs and scolding him for over-exerting himself. Yeah, yeah – he should be asking you for your help and all that, but you’re too pretty for a chore like this, he thinks. Besides, his shoulder is getting better. Not quite as tender as it was a week ago. As Joel wraps up the finishing touches of cleaning the shower head, he notices some etched words that were previously covered by the limescale – Rain, Shower, Jet Stream.

Well, would ya look at that. A mischievous grin forms on Joel’s lips. His brain has been fucking addled thinking about you. You, and the way you came on your own fingers, whimpering his name. How after, you pushed your fingers past his lips, how sweet your arousal tasted on his tongue. How he’s been yearning to touch you, fuck you, but his stupid goddamn shoulder is still hurting. Hurting, but healing nonetheless. God, is he addled. But now, with this nifty little jet stream setting, he can have you melting in his hands in no time. It can do all the work for him, leaving his shoulder unharmed and without disruption to its healing process. He wonders, how many times will he make you come?

–

The day goes by as normal. It’s evening, Ellie’s not home. You’re on the couch with Joel after eating pasta for dinner. You’re knitting a blanket using mismatched yarn, just trying to find some use for the odds and ends. Joel’s sitting on the opposite end of the couch and bouncing his leg, twiddling his fingers. He looks bored, anxious. Seinfeld is on TV, Joel loves this show. He rented the series DVDs from the library in Jackson and claimed to have scratched them when they were past due. “Joel, quit,” you scold him. He’s bouncing the couch. 

“My bad,” Joel says. You can feel him staring at you. He’s touching his hair. You turn your face to look at him, raising your eyebrows expectantly. Joel wears an anticipatory look, but stays quiet. You turn your attention back to the TV and he’s now combing his fingers through his hair, sighing loudly. “Hmmm…” he hums, “What’s a guy to do…”

You drop your knitting needles in your lap. “What, Joel?”

“Oh, nothin’,” he says. Joel kind of just gestures to his hair and shrugs, like you’re supposed to know what he’s asking for. You do, of course, but he can use his words. “Ahem,” Joel clears his throat, now twirling a finger around one of his curls cheekily, making a real big show out of it. He’s smiling now.  

“Do you need me to wash your hair again, Joel?”

“If you’d be so kind, darlin’,” he grins. 

You finish the row you’re currently knitting before wrapping up your work and putting it into a basket and under the end table next to the couch. After pausing the TV, you stand up and Joel outstretches his left hand to you, which you take in your own. He groans loudly as you pull him to his feet where he stands in front of you. There’s something about him today. When you washed his hair last week, he was bashful and awkward. Today, he’s confident with his sly grin, that teasing look in his eye like he’s working an angle. Maybe he’s just excited for another shower blow job, which you’ll happily provide again. You smile too, he’ll be 0 for 2. 

When you and Joel arrive at the bathroom, he locks the door just like last time. He’s unbuttoning his jeans, not bothering to hide the bulge in his boxers. You don’t bother with the formalities of your partnered shower as you and Joel undress yourselves. It’s unnecessary at this point, after the fortuitous, amatory events of your last one. Joel notices your smirk before he turns on the hot water. He can tell you think you’re gonna pull one over on him again. That’s fine, you can believe whatever you’d like.

Joel opens the shower curtain. “After you,” he purrs, offering his hand to you as you step into the tub. You stand underneath the stream of water, wetting your hair and letting the hot water warm your skin. It feels stronger today for some reason. “Pressure’s different,” you tell Joel. 

“Is it now?” Joel asks, feigning ignorance as he joins you in the tub, cock already half mast. You step closer to him, reaching for it, feeling him grow harder in your hand. Massaging his cock, tracing your fingertips around his thick head and along the veins of his shaft, you bite down on your smile. “Yeah, that’s nice, trouble,” he sighs in pleasure, “Aren’t you something?” 

“Feel good, Joel?” you murmur. 

“Mhm,” Joel hums, “Feels just wonderful, sweetheart. You’re too good t’me.” 

Shampoo and conditioner can wait. You take the time to massage his cock a while longer as you wrap your free hand around Joel’s neck, toying with the curls at the back of his head. They’re not quite wet yet as you’ve been hogging all the hot water, but Joel doesn’t seem to mind. He lets you stroke his member as he holds your chin between his thumb and forefinger, leaning in to kiss you softly. As you deepen the kiss, gently biting his plump bottom lip, Joel pulls away, removing your hand from his member.

“You done yet?” he asks you. 

You’re almost offended. Asshole. You were enjoying that kiss. “Not quite,” you reply, leaning forward to kiss him, touch him some more. 

Joel pulls away from you as he blocks your hand. He grips your wrist  and holds it behind your back as he spins you around, your back now facing him. “Well you’re gonna have to be,” he says. “The lady’s ’sposed to come first. That’s how we’re doing things from now on.”

“Yeah, right Joel. You can’t touch me, your shoulder is still fucked up.” you squirm away from him, but he keeps his hold on you. Gentle, firm. 

“Worry about yourself,” he warns in a tone much less teasing than before. He winces as he uses his bad arm to reach for the shower head, “Y’think you’ve got me all figured out, huh?”

“I…” you trail off as he hovers the shower head above your torso, peering over your shoulder as he watches the water fall down your curves. He hums softly as he focuses the stream over your breasts, feeling you begin to twitch as the water teases your nipples. 

“My shoulder is healing, actually. But yeah, it is still a little fucked up,” Joel continues, “Don’t need to touch ya anyhow.”

Ohh, you’re getting it now. Joel thinks he cracked the code. “I appreciate the thought, Joel,” you chuckle. “But if you’re planning on using the shower head to make me come, just go ahead and put it back where it belongs. I’ve tried that already.”

“Figures,” he teases. “You wanna know somethin’?”

“What’s that, Joel?”

“Water pressure on this thing sucked lately, so I was cleanin’ this thing out this morning,” he begins. He keeps your arm behind your back as he sits both you and himself down on the shower bench, keeping your back pressed firmly against his torso. “Does this hurt?” he whispers before continuing. You shake your head no. “Good,” Joel says. “Anyway, wouldn’t ya know it, there’s a jet stream setting on this thing.” Joel nudges a foot between your legs and taps you. “Open ‘em. You stay like this for me.”

He’s speaking with such authority, such a commanding tone. You’re almost nervous. You could see it in his eyes and hear it in his voice last week just how severely you pissed him off with the way you touched yourself in front of him, knowing he couldn’t do a damn thing about it. How you further taunted him when you pushed your fingers past his lips, dangling the premise of tasting your sweet cunt over his head. You should have known he’d retaliate.

“Was not a fan of how you got yourself off without me, pretty rudely, might I add. Told you I wanted to help, you fuckin’ deviant.”

Yup, you’re correct. He’s still fucking pissed. He did a good job keeping a lid on it until now. “Joel,” you breathe. 

“So yes, you’re right. I can’t touch ya yet,” he continues in a low voice, “S’why we’re gonna see what this does to ya, sweetheart.”

Joel keeps the shower head on the rain setting for this part. With his free hand, he cups the back of your knee and has you set your foot on the bench where you and Joel sit. This way, you’re nice and open for him to do as he pleases. He brings the shower head lower, hovering it over your torso, down your tummy, then your pussy. It’s a nice sensation, warm and gentle. When you lean your head back on his shoulder and sigh softly, he ups the ante. Momentarily, he futzes with the showerhead and switches it to the jet stream setting before bringing it back to your center. He starts the stream at your inner thighs first, working his way inward until the stream is massaging your lips, first one side and then the other. Slowly, he twists his wrist, getting your pussy used to the new sensation. He can’t see much from this angle, can’t feel anything either. He’s waiting for you to jolt and moan to know when he’s struck gold. “Shhh…” Joel quiets you when you do just that. “Oh yeah, this’ll do just fine, hm?”

Fuck, it’s intense. It’s very intense, almost too much. “Joel, fuck,” you cry. You should not have fucked with him. 

“Just relax,” he instructs, “You’ll get used to it.” But you’re not getting used to it, not even close. It’s a powerful, nearly electric sort of feeling that takes you wholly as you jerk and stutter in his hold. “Mm-mm, you stay here. Quit your squirmin’.”

“S’too much Joel,” you whine. 

“S’kinda the point,” he mumbles, “But you’re doin’ good, sweetheart. Jus’ let it happen.”

Joel rotates his wrist, directing the stream of water in tight, steady circles on your clit. The striking, uncomfortable and intense feeling is beginning to dissipate as your pleasure begins to build. Joel’s hot breath is on your neck, his torso rising and falling steadily. You can feel his warm, stiff package pressing against your lower back. “Joel, it feels so good,” you breathe. “Please don’t stop.”

“Nah, I wouldn’t dream of that,” he replies.  The movement of Joel’s wrists never falters, though he knows it’ll be sore in the morning. You move your hips in tune with his movement, eyes squeezed shut and moaning quietly, your open mouth pressed against his neck. He wonders if maybe you haven’t quite realized the circumstance you’re in, what he plans to do to you. “Your wish is my command, sweetheart,” he mumbles, wearing a smug grin.

Joel lets go of his hold on your leg to touch your breasts with his free hand, kneading your flesh. When he teases your nipples, the sensation of it all is heightened. Within moments, you’ve reached your peak. It’s intense and the feeling lasts long as Joel, with the help of the shower head, helps you ride out your high. Joel gives you a moment to catch your breath as he points the shower head at the floor, letting you relax against him. After a minute passes, you try to lean forward to get up, but Joel stops you by wrapping his strong arm around your torso and keeping you pressed tightly against him. “Ohh, you’re not goin’ anywhere. We’re not done yet,” he coos as he kisses your cheek, your temple. 

“I know, but it’s your turn.”

“Oh, not quite. We’re way past turns and bein’ square and even and all that,” he says. “Yeah, that went out the door with that little stunt you pulled on me last week. So let me spell it out for you, darlin’, I am not finished with you.”

“Joel, what are you–” Joel cuts you off by bringing the shower head back to your pussy. Reaching out for something, anything, your hand finds purchase in his hair, tangling your fingers in his curls as you tug gently. “Joel, fuck,” you pant. 

“Not goin’ easy on ya,” he warns. “S’that alright?” Your heart swells. Always the gentleman, Joel is. You nod against his cheek. “Then you stay just like this for me,” he instructs, whispering quietly against the shell of your ear, “Just like this. That’s all ya gotta do, s’real easy.” He tells you this like he’s giving you a choice, but subtly, he places his hand his back on your knee, keeping your cunt exposed to him for his use. Then Joel, realizing he has a better idea, gently pushes your leg off the bench. Potentially against his better judgment, he takes your own free hand and places it on your knee. “Be a good girl,” he murmurs, trusting you with this privilege perhaps too early in tonight’s endeavor. But he knows you, you’ve always been all bark and no bite – he’s not worried about you. Not a bit. 

“I’ll be good, Joel,” you whimper, eager to make this easier on yourself. You’ve never felt a sensation this intense before, and you know to tread carefully with Joel. Especially given what led you to this mess you’re in with him. 

Joel smirks, he’s right as always. Already you’re so docile, so well-behaved, so pliant. 

He finds your clit with the fingers of his left hand to help him with the shower head in his right hand. After finding that sweet little bundle of nerves with the jet stream, Joel traces along your lips momentarily before pushing a finger inside your warm, wet pussy. “Joel, oh my god,” your right hand leaves its place in his hair and you reach for his bicep instead, not exactly sure what your goal is here. You just need Joel’s comfort, to touch him, feel him, hold onto him for dear life as he delivers you deep and powerful pleasure just moments previously unknown to you. 

“I know sweetheart. Can’t do anything about it, huh?” he taunts, pushing in another finger. He curls them slowly, savoring the feeling of your wet heat pulsing around his knuckles. “Y’look very beautiful like this, ya know.” Joel quickens the pace of his fingers. You moan as you beg him for mercy of some sort as he fucks you on his fingers, while torturing your poor, overworked clit with that shower head. It’s sensual, satisfying, and nearly painful all at once. “Doin’ so good. I know you’ve got another one in ya.”

“I don’t know, Joel, I’m– I’m–”

“Take it easy. Focus right here,” he says, curling his fingers faster now. You’re a mess of panting and whimpering as Joel works his magic, stroking that sweet spot inside of you he made short work of finding. You’re soaking his fingers with your arousal as he touches you, a second orgasm washing over you quickly.

You’re panting, heart pounding as you try to come down from your high. “Please,” you breathe heavily, “Please Joel, I– oh–”

“Not quite sure what all that beggin’s for, sweetheart. Told ya what you were in for tonight,” Joel whispers in a honeyed voice. “You got one more, though.”

No way. It’s not possible. This is too much, you’re certain you’ll be satisfied for an eternity after this. “Joel, I don’t think I can,” you cry, hot and salty tears of overstimulation rolling down your cheeks. “I don’t–”

Joel interrupts you. “Yes, you can,” he says. Joel pulls his fingers and the shower head away from your pussy, giving you another moment to breathe. You’re still breathing heavily, shaking and trembling slightly. Poor thing, not used to all of this. It’s a lot on you and Joel knows this. “I’m right here, I got you,” he coos. He adjusts the way he’s holding you for a moment to look at your face, wipe away your tears. His brow furrows as he searches your face, rubbing his thumb back and forth over your jaw. “Breathe, baby. S’okay. Ain’t gonna break.” 

You nod, stutter out some incoherent response. Joel’s eyes are warm and soft as he calms you, kissing your lips and your nose. 

“What do you think?” he asks, “Reckon you got another one in ya. Just one more, hmm?”

“Okay,” you agree with a small smile. “Okay.” 

“Attagirl,” Joel praises. He brings the showerhead back to the space between your thighs but you catch his wrist, pulling it away from your body before he has the chance to use it on you again. 

“Want your fingers,” you request in a soft voice. “Can you just use your fingers on me?”

Joel nods. “We can try it,” he offers. “Was startin’ to get cold anyway. Why don’t you switch it back to the regular setting and put it back where it belongs?”

You nod and follow suit, playing with the settings before settling on the regular shower feature. You stand up to put the shower head back, letting the water wash over both you and Joel. On your way back to sit with him he holds your hips, steadying your shaky legs. You sit back between his legs, spreading your own. You gasp softly when Joel cautiously brings his right hand to your pussy, starting out with slow, careful circles on your clit. He groans in pain and shakes his head. “Does it hurt?” you ask.

“Mhm,” he answers. “Why don’t you help me out, hm? Use your own hand? Kind of your specialty, ain’t it?” Joel reaches for your hand and then stops suddenly. “Or,” he says, “What if we try something new?”

Oh, man. You’ve experienced a lot of firsts tonight, you’re not sure you can handle another. 

“That poor clit of yours is all worn out huh?” Joel asks. “C’mere. Turn around and face me,” Joel helps you up and then has you straddle his lap, his rock hard cock is between your bodies, the tip all blushed. “I’ve gotten pretty good at doin’ things with my left hand.”

You’re quick to retort. “Except for getting yourself off,” you tease.

“Oh, yeah. Rub it in,” he replies. He snakes his left hand back between your bodies, his middle two fingers pushing inside you. “Was thinkin’ could see how it works out. How’s this feel?” Joel curls his fingers inside of you in a repetitive come hither movement, stroking your g-spot.

“Good,” you tell him. It does feel good, if not a little unfamiliar. 

“Just focus on my fingers,” he instructs. As Joel works his fingers inside of you, you rest your forehead on his own. Breathing steadily, focusing on the feeling it stirs inside of you. It’s a new, different sort of pleasure. “Good girl,” he praises in whispers, “So good for me. You’re almost there.”

You begin to rock your hips into his hand, ignoring the way the hard material of the bench feels on your knees. Your clit is still untouched yet, here you are, that familiar feeling beginning to bloom in your tummy. Nothing’s ever made you feel the way you do right now, here in Joel’s arms. You’re liquid in his hands as your last orgasm begins to build, It’s deeper inside you, a slower build to ecstasy as Joel fucks you on his fingers.Your climax washes over you in waves, white-hot pleasure coursing through your through your body. “Oh my god, Joel,” You come with gasping breaths and moans for the last time, your fluttering walls choking Joel’s fingers and your arousal pooling in his hand. 

Joel holds you tightly in his arms as you come down from your high for the last time tonight. You’re not sure how much time passes, but when you feel ready, you lift yourself up on your knees and reach for Joel’s cock, guiding him to your entrance. 

“Woah, woah–” Joel stops you. 

“You don’t have to do a thing,” you try. “Just let me–fuck. I need you, need to fuck you.”

“After all that? You still want more?”

“Wanna take care of you,” you plead. You want him so bad, need to feel him, need to be closer to him, you need to watch his face. 

Joel smiles sadly as he shakes his head. “You know I can’t give that to ya,” he strokes your cheek, continuing, “God knows I wanna feel you too, sweetheart. We can’t get ahead of ourselves with my damn shoulder and all that. Just give me a few more days, hon.”

You nod in agreement. He’s right, unfortunately. 

“And then I’m all yours,” Joel reaches for your ass and lifts you up, then sits you back down on the bench after he stands up. He stands in front of you, holding his heavy cock between his thumb and first two fingers, bouncing it slightly. “Stay right there,” he says. “You just sit all pretty-like for me, just like ya always do.” 

Joel reaches for the back of your head and guides you to be closer to him, parting your lips with the tip of his cock. He tastes salty, heady and masculine. You cup his balls and squeeze gently, playing with them for a moment before gripping the base of his dick. Joel pushes into your mouth slowly. You swirl your tongue around his tip and his shaft, bobbing your head and hollowing your cheeks. You love the way he tastes, how he feels, how he jerks his hips slightly when you trail your tongue along an extra sensitive spot of his member. 

“So good,” he praises, “Always so good.” 

Joel maintains eye contact with you as he draws in and out of your mouth, watching you with warm, adoring expression. He loves your eyes, how you watch him as he fucks your mouth. 

Moments go by and Joel’s squeezing his eyes shut, his movements starting to become frenzied. “M’close, hon,” he warns. You reach for his hand with your own and squeeze it a couple of times as if to tell him it’s okay, that he can let go. Joel does just that. He comes with a deep groan, his soft tummy and his chest heaving as he breathes heavily, loudly through his nose. His thick, heavy cock twitches in your mouth as ribbon after ribbon of his hot spend coats your tongue and your throat, which you swallow with pleasure. Joel lets out a strangled sort of noise when you begin to pull your mouth off of him, but first licking his head a couple of times. “Too much, too much,” he warns urgently. Interesting. He can dish it but he can’t take it. But you keep your thoughts about Joel’s overstimulation threshold to yourself. “M’not done with you sweetheart, I promise,” Joel says as he comes down from his high, his breathing now beginning to steady. “Few more days and you’re in trouble.”

Your insides flutter at the prospect, what a welcome threat. You smile as Joel takes your hand and lifts you to your feet, shuts off the shower and reaches for your towel. He helps you to dry off, then dries his own self off before helping you to your feet. Still holding your hand, he takes you to his bedroom and lifts up the covers. You get underneath and Joel tucks you in, walks around to his own side of the bed and joins you. Knowing what you need after all of this, he doesn’t bother asking before pulling you into his side, kissing your cheek and the top of your head. Holding you close and telling you what a good job you did. Making sure you’re okay, asking if you need anything, water, a snack. Whatever. “No,” you tell him before closing your eyes. 

Just as you’re drifting off to sleep, Joel whispers in your ear, “Hon.” 

“What, Joel?” you mumble, your voice thick with sleep. 

“We forgot to wash my hair.”

[queenimmadolla]

𝐅𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤 𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐌𝐞

(A Lisa Frankenstein, Eddie Munson AU)

next ┊ 𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Summary: After a series of unfortunate events in your life, and lonelier than ever, you often turn to a dead guy and his tombstone for comfort. Never in your wildest, fucked up dreams did you imagine he’d turn to you for the same thing, but you find yourself hiding a living corpse, bringing him further to life, reaping some justice, and cutting off a lot of body parts all while trying to fit in and falling in love.

a/n: Part One is here! Just want to say thank you to my friends for hearing me rant and rave about Lisa Frankenstein for weeks now, though I’ve been unbearable with this concept in my head. This will be the longest chapter, just to establish some stuff, but we’ll get to the slaying! Hope you love Undead!Zombie!Eddie as much as I do. Happy reading! (p.s.,there will be some romantic smut in a later part)

Chapter warnings: a bit steve harrington x reader, some eddie munson x other female, death of a family member, brief description of SA (bordered with RED DIVIDERS if you’d like to skip), mistreatment of Reader, suicidal ideation (reader just has dark humor), implied murder, very campy, very cunty.

THEN, 1986.

  “Where you head’n too so in a hurry, boy?” Wayne Munson asked, sat on the couch with a mug of steaming hot coffee in one hand and the television remote in the other as he watched his nephew bounce around the trailer, grabbing all of the the items he let haphazardly around. 

  Wayne always told him to pick up his things, but like the rambunctious boy he was, there was no breaking out of his messy habits.

  “I got people to see, pops. Things to do. Trouble to ‘cause, cops to anger, you know the drill.” Eddie didn’t even need to turn around to know his uncle was scowling but he was proven correct when he turned to throw his father figure a shit eating grin over his shoulder, “Kidding, old man. Mom had me baptized when I was a baby, remember? I can do no wrong, like Achilles.” 

  “Wha’?”

  “Ugh, dad. If I have to explain the joke, it ruins it. I’ll be back by dinner, alright?”

  Wayne fixed him with a pointed look, “You best be on your best behavior, you hear me?”

  “Always.” Eddie gave a mock salute before dipping out the front door, still grinning as he tossed the keys of the van and caught them midair. 

  While he wasn’t necessarily going to cause trouble, he certainly would be providing the fun grass, powder and pills that were often behind it. Eddie knew Wayne was aware of what he did, had implied so when talking about how he knew Eddie was a good kid, just living in the wrong circumstances sometimes. Always said he wanted nothing but the best for his boy and for Eddie to realize he was meant for more than what this particular town forced on him. 

  Made Eddie’s chest tight, but seeing things like the broken patio board—Eddie had accidentally stomped through it after seeing a spider—reinforced Eddie’s belief that he’d much rather help out any way he could than let his uncle bear the financial weight of providing for him. 

  The van roared to life, after sputtering for a good seven seconds, and Eddie revved the engine a little. As he let her warm up, something in the side mirror caught his attention. 

  Someone. 

  Sheila. His neighbor in the trailer across the street. She was hauling a box to a car, looked rather heavy and Eddie would have dropped everything to scramble over and help her, had it not been for Mr.Brawn at her side. 

  Eddie watched as the guy, who stole the girl he was in love with right out of his arms, grabbed the box. The two lovers exchanged words which ended with them laughing at something as she followed him to the car.

  He slid the box into the packed car as she climbed into the passenger seat, and before Eddie knew it, he was watching her drive away, right out of his life forever.

  Eddie hadn’t even realized he was clutching his steering wheel so tight, his knuckles were straining against the skin, hot tears pooling at his waterline but he refused to let them fall. He’d shed more than enough tears over her, over what could have been.

  They started off so promising; throwing flirty waves from their bedroom windows, occasionally at school, before she approached him for weed. After that, came the whirlwind romance and Eddie hadn’t considered himself a romantic before—hadn’t had a whole lot of opportunities to make that discovery but he was so fucking romantic. A big sap. And he wasn’t ashamed of it. 

  Until she’d graduated, and he hadn’t. Again. Turns out, not trying at academics all year and then aiming to ace finals wasn’t enough. 

  Suddenly, all the bullshit naive plans they had to run away somewhere far from Hawkins weren’t possible. At least, Sheila couldn’t with Eddie. 

  He lost her to a guy in another band, had made the mistake of taking a piss after he and Corroded Coffin performed to their tiny ass crowd, and had come back to see her talking to the keyboardist of the band that had gone on before them. She looked entranced, leaning forward to hang on to whatever the fuck he was saying. When Eddie had gone over to ask her if she was ready to head out, fully prepared to tuck her under his arm and way from the keyboardist, she’d insisted and told him to his face, in front of his apparent competition, that she was gonna stick around a little longer and he should head out without her.

  He’d spent the entire night pacing in front of his window, glancing out of it every five minutes and every time he heard a pair of wheels turn onto the dirt road. Eddie got his confirmation when his car happened to be one of them. He’d watched, heart splintering, as the keyboardist got out of the car and walked around to open her door for her before they disappeared into her trailer. Eddie knew her dad worked nights. Knew what she and that musician were doing and he’d thrown up the entire contents of his stomach at the imagery before passing out.

  Eddie woke up to Sheila hovering above him and framed by the glow of the bathroom light like some angel. She’d dumped him right there and left the spare key he’d trusted her with on the table.

  And now, she was living her dream with someone else while Eddie got to stick around this shitty town with these people who could barely stand him for no reason (and yeah, okay, maybe he’d poke their buttons). In truth, while he was a little heartbroken over her, it was the fact that she still got her happy ending that hurt the most.

  The girls around Hawkins might have been interested in maybe hooking up with him, but they weren’t interested in being Eddie’s girl. Weren’t interested in falling stupid in love with him, making plans to start a life together. Didn’t want him in their plans.

  Eddie Munson was lonely. And it sucked.

  With a heavy sigh, he cranked on the radio, fingers twisting the volume dial up to the most obnoxious level before shifting the gear to drive.

  “It’ll get better, Munson. Love ain’t no stranger.” He mumbled, sucking on his teeth and pulling out on the road.

  If he had known then where it would lead him, where the night would take him, he would have at least hugged his uncle. It would be the last time he saw him, and it would be the last time Wayne Munson saw his nephew alive.

  Three days later, he’d be identifying and weeping over his boy’s body in the morgue after reporting Eddie missing when he didn’t come home.

  NOW, 1989

  “Where are you going? It’s almost time for breakfast.” Chrissy called out, head poking out from her bedroom as she watched you race down the hall.

  “Not hungry! I’ll be back soon!” You called over your shoulder, the large sheet of craft paper wrinkling in your hand as you took the stairs two at a time before bounding down the short entryway.

  You’d almost crossed the foyer and then slammed yourself back against the wall as you saw Laura, Chrissy’s mom, fiddling with something at the table. She had the radio on, some garbage self help tape spewing nonsense to her, and that condescending smile on her face.

  Yeah, you’d be avoiding her, lest you wish to be verbally and eloquently belittled. How Chrissy came out of her toxic womb to be such a good person, you’d never understand. 

  When Laura crossed into the kitchen, you sprinted for the door, fumbling a little with the knob in your urgency, but once you got it open, you were out, running across the walkway and the fencing around the house until you were in the woods behind it.

  Only then did you feel safe, the trees a welcome reprieve from your living situation, the magnifying glass this new town had you under, and from the world in general.

  You’d come from a small town before Hawkins, so you were used to small town living. But these people were so judgemental. You hadn’t even grabbed a box from the moving van before your neighbors were casting you snide looks, noses turning up and backs to you as they watered their yard and lounged about.

  Four months later, nothing had changed. If anything, they were more open with their disdain for you, commenting on your demeanor (and you were a cool fucking person), outfits, hair, body. It was annoying. They were annoying. EVERYTHING was annoying. 

  You didn’t even want to be there but you had no real choice. You’d graduated high school a couple of years ago and despite the popular teenage notion that you’d simply pack up your things, go to college and be successful at whatever career you wanted, life did not happen like the movies. The freedom you’d been promised by your own delusions never came. That bitch came with a hefty price tag and you weren’t exactly jumping into a safe of gold coins like Scrooge McDuck with your minimum wage job. 

  You’d gotten into several schools of your choice, but scholarships wouldn’t be nearly enough to cover it, and you’d literally have to sell your entire body to science if you wanted to be able to afford the loans you were being offered, since their interest rates were higher than the standard human beings’ lifespan. 

  So, living with the ‘rents was checked off on your list of things you didn’t want to continue doing past your high school graduation. And hey—you were only 19 years-old! You were still young! Just save up a few years, and maybe one day you’d be able to think about taking a loan. You had time. What could possibly go wrong to throw your plans off?

  Your mother was murdered.

  Yeah, that was a bummer. Could’ve been worse, you supposed. You could have died with her, when your home had been broken into, and sometimes you wish you had. Alas, you were still breathing, albeit extremely traumatized. But only good ol’ mom was six feet in the ground, in an entirely different town, because your father had also moved on a mere few months after her death, with the worst woman to leave flaming footprints on the earth’s crust, and they’d eloped after like six dates before moving you to a town where you knew no one.

  Thinking about it actually made you sick and feel a little delusional. 

  The only real good thing about your entire soap opera of a year was the community college you’d been able to enroll in. You had no real idea what you wanted to do in life, had no real drive for career paths, but you were doing something, and that something kept the she-devil that was your stepmother off your back. Most of the time. Some of the time. She couldn’t say you were a deadbeat yet.

  Chrissy, your sweet to a definitive and insensitive fault step-sister had pushed you into going with her for registration. Convinced you it was the perfect way to make some friends. It was hard to say no to Chrissy, she had a way with people and could make the meekest soul feel like they were capable of anything and everything. She could always see the best in people, and she was outgoing. Your time in Hawkins had been brief, but you’d easily gathered Chrissy was popular, a former cheerleader (and she’d successfully tried out for the community college team) and beloved by all. While part of you felt a little jealous at her confidence, you admired her more. She was never intentionally mean to you, either. She made the occasional comment, but it seemed like Chrissy had more so a filter problem, rather than spitting anything out with sugar coated hostility like her mother. Chrissy was...nice. After everything you've been through, you could use a little nice in your life.

  And sometimes nice was also the woods behind your house, as it led to the Hawkins’ Cemetery. 

  Morbid, sure, but you couldn’t help yourself. After a particularly nasty encounter with Laura the first week of your Hawkins sentence, and feeling lonelier than you’d ever felt before, you’d gone for a walk, tears decorating your face with wet trails as you tried to physically hold yourself together, arms wrapped around yourself. 

  You’d arrived at the cemetery, and because you couldn’t pay your mother a visit, you decided the only decent thing to do was visit other lonely souls.

  You’d stopped to pay your respects to just about every tombstone and plaque, but one in particular caught your attention.

  Tucked away in a corner and separate from the other graves, under a weeping willow, was the most damaged tombstone of them all. Parts of it were broken off, a lot of the information pertaining to the individual underneath it was seemingly grated off. You had no idea who it was, the only remaining legible letters were MUN and you figured it was he simply because you’d taken some paper to the tombstone for etching and ran a black crayon over it. You’d been able to make out the word ‘he’ on the paper and deduced it had once read may he rest in peace. 

  The state of his tombstone surprised you, given how recent the date of death was. While his birth date had also been worn away, the year of death—1986–had been left. It was 1989. No way his grave should’ve looked like that.

  Apparently, even the groundskeeper avoided his part of the cemetery. The grass around his grave was overgrown, and pitiful. So, you’d gone home, grabbed the lawn mower, and pushed it all the way over. You’d ended up disgusting, covered in grass, dirt and sweating like a cheater on a Sunday morning, but his grave was looking better. You’d taken to caring for his grave after that. A bunch of your trinkets and things you'd seen that you immediately thought he’d like surrounded him now and you’d even planted some bluebells. 

  He also made surprisingly good conversation, even though he never talked to you. His presence, while mostly imaginary to you, was comforting. 

  So, during any free time you had, you were sat against his tombstone, chatting about your day, life, whatever you wanted. Felt like he was always listening, no matter the subject and it was really lovely to be heard.

  When you arrived at the cemetery, it was practically vacant, with just the red headed girl you normally saw. You didn’t see her all the time, she was just one of the faces you saw the most, and that was only a handful of occasions. For the most part, Hawkins didn’t seem keen on remembering the dead. 

  “Hope you haven’t been lonely without me,” You greeted as you approached his tombstone, ducking under a few low hanging willow branches that still brushed over you anyways. You’d have to ‘borrow’ Laura’s shears soon, the willow tree was hauntingly beautiful around his grave, but you wanted its branches and leaves to frame his grave, not conceal it, “I missed you.”

  It was a little odd, but you did. 

  When you weren’t at his grave, you were thinking about him, trying to put a face to MUN, wondering what his life had been like. Did he have any loved ones? What had his interests been? How had he died? Had he felt as lonely as you did?

  “I know, I know.” You settled onto the grass in front of his tombstone, securing the craft paper to his tombstone with some masking tape, “I was just here last night.” You imagined he would say.

  “I just can’t stay away from you. You have a very intriguing aura: I can’t see it because you’re dead, and that makes me want to know you more.” You pulled a black crayon from your pocket and went about scribbling on the paper, over where you knew MUN would be etched in stone, “I’ve said it a million times, and you’ve probably turned over in your coffin repeatedly because of it, but you’re the only one who understands me. And you’re the only one here that I care about—probably in the whole world actually, except maybe Chrissy but I know her friends think I’m weird, and I don’t want to drag her down with me.”

  Once the letters appeared on the paper, you sprawled out STER and you dropped the crayon to produce a pretty hot pink marker from your pocket instead, signing your name with a little heart to go with it just above the last name you’d crafted for him.

  The odds of this dude being a Munster were slim to none, but you thought it was fitting for someone who lived in a cemetery.

  You sat back on your haunches to admire it, it was a cute piece. Would look nice on your wall and whenever you missed him and found yourself longing to be near his grave, all you’d have to do is turn on your side and you'd be able to see part of him. 

  You ripped the paper off his tombstone, and weighed it down on the grass with a rock. With that out of the way, you gave him your full attention, shuffling until your head and shoulder were leaning against the stone, “Would you wanna be dragged down with me? Be seen with me? I’m somewhat of a pariah around here. Did you have better luck when you were still kicking?”

  You figured with how fucked up his tombstone had been, probably not. You imagined he’d confirm it, too. Just out right say, ‘Nah, these assholes hated me.’

  “Yeah, looks like we’re two peas in a pod.” Then you glanced down, fingers, twirling the blades of grass over his grave, “Or, you know. Casket.”

  You let silence fall over you, broken only by the chirping of birds in surrounding trees.

  “Goddamit, why do you have to be dead?” Your eyelids fluttered close, and instead of the cold stone, you imagined your head pressed against a warm chest, rising and falling with breaths, and a heartbeat thumping strong below your ear, pushing blood throughout his body. Imagined he was alive, arms slipping around you, firm and strong to hold you together so you didn't have to anymore.

  But he wasn’t, and you were reminded when the groundskeeper shouted, “HEY!”

  You shot up, glancing around until you saw him by the entrance with a leaf blower, “YOU AWAKE?”

  What kind of a dumbass question was that? Sure, it had looked like you were asleep but you were clearly alert now.

  “YEAH!” You shrieked back to be heard, and he went back to not caring. 

  “He can see me leaning against your tombstone, but he can’t see overgrown grass, weeds, rocks, or your grave in general when I’m not here. Men, always so selective, amirite?”

  You glanced at the stone, half expecting it to respond. “Eh, what do you know, you’re just a man, too.” You reached your arm back, knuckles trailing over MUN.

  “Despite you mouthing off to me most of the time, I brought you something.” You reached into your other pocket and pulled out a necklace, lined with black pearls and a cross pendant. It had been your mother’s. While she had a pension for religion, it wasn’t something you thought about. Dying, sure, but whatever afterlife? Not so much. Felt wrong, sometimes, to carry it around with you—felt like you were disrespecting her a little bit to not believe what she did, even though she had no qualms with it when she was alive. So, you figured why not trust it with the other important person in your life?

  “Pretty, huh? It was my mom’s. She’s dead, like you. You wouldn’t happen to have seen her around, would you?” You joked, fingers stroking over the pearls. There was no risk in leaving them with your dead friend, people avoided him and you had a feeling even grave robbers wouldn’t dare step near the willow, so they’d probably be with him for the rest of eternity, “I want you to have them, take care of them for me.”

  You placed the necklace over the peak of his tombstone, smiling when they didn’t fall from their place, “Mm, you look good in them. Better than I do, I’m not big on pearls. More of a silver jewelry kind of girl. I could do gold and diamonds, though, only for a wedding ring.”

  You held your arm out, admiring your ring hand void of any actual rings, “Nothing too gaudy, of course. That’s what my earrings are for.” 

  Your eyes trailed from your outstretched fingers, to your wrist, and the watch decorating it. The time made you heave a heavy sigh, “I gotta go. Chrissy’s dragging me to a party tonight, so I’ve got to mentally prepare for that. You’ll think of me while I’m away, won’t you?”

  Trailing a finger down the stone, you leaned forward to press your lips to it in a sweet kiss. 

  “I’ll be back soon, and this time I won’t forget my book of sonnets. I know how much you love the cynical poems I force on you.”

  And though you announced your departure, you found it hard to leave him, like you always did. It took all you had to gather your crayon, marker, and your new poster (and you kept dropping all three to have an excuse to linger) and leave the cemetery behind, glancing back impulsively every couple of steps until it was no longer in view, and the moment it wasn’t you wanted to drop everything and run back to him.

  You had to remind yourself he was a stranger, who didn’t care for you, rotting in the ground. And it sucked. 

  “I don’t wanna go.” You announced, staring into the bathroom mirror you shared with Chrissy. You’d just finished your makeup, eyes heavily lined, and lashes coated an electric blue that made your eyes pop. You were always a little heavy handed with your makeup, you figured the whole point of it was to use it as you wanted. Your hair had been manipulated to hell and back, but regardless of what you did, you were unsatisfied with the girl staring back at you, “I’ll just stay home.”

  “Not on my watch!” Chrissy declared, reaching in front of you for her pink lipstick. The bathroom counter was littered with your combined beauty products, “This is the first major rager of the year, the perfect social gathering. You need to meet people, sissy.” 

  You scowled at the idea, “I have met people.”

  Chrissy tubed the lipstick bullet, rubbing her lips together as she gave you a concerned side-eye, “People who like you, sissy.”

  Ouch, there’s that brutal honesty.

  “It’s not good for you to be on your own all the time,” She set the lipstick down so she could place a dainty hand on your shoulder, big blue eyes focused on you, “I worry about you. Daddy and mom worry about you. Your doctor worries about you. You need to get out more.” Chrissy stressed, pink lips pulling into a reassuring smile before she went back to focusing on the mirror and her makeup.

  You let out a heavy sigh, mulling her words over. Definitely could have been phrased better, but Chrissy was right. You were currently the town recluse, and occupying your room and the town cemetery wouldn’t change that. 

  “That blush isn’t the right shade for you, sissy.” Chrissy broke you from your thoughts and your eyes drifted back over to your reflection, the girl looking so unsure and right back at you, “You really have to accentuate your features, compliment them, because you’re already beautiful.” 

  Didn’t feel like it.

  Your expression must have given your inner thoughts away because Chrissy turned to you again, practically bouncing, “Wait a minute, you could use my tanning bed!”

  You deadpanned at the mention of the ridiculous full on salon tanning bed that Chrissy owned. There was a dedicated mini garage in the backyard for it, next to the pool, and complete with neon lights, her beauty pageant trophies and sashes as well as her cheer trophies. The PG&E bill was always through the roof for the Tan Shack alone, and you still had no idea how Laura could afford it.

  “No, Chrissy I-I don’t think that would work on me. At all.”

  Chrissy waved off your concerns, “It’s not about the tan, or even if you can tan. It’s the experience. When I lay in that tanning bed, with those little goggles on my eyes and I can hear the buzzing, I feel myself blooming. Regardless of whether or not my skin actually tans,” It didn’t. Chrissy burned but she somehow still looked good, “I feel amazing about myself.”

  “Are you sure that’s not cancer?”

  “You’re so funny!” Chrissy laughed even though you were being serious, “Sissy, every girl deserves to feel beautiful. If I can provide you with an experience that might raise those confidence levels that are dragging across a nail-covered floor right now, why wouldn’t I?”

  Your eyebrows furrowed, trying to decipher if that was a compliment or not, but you didn’t have long to mull it over before Chrissy was framing your face with her hands. 

  “And I can. Please, let me do this.”

  You groaned, long and drawn out and awkward, before squeezing your eyes shut and slowly nodding your head. She squealed, clapped her hands together and dragged you out of the bathroom.

  After explaining how it all worked, Chrissy bid you a cheerful goodbye and left you to your own devices so she could finish getting ready for the night ahead of you both.

  You’d selected your tan level, positive you wouldn’t see any real results but maybe the ‘experience’ would benefit you and shed your fuzzy slippers and robe, leaving you in some boy shorts and a tank top as you tried to settle yourself in the tanning bed. The dip was awkward, and you couldn’t get a good grasp on the top of the tanning bed since it was meant to only open and close rather than stay in position so grasping onto it for balance as you lowered yourself in led to you conking yourself on the head with a noticeable bonk.

  You hissed in pain, rubbing the sore area as you clambered the rest to the way in. Once you’d stretched your legs out, lowered the top, maneuvered the goggles over your face and waited for the magic to happen as you were surrounded by neon blue lights.

  You heard the buzzing as the tanning bed started up. The magic happened alright. The entire tanning bed shocked you, and you shrieked as you felt the intense electric current ripple throughout your body, sparking every single pore in the worst way possible.

“I’m so sorry you got electrocuted, sissy.”

  Chrissy broke the silence as you sulked in the passenger seat, your hair a little bigger than normal and not a result of styling. After getting all five senses shocked out of you, you’d come out with a hairdo that would not usually be up to par with you, and some serious case of static electricity. You’d tried to gently press your hair down and when you saw a literal spark in it, you decided to just leave it alone.

  Your step-sister had been apologizing since.

  “It’s alright. I survived.” And you wanted to forget about it. 

  You could see Chrissy glancing nervously at you from the corner of your eye as she drove you to the party location.

  “So…how are you liking Hawkins Community, so far?” She asked, thankfully changing the subject. 

  “It’s fine. The campus looks relatively the same as the community college I toured in my old town. Classes are decent.” Pitiful. The classes were so boring and straight out of the book, but it cost you a fraction of a fraction of what you’d have to pay to attend a university. 

  Chrissy lips turned up in a mischievous smile and you internally groaned, fully expecting her next question.

  “See any cute boys?” And then, as an afterthought, “Or…girls?” Then she took her eyes off the road again, squinting at you as if she was trying to assess something, “Or…..anyone?” 

  You betrayed yourself, eyes darting to the window before they were back on her and she perked up in the driver’s seat. 

  “Okay, spill.”

  Your heart started thumping wildly in your chest as one particular guy came to mind, but you hadn’t thought about him too much. Hadn’t allowed yourself to entertain the idea of a romance with him. That’s how people got their hopes up and letdown.

  “Sissy! Sissy, come on. You have to tell me. I’m your only friend!” 

  This time, you could tell she was joking, even though she did have merit. You bit your lip as she ribbed you a bit more, the corners of your lips tugging up into a smile. 

  “Okay, okay!” Your hands flew to cover your face, embarrassed, shy and a little giddy all at once to actually be admitting you had a crush. 

  “Steve Harrington.”

  “STEVE HARRINGTON?” She repeated, incredulous and you shushed her even though it was only you two in the car.

  “Sissy, that’s so unexpected! I haven’t really seen him since high school but I didn’t think he’d be your type.” Chrissy admitted with a shrug of her shoulders.

  “He works in the library.” You sighed out, recalling your brief interactions with him when checking out a couple of books. He’d been kind, made a couple of humorous comments about the titles, and always tried to meet your avoidant gaze, which meant he was being nice to you. Coaxing you out of your shell. You actually didn't have much trouble interacting with people, you were more abrasive than you ever were shy, Steve was just a little too easy on the eyes. Made you forget how to talk, and on occasion, walk. It was embarrassing, “Always makes those cute displays with recommendations.”

  “Good for him,” She commented, sounding impressed. “I didn’t really know he was intellectual. Wasn’t, the last I heard. Had a big reputation in high school, seemed kind of mean and everyone called him King Steve.”

  You frowned, feeling the need to protect him, “Didn’t they call you the Queen of Hawkins High?”

  “Yeah, but only to make me seem pretentious.” 

  You raised your eyebrows, glancing away. Chrissy was kind, but sometimes, she could be pretentious.

  “And anyways, I’m not a student at Hawkins High anymore, so they can’t call me that. Maybe Steve really did change. Come to think of it, I haven’t heard much about him since he struck out with a series of girls. Maybe he took a good look at himself and decided a change was needed.” You could feel her eyes on you again. 

  “Does he flirt with you?”

  “No.”

  “See him flirt with any girls?”

  “Nope.”

  “Does he still make his hair all big and poofy?”

  “Looks more voluminous than poofy.”

  Chrissy hummed, “An improvement. Is he all beret wearing and drinking coffee now?”

  You tried to recall ever seeing him in a hat, let alone a beret, “No, I don’t think so. If anything, he’s introspective.”

  “He’s on the spectrum?”

  Your smile waned when you realized she was asking a legitimate question, “Oh. No. That’s—that’s not what that means. I just meant he’s thinking about what he does; how he acts, how he behaves.”

  It got quiet for a few moments.

  ”Well,” Chrissy broke the silence once more, “He might be there tonight. I’m not sure if they’re still friends, but Tommy Hagan is hosting tonight, and once upon a time, they were inseparable.”

  You made a sound of acknowledgment, upper lip twitching in disgust. You knew Tommy, saw him around campus. He was a big jerk, you’d witnessed him throw some guy’s backpack in the trash and pour his drink on it. You wish you’d known it was his party you were going to in advance. Tommy was a nasty piece of work, so his friend group was the same. Out of all of them, though, Carol got on your nerves the most. 

  She didn’t pay you a whole lot of attention, but when you were walking in with Chrissy—and this is Chrissy, so she acknowledged everyone—and she said hi, Carol would just look you up and down before pursing her big mouth like she’d sucked on something sour. One day, you’d like to give her your fist to suck on.

  ”Patrick McKinney is bringing three kegs and I heard Reefer Rick is bringing his whole inventory.”

  “Reefer Rick?”

  “Yeah, he’s the local drug dealer now. I mean, he’s always been but he used to have somebody sell for him while he supplied, but he died.”

  Your eyes widened while your pupils dilated, mind conjuring up some image of a poor dude being murdered for drugs and then the supplier just taking over, not fearful at all of meeting the same fate, “He died?”

  Chrissy nodded her head, looking thoughtful, “Yeah, Eddie Munson.”

  Munson.

  You sat up in your seat, fully alert and invested in the conversation now, “Eddie Munson? Is he buried under the willow tree in the cemetery?”

  You stared at Chrissy, willing her to think faster as she squinted and pursed her lips, “I think Tina mentioned something about someone peeing on a tree over there, so I think so.”

  Your mouth dropped open, expression utterly horrified that someone could do that, “That’s beastly, what the fuck?”

  “I know,” Chrissy sighed with a shake of her head. “I didn't know him all that much, bought some weed off of him a couple of times and he seemed a little scary—appearance and mannerism wise—but he seemed nice when you had to interact with him. He didn’t deserve that.”

  “How did he die?” You asked, voice small and heart shrinking. You didn’t like where this was going. Didn’t like it one bit.

  “Well, the official determination, if I remember right, was like a drug deal gone bad or something, but no one really believes it. He was known to have weed on him, kept the harder stuff somewhere else. Everyone knows he was murdered. They did a number on him, it was all everyone could talk about because Sydney Porter couldn’t even get her dad—he worked at the station—to show her pictures. He told her they messed Eddie up bad. People here really didn’t like him. No one knows who did it though.”

  You sunk back into your seat, mind troubled and stomach turning. This whole time, you'd been tending to and caring for the grave of a murdered guy, taken from this world simply because people didn’t like him. He must have been so lonely. So scared. And they killed him.

  Chrissy was wrong. People in this town knew who killed him, because one of them, or some of them, had to have been his murderers.

  Your fingers curled into tight fists, painted nails digging into the flesh of your palms. Chrissy noticed the change in your demeanor.

  “Oh, sissy. You’re such an empath. Don’t be so sad, I know it’s a horrible story, but he’s resting now. In peace.”

  “No, he’s not. They fucked up his tombstone. He can’t even be dead in peace.” You huffed, furious on his behalf.

  “How do you know?” Chrissy asked, raising a perfectly plucked eyebrow. 

  “I go there a lot, it’s nice. Quiet. A little creepy, but that adds to its charm, makes it relatively peaceful. I’ve been visiting all the graves, but I was drawn to him the most. Etched his tombstone. He’s my favorite.”

  Despite the horrors you’d learned, the thought of Mun—Eddie, still brought a wistful smile to your lips. Maybe your presence was enough to settle him, bring him a little bit of peace this town and the people in it refused to give him.

  “H-He’s your favorite…?”

  “Yeah. I feel this….connection with him. From the very first time I visited. Now, I leave him gifts, flowers, pretty stones, poems I wrote, a book of sonnets I stole from the library.”

  “You….should talk to your doctor about this, Sissy. That’s really weird. That’s really weird, sissy.”

  You fought to not roll your eyes. As much as you cared about Chrissy, and knew she cared about you, she didn’t understand you. 

  “Well, since people ruined his grave, I thought it might be nice to clean it up and make sure he’s not forgotten.” You snapped, “It’s not like I call him my boyfriend or anything.”

  Chrissy eyed you skeptically, “Well, then that’s nice of you, I guess. Just don’t go around telling everybody about that, or you’ll be known as the Ghost Whisperer.”

  “He hasn’t talked back to me yet.”

  Chrissy laughed, and freed one hand off the wheel to lightly slap your arm, “See, now that’s funny. If you do tell anyone, end it with that joke. You’ll be a riot.”

  You smirked, staring out the front windshield. You’d let her think it was a joke. For now.

  You made a sound of displeasure as Chrissy pulled into a clear space on the grass and parked. She jumped out to dance over to her friends, some wine coolers cradled in a plastic bag she clutched.

  You allowed yourself a full minute to stew in your misery before getting out of the car and following after her. As you neared her group, you quickly realized that was a bad idea. 

  “Oh my GOD! Vickie, you fixed your teeth! They look so good. I wasn’t gonna say anything because I thought you were happy with the overcrowding, but now that you fixed it, I can’t look away!”

  Yeesh. You beelined away from them and wandered around the crowded front lawn, dodging rowdy friend groups and couples until you spotted a cooler.

  Maybe a drink would calm you down.

  You squatted down and popped the lid, digging around the ice but all you spotted were Pepsi and Squirt cans.

  “The liquid fun is inside.” A guy’s voice came from behind you and you rolled your eyes. You were so not in the mood to be hit on right now. 

  “What?” You asked, tone bored, but you didn’t want to make him seem helpful so you grabbed a Squirt.

  “Alcohol. He keeps it inside.”

  You slammed the cooler shut and popped the tab of the can, rising to your feet, “Yeah, I figured that mu—shhhh.”

  Oh, shit. 

  Steve Harrington was standing before you, eyes alight with mirth as he smirked down at you.

  You swallowed hard, hoping to god your tongue hadn’t gone down with the movement. See? Here you went getting all stupid around him.

  ”Funny seeing you here.”

  You laughed nervously, “Yeah. I—uh, mhm.” You forced yourself to take a drink of your soda to keep from making an even bigger fool of yourself.

  “Sorry if it’s weird of me to just walk up to you. I was chilling on the side of the house and thought I saw you, but I’m a little nearsighted and I didn’t bring my glasses.”

  You pulled the can away from your mouth as your brain registered the lack of metal frames on the bridge of his nose. He looked handsome with and without them, that wasn’t fair. It was still throwing you off. 

  “It’s—It’s okay. Uhm, no harm done.” You shrugged your shoulders, hoping it looked cool and not as stiff as you felt. You even added in a smile with some teeth for a little razzle dazzle.

  “I actually came over here to tell you your books are significantly overdue.” Steve deadpanned, tongue playing with his canine tooth as he scrutinized you and you shrunk, smile falling from your face. You had got to get better at following up on your due dates.

  “Oh.”

  He scoffed, face breaking out into a grin as his shoulders shook with his chuckles “I’m kidding.”

  OH, THANK FUCK. 

  “Oh,” And then, because every god probably hates you, you started snorting with laughter. You cut that shit quick, clearing your throat as you took another sip of your beverage.

  “So,” Steve took a step closer to you, “Are you enjoying─”

  “Hey!” Carol stepped right up to Steve, practically leaning all over him as her ruby red lips spread into a seductive smile, eyes lidded and no doubt a few drinks in with a drink for Steve in her hand. For the billionth time that night, you rolled your eyes, trying not to gag at how desperate she was. You knew Tommy had recently dumped her, the entire town knew and now she was clearly trying to get into Steve’s pants, “I found the keg.”

  She could eat shit, his pants were yours.

  “Oh, Thank you.” Came Steve’s bleak reply and part of you thought he might have actually wanted to talk to just you. Now, you were really annoyed she’d interrupted.

  “Hey, Carol.”

  Carol looked surprised that you’d even dare speak to her, raising her eyebrows, “Hey. Hi— sorry, how do we know each other?”

  “You’re my lab partner.” You were unimpressed, you expected her to be a better mean girl. 

  “Yay me.” The smile she directed at you was anything but friendly, reminding you of the one Laura would make after you did something in public she didn’t like, but she couldn’t yell at you until you were home. Carol swirled the liquid in her cup around, head tilting as she offered it to you, “You wanna sip, partner?”

  “Carol.” Steve warned and she tutted, flicking her wrist.

  “You’re right, I don’t know why I assumed she partied.”

  “I’ll take a beer,” You could handle alcohol, had cleared your mother’s wine cabinet after she was murdered, so this would be no big deal.

  Carol looked annoyed but handed you the cup, and to make sure you wouldn’t gag and vomit, you threw it back, throat opening as you swallowed the liquid as fast as you could to refuse it as much time on your taste buds as possible.

  When you lowered the cup, you realized you’d made a mistake and glanced into it at the small amount left behind, watching as the ground in your peripheral view began to shift.

  Steve seemed to realize something was wrong, quickly taking your cup and ingesting what was left. His suspicions were confirmed and he spat it out on the grass before scowling at Carol, “PCP? Really, Carol? What the fuck is wrong with you? Why the hell would you give that to her!?”

  “Oopsie.”

  But it was too late for you. You dropped the soda can in your other hand and lifted your hands to your face, watching the lines around your palms and fingers begin to move, swirling around and you backed away from them, watching as everything around you began to come undone.

  “Hey!” You heard a voice next to you and someone started rubbing your back, you hadn’t even realized you were crouching. You craned your head up to see Chrissy and you frowned. Her voice was so different, distorted. She sounded more like your dad than Chrissy. 

  Her face was both far away and right in front of you, you reached a hand out to test the theory, see if it really was close. Chrissy caught your wrist, frowning at the state you were falling into.

  Chrissy started asking you questions, about what you’d taken, what you drank but her voice was too loud for you, and the purple behind her head was distracting. Still, you nodded your head.

  At your confirmation, Chrissy’s frown intensified and she helped you to the ground before darting over to chew Steve and Carol out.

  You couldn’t stay on the grass for long, the blades of it stabbing you and sending pain shooting up your palms and into your bones so you crawled some distance away before you managed to push yourself up and stumble towards the house. It was hard.

  Everything was moving. You heard a loud sound and glanced around wildly until you were staring up at the sky, mouth dropping open to see green clouds and lightning. 

  You had to get away, the need to escape, be safe was urgent but it felt like the closer you got to the front door, the farther away it went. Your breathing was heavy and panicked as you kept stumbling forward, arm outstretched and finally you reached it.

  You yanked it open and nearly fell inside, tripping over your feet until you hit the back of the couch and used it to sink to the floor.

  You heard your name being called and lifted your head, eyes crazed as you tried to find the source. Fred Benson approached you, the skinny boy squatting to be eye level with you.

  “You okay?” He asked and you reached forward, grasping his face in your hand and squeezing to make sure he was a real person.

  “You.” Was all you said, booping his nose but still suspicious of him. Was he real?

  “Uh, yeah. It’s me. It’s Fred, we sit next to each other in ASL class.”

  He looked like Fred. You still didn’t believe he was human, squinting as your hands grasped at the back of the couch.

  “You don’t look so good,” Fred pushed the frame of his glasses up his nose, brows furrowed in concern, “Let's find somewhere for you to sit down for a minute. Or maybe a while. Man, what did you drink?”

  He stood up, offering you a hand and you took it but didn’t pull yourself up. Fred heaved with all his might and managed to get you on your feet but he realized just walking you wouldn’t be enough, and so did you because you draped yourself over him, one arm over his scrawny shoulders.

  Fred cursed under his breath but held your weight, leading you out of the populated living room and you watched a couple furiously make out on the couch cushions as you passed.

  “I hate parties. I don’t know why I came—well, actually I do. I never got invited to these in high school, so I guess I’m living out my fantasy now. In all honesty, I’d much rather be watching Weird Science. So far tonight, I’ve seen three cheerleaders throw up and a baby being conceived.”

  “Uh huh,” Was all you could get out, watching people swirl past you like shooting stars.

  “Would you count that as escaping the teen pregnancy statistic? I know they’re out of high school, but we’re all still pretty young.” He commented as he led you up the stairs. You tripped several times and almost sent him flying down them but the two of you managed to make it. 

  Fred was heaving by the time you'd shouldered him into the hallway wall, his face and hands clammy.

  ”Good god, how did I pass P.E.?” The two of you paused there until he regained his breath while you plastered yourself against the wall, cheek pressed to it and hands stroking over the wallpaper. Eventually, Fred peeled you off of it and kept moving until he could find a place to put you.

  “You like movies right? Got any favorite directors? Or favorite films?”

  “Wall.”

  “Huh? Oh, you’re just admiring the wallpaper.”

  “Great Wall of China.”

  Fred positioned you against the wall, looking a little annoyed. You didn’t care, could only focus on the framed photo of the Great Wall of China directly across from you.

  “Oh.” Was all he said when he spotted it. “Stay right here.”

  Then he disappeared and you watched as the painting came to life, and the stones of the wall began moving, rippling. You didn’t even know stones could move like that but now it made so much more sense. 

  Fred appeared again, tugging you along into an empty room. You spotted a trash can and nearly threw Fred into the bedroom wall as you dove for it, retching everything out of your stomach. You could hear Fred gagging, but he was decent enough to make sure your hair stayed out of your way. When you were done, he helped sit you up on the bed, and nearly collapsed next to you.

  ”We did it,” he cheered with no real gusto. And you sat there, still feeling the earth orbiting. It was the most odd sensation, you could feel a spot on your brain pulsing, like a migraine but it felt so euphoric to close your eyes.

  “Here,” They snapped right back open and you glanced to your side to see Fred offering you a handkerchief. Of course Fred Benson carried around a handkerchief. How amusing. 

  “Thank you,” You gave the three versions of him you could see right then a smile and used the handkerchief to wipe your mouth, eyelids fluttering close just as the sound of thunder filled the room, and a flashing of lightning accompanied it.

  “Huh, a rainless thunderstorm, looks like the angels are bowling.” You heard him muse next to you.

  And it brought another smile to your face, “My mom used to say that.”

  At the mention of her, your brain conjured up all the happy feelings and memories of her, huddled on your couch, in your old home watching black and white horror films. They didn’t scare her, so she could tolerate them. You missed her. She made you feel so light, so seen, so—no.

  Something was wrong. Something felt very, very wrong.

  Your smile faded and you felt your belly sink as you opened your eyes.

  “Does that feel good?”

  You didn’t want to, but you looked down to see Fred’s hand on your breast. Your breathing picked up and Fred let go of you to grab your wrist and force you to touch his crotch, “Well don’t just sit there, help me out. Finish what you started.” 

  Anger filled you and you yanked your hand away, “No.”

  Fred opened his mouth as you got up, rushing away from him and stumbling back out the way you remembered while he yelled at you.

  You had to get out, had to get away. Had to be safe, feel safe. You banged against walls as you went, desperate to get out of the house, away from Fred, from everyone, and to safety. That was your only concern as the drug really hit you.

  All you could remember was seeing colors, hearing and feeling the wind against your sweaty skin, leaves blowing with it and gusting around you.

  You had no idea how you escaped the mad house, how long you’d even been walking or how you actually got there, but you found yourself in front of the cemetery, a flash of lightning illuminating the gate.

  To anyone else, a cemetery would have been the worst place to find themselves on a night like this, but you’d already been to hell so you trudged forward, feet taking you to him. Even in your drugged state, you were able to find your way to Eddie. Always would be.

  Your knees dug into the grass as you collapsed in front of his tombstone, fingers reaching forward to trace over MUN and 1986 before your body curled around the large stone, hugging yourself to it. Electric blue tears slipped down your cheeks, staining them with your mascara.

  “I wish I was with you.” You whispered, hating everything, hating this town, hating the people, hating Fred Benson, hating Carol, hating Laura Cunningham, hating how your mom wasn’t alive, hating how the one person you’d unknowingly sought for comfort was someone you’d never met before who was six feet under the ground. And you hated how you weren’t down there.

  You laid there, hugging his tombstone for hours under the thunder and lightning as the PCP slowly left your system.

  When you were able to stand up on your own, you gave the tombstone another kiss, rested your forehead against it and quietly thanked him for helping you find your way home before you left, following the path you’d made during all of your visits.

  The house was quiet when you got in, and Chrissy’s car hadn’t been parked in the driveway when you’d walked up so you figured she was still at the party. Sluggishly, you made your way up the stairs, falling into your shared bathroom. Your hand searched the wall, struggling to find the switch. Once your fingertips made contact with it, you flipped it and squinted as the room was flooded with the warm light. It was still too much for your eyes but you kept it on and walked towards the mirror

  The girl looking back at you was not the same one you’d last seen in it. This girl had blue smudged all around her eyes, faint trails of it over her cheeks and a rats nest for hair. Her eyes burned, not from the light, but from a fury within. 

  She was stuck in a life she didn’t want to live and couldn’t do anything about. As a large strike of lightning flashed from the window positioned at the back of the bathroom, towards the back of the house, you decided to put her out of her misery, picking up a blow dryer and smashing it against your reflection with a yell.

  You stood there, chest heaving as you stared at the broken reflection. Then you tossed the blow dryer onto the counter, and went to bed.

  Your dreams were much more pleasant than your reality, eyelids fluttering open to the ceiling of your old bedroom. A glance to your side confirmed your mother’s photo was at your bedside, next to your alarm clock on your old bedside table.

  “Well?” Her photo asked, shooting you that gorgeous smile of hers, “What are you waiting for? Go get him.”

  Your confusion was momentary, your mother raised her chin in a direction and you knew what would happen, you were giddy for it as you looked down to see yourself wrapped in the most beautiful wedding gown you’d ever seen.

  You rose from the bed into a sitting position, picking up the bouquet on the pillow next to you. Your dresser mirror was directly across from your bed and you took a moment to admire the beautiful girl staring back at you. Where you last remember seeing trails of tears were diamonds, glittering against your skin. Her eyes sparkled with a joy you’d never known. You bid her one last smile as you turned your head to the figure sitting on the edge of your bed, dark curls cascading down his neck, past broad shoulders with his back to you. 

  His right arm was out, palm up.

  He was waiting for you.

  You shifted until you were on the edge of your bed next to him, staring straight forward just as he was.

  Without looking, you knew exactly where his hand was, and you placed your left one over it, feeling the warmth of his skin against yours. Slowly, the two of you leaned towards each other, until your head was on his shoulder and his cheek was pressed against the top of your head, his fingers curling around your hand to ground you. You sighed, all the tension and weight of the world leaving you.

  “Sissy. . .”

  “Sissy…”

  “SISSY!”

  You groaned as Chrissy shook you awake, eyes prying through all the mascara that had crusted over your eyes. It took a couple of blinks until you regained your clear vision, gaze locking on Chrissy leaning over you. Her face was clean of any makeup, skin glowing and hair wrapped up in rollers.

  She’d gotten home later than you and had still been able to look perfect. 

  What the hell?

  “You better get up, sissy. My mom’s losing it over the bathroom mirror.”

  You were confused for a second until you remembered smashing it with a blow dryer last night—or this morning. Well, it definitely would have broken at the sight of you now, anyways. 

  You frowned but made no move to get up so Chrissy tugged your blanket off of you, giggling when the both of you realized you had your hand in your underwear. Hastily, you yanked it out, and threw the blankets back over yourself.

  “It’s okay, Sissy. Everyone does it. It’s natural.”

  “Oh my god…”

  “So, what happened last night to bring this on?” She wiggled her eyebrows and you stared at her for a second. Part of you wanted to yell at her, berate her for letting you stumble around while high on a drug you’d never taken before, the other half knew in Chrissy’s World, it was all rainbows and sunshine—at least, it had been since she’d forced her mother to respect her boundaries. Chrissy didn’t expect the worst in anyone, didn't expect anyone to take advantage of you and certainly didn't expect you to wind up walking to the cemetery and then home on a bad trip. No, in Chrissy’s World, you’d probably spent the night flirting with someone, probably Steve, maybe fooled around in his car before he drove you home.

  You didn’t see it necessary to shatter her world so you groaned instead, the full force of your migraine hitting you now that you were out of sleep’s clutches, and covered your hands with your face.

  “Ooh, your knees…”

  You glanced down to see what she was staring at and sure enough, your knees were scratched up from kneeling at Eddie’s grave, but in Chrissy’s World…

  “I fell.” Was the only excuse you could come up with and Chrissy smirked.

  “Me, too.” Her eyelid dropped in a wink just as Laura yelled upstairs for you, so, begrudgingly, you wrapped yourself in your robe and headed downstairs to receive your punishment.

  Just as you suspected, Laura had attacked you with allegations—that were true for once, you had smashed the bathroom mirror—and your dad looked like he could care less.

  “You know,” She stated, fixing you with those unnaturally blue eyes of hers, “Your dad wanted to give you the benefit of the doubt. See the good in you, but I knew. I’m an Intuitive Person, you know. An IP. They’ve got seminars for people like me.”

  Your mind flashed to How to Handle a Narcissist. 

  “Laura…” Your dad warned and Laura inhaled sharply, displeased that your dad was sticking up for you. For once. 

  “Did you know there was a tornado last night? It hailed. Wind blew the fence over. The yard is covered in debris, and now I have to focus on repairing the bathroom, too. I don’t think that’s fair.” She huffed and Chrissy spoke up from her place on the couch.

  “It was a tornado watch, mom. Not a real tornado.”

  “Actually, Chris, the weather was downright crazy last night. I mean, it was really something, I saw green lightning. Big balls of it in the sky.”

  You and Chrissy shared secret smiles at hearing your dad talk about big balls.

  “Love muffin, could you swap out being a weatherman for being a father, right now?” Laura gritted out through her chemically whitened teeth.

  “It’s a Meteorologist,” You mumbled and her head snapped over to glare at you before she was speaking to your father again.

  “Honey, your daughter is a vandal. She’s got a taste for vandalism, and she is deliberately vandalizing and destroying property. First, it was my collection of Precious Moments figurines─”

  “That was an accident, you didn’t wrap them in bubble wrap and I dropped the box when I tripped over the front steps.”

  “Mother,” Chrissy chided, hands crossing over her robe. “Be. Nice.”

  “I am being nice,” Laura hissed, glare never leaving you, “But I refuse to coddle her. She’s headed straight to the nut house with this behavior.”

  You frowned, wiping away some of the dried mascara under your eye, “Can you say that if you’re a Psych Nurse?”

  Laura had the decency to look embarrassed before whacking your father’s arm. He sighed, putting his newspaper down, “Sweetheart─”

  You clocked the twitch in Laura’s eyelid at the affectionate name your father used to refer to you.

  “─You’re gonna clean your bathroom, alright? Sweep up all that glass.”

  ”And?” Laura pushed, still staring at you.

  “And…..um. Pay for the mirror, I guess.” Laura turned her nose up, hurmphing. 

  “That’s fine, can I get ready for work now?”

  Your dad nodded and Laura looked like she wanted to protest but you turned your back to her and made your way upstairs, hesitating at the top when your fathered turned the volume of the TV back on and you heard the news reporter reporting from the cemetery, talking about a grave, under a tree, that had been struck by lightning. 

  You wondered if it had been Eddie’s. There’s no way you’d be able to check today, you’d get home from work too late, so you’d have to check tomorrow.

  You tried to stay busy during your shift at the local tailor’s. You didn’t really have a passion for it, but you were relatively good with a needle and thread. With the magnifier headlamp, you were practically unstoppable, altering coats, dresses, blouses, shirts, all with minimal finger injuries—though luminol on some of these clothing items would no doubt reveal traces of your blood.

  But hey—you now knew what it meant to work so hard you put your blood into something and you always had band-aids on you, in case anyone needed one.

  You were so invested in your work, you hadn’t heard the bell above the door chime when it was pushed open, and didn’t notice Steve leaning against the counter, watching you work until he cleared his throat.

  You jumped, head swinging around to see your crush smiling at you and you raised the magnifying glass portion of the head lamp off your face, feeling embarrassed that he’d seen you with the headgear on in the first place.

  “Hey! I didn’t know you worked here.”

  You let out some nervous laughter, mind racing for ways to make this seem cool but you came up short. “Yeah, I—employed.”

  “I can see that,” He chuckled, amused by your lack of verbal sparring.

  You didn’t know what to say after that so you stared, fingers twisting and pulling the thread you’d been working with, desperate for him to say something or get out.

  “Oh! Uh, I heard you guys also get rid of stains? I’ve got this one on my pan─”

  “THAT WE DO!” 

  You sighed, eyes slipping shut as your moron of a boss came bursting out of the office.

  “What can we do for you, Harrington?” Murray asked, leaning against the counter, causing Steve to lean back, smile now less than thrilled.

  “Murray…I forgot you worked here.” Steve said it in a voice that made you think he would have avoided the shop had he known who it was that was currently in charge of running it.

  “Yup, got me this sweet little gig. And no radios.” He gestured around to the shop, void of any technology save for the cash register—and he made sure it was never him operating it, “Would like to see the government try to control me now.”

  “Right, I just came here to drop off my pants, spilled something on—well, it doesn’t really matter, I just spilled something on them.” Steve placed the folded pair of pants on the counter and Murray immediately unfolded them, searching through the fabric until he found the stain by his crotch. To both your horror and Steve’s, he lifted the strained fabric to his nose, sniffing deep.

  “Mm. White wine?”

  It took Steve a moment to find his voice and close his jaw, “Crush. The soda.”

  “Same thing. We’ll get this right out, my man.”

  You and Steve shared one more look of disbelief before he slowly backed away, the bell above the door sounding as he left.

  “He’s a nice guy,” Murray commented and you shrugged your shoulders, wanting this conversation to be over, “I’m surprised you know him, little loser.”

  You shot him a glare.

  “Oh, c’mon, lets not pretend you’ve got an active social life—if I call you in for a shift, you’re available. Nothing wrong with being a loser. I was one throughout high school and look at me now. Who got the last laugh?”

  You were positive the look of pain on your face should have told Murray that anyone other than him got the last laugh. He was a forty something year old, afraid of technology, convinced the government was watching him, who tried to befriend teenagers. 

  You’d have to kill yourself if you were anything like him.

  When he disappeared back into the office, because of course you’d have to get rid of that stain for Steve, you snatched the pair of pants off the counter. Glancing around to make sure there weren’t any eyes on you, you pressed them to the side of your face, imagining yourself hugging Steve instead of the pants. They smelled like him. It was bliss.

  Then your eyes snapped open.

  Oh, god. You were a loser.

  After your shift, you’d gone straight home. Normally, you’d stop to grab a bite or something, you still had to pay for the mirror you broke so fast food was off the table for a couple of weeks, but on your dining room table when you walked into the house.

  A pizza box. Your stomach growled as you imagined the slice of cheese waiting for you.

  “Is there any left?” You asked, already making a beeline for it.

  “Should be a slice left,” Your dad mused and as you tossed the top of it open, all you wanted to do was maybe beat him with it.

  There, on the parchment liner of the pizza box, was the skinniest and tiniest slice of pizza to ever be cut. Not even the width of two of your fingers.

  “Want me to order another one, sweetheart?” Your dad asked and Laura immediately inserted herself into the conversation. 

  “She can eat it, love muffin. Besides, we’ve got vegetables in the fridge if she’s still not full.”

  “I said we should have ordered two, but my mom had a coupon she wanted to use.” Chrissy didn’t sound impressed.

  “Yes, we got a free soda!”

  Chrissy ignored her mom, “Sissy, we’re going to the movies! You could get something there, they sell pizza and nachos, right?”

  You knew she was trying to find a solution for you, but your bullshit meter for the day had already been capped. You didn’t want movie theater pizza or concessions, you wanted a  reasonable slice of this pizza, not some scrap your step-mother had saved you. It was obvious she was implying that she, your dad and Chrissy were the perfect sized family and you were simply an afterthought. Unwelcome.

  “Yeah, I’m passing on the movie.”

  Before you could stomp upstairs, Chrissy caught your hand.

  “Sissy, please? We’ve got to bond as a family, it’s crucial. If it takes two, how can I do it as one?” She pulled you into her side.

  “Really, Chrissy, I’m super tired.”

  “You’re tired?” Laura asked, incredulous. Here we go again.

  “All you do is work with a sewing machine for hours like some old spinster, I can hardly imagine that being tiring, but my Chrissy just got back from a five hour long cheer practice. They were throwing her around like raggedy ann and she stuck every landing.” 

  “Mom, stop.” Chrissy blushed, but you could see how proud she was of herself, “I’m sure Sissy pokes herself with those needles all the time, and it hurts, I’ve been prodded myself during all of my custom fittings.”

  “I have finger calluses so I don’t even bleed anymore,” You begrudgingly admitted, “I can take it.”

  “I bet you can.”

  After they’d left for the movies, you’d gone upstairs, showered, put on your comfiest pajamas and fuzziest slippers, you grabbed a bowl of chips and set yourself up in front of the TV to watch Dawn of the Dead. You had to give props to all these zombie actors, you couldn’t imagine having to act out being one of the walking undead, imagined it felt pretty stupid but the paycheck and experience must have been cool.

  You popped another chip into your mouth just as someone knocked on the front door. As you placed the bowl of chips on the table to get up, the knocking got louder, more aggressive and you hesitated, fear beginning to swell up inside of you.

  Maybe if you ignored it, they’d go away.

  You turned your attention back to the tv, picking up the remote to lower the volume and hopefully hide your presence in the house. 

  Then, much to your horror, you heard the distinct sound of a pained, gurgling groan. It sounded very similar to the ones you’d heard the zombies making on your tv, but this one was louder. 

  And it was coming from outside your front door.

  You crouched, duckwalking to the foyer where one of the house phones was placed. You’d just picked it up from the receiver when a shadow from the living room window caught your eye. You barely had time to turn your head when something came crashing through it, breaking the glass and yanking the curtains from the rod.

  Shocked, the phone slipped from your hands, banging against the hardwood floor of the foyer and you let out a scream at the same time as the person on your TV, running away from the figure invading your home. 

  You made it to the dinning room. Literally scrambling across the table to put an obstacle between you and the stranger—no, creature. Tall, caked in mud, leaves and stems, it resembled the Swamp Thing. It grunted, groans low and reverberating off the walls.

  “Uuuhhhnng…”

  This couldn’t be happening to you, you couldn’t die like this!!!! It was supposed to be by your hand or nothing!

  ”STAY AWAY FROM ME!” You shrieked, picking up the decorative plates from the table to throw at the creature. You nailed it a couple of times, watching it stumble as the fine china shattered against it. When you ran out of plates, you bolted from the dinning room, screaming as you scrambled up the stairs, and lost one of your slippers in the process but to hell with it! You had to get out of there. Hopefully, one of your neighbors heard your shrieks of terror and called the police.

  You peaked over the railing at the top of the stairs, to see the creature analyzing your slipper. While it was distracted, you locked yourself in your room and made your way to your bedroom window, pulling it open.

  “Okay, okay. I can do this, no big deal. Stunt actors do it all the time.” You climbed outside of your window, body nearly convulsing as you almost slipped down the roof, “Nonononono.”

  You tried to grip onto a couple of shingles but they gave away, slipping right off the house to shatter against the concrete walkway and you realized Laura had no fucking idea what she was doing when it came to house repairs, the dumb bitch had just laid the shingles out without securing them.

  “OH MY GOD-I’M GONNA DIE! HELP!”

  Your body slipped further down the roofing, until you were forced to grab the gutter, gagging when your fingers squelched against whatever was in it. You dangled a good six feet off the ground, and while it wasn’t exactly a ten story fall, with your luck, you’d land on your head and break your neck.

  Whimpering, you tried to pull yourself back up the roof, but it was no use. You had nothing stable to grab onto as you yanked yet another shingle clean off. You glared at it and muttered a goddammit before tossing it somewhere behind you as you went back to hanging on for dear life. 

  “Oh, no.” You mumbled, terrified as your fingertips began to lose their grip, wet with the mystery sludge from the gutter. “No, NO!” 

  You lost your grip, plummeting down but you didn’t meet the concrete. No, the Creature broke your fall and you were now face to face with it. The pressure of you landing on it, made it spit up into your face, green sludge, and you gasped before breaking out into screams again.

  Pushing yourself up and off of it as you ran around your front yard, nearly blind. You were not opening your eyes to let that bacteria infested swamp slime, water, whatever the hell it was, into your eyeballs. 

  You could hear the Creature stomping around behind you as you bobbed and weaved, could feel his presence and you could not believe you were actually gonna die fighting off a swamp monster in your front yard while blinded—in clear and plain view for your neighbors to see, by the way, and unbeknownst to you, an elderly couple was watching you, not even a little concerned about your well being or the creature chasing you around.

  “Stop it!”

  “Leave me alone!”

  “Go away, I’m just a girl!”

  The timed sprinklers went off and you were soon assaulted with them as well. With just about all your senses done for, and the sprinklers washing the guck away from your face, you made a run for the house, slamming your back against the door and locking it behind you.

  Your chest was heaving, wet body pumping with adrenaline as the back of your head thumped against the door. You weren’t done yet. That creature was still out there!!!

  You dove for the phone on the ground, hanging by its springy cord and shouted out hopefully loud enough for it to hear, “I’m calling the police, so if you don’t want your ass riddled with bullets, I’d suggest you leave! They shoot before asking questions!”

  You frantically dialed 911 but there was no ringing, instead, you could still hear buttons being pressed on the other line.

  Bleak, and accepting your fate, you put the phone back on the receiver, and turned towards the living room, where the other phone was located. 

  On the chair, next to where the table the phone normaly rested on, was The Creature. 

  You grabbed one of the lamps, ready to use it as a weapon but it didn’t attack you, just turned the phone receiver this way and that, as if admiring it. 

  Despite your fear, you took a reluctant step forward, casting the creature in the glow of the lamp you clutched and for like the billionth time that night, you gasped.

  The sprinklers had washed some of the filth off of it, too. Before, its head had been caked in a mud helmet, but now, you could actually see it’s head. It had long, disgustingly dirty curls, and wore a leather jacket, jeans and tennis shoes, all covered in grime.

  When it craned its head up to look at you, you readied the lamp, poised to throw it at it—him. It was a guy. Big brown eyes, stared up at you and he made no move to attack.

  Slowly, you lowered the lamp, and crouched down a few feet away.

  His attention returned to the phone—shoe shaped—in his hands and shakily, with stiff limbs, he put it back on the receiver.

  “It’s…It’s cool looking, right? The-The shoe phone.” 

  He glanced over at you and then the phone again as you mumbled out an explanation, 

“Our neighbor in our old town cheated on his wife and she threw all his stuff out the window at him and my dad snatched the phone.”

  “Merrrruhhhhh.” He moaned out, picking up your slipper and offering it to you. When you just stared, he dropped it and you moved the lamp to the side, crossing your legs.

  “I’ve never seen a zombie before.” You marveled, then squinted, “You are a zombie, right? An undead?”

  It took him an entire minute to choppily raise his shoulders, you realized he was shrugging. Or trying to. Every movement he made was choppy. Reminded you of how stop motion was made, except his scenes weren’t being played fast enough to have fluid movements.

  He tried to get up and promptly slipped, accidentally elbowing the mini sound system at his side. It turned on, Sinead O’Connor’s Drink Before the War playing. You’d been the last to use it.

  You watched as his head tilted in interest as Sinead began to croon out lyrics.

  “Do you like music? This is Sinead O’Connor. She makes music that heals souls.”

  He raised his wrist to his chest and you inhaled sharply as you realized he was missing the hand on it.

  “Uhm, no—I don’t think she healed your soul. I meant like, figuratively. Her music makes people feel.” You placed your hands on your own chest, trying to convey your meaning, “She’s one of my favorites.”

  A surprisingly comforting silence fell over the two of you—though he sometimes made his quiet dead guy gross sounds—as you stared at him, taking in the green-gray tint of his skin beneath the dirt all over him, cheeks sunken in. You had a feeling if you touched his skin, it’d be hard, maybe waxy and it was a bit unnerving how human his eyes were, but duh! Of course they were, he was a human. Just. A dead one. At least he wasn’t a skeleton.

  Man, Hollywood wasn’t too far off with their interpretation.

  “C’mon,” You stood up, eyes taking in the state of your home and all the dirt the two of you had dragged in, “I gotta hide you, new dead friend.”

[roosterforme]

Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw Part 8 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: It has been too long since you heard from Bradley. Perhaps something went wrong. Or maybe he was avoiding you. Just when you start trying to accept that the last few months were too good to be true, things start to turn around again.

Warnings: Fluff, angst, language, Bradley being sweet

Length: 3000 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female teacher!Reader

Check out my masterlist for more! Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw masterlist

Days went by. With only two weeks left of Bradley's deployment, you weren't really expecting to receive air mail at school with your name on it, but you certainly did miss it anyway. Your students asked about him every morning, wondering if he'd sent a new email, hoping for another video with Marty. But you got nothing in either of your email inboxes.

He was on your mind almost constantly. What happened on his mission? Did the Navy decide it was okay to cut off communication right when you were completely attached to hearing from him? Did this really mean you had to wait until the aircraft carrier arrived back in San Diego? 

It was right before your students were due to arrive in your classroom that you had perhaps the most distressing thoughts of all. What if something went terribly wrong and he didn't survive? Or what if this was simply his way of ghosting you before he had to see you in person?

Jayden raced in ahead of the rest of your class, calling your name along the way. "Did Lieutenant Bradshaw write back yet?"

You pointed him toward his desk as you shook your head. "I already explained that he may not have time to respond before his deployment ends."

Jayden just bounced in place in front of you. "Then that means he can visit us when he gets back!"

Now a small group of your kids surrounded you, and you wished more than anything that you could tell them that Lieutenant Bradley Bradshaw, their beloved pen pal, would definitely be visiting your classroom in a few short days. Instead you told them, "Please, take your seats so we can start our Natural History lesson."

This turned out to be your new normal. Every time you got an email notification, you jumped to unlock your phone, but it was never a message from Bradley. When you saw a box tucked in your mail cubby in the school office, you ran for it, only to find the science supplies you ordered weeks ago had arrived. You even forced yourself to go back and read some of the old emails from him, just to make sure it all really happened, but his words left you aching for more.

...I like giving Gorgeous teachers butterflies...

...You'd look adorable snuggled up in your bed. But then again, when aren't you completely Gorgeous?...

...Gorgeous girl, you're messing with my head...

...And it's not a matter of if I touch you, it's a matter of when...

After nearly two weeks had gone by, you tried to figure out if the USS Theodore Roosevelt was back in port, but short of driving to North Island to see for yourself, you couldn't seem to find a solid answer online. And if you did drive there and found it at the dock, what were you supposed to do? Contact the US Navy? If they told you that nothing happened to Lieutenant Bradshaw and that he was perfectly fine, you'd be mortified. If they told you something in fact did happen to him in the last two weeks, you'd be devastated. That's assuming you could even get them to give you any information at all which was doubtful.

On Friday, you were on the verge of tears as you got ready for work. "You're being ridiculous," you whispered, and that fact made you want to cry even more. You tried to take the time to make yourself look presentable, thinking that may be the key to having a good day. Your outfit was cute. Your makeup looked nice. But you weren't smiling, and you didn't feel like doing so at all. 

You grabbed your bag, hoping the short ride with your favorite playlist would be enough to get your spirits up, but all you could think about was how you probably weren't cut out for life with a guy in the military anyway. Waiting around like this to see what was going on was making your stomach upset, and you weren't getting enough sleep. When you closed your eyes, you just pictured a very kissable face with a scarred cheek and big brown eyes.

"You need to focus," you scolded as you parked your car and headed into the school with your ID badge. You had eighteen kids who required your attention, and you'd once again give it to them, because you were fantastic at your job. 

This morning, Violet was the first one to mention Bradley in passing, and you had to shake your head. "Please find your seats. If I hear from Lieutenant Bradshaw, I promise I will let you know. I'm not hiding any letters or emails from you all, okay?" You tried to smile as you said, "I'd like to hear from him every bit as badly as you would. I can guarantee that."

You struggled through your morning lessons, often reminding yourself that you needed to focus on your students. Then you sat quietly at your desk with the classroom lights off during lunch, scrolling back through the dozens of emails you'd exchanged with Bradley on your phone. You pulled up the picture of the sun setting behind him in the middle of the Pacific Ocean, and even though you tried, you couldn't find anything other than the most sincere expression on his handsome face.

Maybe he would text you this weekend, letting you know he was back and your date was on. You had to believe he would still contact you. When the bell rang, you counted to ten, and then your students came flooding back through your classroom door. They wanted to tell you all about how Jasper from Mrs. Wynn's class got in trouble during lunch, and you humored them before saying, "I'm sure none of you would misbehave like that in the cafeteria."

"No way!" Henry promised.

"That's what I like to hear," you told him with a forced smile. "Once you're all in your seats, we'll start our math lesson. Maybe I'll put a few aviation problems on the board at the end if you show me how well you can focus for the next twenty minutes."

You had just started copying the first fraction that you wanted to discuss from your notebook onto the board when there was a sharp knock on your classroom door. You sighed and let your forehead rest briefly on the white board, knowing that another disruption would completely derail your kids after all the lunchtime nonsense. When you turned to face the door, they were already starting to chatter with each other. 

"Come in!" you called out, and every head in your room whipped around to see who was there and what they wanted. 

When the door swung open, the room went silent. The first thing you thought about was how peculiar it was to see someone in a khaki military uniform standing there. Then your eyes slid up that tall, muscular frame as your lips parted in surprise. As soon as you met his gaze, he smiled and said, "Hey, Gorgeous."

You couldn't speak. As he took a full step into your classroom and pulled the door closed, you finally noticed he was holding some pretty flowers. Then he was heading your way, his combat boots squeaking ever so slightly against the tile floor with each long stride. Bradley Bradshaw wasn't hesitating at all as he made his way directly to you while your students started talking again.

"It's Lieutenant Bradshaw!"

"I knew he'd come visit us ever since I asked him to!"

"Does this mean his deployment is over?"

"Why does he have flowers?"

He didn't stop until he was standing right in front of you, and the butterflies in your belly were fluttering so much, you were convinced you could float off of the floor. You weren't sure what else to say, so you simply whispered, "Bradley."

His smile grew as he said, "I love the way that sounds when you say it." You could only squeak in response, and his warm gaze flicked from your eyes down to your lips. At this rate you'd be a puddle at his feet in the next ten seconds. He swallowed hard, cheeks flushed as he leaned in closer, taking another small step forward until his boot gently bumped your shoe. His voice took on a raspier edge as said, "You told me you wanted me to kiss you as soon as I saw you."

He didn't stop slowly closing the distance, and when you reached out and let your fingers tangle with his, you whispered, "Please." Then you closed your eyes as his lips brushed feather light against yours. You gasped. He was here. Nothing had ever felt as good as this in your life. You opened your eyes to find him grinning right in front of you, and you chased him for another one of his dreamy kisses.

"Lieutenant Bradshaw kissed her!"

"I think they're in love!"

"They are definitely going to be girlfriend and boyfriend!"

Bradley wrapped his fingers around yours a little tighter as you and he laughed, and he ducked his head before looking up at your class. His cheeks were the most alluring shade of pink as he told them, "Hey, I hope you don't mind that I decided to surprise you and your teacher."

"We don't mind!" shouter Oliver as he was practically sitting on his desk now in excitement. All of the kids were bouncing with anticipation, and you couldn't stop smiling as Violet clapped her hands together.

"Great, because I brought my responses to your last batch of letters, too. I can't thank you enough for being my pen pals for the last few months. You made my time away from home a lot more fun." He turned to look at you before softly adding, "And you made coming back home feel really good."

You wanted to kiss him again. You wanted to run your fingers along his scars and press your lips to his skin in their wake. You wanted to bury your nose against his neck and inhale the smell of his skin and his uniform collar. You wanted to feel his mustache on your lips. Instead, because every eye in the room was on the two of you, you told him, "I'm really happy you're here." You tugged on his hand so he was standing front and center, and you turned to your kids and asked, "What do we say when we have a special guest visit us?"

"Thank you!" they all shouted in unison.

"That's right," you told them. Then you looked up at Bradley, and he handed you the flowers with a crooked little grin, and that's when you noticed he had a small notebook in his hand as well. 

"Can I call each kid up to get their letter?" he asked, as if you would deny him anything at the moment. "Then I can put faces to all of the names."

You were still definitely at risk of melting. "You wrote each of them a personal letter again?" you asked him, holding your flowers to your chest and trying not to swoon.

"Yeah," he replied, opening his notebook to show you. He stood there, looking devastatingly sexy, tearing out a page for every kid. He called each of them up and talked to them for a minute. He remembered the name of Jayden's dog. He remembered that Violet loved neon-colored everything. He remembered that Henry said his grandfather was in the Navy. He remembered so much, and he was so willing to indulge all of their questions.

You just stood there with your flowers and watched this endearing man captivate all nineteen of you with his words. He let Oliver try on one of his insignia pins. He drew a diagram of an aircraft carrier on your white board. He met your gaze more often than not. He smiled at you every time he did. He told your students that the reason they were so smart was because you were such a good teacher. The butterflies were here to stay now.

When you looked around, you noticed that your kids were cherishing their personal notes just like you were your flowers. You didn't want this afternoon to end, and yet, as soon as the first bell rang at three o'clock, you jumped to attention. The sooner your students cleared out of the room for the weekend, the sooner you could hopefully have a few minutes alone with Bradley before he wanted to go home and rest.

"We need to pack up," you announced, finally setting the bouquet down on your desk while Bradly affixed his pin back on his uniform shirt.

"Do we have to?" whined Jayden. "Lieutenant Bradshaw like just got here!"

He had in fact been in your classroom for over two hours, but you couldn't blame them for wanting more. Bradley cleared his throat and looked at you as he said, "I could come back again?" with that sincere gaze you were already weak for. "Spend a few more hours answering questions? Maybe bring some engine parts with me?"

You bit your lip before you could whimper out loud, and he started to head in your direction. "We would love that," you told him.

"Yeah?" he asked you as your kids erupted into a rowdy mob, grabbing all of their belongings as the final bell rang.

"Mmhmm," you hummed, waving lazily to your students as they shouted their goodbyes to both you and Bradley. His steps had him reaching you right as the last few kids left your room, and you whispered, "You'll come back?"

He reached for your hand as he said, "I'll do anything you want, Gorgeous." He must have been able to read the needy look on your face, because when you tugged on his hand, he came all the way to you. His other hand ended up at your waist as his lips found yours, and this time, the feather light kisses deepened as you parted your lips. Bradley groaned softly, kissing you just right, and then he whispered, "I've been dying for this."

Your arms went around his neck, kissing him a little frantically, melting at his touch and the feel of his soft, wavy hair between your fingers. "Me too," you told him before pulling his bottom lip gently between yours. He backed you up until you bumped into your desk, and all you could think about was how good his weight would feel on top of you.

Your skin felt too hot when he finally broke the kiss, panting softly as you ran your thumb along his scars. "I didn't like not hearing from you the past two weeks," you told him, and his brown eyes softened even as his hold on you tightened a little bit. "It was... kind of scary."

"I didn't like it either," he told you. "And I was going to text you immediately when we docked this morning, but then I decided to just come here instead." He grinned as your fingers crept back up into his hair. "If they didn't let me sign in with my military ID in the front office, I don't know what I would have done. I just wanted to see you."

You kissed his chin and said, "Usually I hate surprises. But this one was perfect."

"Okay, see, that's good information to know," he rasped. "I only got a ride home long enough to throw my duffle in the front door and hop in my Bronco. I stopped for the flowers, and then I just wanted to get here with my notebook."

You tipped your head back and whispered, "How am I supposed to deal with how sweet you are?"

"Oh! That reminds me," he muttered, rubbing his hand along your back before releasing you and strolling over to where he left his notebook on Oliver's desk. The way your body wanted you to follow him was surprising, but it gave you a chance to look at him again from head to toe as you stood next to your desk. There was nothing out of place on this man, and you pressed your lips together as his bicep flexed against his shirt sleeve. He tore another sheet of paper from his notebook and said, "I have one more note to deliver."

He walked back over to you, and when he held it up with a hopeful look, you took it from him and read.

Hey, Gorgeous. I couldn't wait one more minute to see you. And now that I'm here, I don't want today to end. Is there any way I can convince you to let me take you out for our first official date tonight instead of tomorrow? Bradley

When you looked up from the page, his eyebrows were raised, and that crooked little grin was hovering close to the surface. "I know I said to plan for tomorrow, but I can't fucking wait that long."

You bit down on your lip, shocked by how much better today turned out to be than you could have ever imagined earlier this morning. "Yeah. You've convinced me, Bradley. Tonight sounds perfect."

With that, you were treated to a little smirk beneath his mustache. He carefully took the sheet of notebook paper from your hands, set it down next to the flowers on your desk and proceeded to kiss you senseless.

----------------------------

He's going to make me hyperventilate. Those kids were SO excited to have him in their classroom, but they were nowhere near as excited as Gorgeous! He's home! And he wants to have his beach picnic and takeout and makeout sesh immediately. Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 9

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Kiss Me Better | JJK

excerpt | jungkook said some really mean things to you when you started coming home so late. when he realizes how horrible he was, he tried making it up to you.

genre | angst, fluff, hurt /comfort

pairing | jeon jungkook x fem!reader

warnings | strong language, unintentional manhandle, jk being a jerk in the beginning, reader puts him in his place, lots of crying, hating oneself

wc | 4k+

notes | i tried my best to make something emotional, and i'm hoping it turned out well :)

It was around ten at night and you still weren't home. This has been going on for about a week now, and Jungkook is tired of it. He wanted answers as to why you were always late.

He was sitting in the living room with his legs bouncing, waiting for you to come home. He was anxious to thrust this issue onto you, but he felt like you were neglecting him; that maybe you might be cheating. Jungkook was never one to judge your faithfulness, but ever since you started coming home late every possible idea started popping up in his head. And when he tried talking to you about it, you would wave him off saying that you're tired.

Jungkook heard the familiar car beep. He got up instantly and trudged his way near the end of the entryway. He saw the doorknob twist open to reveal the fatigued woman he called "his". He watched you take off your shoes and place them on the shoe rack, throwing your work purse on the entryway table. It wasn't until you were steps away that you noticed your lover at the end of the hall.

Your body perked up at the sight of your boyfriend. You dragged your feet to Jungkook and gave him a quick kiss on the lips. "Hey, baby." But before Jungkook had time to greet you back, you were already sprawled out on the couch. Jungkook made a face of disdain to himself; how could you treat him like this. He felt hurt by your action. He took a minute to compose himself; he didn't want to confront you with rage coursing through his body.

Once he was calm, Jungkook made a beeline to you. He saw that your eyes were already closed; you looked very exhausted. He wanted to leave you alone, that he will have this conversation with you some other time, but he thought against it. Jungkook cleared his throat, making you open your eyes. You did a light stretch on the couch. "What is it, babe?" Jungkook took a shape inhale, "I want to talk to you."

You instantly sat up. In your four years of dating, Jungkook rarely says the words "I want to talk to you.", every time they get spoken, they would usually lead to arguments. Your attention was wide awake; you were getting nervous about what this conversation might lead to. "What is it, Jungkook?"

Jungkook clenched his jaw, tightening his facial muscles. With gritted teeth, Jungkook seethed, "I want to know why you've been coming home so late now?" You were shocked, to say the least. You knew that coming home so late would bring suspicion to your boyfriend, but you didn't think that he would be this angry.

"Umm... I..." You didn't know what to say to him. You wanted to tell him the reason, but you didn't want to ruin the surprise. Jungkook didn't like the fact that you were hesitating. You were always honest with him, never afraid to be blunt. "Why the hell are you hesitating, ____? You're fucking some other man, aren't you?" he yelled.

Your body jolted at his interrogation. His words were harsh, sending goosebumps through your body. You didn't like his assumption of you cheating. You stood up and questioned, "You think I'm cheating on you?" Your voice was laced with warning; warning that if he thought that way of you, you wouldn't be afraid to stand your ground.

One thing that Jungkook would never admit, is that every time you gave him this certain type of tone, he feels like being buried six feet under. Jungkook gulped down some spit that he didn't know was being harbored. "I don't know. You could be." You scoffed at his words, "Fuck you. I don't have time for this. I'm going to bed." You turned your body in the direction of the bedroom.

As you started walking, you heard Jungkook hysterically laughing. He growled, "Fuck me? No, fuck you, ____!" Before you halted your movement, Jungkook stomped his way to you and tightly latched his hand to your wrist, pulling you towards him. You yelped at the sudden action, pain taking hold of your arm. Jungkook immediately lets go. He was about to apologize, but you beat the gun.

You pushed him to the carpeted floor, holding your wrist to your heart. Tears started welling up. Never in a million years did you think Jungkook would say those things to you. The physical pain could not compare to the pain you were feeling emotionally. You cried out to him, "You wanna know why I've been coming home so late? You wanna know why I'm always so tired?" At this point, your tears were freely flowing. Jungkook was on the floor, not moving an inch, but he so badly wanted to wipe your tears away.

You bellowed, "It's not because I'm fucking some other man, Jungkook! It's because I took in overtime at work! I took in some extra hours to earn more money for our trip!" Jungkook was stunned at your confession. Shame taking its place in his heart. How could he accuse you of cheating? How could he say those hurtful things to you?

You softly added, "Do you remember two weeks ago, when we were talking about our parents? You had missed yours so badly because you hadn't seen them in months. You wanted to go visit them, but we didn't have the money." Jungkook started crying; he was starting to realize your reason. You faced the other way, not wanting to see Jungkook cry. You knew if you did, you would fall prey to him. He hurt you, and you didn't want to fall so easily.

Jungkook cried harder, and hearing him, so did you. You tried containing any sound leaving your mouth, coming out muffled. You sniffled, "I wanted to surprise you this Sunday. I was going to buy the tickets and book the hotel room tomorrow. I didn't want to tell you this way." Jungkook was biting his lips so hard when you were talking; he almost drew blood. When he felt your presence fading, he shot up and gently looped his arms around your torso.

He cried to you, tears falling on your shoulders, making your shirt damp. "Baby, I'm so-" You intervened, "Stop." You unhooked his arms apart. "Just stop, Jungkook. I'm tired." Jungkook shook his head vigorously. He wanted you to know how shameful he feels; apologize until you're tired of hearing it. "____, please. I'm so sorry."

You whipped your body around, facing him. You demanded, "Shut up, Jungkook! I said I'm tired, okay? We'll talk about this later." And after your ending sentence, you marched your way to the bedroom, not giving Jungkook a second to respond.

You plopped yourself on the shared bed, taking off your clothing, only leaving you in your underwear. You would've loved to have Jungkook wrap his arms around you while you went to sleep, but right now you just wanted to be alone. It only took a few minutes for your tears to start flowing again, and this time you didn't stop them. You let the tears, the darkness, and the warmth of the blanket lull you to sleep.

Jungkook on the other hand, was sitting on the couch pondering about his actions - his words. He hated himself for what he did. The way he talked to you, the way he gripped your wrist with so much force, the way he doubted your faithfulness; accused you of cheating. You are everything to him. He would move hell and heaven if you demanded it. You could say the vilest insult to him, throw your hardest punch and he'll still run back to you. He would do anything and everything just for you, but at the moment he didn't deserve you. You were the light of his life, but he knew that tonight he had dimmed you.

You woke up with the biggest headache. You haven't felt like this in years, so emotionally drained. The last time was when you had officially cut off ties with your mother. She never really approved of Jungkook, always calling him a bad influence. She was the type of person to judge the exterior before knowing what was on the inside. Hating Jungkook is an understatement, she loathed him.

You love your mother, but all the things she said about Jungkook stirred you away from appreciating her presence. He didn't want you to cut communications with her, but it was not only for him but for your sanity. The longer you kept in contact, the more you'll start going crazy about her foolish assumptions about your boyfriend. It was hard cutting her off, but it was definitely needed.

You rolled off of the bed, not caring that you were basically nude. You stumbled your way to the door, wanting to go to the bathroom. When you opened the door, you found Jungkook laying right against the beige wall. His appearance was rugged. His hair sticking up from every angle, and the faint smell of beer, he was still wearing the same clothes from last night.

Your heart tingled at the feeling that Jungkook must have stayed out here for you, wanting to be close to you, but also giving you your space. But then the reoccurring memory from last night punched its way through your brain. You slammed the door, stirring Jungkook awake. For a split second, Jungkook thought lighting came striking down to their house. His body jumped from the sudden bang, hitting his head against the wall in the process. He rubbed the sore area, hoping the action would ease the pain.

He didn't know what happened. He looked around the area for anything that might have caused the loud sound. But then he heard shuffling on the other side of the door. Jungkook got up without a second thought and was about to knock. His fist hovered the wooden entrance. He wanted to knock, but he was scared. After everything that he had done, he was worried that you wouldn't want to see him again.

Moments go by until Jungkook finally knocked on the door. "Baby?" he softly said. "Baby, can I come in?" He waited for your response, but all that answered him was silence. He clenched and unclenched his fists. Jungkook has never felt this nervous. He took a deep breath, "I'm gonna come in, ____. Okay?" He tapped his fingers against his thigh a few times, trying to calm the bundle of nerves. With one more deep breath, Jungkook carefully opened the bedroom door.

In his line of sight, Jungkook saw you curled up in the bed, the blanket hugging your body for security. He saw the throw pillows along with your clothes scattered across the floor; the whole atmosphere was messy. You were always the clean one in the relationship, so the fact that you couldn't care for the unkempt room made Jungkook more nervous than he already was.

Jungkook tried navigating his way to you, but he still wound up stepping on your clothes. When he got to you, he sat on the edge of the bed next to you silently. None of you guys peeped a word; the air was tense. You wanted to speak to him first, to yell at him for his absurdity, but you're also stubborn. So, you waited for Jungkook to talk first. Jungkook knew how you were; he knew that you were itching to say something first, but you were headstrong on finishing last.

He took it in himself to speak first. "____, I want to tell you how incredibly sorry I am, and that I regret everything that I had said." He looked at your covered figure with much sorrow. He wanted to see your beautiful face, even if you were to give him the most angered look. "Baby, can you please look at me?" You meekly spoke, "No."

A few tears threatened to escape his eyes. Jungkook took a deep breath and brought out his hand to cup your face. He slowly turned your head to face him, and you made no retaliation to his actions. Your face showed no emotion, but Jungkook saw the pain swimming in your eyes. He hurt you deeply, and he hurt you hard. "Please, know how sorry I am."

You took his hand away from your face. You rolled your eyes; you were tired of hearing it. "I know how sorry you are, Jungkook. I can see from your body language, your facial expression. I can hear it in your voice, okay? I know... So, please stop saying it." He nodded his head, understanding what you were saying. "I'm sor-"

"Jungkook!" you warned. "If all you're going to do is say sorry, then leave me alone." You went back to your previous position, trying to ignore your boyfriend's presence. He definitely knows how to push your buttons. Jungkook didn't want to leave this situation alone like this; he wanted to make it better. So, he said the first thing that came to mind, "Tell me where I hurt you, and I'll kiss it better."

You jested his words, "Kiss it better? Seriously?" Jungkook couldn't see your face, but by the tone of your words, he knew that the idea was stupid. But stupid or not Jungkook wanted to make you feel better. He shrugged his shoulders and said, "Yeah. It can be a start, right?" You took a minute to reel in the idea. It could maybe be a start.

You clicked your tongue and brought your wrist to his face. Without facing Jungkook, you demanded, "It didn't bruise, but you really hurt me here. So... kiss it." Jungkook gave a tiny smile; he was happy that you were open to his idea. He carefully grabbed your arm, making sure to not touch the area he has hurt you. Jungkook's soft touch sent small currents through your body. He brought your pained wrist to his lips and placed small but mellow kisses on them. Afterward, Jungkook rubbed the area with his thumb, hoping that it would soothe the pain.

He docile his voice, "Where else?" You were thinking of a place where he should kiss next, and during that time you positioned your body forward. Jungkook watched you readjust your body; you had looked so cute to him.

You looked at Jungkook with a stern expression, and said, "My ears, from hearing you talk shit to me." Jungkook invisibly flinched at your words, but a slight hint of grimace surfaced. He bent down to you and positioned his lips to your ear. He gave you a kiss, and the small smack of the contact rang. With his lips pressed against your ear, Jungkook quietly spoke, "Tell me more, baby. Where else are you hurt?" His breath shadowed your skin, leaving you dumb.

When you stayed quiet, Jungkook got a little concerned. He lifted his head up, his face inches away from yours. "Baby?" You saw the worriedness etched into his face, creating crease lines on his skin. He placed his forehead on yours and stared deeply into your eyes. He could still see that you were angry, but slowly he saw a bit of softness take place. You didn't want to admit that your boyfriend's idea was proving right, but his gentle kisses were so hard to ignore. It's like Jungkook has this magic spell where you could never say no.

You gulped down some spit, you didn't want to choke when you talked. "My eyes. You made them painstakingly teary." You had closed your eyes for Jungkook to kiss. He took a second to stare at them. Even with your eyes closed, you could still make out the redness around them. The more he looked, the more Jungkook hated himself for your pain. With each kiss of your eyelids, Jungkook had closed his, projecting his pain to himself.

When it was done, Jungkook remorsefully uttered, "____ - baby... I'm so sorry. Ev-" You interjected, "I have one more place that I want you to kiss better." Jungkook replied, "Of course. I'll kiss wherever you want." You slightly sat up; your upper back pressed against the headboard of your guy's bed. You choked, "Kiss my heart. Out of all the places you have hurt me, my heart hurts the most." You didn't want to sound choked, but you couldn't help it. "Please, kiss me better, Jungkook." you cried.

Jungkook's heart panged harshly at your pained confession. He started crying; his heart broke into a million pieces. The one place where he vowed to not hurt at the start of your guy's relationship, he did. You tried watching your boyfriend intensely, but your tears were blurring your vision.

Jungkook moved his hand to the blanket that was still covering you. It slid down and your breast was fully seen. Usually, Jungkook would be surprised at your nudity when he wasn't expecting it, but right now, all that Jungkook could see - could focus on was the area that your heart resided in. He looped one arm around your bare torso, gently pulling you towards him, and the other rested along your back.

He kissed your heart with so much tenderness. He cried while doing so, his tears falling on your bare skin. You couldn't stop the waterworks once his soft lips landed on you. Jungkook kept kissing you, hoping that each kiss took away the pain he had caused, but the more he did the more you cried. He had hurt you too much that even the kisses couldn't heal you.

Jungkook moved his head away from your chest and fully grabbed you. He hugged you tightly, just letting you cry your pain out to him. He didn't know what to say, all he could really do was comfort you. Jungkook placed one of his hands on your nape, while the other did long comforting strokes on your back. You heard Jungkook trying to shush you, not in a mean way, but to relax you, but it didn't work.

What felt like hours were only minutes, you had finally calmed down. You pulled away from Jungkook. You spotted a big wet mark on his shirt. You apologized profusely for making his shirt dirty. Jungkook only laughed; he didn't care that your snot and tears - possibly your saliva were on his shirt, hell, he wouldn't care if you even threw up on him. All that he cared about right now was how you were feeling.

You were about to wipe your face on your arm, but you didn't have a shirt on. "I'm sorry, I look horrible right now." Jungkook shook his head at your words. "You don't have to be sorry. You don't look horrible right now. To me, you look beautifully messy." You blushed at his compliment. "Yeah, but I still have snot and tears all over my face."

Jungkook sarcastically rolled his eyes. He jumped off of the bed and stood in front of you. He bundled his shirt up to his chest and carefully pulled you towards him. You were confused at first, but then you realized he was going to wipe your face with his shirt - like a mother. When he did, Jungkook shrugged, "It's already dirty, so, don't worry about it. Plus, nothing like a few more bodily fluids, right?" You felt like laughing at his rhetorical question, but all you could feel was the guilt for ruining your boyfriend's shirt.

Jungkook chucked his dirty shirt on the messy floor and climbed into bed with you. He hesitated on pulling you close to him; he didn't want to push any boundaries you might have set on him. "Is it okay if I hold you?" Instead of answering his question, you pulled him towards you. You buried your face in his chest. You wanted Jungkook to hold but he wasn't. You murmured against his skin, "Why aren't you holding me?"

"I didn't know if I was supposed to." You wrapped your arms around your boyfriend's build. "Well, I want you to hold me." And like so, Jungkook held you close. He buried his face in your hair, breathing in your intoxicating scent. If Jungkook were to die right now, he would die a happy man; being in your arms, breathing you in is all he could ever ask for.

Before speaking Jungkook licked his lips, "____, I want to tell - shit! Babe, ow!" You had kicked Jungkook to further stop his sentence. "Like I said before, if you're going to keep apologizing then please leave. Because honestly, babe, I'm really tired of hearing you say that." Jungkook chuckled at your annoyance. "I wasn't going to apologize if that makes you happy. I was going to say how regretful I am to accuse you of cheating. How regretful I am of gripping you hard on the wrist. Cursing and yelling at you. I regret everything that happened last night."

You held Jungkook tighter to you. In situations similar to this, Jungkook was always the one comforting you; you were the stubborn one in the relationship. It was kind of hard being on the opposite side. You tried your best of comforting Jungkook, but you couldn't really do it physically, that spectrum resides for Jungkook.

So, you did what you do best, you comforted him verbally. "I know I can't ask you to feel a certain way, but know this, Jungkook," You lifted your head up to him, and expressed, "Everything that happened last night could never erase my four years of love for you. What you did to me definitely hurt me, but you cannot shoulder all of this guilt. I also was at fault."

Jungkook pulled away slightly. He couldn't believe what he heard. He denied, "No! You did nothing wrong." You furrowed your brows. "But I did, Jungkook! If I hadn't kept this a secret... if I had just told you my reason for being out so long, we wouldn't be in this predicament. I should have told you, and for that, I'm sorry." Jungkook wanted to argue your statement, but the look on your face was pleading with him to forgive you.

Jungkook shimmied his way down to you, eyes meeting at the same level. He pushed some of your hair away from your face, tucking them behind your ear. Your beauty was something to treasure. Jungkook smiled, "You're so beautiful, baby. If you want me to forgive you, I need you to forgive me as well."

You lifted your pointer finger up when an idea came to mind. "One last request," Jungkook smirked, wondering what trick you have up your sleeve. You continued on, "Kiss me on the lips and I'll forgive you."

You didn't have to tell him twice. Jungkook smashed his lips on yours, taking you all in. He cupped your jaw in between his hands, holding you tightly. Your small moans drowning in your lover's mouth. Your wondering hands feel the toned muscles beneath your fingertips. Somewhere along the way, you climbed on top of Jungkook. The slight grinding you were doing on his lap made him jolt. He softly gripped your arms and pushed you away.

"Baby, I think we should stop, because if we continue this, I don't think I'll have the urge to control my craving." You jumped on his lap, taunting him. Jungkook wasn't having it, so, he switched your positions; you were laying underneath him, while he trapped you between his arms. "Didn't I say you should stop?" he growled.

All you did was grin like a kid who won a stuffed animal at a carnival. You wrapped your arms around Jungkook's - somewhat sweaty neck. God only knows how much you love this man. If a home was a person, he would be yours. You proclaimed, "I love you so much, Jungkook." Jungkook saw the love swirling in your irises; his heart swarmed with adoration for you. As a response, he said, "I love you, ___. I could never love anybody as much as I love you."

You guys kissed one more time before going back to cuddling. In the middle of basking in each other's presence, you blurted, "Oh god, we have to buy the tickets today. Not only that, but we also hav-" Jungkook placed his rough hand on top of your mouth. “Shhh... It's cuddle time, babe." You pushed his hand away and giggled. You wished there was a word more than love, maybe devotion, but you really love Jungkook.