#uh yeah if i can give the show credit for anything

[croquel]

nov 14 - firestarter(s)

im sorry sunny i promise you were not a blob 5 seconds ago. to anyone with this on their dash who hasn't read asoue... there is valuable context missing don't worry about it

[eddiesghxst]

LIGHTS, CAMERA, ACCIÓN - AN EDDIE MUNSON X READER AU

credit for cute lil cut off divider: @cafekitsune

————

18+ — MINORS DNI

pairing: eddie munson x pornstar!reader

summary: eddie is short on rent this month and needs quick cash, luckily he stumbles upon an ad for casting in an adult film and finds himself shooting a porno with you

contains: strangers to lovers trope, drug and alcohol use, mentions of smoking, awkward situations, oral (f and m receiving), p in v (unprotected — be safe pls), mentions of people being judgemental of readers line of work, mentions of anal, slightly exhibitionism, lots of smut, a sliver of mechanic!eddie, and eddie being the charming loser he's always been <3

word count: 13.5k (i am so fucking sorry omg)

-masterlist-

Eddie might be way in over his head.

Eddie’s been naked in front of groups of people before (the high school boy's locker room is a scary place to be, honestly), but never in those awful days of forced physical education was Eddie’s dick the center of everyone’s attention.

It’s weird, no doubt about it, standing at the front of a conference room with a table full of producers and writers and whatnot just… ogling Eddie’s naked frame.

“Can you lift your dick, please? So we can see your balls.”

Yeah. This is definitely going at the top of Eddie’s ‘weird things I’ve done for money’ list.

Still, Eddie reaches down and presses his dick up against his lower stomach to give his audience an unrestricted view of his balls.

Jesus.

“Okay, you can put your clothes back on.”

Honestly, Eddie wouldn’t be in this situation if it weren’t for Robert, the manager at Eddie’s job— well, old job. 

Robert had some kind of weird fucking vengeance out for Eddie. Maybe it was because Eddie came back high from, like, most of his lunch breaks, but should that really matter if Eddie still got the job done? How coherent do you have to be to organize music records by name? Not very fuckin’ much.

Robert disagreed, though, so he fired Eddie.

Robert was an asshole, though, and whenever Eddie would nicely warn him, ‘Hey, Rob, I’m gonna be out of town next Saturday,’ Robert would still fucking schedule him to close on that exact day! 

Good riddance.

Except now, Eddie’s short on rent for the month, which is why he’s found himself standing fully naked in a room full of adult filmmakers.

Eddie’s almost dropped out of this deal ten times by now. He wasn’t sure if he was keen on the idea of his bare, naked body being out for the entire world and future generations to see. But then Eddie thought about it, and, well, he’s got a pretty decent cock. It’s an average size, and it’s not weird looking or anything, and his balls don’t sag— and, like, isn’t his dick primarily the star of the show? Eddie Jr. could pass for a star, Eddie thinks, and so do the people looking at it right now. 

And he also really fucking needs the money, so. Porn it is.

Whatever.

Eddie could deal with it as long as he gets enough money to keep a roof over his head. Which reminds him— “Hey, uh, how much will I be getting paid, by the way?”

Eddie’s now fully clothed, car keys in hand, and ready to go now that he’s been dismissed, and he’s scratching the back of his neck as he waits for an answer.

One of the men at the table (Eddie thinks his name is Brian, but he’s not 100% sure) glances up at Eddie from the pile of papers he’d been sorting through, “Eight hundred for the booking and ten percent from the sales.”

Which, yeah, that covers Eddie’s rent. It also leaves a little bit of change in Eddie’s pocket, so “Sweet.” Eddie nods.

So, Eddie follows one of the assistants to her office, where she hands Eddie a file with the word SCRIPT written in bold and red letters, “Read over it, practice the lines a few times, do whatever you need to do to prepare for Friday.” She kindly smiles.

She’s sweet. Short, stout, and pretty, and she has these cute glasses that remind Eddie of a ladybug. Eddie takes the manila folder, bowing his head with a cheesy smile, “Thank you, Emily.” 

“So, will I be getting a costume? Do pornos still have those dramatic plots with, like, pirates and shit?” Eddie rambles as he cracks the folder open to take a gander.

Emily snorts, “Sure, but unfortunately, you’re not a pirate for this one,” Eddie glances at her and dramatically pouts, “You will be taking on the role of a neighbor. Pretty simple and easy, not much setup needed, but I’m sure you’ll see that when you read over the script.”

Eddie looked over the script as soon as he got in his van, and Emily was right: there’s not much setup at all. There’s a few cheesy lines, cliche porno shit that definitely gets skipped over, and then they go straight to fucking. Eddie tries to run his lines a few times, but then he fails miserably, so he ends up tossing the script in his passenger seat and making a mental note to look at it later.

How hard can it be?

Apparently pretty fucking hard.

It’s Friday, and Eddie’s a chaotic mess as he walks in through the doors of the film studio. He’d just spent the last 30 minutes in his van trying to practice his lines, but Eddie was never the greatest theater kid, and the lines wouldn’t stick, so he ended up smoking a joint to ease his nerves.

People are bustling around the room, calling out orders and setting up lights, mics, furniture— the whole mile. It’s an entire ordeal that Eddie has walked into, and for a second, Eddie forgets that he’s one of the actual stars when someone walks up to him and says, “You're the new talent?”

“Huh?”

“New talent. Are you the guy we’re filming today?”

Eddie glances around and catches a glimpse of a half-naked girl eyeing him from across the room as a lady fixes her hair for the cameraman. She’s pretty. Gorgeous, actually. Nice body and soft-looking skin that Eddie would like to sink his teeth into and leave pretty little marks.

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, I’m Eddie.”

“Good. You’re late.”

Shit. Eddie must’ve lost track of time while practically hacking up a lung in his hotboxed van.

The person drags Eddie to a vanity and nudges him toward the high chair, “You’ll get your hair and makeup done, then we should be rolling in about half an hour.” 

It’s jarring, really, seeing the amount of work that goes into the shitty raunchy films Eddie jacks off to, but it’s captivating nonetheless. Eddie can see the movement behind him through the vanity mirror, but he’s more focused on the pretty girl still posing for the camera. If that’s the girl Eddie will be working with, then this will be way easier than Eddie thought it would be because he’s already getting hard. Some might call it pathetic, but oh well.

“Hiya, hon! You the new talent?” A chirpy girl walks up behind Eddie, pearly white teeth and glossed lips working in tandem as she chews her gum and blows a quick bubble. She doesn’t wait for Eddie’s response as she digs her fingers into Eddie’s curly strands, tossing and gently pulling them about to see what she’s working with. 

Her name is Nicki. She’s friendly and very talkative; Eddie comes to learn, because for the majority of the time that she’s working on Eddie’s hair, her mouth is running nonstop. Eddie doesn’t mind, though; honestly, it helps to take his mind off of whatever the fuck he’s gotten himself into.

Emily, the assistant from earlier, walks up to the vanity, her cute ladybug glasses slipping down her nose as she steps into Eddie’s view— and Eddie is happy to see a familiar and kind face. “Will you be needing a fluffer?”

Eddie blinks, eyes fluttering when the hairstylist dusts his bangs over his lashes, “Uh— a what now?”

Nicki loudly pops her gum as she shakes a can of hairspray, “A fluffer, honey. Someone to jack you off and get you ready for the scene.” 

Eddie’s eyes widened for a split second, and he made the mistake of glancing over at the girl who was still modeling across the room. Her tits are out now, and they’re perfect, and she catches Eddie’s eyes for the second time, and it makes his already stiffened cock stir within his pants.

Eddie shakes his head as he looks back at Emily, his voice higher when he responds, “No, I uh… I think I’m good.”

Which, duh. Eddie's dick is practically breaking the seams of his jeans because of the pretty girl, and it’s only getting worse because now she’s walking toward him dressed in a white robe. “You must be Eddie.”

Eddie’s surprised you know his name, but then he figures, obviously, you must know his name given the fact that you’re about to let him swing his dick near you. “That’s me,” Eddie smiles, “You must be… I’m sorry nobody’s told me anything.” He awkwardly laughs.

You nod with a shrug and tell him your name, “Is this your first time filming?” You ask.

Eddie nods, “Is it that obvious?” He nervously asks. You shrug, “Most guys in the industry need more than a pair of tits to get that hard.” You nod towards Eddie’s crotch— and oh god. How embarrassing! She knows you were checking her out!

“No need to be embarrassed though, Eddie. Pretty soon, you’ll be shoving your cock down my throat, so.”

Eddie’s cock may have gotten harder from those words alone.

“A rookie? Seriously, Don?”

Your makeup is being done, so you don’t see how your manager rolls her eyes at you. “When I said I wanted someone fresh, I didn’t mean never-been-under-the-camera fresh.” 

The makeup artist finishes with your touch-ups, and you take the opportunity to turn to Don and glare at her, “He doesn’t know what he’s doing, Don.”

The older lady waves a dismissive hand, “He’ll do just fine, babe,” she deadpans. You shake your head, turning to look at the man of the hour. He’s attractive; you’ll give him that. Tall, pretty curly hair, sweet brown eyes, a panty-dropping voice. Sure, he’s attractive, okay. But he’s got no clue how to do this type of thing. Clearly— I mean, you’re literally watching him gaze down at the dildos that have been lined up for you as if he’s never seen one in his life— which you doubt. If he knew how to find an adult filmmaking studio, then he’s definitely seen some fucking dildos.

You suppress a laugh when he accidentally drops a glass dildo, turning back to your manager as you ignore his chorus of apologies to the staff, “My case in point.”

Don fails to hold back a laugh, “So he’s a little off the walls,” she shrugs, “He’s cute though. And his dick is nice. Trust me.”

And, well, she’s not wrong.

Don’s never been one to lie without reason, so unfortunately, Eddie’s cock is nice. Pretty, even. Which is weird because after some time being in this industry, the thrill of a nice-looking cock has gotten lost on you because they practically all look the same— just different shades of colors, really.

But Eddie’s cock is nice in the sense that it’s real. He’s not shot up with steroids to make it overly veiny and big or cleanly shaved or any of that superficial camera-ready shit. No, Eddie is natural. He’s got neatly trimmed curly hairs across his pelvis that smell like his body wash when you nuzzle your nose against it, and he’s big enough to wrap your hand around, but you know the second he pushes inside of you, it will be a nice stretch. He’s cut, and he has a slight curve to the left, and he’s so sensitive his cock jumps when you tap the pearly white drop that leaks from his tip. You giggle, shuffling forward on your knees as you stroke him.

You’re already done with the opening scene, finally. Eddie couldn’t remember any of his lines, so it took a lot longer than it should’ve, but you think it was worth it either way because the way Eddie moans when you finally wrap your lips around his tip is the prettiest sound you think you’ve ever heard.

“F-fuck,” He quietly curses, hips shifting as you swallow more of him. He sinks a slightly shaking hand into your hair, gently cupping your head as you work your mouth over him. Your eyes flutter to gaze up at him, and your stomach flutters at the cocky grin he gives you. “You’ve got such a good little mouth on you, sweetheart. Gonna let me fuck it?”

You hum and nod as best as you can with his cock in your mouth, and he hums, “Open up for me, baby.”

You shift on your knees, finding a comfortable position for the action before blinking up at Eddie, indicating you’re ready. Eddie’s hands are steady and certain as he cups both sides of your head, holding you still as he draws his cock out once before slowly thrusting in until your throat tightens around his tip.

He fills your mouth so perfectly, just enough to where you won’t get bored, but you also won’t get an overly aching jaw, and you can’t wait to feel him inside you. Can’t wait to feel how his cock twitches when he first nestles deep in your walls or how much better the sounds he makes will be.

It’s a nice feeling, having Eddie fuck your mouth, and you usually don’t care much for shots like this because most of the time, it’s either underwhelming or overwhelming, but Eddie fucks your throat in a sense that’s dirty yet so caring. He’s spewing out filthy praises, and you're drooling onto his balls, but he’s looking at you with these soft brown eyes and caressing you so gently you might quiver. Fuck, you really wanted to hate him.

Behind the camera, the director makes a motion for you to cut to the next action, but since your back is to them, Eddie is the one that sees it and gently coaxes you off from his cock, cooing when you let out the smallest whine that only he can hear. He smiles, thumb running beneath your swollen lip to catch the strings of spit and cum, “What? You liked having me down your throat, sweet girl?”

You mewl, pressing your chin into his palm as you nod.

"Yeah. Want it, please?" You whisper. God, you didn’t expect to be fucked out within the first scene. "Aw, maybe next time, princess. You can keep me warm as long as you'd like."

It’s almost embarrassing, how much you like the sound of that and how it makes your tummy flip, but you don’t have much time to think about it because Eddie’s ushering you up from the floor to climb onto the couch and straddle his lap. 

You’re both bare now, and when Eddie had first taken his shirt off, you wanted nothing more than to run your hands down his graffitied chest, but you were too busy sinking to your knees. But now you have the chance, and boy, do you fucking take it.

You marvel as you coast your hands across Eddie’s body, fingertips gliding through fields of inked stories and vast skin. His breath hitches when you graze over his nipples, and his hips shift beneath you, wet cock slipping against your sticky folds. You whimper, grinding down onto him, and he curses as he grabs ahold of your hips. “Y’like them?” He sweetly asks, referring to his tattoos.

"Yeah," you nod, grinding down harder to have his cock nestled between your folds, his ruddy tip nudging your clit. “I can tell you all about them if you want.”

You giggle at his timing, but before you can respond, a director speaks up from the side, “Less talking, please.”

Eddie glances over your shoulder and salutes the man, “Roger that, sir.”

You can’t help but snort at his actions, but you’re quickly hushed when Eddie reaches down to paint his cock between your folds before lining himself up, “Go ahead and sit on it, baby.” He whispers.

You listen, nuzzling your face against his shoulder as you wriggle yourself down the length of his cock.

And god, you love being fucking right. The stretch is so good, better than you had imagined it to be, and you can’t help the high-pitched moan that slips from your lips when Eddie thrusts up into you. 

"O-oh. Oh fuck," You whimper. You’re practically boneless as Eddie fucks you, your entire body just draped over him as his hands dig into your ass to help bounce you on his cock. “Jesus fucking— you feel so good,” He pants, and you mewl, cunt clenching around his cock as he drills up into you. “You gonna cum for me, hm? Be my best girl and cum for me. I know you’ll sound so pretty.” He whispers.

Before you know it, you’re moaning out and writhing in Eddie’s hold, juices dripping down his cock and forming a sticky mess in the patch of curls at his base as you cum.

“Let’s have a shot from the back.” 

Your body feels weightless as you and Eddie change positions so you’re on all fours. You’re blinking through a hazy fog, and it feels so good. Eddie’s hands send chills up your spine as they grip your waist and tug you towards him. 

“Oh, baby, you’re shaking,” Eddie hums, running his hands over the fat of your ass, thumbs digging into the skin to spread you open. You’re so wet you can hear the sticky noise of your folds parting, and Eddie groans as he watches your pussy clench around nothing. “You open up so well for me, sweet girl.” 

Jesus.

You don’t get much of a warning before you feel Eddie lapping and sucking at your cunt, devouring you until you’re nothing but a mess of moans and quivering limbs.

Jesus Christ, that wasn’t in the fucking script. Half of the shit Eddie’s doing isn’t in the fucking script, and it's making your head spin.

God, who is this man?

You whimper his name, reaching a shaky hand back to grapple at his hair, and Eddie nuzzles his face deeper into your cunt, nose nudging your ass in a way that makes your toes curl. He’s good. He’s really good, you’ll give him that.

You and Eddie go at it for about an hour, switching positions and pausing every now and then to get a good shot of your cunt wrapped around Eddie’s cock, or Eddie’s tongue lapping over your clit or tits.

And it's fun doing this with Eddie.

Eddie is like a breath of fresh air. Most guys in this industry are stuck up and make things annoyingly serious, and most girls are either bitchy or just want to get it over with, which you don’t blame them for. 

But Eddie makes things feel so normal— like you’re just two best friends getting filmed having sex— because he keeps whispering tiny jokes to make you giggle. He tells you how pretty you sound and look, and he’s so incredibly clueless because he keeps leaning in and asking things like, “Is this, like, a good angle for the camera?” and “Should I maybe kiss you more?” and “Is it okay if I stop fucking you for a second? Because I’m about to blow.”

And all you can do is breathlessly moan and nod because he’s plunging himself so deep into you that it almost hurts, but it’s so good.

You’re so fucked out you barely even register Eddie’s words when he tells you he’s about to cum, but your body immediately reacts when he pats your hip, indicating for you to get ready.

You scramble down from the couch, limbs weighted from pleasure as you settle on your knees, batting your lashes up at Eddie as he towers over you, stroking his wet cock. Eddie rests a hand on your head, fingers grasping your hair to keep you still as he gazes down at you. You’re impatient, so you can’t help but let yourself sneakily lick the tip of his cock, and he grins, “It’s coming, precious girl. Stick your tongue out for me.”

You shuffle closer, sticking your tongue out as you eagerly await the taste of Eddie on your tongue— and when you get it, god, you never want it to stop. Everything about it is perfect: the way his face twists up, the way he tastes, the pretty moans he lets out. You want it on repeat.

You might buy this film just to relive it.

You take every last drop Eddie has to give you with a happy hum; a little bit catches your lip, and Eddie swipes it with his thumb before bringing it to his mouth and suckling. You whine, frowning and causing Eddie to laugh, “You got most of it, sweetheart. Can’t be too greedy, can you?”

It’s like you’re both in your own world. Only talking to each other and enjoying each other's bodies because Eddie just… it’s weird, but he makes the room go away. He makes things feel less performative— and maybe it’s just your hazy, blissed-out state of mind, but you think you might like Eddie.

You’re snapped from your trance when the director yells cut, and then everyone’s springing into action to tear down the set because another crew will be using it next. Eddie helps you stand on your wobbly legs, “You alright?”

You nod, “Great. You did good, by the way.”

Eddie leans forward and grabs your robe that had been pushed to the side. He smiles as he holds it open for you, “Thank you. You did pretty awesome yourself.” He responds as you slink your arms through the sleeves.

You turn to Eddie as you close your robe and tie it shut. Your assistant, Emily, hands Eddie a robe for himself, and he thanks her, curtly bowing his head as he grabs the plush article. “So,” Eddie starts as he slips on the robe. You both start walking towards the dressing rooms as he speaks, “Think I could make a career for myself here?” He asks. 

You halt at that, turning to Eddie with a confused look, “Is that… is that not why you’re here?” You ask.

Eddie shakes his head as he ties his robe, “Nah, I got fired from my job. Needed some cash for rent this month.” He explains.

Is it selfish to say you’re disappointed to hear this? If Eddie had been wanting to join this industry, you would’ve had the opportunity to work with him again. But maybe it’s more selfish to say you’re happy he isn’t joining this industry. Eddie becoming an adult film star would mean half of the time, he’d be fucking other people, and unfortunately, that idea alone makes your gut twist with jealousy.

You nod, pursing your lips as you fiddle with your fingers, “Well… would you be interested in this type of thing?” You try your best to sound casual about it, and you think it works because Eddie only shrugs again with a short hum, “I don’t know. Wouldn’t be opposed to it, I guess.”

Before you can respond, Emily calls your name, “Don needs to speak with you in the other room about your next shoot.”

You turn back to Eddie and try to commit his pretty brown eyes to memory, “I guess I’ll see you around, Eddie.” You smile. Eddie smiles back and does somewhat of a dramatic bow, and you snort as you walk off.

You glance over your shoulder as you walk with Emily.

“Could you do me a favor?” You ask her. Emily nods, and you take one last glance at Eddie before he disappears into the dressing room. 

“Get his number for me. And leave it in my purse, please.”

A couple of weeks have passed since Eddie made his big debut in the film world.

Eddie made a pretty penny from that film, enough to pay his rent and have some play money on the side. Thankfully, Eddie doesn’t have to scramble for cash this month again because he got a job at the mechanic shop downtown. It’s a lot of labor and a lot of hours, but the pay is good, and nobody gives a shit if Eddie comes back from lunch smelling like a dispensary, so.

Suck that, Robert.

However, Eddie’s still thoroughly surprised to see you sitting in the shop office when he returns from a quick smoke break. “Woah, funny seeing you here. Car problems?” He questions. Eddie tries not to think about the fact that he’s seen you completely bare before. Tries not to think of how he’d spent over an hour in your guts last month or how you swallowed his load like it was nothing. Eddie fails miserably.

You shake your head as you stand up from the leather couch in the office, grabbing your purse as Eddie walks closer to you, “No, actually, Lola’s doing great.”

Eddie cocks his head, “Lola?”

You nod, “My car.” You gesture out towards the window where your car is parked. Eddie makes an understanding noise as he nods. 

“I was actually hoping to talk to you.” 

Eddie pauses at that, confusion settling over his body as he looks at you. You’re beautiful, kind, soft eyes with soft, pretty lips that Eddie thinks about kissing when he goes to bed. Eddie points to himself with raised eyebrows, “Me?”

You nod again, “Yeah, about like… my job and stuff.”

Oh.

Ohhhh.

“Oh, shit, yeah, um,” Eddie glances around the office and nods, “Yeah, we can step out and talk, like, in my van, maybe?” He offers. Not because he’s, like, ashamed to talk about porn or something, most people watch it! But a few of the guys that work here are downright dipshits, and Eddie won’t hesitate to punch one of them if they say some sly shit about you or your job. And, well, Eddie would like to keep his job, so.

You don’t take offense to it, though; you just nod with your pretty smile and tell Eddie to lead the way.

Eddie’s van smells like weed, cologne, and a hint of whatever he had for lunch.

“Sorry,” Eddie mumbles as he clears off the passenger seat that’s filled with bottles of different drinks, rolling papers, food wrappers, and things of the like. “She’s seen better days.” 

You smile nonetheless, thanking him when he steps away and holds the door open for you. You hop into the seat, glancing around as Eddie shuts your door and jogs to the driver's seat.

He gets in with a heavy sigh, hair unruly from the wind, brown eyes wide and excited when he looks at you. “Hey.” He huffs with a smile, and there’s a piece of hair in Eddie’s bangs that’s sticking straight up. “Hey.” You giggle, reaching out to fix the rebellious strand. Eddie softly thanks you, and you swear you see a hint of pink dust across his cheeks.

He shifts in his seat, rubbing his hands against his thighs as he sighs again, “So… what’s up?”

God, he’s so cute. So incredibly weird and awkward and cute. He looks handsome in his navy blue coveralls, grease stains smeared across his torso, and some sneaky smudges on his neck. “You’re very hard to get ahold of, you know?” You tease.

Eddie’s face twists in confusion, “Huh?”

You shrug, distracting yourself by poking around at his dashboard, sifting through the CDs and tapes he has lying about. Eddie doesn’t stop you; he only watches, and you give him a cheeky smile. “My assistant got your number, right? But then you, like, never answered my calls.” You shrug as you flip through more of his things. You hear Eddie mumble something about needing a new cord for his home phone before he asks louder, " So, how’d you find me?”

God, he must think you’re a stalker or something. You didn’t really think that through, honestly.

You hum, “Just asked around a bit. You’re a bit of a hot commodity around here, by the way. Heard you started a cult? What’s that about?” 

Eddie’s eyes widen at your words, and you laugh, “Oh god. Jesus, no, I didn’t start a cult. I just,” he groans as he pinches the bridge of his nose, “I was just weird in high school.”

“You’re still weird.”

Eddie’s face falters at your words, but you smile as you add, “I like it.”

Eddie blushes again, but he turns to look away this time, and you think he’s the cutest thing you’ve ever set your eyes upon. He turns back to you with a shy grin, “Did you come here just to flirt with me?” He teases, wrapping a strand of his hair around his finger to twirl in a shy manner. “Maybe… but I also have a question.” You respond.

Eddie nods, “Shoot.”

You take a deep breath as you shift in your seat, “Well, uh, I wanted to ask if you maybe…” You glance at Eddie, who's expectantly awaiting your question, and your stomach twists with nerves. Why are you so nervous to ask Eddie for something you’ve already done before?

“Well, I’m doing a shoot tomorrow,” you finally begin, “And I just found out the guy they paired me with is, like, a total asshole— I’ve worked with him before, he’s just… awful,” You explain. “So, I was just… I don’t know; I was just wondering— hoping— you’d be up for it, maybe? To take the guy's place, I mean.”

You finish rambling and glance at Eddie as his eyes widen, “Oh, um. Like— like, film with you again?”

Eddie could leap for joy right now.

Not only are you, like, the cutest, prettiest, kindest fucking human being to ever grace this earth, but you’re sitting in Eddie’s van, chewing on your lip and asking Eddie to fuck you for the cameras again.

Eddie must’ve done something incredibly right in his past life.

“Oh!” Eddie starts, “ Um… yeah, I’d love to!” What? Weird, take that back. “No, I mean, like, not in a weird way. I just— I’d rather not let the asshole do it if I can do it.”

God, could Eddie sound any more pathetic?

Still, despite how dumb Eddie sounds, you smile and clasp your hands together, “Oh, are you sure? I know it’s last minute, and it’s not really the ideal task—” 

“Woah, wait. What do you mean not the ideal task?” 

Because literally, what do you mean? How could that not be the ideal task? And who made you think that fucking you isn’t the ideal task? If it’s that asshole you were supposed to work with, then Eddie has a few colorful things to say about and to him.

You shrug, fiddling with your fingers in your lap, “Nothing, I just know my job isn’t… you know, traditional or whatever. And you had only done it that one time because you needed it, so I get it if you’re, like, not in the mood to fuck on camera for a bunch of random people.” You ramble. Which, uh, no. You could not be further from the truth. Eddie would love to fuck you on camera for a bunch of random people. Hell, Eddie would love to fuck you under any consensual circumstance, if he’s being honest, so. Yeah, he’s pretty excited.

“No,” Eddie shakes his head, “No, I— I want to, really, I do.” Eddie nods.

Your unsure frown spreads into the prettiest smile before you reach across the center console to pull Eddie into the most bone-crushing, you-scented, chest-warming hug Eddie’s ever been given as you spew out a chorus of thank yous.

“I brought a copy of the script for you to look over so you’re not totally confused,” Eddie watches as you pull back to reach into your bag and pull out a manilla folder. “I usually like to color coordinate my scripts, so I did it for you too. The pink is me, and the red is you, and the specific actions they want us to do are in blue.” You point out. And Eddie thinks he might kiss you right now— you’re so fucking cute!

“Wow, thanks, um… I wish I were, like… good with these types of things, but I think you saw how majestic I am with scripts.” Eddie huffs out a laugh as he scratches the back of his neck. You smile, “I can help you— if you’d like.”

Oh, you’re trying to kill Eddie at this rate.

Eddie nods either way, even though he’s six feet underground and knocking at the fiery gates. “I would love that, actually. I finish work in about three hours if you’re free.”

Eddie definitely broke a handful of laws while driving home.

Since you offered to help Eddie with his lines, you both decided to meet at Eddie’s place. He gave you his address, told you how to get into the complex, and said see you later. Now, Eddie is ecstatic to see you, obviously, but Eddie can’t remember if his home looked normal or like a Walmart clearance aisle after black Friday, so he ran through multiple stop signs and red lights to get home before you showed up so he could clear things up.

He’s hustling through his apartment like a madman, picking up strewn clothes and cat toys before speeding through the few dishes he had in his sink. Honestly, Eddie’s apartment has seen worse days, so there’s not much cleaning he has to do, but he’s still stressed when he hears a knock on the door. 

Eddie doesn’t even like candles, but he lit one just in case there’s a smell he’s grown used to lingering about. Eddie just doesn’t want you to think he’s a slob. Because he isn’t. He just has an orchestrated chaotic lifestyle.

Eddie couldn’t be happier when he opened his door because there you were, beaming with a smile and a bag of takeout, and Eddie thought it wasn’t normal to be this soft for someone you’d basically just met.

“Welcome to my humble abode,” Eddie dramatically bows with an extended hand to show the entrance of his small, homey apartment. You smile as you walk in, taking in your surroundings.

It’s nothing extraordinary, honestly. Eddie’s home is really just vomit of everything Eddie likes: favorite colors, favorite movies, favorite game characters, etc. It’s like Eddie’s brain exploded and painted itself all over the place. Eddie had a girlfriend many moons ago, and she changed things around to become more coordinated, so now it’s less of a shit show and more of an abstract museum sort of thing.

Whatever. Doesn’t matter anyway because you’re gasping and picking up the little roommate Eddie has. 

“Who’s this?” You coo at the little creature. You’re looking down at the furball as you scratch behind her ear, “That,” Eddie sighs, “Is the reason why I didn’t get your calls.”

You look up at Eddie, confusion written across your face. Eddie points across the room to the wall where his home phone hangs, except the wire is broken. “Little asshole chewed through the wire, and I’ve been slow to replace it. Her name is Banshee.”

The cat meows at the mention of her name, wide eyes blinking up at Eddie as you coddle her. She’s a fluffy cat with a black coat decorated with two white spots: one on her back and the other just behind her ear.

You hum, “So technically,” You drag, “It’s your fault.” You tease. You coo as you press your cheek to the tiny kitten, gazing up at Eddie with these soft eyes, “I don’t think you can blame this cutie for your laziness.” 

Eddie rolls his eyes, wills away whatever power he has to not kiss you, and gently takes the takeout bag from your hands so you have less to carry. “Fine then. Ask her what happened to the laces of my work shoes, too, since she’s so innocent.”

Eddie’s home is so… Eddie.

He’s got music and horror movie posters framed along his walls, cute little scary figurines randomly placed within his bookshelves, and there’s an overall smell of Eddie’s musk and the sandalwood candle he has burning. It’s cozy, a nice space for one person who enjoys their alone time, and he let you choose a record to play from his extensive collection, and he has the world's cutest little cat, so it’s safe to say you could spend an eternity in Eddie’s world.

“Shit, that wasn’t my line,” Eddie stresses. You smile as Eddie tosses the packet onto his coffee table and falls back onto the couch, “We’re wasting our time here, princess. I dropped out of theater for a reason.” He grumbles.

You sigh, tilting your head against the couch cushion as you gaze at Eddie, “You’re thinking too hard about it.” You say. “It’s a porno, not a Grammy-nominated film.” You point out.

Eddie snorts before giving a short shrug, “For the record, I think you could land a Grammy, sweetheart.” 

You roll your eyes, “Yeah, right. You don’t need to suck up to me, Eddie, you’re already gonna fuck me tomorrow.” You jokingly say.

Eddie waves you off and shifts into a more comfortable position. “So,” He starts, “What’s the asshole guy's deal?” 

Banshee has hopped onto the couch and made her way into your lap, tiny paws kneading the material of your jeans as she settles. You gently pet her as you glance at Eddie and shrug, “Not sure, he’s just a total dick,” You grumble. “I worked with him once last year, and he, like, told me I wasn’t the best or whatever— which, okay, I can totally understand,” You ramble, “I don’t think I’m, like, some sex god. I don’t expect to be everyone or anyone’s best fuck, but still! It just… it didn’t make me feel good, the way he said it.” You windedly explain. You distract yourself with the cute animal in your lap as you finish your explanation, “So, I asked my manager never to pair us again, but—” You shrug.

Next to you, Eddie shifts once more and scoffs. “He’s a fucking shitfaced liar, princess.”

You snort, playfully rolling your eyes, “Eddie—” “No, I’m serious. He’s a liar. Anybody who even gets the chance to touch you is a lucky fucker, okay? If anything, he probably begged your manager to let him work with you again.”

“You’re just saying that. I don’t need you to try and make me feel better, and it was so long ago anyway.” “Yeah, but that’s the thing, I’m not.”

You frown as you gaze over at Eddie, watching as he sits straight and looks at you with a serious gaze in his eyes. “I don’t know what’s up with that guy, maybe he was dropped as a baby too many times, but anybody with common sense and a properly functioning dick knows just how fucking amazing you are. End of discussion.”

And well, it’s pathetic how your chest warms at his words, but it does. And as Eddie goes on to ramble about his hectic week at work, you can’t help but let your mind spin with Eddie’s kind words until nothing is in your mind but the echoes of Eddie, Eddie, Eddie.

Not many times has Eddie woken up with a girl in his home. Well, at least not a girl that he’s actually liked for more than a one-night stand or a shortly-lived fling.

After running the script for the last time, Eddie suggested putting on a movie and digging into the takeout you’d brought. The meal was delicious, and the movie you’d landed on was hilarious, but it’s hard to keep your eyes open on a full stomach, so when Eddie felt your head drop onto his shoulder, he couldn’t help but let his body sink into the couch and fall asleep too.

You’d woken up about an hour later and tried to make your escape quietly, but Eddie insisted you shouldn’t drive in such a sleepy state, so he let you make yourself comfy in his bed. Banshee, the little traitor, trotted right behind you and left Eddie on the couch to snuggle up beside you for the night.

You’re cute in the morning, Eddie thinks. You have an adorable little pout, and you yawn about 80 times until you’ve had a sip of coffee. 

It takes nearly a lifetime to drag you away from Banshee so you and Eddie can head to the studio because you adore the little asshole, and Banshee loves anything that’ll give her the time of day. You make Eddie promise to let you see her again, though, so you sadly say goodbye with a soft peck to the fluffy area between her eyes and let Eddie drag you to his van.

The car ride is nice; Eddie lets you mess around with the contents of his van and go through the stack of CDs he’s compiled over the years. You land on one of Eddie’s favorites, an old mixtape Wayne made in college that Eddie spent most of his high school blaring loud enough to blow out a speaker.

Today, you’re shooting in a house— a nice one that Eddie could only conjure up in his dreams—but he doesn’t have much time to dwell on it because he’s being dragged over to makeup and hair as soon as he steps in.

“You thinking of joining the industry?” Nicki asks as she works a nice-smelling mousse into Eddie’s hair.

Eddie had been busy watching you talk to one of the producers, but he finds the strength to tear his eyes away and gaze at Nicki through the vanity mirror. “No, not exactly. Just… doing a favor for a friend, I guess.”

Nicki raises an eyebrow, “A friend? Don’t act like I didn’t see you two come in together.”

Eddie’s face warms at that, the tips of his ears turning red as he stutters, “Huh?” 

Nicki looks at Eddie with a ‘Don’t bullshit me’ look.

“I mean, like, yeah, we had breakfast together–” “Mhm.”

Eddie huffs out a gentle laugh, “No, really, we’re friends.”

“Friends that fuck on camera and look at each other the way you two do? Sure.”

Eddie doesn’t ask what Nicki means by that because— well, he knows what Nicki means by that. He’s caught himself looking at you like you put the stars in the sky one too many times, and it’s almost embarrassing. Almost.

But can you blame Eddie? Can you really blame him when you’re the prettiest girl he’s ever seen, the softest smile, the greatest laugh, and the sweetest personality? It’s not Eddie’s fault that you’re perfect.

Eddie just thinks you’re neat. 

He thinks you’re amazing, actually, and it’s hard to remember his fucking lines when you’re standing under a steaming shower, wet body glistening and pebbled nipples practically begging for his mouth.

He’s butchering the script, that’s for sure, but he figures it’s not too bad since nobody’s corrected him. 

The scene starts with you taking a shower and Eddie being a peeping tom, which ultimately leads to Eddie sinking to his knees and licking into you until you’re a quivering, sticky mess on his tongue. Eddie would spend forever on his knees, between your legs, if he could because you taste heavenly and sound better than any song Eddie’s ever listened to, and that says something.

Your fingers thread through the wet strands of Eddie’s hair, and Eddie rapidly blinks when he gazes up at you, only to get an eyeful of his wispy bangs. You smile, petting back his bangs so he can see, and he hums, nudging his face further against you, his tongue teasing more, fingers curling deeper.

It doesn’t take long to make you cum, and the second you do, Eddie is standing up, shutting off the shower, and ushering you out into the expansive main bathroom. It’s almost as if it’s just Eddie and you in the room. No cameras, no directors or producers, or that weird pervy lighting guy that compliments you way too fucking much for Eddie’s liking. It’s just you and Eddie.

“Let’s do an over-the-counter shot next.”

Fuck. It’s not just you two, actually.

What a buzz kill.

Either way, Eddie finds himself pressing your wet, naked waist down against the sink, smiling when you squeal at the cold marble touching your skin. “Stick your ass out, baby, let me see that gorgeous ass.” 

You mewl as you follow Eddie’s instructions, tipping your hips back to present yourself to him and the cameras. You’re dripping. Swollen and wet and throbbing, and Eddie— god, Eddie feels like a fucking animal.

“Got such a pretty pussy, honey. All wet and ready for me, hm?” He teases, gently running his fingers through the sticky arousal between your legs. You shakily breathe as you nod your head, “Yeah. All for you. Please.”

Eddie steps forward, grabbing his cock and painting it between your swollen lips as he hooks his other arm across your shoulders, pulling you back to press against his chest. He presses a wet kiss to the skin of your cheek in front of your ear, voice dry and needy as he whispers in your ear, “You’re so fuckin’ pretty,” His eyes catch yours in the mirror as you keen. “Ask me to fuck you.”

You whimper out loud, wriggling your hips back into his as your hands grip the counter, “P-please fuck me. Please. Need it so bad, want your cock so bad I— o-oh.”

The slide to home base is fucking otherworldly. It was life-changing the first time, and it’s life-changing now, and if Eddie ever gets the chance to fuck you again, he knows it’ll be life-changing then.

You’re so warm, and you're sucking Eddie’s cock in so nicely, so sinfully, that Eddie almost makes a deal with the devil right then and there. Your chest is heaving by the time Eddie’s pelvis presses to your bum, his cock nestled deep into your pulsing cunt. Eddie leans forward, pressing his chest against your back as he loops an arm around your shoulders, holding you tight to him as he gives one slow thrust. He coos when your eyes flutter shut, and your jaw drops, a shaky hand reaching up to sink your nails into Eddie’s forearm.

“S-so deep,” You slur, wriggling your hips back against Eddie.

Eddie grunts, “Fuck. You feel so good, baby. Always so warm and ready for me, hm?” Eddie’s lips are wet against your jaw as he whispers into your ear, and you nod with a mewl.

Eddie works up the pace relatively fast in favor of the cameras, and at some point, he reaches down to grip the thick of your thigh and haul your leg up to rest on the counter so you’re spread open even more. The angle makes it easier for him to catch your spot, and it’s better for the camera to capture the sight of your soaking pussy wrapped around Eddie’s cock, dribbling onto both of your thighs and creating a sticky ring of arousal at the base of Eddie’s dick.

Eddie’s hand is wrapped around your throat when you begin twitching around him, mumbling promises of your climax, and Eddie doesn’t waste time in sinking his hand between your legs to help you reach the edge quicker. Your moans fall silent, eyes squeezed shut, and jaw dropped wide open as Eddie fucks you through your orgasm— and fuck, you feel so good. Squeezing and pulsing and dripping around Eddie’s thighs, throat vibrating beneath his palm when air comes back to you.

“There we go, baby. Get it all out, push it out, honey.” Eddie encourages you.

You’re shaking, trembling like a leaf in Eddie’s arms, and Eddie wants to spend forever tucked into your pussy, warm skin sticky against him, pretty little whines and mewls coating his brain in this cutesy pink fog that makes him want to fucking marry you.

Get you a home, give you his babies, maybe even get you a fucking dog and just live happily goddamn ever.

Jesus, Eddie’s a goner.

“F-fuck, I’m gonna cum.”

Eddie pulls out last second, jerking himself off between your cute ass cheeks until he’s spurting white ropes of cum up your back.

Eddie, ever the considerate man he is, pushes your hair out of the way to avoid getting any of his sticky release in it. You’re breathing heavily, pretty eyes glazed over as you glance back at Eddie, a shy glint in your eyes at the sight of your skin painted in his cum.

Eddie’s obsessed with you now, no doubt.

His ringed fingers slide through the sticky mess on your skin as he grips your ass cheeks, gently spreading them apart and humming when you arch your back, proudly swaying your ass in front of him. The sight makes Eddie dizzy; pools of cum dripping down your back to slink its way through your ass and over your sticky folds. “You’ve got such a cute little hole, baby.” Eddie compliments, taking his thumb and smearing his cum over the puckered muscle, softly laughing when you whine. 

He lightly slaps your ass then, reaching forward to gently grasp your face with his messy hands and pull you back to press a firm kiss over your lips. His thumb, the one that had smeared his cum over your tight hole, sinks between your moving lips, pushing into your mouth and onto your tongue as he whispers a small command to taste it, and you mewl.

“So good, princess—”

“Cut!”

You both jolt at the booming voice, getting rudely snapped out of the daze you’d fallen into. 

These fucking cameras.

You smile, dropping your cheek onto your shoulder as you bat your eyelashes up at Eddie from over your shoulder, “You’re a natural, Eddie, you know that?”

Eddie huffs a laugh, thanking the assistant when they bring you towels and robes.

“Well,” He breathes as he slinks the robe over his shoulders, watching as you do the same, “I’ve got the best coach.” He winks.

Now that you and Eddie have done two films together and basically had a sleepover, you’re practically inseparable.

It’s funny, really. Eddie thought maybe the fact that you’ve seen each other bare and had sex on camera might hinder the aspect of any friendly connection because, well, Eddie’s never done this before! He’s not a pornstar, so he’s not sure how the friendship/relationship aspect of it works, but luckily, it’s easier than most normal friendships Eddie’s had before.

You talk almost every night over the phone (Eddie finally fixed the wire), going over one another’s day and laughing at embarrassing or funny moments. You go on for hours until either one of you falls asleep, and it’s usually you since Eddie has the sleep schedule of a newborn baby who doesn’t know the difference between night and day. All the better for him, though, because he gets to poke fun at you the next day and tease you about how you sometimes snore.

And Eddie loves listening to you talk— could spend hours cuddled up with Banshee as he listens to you ramble on about whatever new show you’re watching or the latest gossip at work. It’s Eddie’s favorite part of his day, talking to you, so he kicks himself when he realizes he forgot to call you last night.

He’s getting ready for bed when he remembers, and he practically sprints to his phone on his nightstand and dials your number in less than thirty seconds. It takes you three rings to answer, and Eddie smiles at the sound of your voice, “Hello?”

“Hi, princess,” Eddie responds.

You gasp, “Eddie, hi! Oh, I was just about to call you! Where have you been?” You ask. Eddie groans, dropping back onto his mattress with spread arms. “Working. I’m so sorry I forgot to call. I just started a new schedule at the shop, and the hours are awful.”

Eddie can hear your frown when you respond, “Bummer. I’ve got a way to cheer you up, though.”

Eddie’s eyes are closed, and sleep is so heavy in his bones he feels like he’s sinking through the mattress, but he smiles as if it’s second nature when he responds, “Hit me.”

You cheer, and Eddie hears the rustling of grocery bags on your end as you speak, “My manager gave me a shit ton of holiday chocolates she had left over, and well, I was wondering if you’d like to drown yourself in sugar with me?” 

Eddie softly laughs, folding his arm to rest his hand on his tummy as he nods, forgetting you can’t see. “You didn’t even have to ask.”

The drive from your flat to Eddie’s is typically around twenty minutes, but with the benefit of it being nearly midnight and most normal people being in bed by now, you’re knocking on Eddie’s door in just a little under twelve minutes. 

Eddie opens the door to let you in and immediately just wants to kiss you. You’re dressed in an oversized sweatshirt, loose pajama pants with cute little ducks printed on them, and fluffy house slippers. You grin up at Eddie as you lift a bag full of candy, “I come bearing gifts!”

Eddie had been exhausted all day, but now that he’s had two handfuls of sugary treats, he’s ready to run a fucking marathon.

He’s sucking on a sour apple jawbreaker and watching some shitty romcom with Banshee curled in his lap when he feels your head softly drop onto his shoulder. He glances down at you and sees the soft flutter of your eyes, “Are you tired? You can take my bed.” He offers.

You tilt your head to blink up at him tiredly, “Will you come with me?”

And well, Eddie was originally going to take the couch, but you’re looking up at him with these cute, bleary eyes, and Eddie can’t even imagine saying no. So, he shuts his TV off, makes a mental note to clean up the candy wrappers sometime tomorrow, and lets you drag him off to his room.

Banshee decided to take advantage of the new space on the couch and sprawl out, so Eddie doesn’t have to worry about asking if you’re okay with her cuddling up on his bed like she usually does. 

Eddie doesn’t do this very often— sleep with other people in his bed, he means. And sure, he’s had partners before that would stay the night here and there, but he hasn’t had that in over a year now, so it’s safe to say that Eddie’s a little bit nervous.

He doesn’t know if you want to be close, but considering how cuddly you are on a daily basis, he’s not surprised when you press yourself into his side with a content sigh, snuggling deeper into the warm covers. He turns, shifting to wrap his arms around your frame, trying his best to ignore the fast beating of his heart in his chest— but that’s not the main issue. The bigger problem is— “Eddie? Are you hard?”

Shit.

God, this is awful. Nothing even remotely sexual happened, and Eddie’s popping a boner and practically stabbing your stomach. Fuck, you probably think he’s a perv now. Nice going.

“No.”

It falls silent for a moment, and Eddie can feel the quiver of your body as you giggle into his shoulder. He smiles, an embarrassed blush rising over her cheeks as he lifts a hand to palm at his eye, “I’m so fucking sorry.”

You turn in Eddie’s arm, pressing a hand to Eddie’s shoulder to lay him on his back. You stay lying by his side, body pressed to him, head resting on his shoulder. You nose at the curly strands of hair on Eddie’s neck, and your hand runs down his torso, fingertips dipping beneath the waistband of his sweats. “O-oh. No, you don’t need to, princess.” Eddie says, yet his voice is shaky and holds anticipation as you drag your nails through the coarse hair leading to his cock. 

“I want to. Please?” You ask. And you’re so good, so obedient, not touching Eddie’s cock until he swallows and nods his head yes. You wriggle, like a happy pup that got a treat, and your hand sinks lower, wrapping around the thick of Eddie’s cock.

Eddie’s breath hitches, sinking into the feeling of your warm hand stroking up his cock, your thumb running over his leaking tip. Eddie curses, hips twitching up into your hold, and you press a kiss to his jaw, and Eddie nearly bursts into stars.

You press another kiss to his jaw, soft and sweet, and Eddie slinks an arm around you, sinking his hands into your hair and shakily breathing. “You keep kissing me like that, and I’m gonna— fuck.”

And it’s so pathetic; you’ve only had your hand down his pants for less than five minutes, and Eddie’s quivering like a virgin having their first time. God, this is so embarrassing.

You kiss Eddie once more, “Wait, wait. Not yet.”

And then you shuffle away from Eddie, and he’s frowning because he feels cold without you snuggled against him. But then you’re sinking underneath the covers, and Eddie’s cursing, “W-what are you doing, honey?”

He lifts the covers just as you wriggle your way between his legs and hook your fingers over the band of his sweats. You peel his sweats away, mouth opening like a hungry lion when Eddie’s cock pops out. You push the front band of his sweats to catch just below his balls, and Eddie’s hips squirm from the pressure making you giggle when his cock twitches.

You loop your fingers around his cock, twisting up on a long stroke, “Did I ever tell you how pretty your cock is, Eddie?”

Jesus Christ.

Eddie breathes shakily through his nose, tummy quivering as your gaze flickers; he shakes his head no. Eddie sinks a hand to pet your hair back, smiling when you nuzzle into his touch, letting your lips brush against his tip, “You think it’s pretty, baby?” He asks.

You nod, letting your tongue loll out of your mouth to catch the pearl of pre-cum dripping from his tip. You don’t say anything else as you lean forward and wrap your mouth around him, languidly taking him as far as you want and sucking him for all he’s worth.

Eddie’s head drops back then, his entire body just losing strength to do anything as you slowly fuck your mouth over him. The blanket falls over you then, and Eddie curses, scrambling to push it back over your head so you don’t, like, suffocate on his cock.

And Eddie was already close before, so it doesn’t take long for him to start cursing and warning you that he’s gonna cum. Before he knows it, he’s emptying himself into the warm cavern of your mouth, soft mixes of curses and your name tumbling from his mouth as you happily take every last drop.

You pull off of him with a small pop, licking up the small remnants of cum that drool down his cock. Eddie feels weightless now; the effects of sugar are long gone now that you practically sucked his soul through his dick. You tuck Eddie back into his pants, and as if you couldn’t get any cuter, any sweeter, you press a gentle kiss to Eddie’s tummy right where the waistband sits.

Eddie’s got a loopy grin on his face when you crawl back up to snuggle back into his side, mumbling something about how you love licking his cock. Eddie nearly dies, by the way.

He thinks he’s in love with you, maybe.

You breathe in deep, draping an arm across Eddie’s tummy and slinking your leg between his, and you sigh all sleepy and cute as you say, “G’night, Eddie.”

Yeah. Eddie’s definitely in love with you.

Weeks go by as you and Eddie become thick as thieves.

You carry on with your nightly calls, obviously, but now there’s a healthy mix of one of you going to the other's home and crashing there for the night, then that bleeds into the next day where you just spend hours with each other doing fuck all.

Eddie just likes being around you. You don’t have to be doing anything particularly fun or sexual; no, Eddie just enjoys your company. And most times, you and Eddie will be doing your separate little activities— you reading or watching a movie while Eddie writes up new campaign ideas for Dustin— and you will reach out to twirl a strand of Eddie’s hair around your knuckle and gently tug or poke your finger into his cheek where his dimples reside and Eddie just melts.

Most of the time, you’re only doing it for your peace of mind (Eddie knows because you told him when he asked), but something tells him maybe you actually have something to say when you poke Eddie’s cheek for the third time.

He turns to you, brows raised and hiding beneath his bangs that so badly need a trim, “Yes, doll?”

You smile now that his attention is on you, and you shift, careful not to wake Banshee in your lap from your movements. Eddie thinks Banshee might like you more than she likes him, which is just downright traitorous, considering Eddie’s the one who feeds her and keeps a roof over her head. He doesn’t really blame the cat, though. 

“What are you doing on Saturday?” You ask.

Eddie hums, closing his notebook and leaning back into his couch, “This Saturday?”

You nod, and Eddie shrugs, lips pouting as he speaks, “Nothing, I’m pretty sure. Why?”

You sigh heavily, sinking into the couch as you gently pet Banshee behind her ear, “We have an event for work, and I was just wondering if you would maybe wanna tag along?”

Eddie’s head tips in interest, “Sure. Is it, like, fancy dress shit?” He asks. Eddie thinks he has a tux somewhere deep in the trenches of his closet. Probably the one he wore to Wayne's wedding two years ago; he hopes he still fits.

You shrug, “Eh, nothing too fancy schmancy. Slacks and a nice shirt will do,” You mindlessly watch the television, gently rubbing Banshee’s ear between your fingers. “That I can do, princess. But uh,” Eddie pauses, “You don’t seem too ecstatic about this.” He points out.

You shrug, glancing over at Eddie, and Eddie wants to kiss your pouty lips because you look adorable swallowed up in a throw blanket with sleepy eyes blinking up at him. “S’cause I’m not,” You huff, “I hate those ignorant assholes— don’t get me wrong, some of them are good friends of mine! But most of them are just…” You make a face and roll your eyes, and Eddie softly laughs. You let your head lazily turn to gaze at him, “Don says I have to go, though. So I figured I may as well drag someone I actually enjoy being around.” You softly smile.

Eddie’s heart flutters and grows three times the size of his body.

Saturday night comes quicker than most, and Eddie spends nearly an hour digging through his closet. By the time Eddie finds a nice enough shirt to pair with his neatly ironed (to Eddie’s standard, which is probably not very high) slacks, he’s running behind and starts to stress that he won’t pick you up on time, and he’s just totally made an ass of himself.

It’s five o’clock when Eddie gets to your flat, and when he knocks on your door, he’s out of breath because he smokes more than a godman grill, and he skipped every other step on the staircase to get there quicker. He’s thinking of a million ways to apologize for being late, and he thinks he has it right when you open the door, but then— “Oh. Hey Eds! You’re early!”

Eddie huffs, nearly doubling over in exhaustion because he seriously needs to quit smoking, “Wha– early?”

You hold the door open for Eddie to step in and nod. You’re in a white fluffy robe with house boots on, and your hair is tied back, so you have a clear canvas to work with for your makeup. “Yeah, it starts at seven.” 

And, oh, what the fuck? Here Eddie was stressing and thinking he’d completely ruined his chances with you because he decided to be an asshat and lose track of time on his video games, but in reality, he’s nearly two hours early?!

“Oh, but now you can help me pick a dress. Come on.”

No, Eddie has zero complaints, actually. He’s grateful that he’s timely challenged, he thinks as you drag him toward your room.

Eddie spends the next thirty minutes or so seated at the foot of your bed, judging whichever dresses you surprise him with from out of your closet.

It isn’t easy to give a solid answer because, well, you look good in all of them. And Eddie’s not even being biased because he’s got a sickening crush on you— no, you genuinely look amazing in every dress.

“Eddie, you’ve said yes to all of them.” You huff. “Because they all look good!” Eddie exclaims.

You frown, resting your hands on your hips and tilting your head at him. Eddie shrugs, “I don’t know why you’re upset with me when it’s technically your fault.” He points out, to which you roll your eyes and jokingly throw a dress at his face.

It takes a while for you to decide; by the time you’ve figured it out, there’s about forty minutes until the event begins.

The dress you landed on is evil, to say the least.

It’s a black puffy babydoll-style dress, except instead of a poofy top half, it’s tight fitting and pushes your chest up to sit nice and pretty, and the straps are thin, and Eddie thinks about the sound you’d make if he just reached out and teasingly snapped it against your skin. Wants to coo when you squirm and mewl and press yourself into him.

And the dress is so short, long enough to cover everything, but you wouldn’t have to bend over very far to flash a lucky person, and the sight of your thighs makes Eddie’s head spin.

He doesn’t know where the courage comes from because Eddie is anything but bold when it comes to people he has ridiculous crushes on, but Eddie couldn’t help himself, watching you bent over the sink as you do your last touch-ups to your makeup, the way your silky thighs rub against one another when you shift to get closer to the mirror— Eddie didn’t stand a chance.

He’s behind you before he knows it, and you’re smiling at him through the mirror, “Almost done, promise.” You say.

Eddie lets his hand slink around your waist, dropping his head to nuzzle into your neck, brown eyes fluttering up to hold your gaze through the glass as he kisses your skin before playfully nipping at you. You squeal, curling away from him, and he smiles as you push at him. “You’re cute,” Eddie softly says, and he grins, teeth digging into his bottom lip when you shy away from his gaze, “So pretty.” He adds.

Eddie turns you to face him as he presses you against the bathroom sink. He seeks your lips, but you pout and shake your head, “My lipgloss.” 

Eddie huffs out a laugh, shaking his head before pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth, careful not to catch any of the sticky application before sinking to his knees, hands gentle and greedy as they caress your thighs.

Eddie leans forward to kiss the inside of your knee, “Gonna let me taste you, honey?” He hums, leaning in the press a kiss further up the inside of your thigh. Your breath hitches, legs subconsciously spreading wider to accommodate Eddie. Your nails dig into the countertop as you shakily breathe, “W-we’re gonna be late,” You weakly say as Eddie lets his tongue draw shapes in your skin. Eddie hums, sucking the fat of your thigh into his mouth before leaving with a pop, lips brushing against your hot skin as he says, “I’ll be quick. Promise.”

He doesn’t wait for your response as he coasts his hands up your thighs to loop his fingers around the band of your panties, dragging them down your legs and helping you step out of them. 

Eddie doesn’t waste time then; he kisses a sloppy wet trail up the inside of your thigh, fingers digging into the fat of your skin and helping you spread open for him so he can nuzzle his head beneath the fluffy tulle of your dress and begin his task of devouring you. You’re wet, dripping, and throbbing for Eddie’s tongue, and this is the third time that Eddie has found himself licking into you, and god, it never gets fucking old.

The sounds you make, the way you writhe, the tiny gasps you give, and then the way your cunt pulses around his tongue— it’s the pinnacle of Eddie’s night, he already knows. 

“E-Eddie— oh,” Your breathy whine makes Eddie stuff his face further into your pussy, nose brushing against your clit as he thrusts his tongue into you, your hands scrambling down to sink into Eddie’s hair and tug.

And it took Eddie longer than he’d like to admit to get his hair slicked into the neat bun he’s sporting, but with his tongue plunged deep inside of you and your pretty moans filling his ears, Eddie can’t seem to care that you’re definitely messing up his hard work.

Eddie could spend eternity here, down on his knees, under the dress of your skirt, lapping at your pussy like it’s the last meal he’ll ever have. And sure, Eddie makes this conclusion, like, every single time he finds himself between your legs, but can you blame him? You’re the sweetest thing he’s ever had the pleasure of dealing with.

You lift a leg to hook over Eddie’s shoulder, the heel of your foot pressing into his shoulder blade and pushing a moan from the depths of Eddie’s chest as he snuggles deeper into you, licking and sucking and nipping. 

“S-so close…” You whimper, thighs beginning to quiver on each side of Eddie’s head. He fixes his grip on your hips because Eddie wouldn’t dream of letting you fall in his presence, and you’re standing on your tiptoes when you fumble over the edge, crying out for Eddie as you soak his tongue.

Eddie’s moaning into you, fingers massaging and caressing the thick parts of your hips and thighs as he continues working you through your orgasm. You’re twitching and heavily breathing when Eddie parts his mouth from your slick folds, strings of arousal and spit snapping and falling to his chin. God, it makes Eddie ache in his pants.

He presses sweet and sticky kisses to the insides of your thighs, savoring every moment he has here, breathing you in, tasting you, feeling you, hearing you. He doesn’t doubt for a moment that he looks like a madman when he brings his head out from under your dress, and you giggle, pressing your hand to your lips.

Eddie wants to hear that noise on repeat. Put his headphones on and, like, clean his house or something. Let your giggles play on a constant loop until they’re engrained into the grooves of his brain so he never has to go a second without hearing them.

“What?” Eddie smiles, hands still under your dress and soothingly squeezing the shaky muscles of your thighs. Your eyes are glazed from pleasure, and you look warm as you speak, “I– your hair,” You laugh. You press the wispy curls of Eddie’s bangs back, “I’m so sorry. It looked so nice, and I messed it up.” You happily frown.

Eddie huffs out a laugh, pressing a kiss to your knee and shaking his head, “That’s okay,” He responds, reaching over for your panties to help you slip them back on. “It was for a good cause.” He winks.

Eddie doesn’t frequent fancy parties.

The fanciest event Eddie’s ever been to was a masquerade-themed dinner that he and Jeff snuck into because there were rumors of a big hit producer being there, which, big fucking shocker, they never found him since everyone was in a fucking mask. It was a waste of time, but at least they ate like kings that night.

Besides that, Eddie doesn’t go to fancy places— it’s just not his kind of scene. And it’s not like the event you’ve brought him to tonight is, like, Buckingham Palace tier, but everyone here looks like a million bucks and up, and Eddie’s not quite sure he’s up to that standard.

He would be more worried if you weren’t clinging to him like a koala bear and keeping him in light conversation.

You introduced Eddie to a few of your industry friends, and one or two of them even remembered Eddie from the films he’d done with you, which, Eddie doesn’t know why, but his head grew three times bigger in size from that. And for the most part, you keep to Eddie’s side, pointing out different people from across the room and telling him the lore behind them and whatnot as you share a plate of snacks.

And you love grapes, apparently, because Eddie’s had to get up and refill on them about three times now. “Do you want more?” Eddie asks when he realizes you’re almost done. You glance at him with a small smile as you nod, “I’ll get it this time, though. I want to try some of the cheese.”

So, Eddie nods and keeps an eye on you until the crowd obstructs his view. He busies himself with watching the room, tries to see if he can pick out anyone from any pornos he’s watched before he realizes that’s fucking weird and cringes at himself for being a perv. He finishes his glass of champagne, which Eddie isn’t a champagne guy, but it was either that or whiskey, and Eddie would rather not get shitfaced tonight.

And what’s taking you so long? You’ve been gone for a while now, and Eddie had first thought you maybe made a quick stop at the restrooms, but it’s been more than enough time, and he misses you (as fucking sappy as that is), so he gets up and makes his way to the food bar.

He’s got his empty flute in one hand and the other in his pocket, brown eyes softly scanning the room as he walks. And then he spots you, near the food where you said you’d be, with some guy talking to you, but something isn’t right. 

Eddie’s spent enough time with you now to be able to tell when you’re feeling uneasy just by the way you anxiously drag your nail against the length of your thumb, the way your eyes dart around, or the tense pull of your shoulders.

Your gaze lands on Eddie, and your eyes soften, and Eddie doesn’t even have to think twice before he walks over.

The man's back is facing Eddie, so he doesn’t see the curly-headed boy until he steps around and slinks an arm around your waist, pulling you close with a soft smile, “Been looking for you, sweets.” He presses a kiss to your forehead as you sink into him.

“Mm, just catching up with..a friend.” 

Eddie doesn’t miss the pause. He looks over to the man you’d been talking to, and you take a breath, “Eddie, this is Chris, a coworker.” You introduce the man. And Eddie remembers that name; he thinks he remembers seeing it on the script of the last film you and Eddie did together— the one where you’d asked Eddie to take over because the other guy was an asshole.

Chris reaches out a hand, “Chris. You must be a good friend of hers?”

Eddie doesn’t like that. Doesn’t like that he doesn’t refer to you by your name, or the smug grin on his face, or the sly tone in his voice when he says it. 

And Eddie doesn’t know why he does it, okay. He doesn’t know why the words fly out of his mouth or why he didn’t, like, think it through, but suddenly, Eddie’s introducing himself as your boyfriend. Which, Eddie is not your boyfriend. And you’re not his girlfriend.

Eddie would love to be your boyfriend, and he’d love for you to be his girlfriend, but— but you’re not. So, Eddie doesn’t know why he does it, but he does, and god, it’s comedic how the guy's face falls. Eddie can feel your gaze on him, and he panics a little because what if Eddie just crossed the line big time?

Chris’s gaze flickers to you, and his brows raise as you look at him, “So, I take it this is why you’re only doing solo content now?”

Which, fucking gross. That’s definitely none of this meathead guy's business! So what if you’re making solo content only? And why does he know, and why does he care? God, this guy’s a creep.

But also… why are you only doing solo content? Eddie can’t help but wonder. Did something happen? Was it this asshole's fault? Eddie will kill him if he has anything to do with it. You and Eddie have become so close; you tell each other everything about everything, so why didn’t you tell him about this? It’s not a big deal or whatever, but—

“Does it matter?” Shit, Eddie didn’t mean to say that out loud.

You’re both looking at Eddie in shock, and Eddie just blinks and waits for an answer.

You take in a deep breath, arm squeezing around Eddie’s as you answer— since this guy can’t take a fucking hint, “Yeah, actually, it is. Just didn’t feel right.” You shrug.

The guy nods, pursing his lips together, “Fair enough. Well, if that ever changes, you know where to find me.” He winks before turning around and leaving. Eddie cringes, and he almost steps forward to say something, to tell him to fuck off somewhere, but your grip tightens around his arms, and Eddie understands that you just want the conversation to be over.

Eddie’s quickly turning his attention to you, though, when you press yourself into his side, “Thank you.” You sweetly say.

Eddie nods, a warm hand reaching up to squeeze your hand that's resting over his bicep, “Don’t sweat it, princess. That guy’s a douche.” And you huff, nodding your head, “Yeah. You definitely scared him, though. It was pretty hot.”

Eddie tries not to let that get to his head. 

He fails.

The rest of the night goes well with fewer dickhead run-ins and more grapes, and Eddie is more than Elated when you say it’s time to go.

The ride home is pleasant, and you’ve been extra cuddly all night, so Eddie’s heart is practically the size of Texas when you bring his hand into your lap and slink your fingers together. You’re spending the night, so Eddie’s kind of excited to get in bed and snuggle until you both pass out— but then Eddie’s thrown in for a loop when you both get under his covers.

Banshee is busy in her bakery down at the foot of the bed, kneading little biscuits in preparation for her sleep, and you’re fresh-faced and wrapped in one of Eddie’s shirts when you look over at him with a teasing look, “So,” you start, “You’re my boyfriend.”

Eddie blinks at you, wishing the bed would just let him sink in and become one with the mattress. “Oh god,” He groans, pressing his hands to his face, “I’m sorry, it just came out! That guy was being a dick, and it was the first thing that I thought of, and— god, I’m sorry.” He drags his hands over his face and shoots you an empathetic look. “You can totally, like, kick me in the nuts.”

And Eddie kind of braces himself for you to chew him out or something; tell him he’s a weirdo, and he’ll never in a million years get to call himself your boyfriend because you’re way out of his league. But then you giggle. 

And it’s not the teasing ‘get a load of this loser’ giggle— no, it’s your sweet, kind, and adoring giggle.

“No, no. I was… I was wondering when you would ask, actually.”

Eddie’s never turned his head so fast. He thinks he imagined you saying it, like, maybe he drank too much champagne even though he literally only had less than two full glasses the entire night. “Huh? I– w-what do you mean?” Eddie gapes. “Like… like, ask you to be my girlfriend?”

And you’re so cute as you shyly nod, glancing at Eddie with this expectant gaze.

“Shit, well uh, I-I wanted to ask you in like a bigger way. Like flowers and shit because I… well, I really like you, and it’s what you deserve and—”

You cut Eddie off with a laugh and scoot closer to him, and if Eddie’s heart beats any faster, he might die. “Eddie,” You lowly and softly say, holding his gaze. Eddie nods, eyes darting down to your lips as he holds his breath. “Will you be my boyfriend?”

Shit, Eddie’s never said yes so quickly in his life.

————

a/n: HELLOOO! if you have made it to the end of this awfully long baby i am so thankful and appreciative of you, these two are my babies so I hope you enjoyed them as much as I've enjoyed my time with them <3 as always, thank u for reading and being here, i love and appreciate any feedback, ILYSM MWAH <3

————

cutie teeny taglist: @vol2eddie @paleidiot @hideoutside

[fuctacles]

Part 2 of the series that can't be named (it's the cat lady steph)

😺 | 😺😺😺

Eddie doesn't think more about Steph until there's a knock on the door on Saturday morning. He sighs, knowing it's his duty to open since his uncle would take forever on his crutch. And because he's a good nephew and wouldn't make him do that, of course.

He doesn't bother with the peephole, his sleepy brain basically forgetting of its existence. It's only when he opens the door and finds Steph with a duffel bag on the other side, that he realizes he went to open the door in nothing but his old Iron Man pajama bottoms.

"Good morning!" Steph greets him with a bright smile that falters a bit when her gaze drops to his tattooed chest. Eddie couldn't imagine a sight of zombie and spider tattoos giving him any credit in her pretty, middle-aged eyes. She quickly looks back up to meet his gaze. "Did I wake you up?" she asks, looking apologetic. 

Eddie shakes his head, hoping it would send his hair over his shoulders, and cover him up a bit. 

"I did!" Wayne pipes up from the kitchen. He sounds way too happy about running into a cupboard on his way out of the bathroom.

"Good morning, Mr. Wayne!" she calls out, making Eddie roll his eyes.

"You can just come in, no need to yell through the whole place."

"Right, sorry," she steps inside tentatively, her hand clutching the strap of her bag. She's wearing a colorful windbreaker and her hair is tied up, showing off the soft line of her jaw and the beauty marks on her neck. She heads to the kitchen, seemingly already knowing her way around, and Eddie closes the door behind her. He quickly runs off to his bedroom (/guest room, now that he's on campus most of the time) and grabs a t-shirt to cover his nipples, tattoos, and overall unattractiveness.

"Visiting Robin for the weekend?" He catches his uncle's question when he steps back in. 

It rubs him the wrong way, not knowing who Robin is. Is he Steph's boyfriend? Maybe they're doing long-distance? He returns to the ancient coffee maker he had abandoned to open the door.

"Yeah. I haven't seen Rob since last month. Our days off finally aligned."

"Can't you stay there longer? I'm sure Eddie wouldn't mind taking care of your cats for a day or two more."

"Hey!" Eddie whips around to glare at his uncle. The coffee maker splutters behind him. "Don't just offer my services like that," he scoffs. Then, he turns to Steph. "I wouldn't, though."

She chuckles and he grins, simply happy to make her smile.

"Try dealing with them alone first, and then we'll talk. But, you really wouldn't mind? If I stayed a day longer?"

He shakes his head.

"Not at all." He still has Wayne's words fresh in his mind. That people weren't kind to her, that she doesn't have many friends to rely on. "I'm assuming Robin is someone important to you?" he half-asks, leaning against the counter all casually. 

Just the thought of Robin makes Steph glow.

"She's my best friend. We met at our first job serving ice cream."

Eddie's a bit embarrassed at the relief of knowing Robin is a girl. Still, a best friend is higher in ranks than your friendly neighbour's nephew. 

"What's it been? Twenty years?" Wayne asks. Steph nods, making him whistle. "I couldn't stand any of my coworkers for longer than a shift."

"Maybe you're bad at making friends," Eddie butts in. "I've known Gareth since high school and we're still going strong."

"You guys are band buddies, that's different," Wayne scoffs. 

"You play in a band?" Steph picks up, her eyes shining with interest that Eddie squirms under.

"Yeah, we play metal though. Probably not your stuff."

She shakes her head.

"Any music can be good when you put your heart into it. My friends listen to all kinds of weird stuff, I've heard everything from classical to experimental techno." She rolls her eyes. "I'd love to hear your music if you have anything recorded. Or you could give me a heads up if you're playing somewhere."

All Eddie can do is stare at her, dumbfounded. 

"Uh-huh."

Wayne, bless his sometimes useful soul, saves his ass by changing the subject.

"Coffee?" he asks the stunning woman at their table. She's just sitting there, in the Munson abode at their kitchen table while they're still in pajamas like it's normal. Eddie wants it to be normal. Wants to sit in her lap and listen to her laugh. 

She looks at her watch. It's white, she must be cleaning it often.

"I only have fifteen more minutes before I really have to go."

"Half a coffee then," Eddie decides for her, grabbing the mugs. She chuckles.

"Fine." She rolls her eyes.

Each of them gets their coffee, and Eddie notes Steph takes her with just a splash of milk. Before he can ask anything, to push their small morning gathering further into a friendly small talk, she reaches into her pocket to fish out her house key.

"I came over to drop the keys," she says, pushing them towards Eddie. "And if you have something to write on, I'll give you Robin's house number in case of emergencies."

"Sure, yeah." He nods, standing up immediately to look for the notepad they plan the grocery list in. In his haste, he catches Wayne's amused stare. He sends him a frown, but the man is already looking away, which only further agitates him. 

[mitsuas-coffee-shop]

𝚍𝚊𝚝𝚎: 07/09/2024 𝚙𝚞𝚛𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚜𝚎: Would they peel a tangerine for you? 𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: none 𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚛𝚎𝚍𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚜: fluff ���𝙾𝚃𝙰𝙻 (𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚜 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝): $349

I. The ones who do it without asking

"Yes, of course darling", they say after quickly grabbing the tangerine from your hands and start peeling it skillfully or maybe a little clumsily, still, the act is appreciated.

๋ ࣭ ⭑ Izuku Midoriya, Kirishima Eijiro, Sero Hanta, Mirio Togata, Hinata Shouyo, Asahi Asumane, Kiyoko Shimizu, Ittetsu Takeda, Ryuuchi Kashima, Keigo Saikawa, OM!: Mammon, Beelzebub, Diavolo, Barbatos, Simeon

II. The ones who do it doubtfully

"Huh, you don't know how to do it? Don't worry, I can teach you, look"—they start peeling it off slowly for you to watch closely and learn (if you really don't know) or start giggling from their cute reaction.

๋ ࣭ ⭑Shotou Todoroki, Tenya Iida, Tamaki Amajiki, Nejire Hadou, Momo Yaoyorozu, Aizawa Shouta, Takami Keigo, Shigaraki Tomura, Tobio Kageyama, Tadashi Yamaguchi, Ryonusuke Tanaka, Daichi Sawamura, Keigo Saikawa, Yoshihito Usaida, Hayato Kamitani, Maria Inomata, OM!: Lucifer, Leviathan, Satan, Asmodeus, Barbatos, Solomon

III. The ones who tell you to fuck off and do it yourself, regretting it after seeing you sad

"What? No." As simple as that, they refuse your wish and shoo you away. 'You can't give up just now', you think, so try once more—this time making a pouty face that would be incredibly difficult to resist. They end up groaning while snatching the fruit from your hands and do it rapidly to stop that devilish smile you're giving them.

๋ ࣭ ⭑Katsuki Bakugou, Neito Monoma, Aizawa Shouta, Shigaraki Tomura, Dabi, Tsukishima Kei, Hayato Kamitani, Maria Inomata, OM!: Solomon

IV. The ones that does not give a shit about it

"Hey, I asked if you can help me!" you exclaim after they just fled away from your sight when you asked them to. So sad, probably they already know what this is about and they do not wish to be part of it.

๋ ࣭ ⭑ Katsuki Bakugou, Aizawa Shouta, Shigaraki Tomura, Dabi, Tsukishima Kei, OM!: Belphegor

V. The ones who don't know how to peel it, but still try

"Uh... uhm, I don't know how to put this... I've never peeled a tangerine off", they confess, head low in embarrassment. You smile sadly to their response, trying to cheer them up, you end up peeling it off to show them how to do it. After this, rest assured, you'll have your back covered if peeling tangerines is what you need.

๋ ࣭ ⭑ Denki Kaminari, Izuku Midoriya, Tamaki Amajiki, Mirio Togata, Hinata Shouyo, Ryounusuke Tanaka, Yu Nishinoya, Ittetsu Takeda, Ryuuchi Kashima, OM: Mammon, Leviathan, Asmodeus, Diavolo, Simeon

VI. The ones who fake not knowing how to peel it

It probably started off as the latter one, and as you are about to tear a part from the tangerine, it getting caught with your nail uncomfortably, you wince and catch your partner's sly smile. "Oh you're gonna pay"—yeah they won't ever refuse to anything you ask ever again.

๋ ࣭ ⭑ Hitoshi Shinsou, Neito Monoma, Sero Hanta, Mirio Togata, Nejire Hadou, Takami Keigo, Dabi, Yu Nishinoya, Daichi Sawamura, Koshi Sugawara, Keishin Ukai, Yoshihito Usaida, OM!: Satan, Asmodeus, Belphegor, Barbatos, Solomon

˚ ༘ ೀ ⋆ ｡˚ ˚ ༘ ೀ ⋆ ｡˚ +6 peeled tangerines

All writings rights reserved © 2024 Mitsua's Coffee Shop. (Credit to the respective owners of the pictures and tagged anime characters.)

[lesservillain]

—ii. gotta promise not to stop when i say "when"

cw: more grumpy eddie, a lot of piss talk (sorry)

an: credit for the edited picture of eddie goes to itsscarrlett and the picture of jason patric is implied to be sam.

Tears sit on your lash line as you pull up to the Munson house today. Parking on the side, just out of sight to “keep your car safe in case unwanted visitors show up,” you lift your head, willing the tears not to fall before going inside. It’s already been a tough week for them, the last thing you need is to bring your own dramatics into their lives. Normally you could let things slide off your back, but the customer’s that had come into CoffeeHouse today were demanding at best, cruel and abusive at worst all week.

“Damnit, Ed!” You hear Wayne yelling from down the hall as you open the front door with your key, given to you on your first day earlier this week. 

“Hi,” you squeak out as the older man storms past you and into the kitchen. He does a double take, a wild look in his eye at someone else being in his home, calming down once he realizes it’s you.

“Hey there, darlin’. Didn’t think you’d be here so early today.” He has an almost clean plate in his hand, save for some untouched veggies that look like they taste like cardboard.

“I’m sorry, I can come back later if—”

“No, no, you’re fine. Did ya get outta class early or…?”

“No, Friday is my short day,” you say, swinging your bag over the back of the couch and letting it land on the seat cushion. “I came from work. It was…rough, so I left a little early. Sorry I should have called first.”

“It’s alright,” he assures, turning to walk into the kitchen where you follow him. “I just gave Eddie his dinner so he’s still awake. Gonna need to give him his pain meds before I go. He’s been in a sour mood all day, complaining about…uh,” Wayne ducks his head bashfully, not wanting to look you in the eyes. 

“Well I guess it wouldn’t be weird for you to hear it given your profession and all, but he’s, uh, been complaining about it hurtin’ when he pisses.” His voice trails off, barely audible over the sink being turned on as he cleans Eddie’s plate. 

“Well, that’s not good,” you say with concern. “Has he been drinking a lot of water? Staying hydrated?”

“Yeah, yeah—well, as much as he’s willing to drink. Been trying to keep him from sippin’ on sodas all day, but the ice maker in this fancy fridge hasn’t been working for some reason lately and he wont drink the water if it’s not cold.” Wayne lightly bangs his fist on the side of the fridge.

“What about his urine? Does it seem like it’s darker than normal lately? Or cloudier than normal?”

“Uh…maybe? I’ll be honest, I’m not really lookin’ at his piss when I’m dumping the urinal for ‘em.”

You give an understanding hum, sympathizing with him. It has to be awkward, everything he’s had to do for his nephew since he came home from the hospital. There’s nothing that you want to do more than help them out. But, there is one big problem that’s been keeping you from doing so: Eddie.

Eddie will not let you come in his room, let alone take care of him. He makes Wayne get him set up for the night before he leaves, and then stays in his room with the door shut for the rest of the night. You still haven’t even seen him since you first came on Monday. Any time you’ve tried to come in, even just to check on him, he’s pulled his covers over himself to hide away from your view. The most you’ve seen is a few tendrils of curly hair illuminated by the light of his tv when you peaked in before going to sleep.

It felt like housesitting more than taking care of anyone. You almost forget you’re not there by yourself, the sounds of Eddie’s bed creaking when he adjusts it or the light sound of his TV playing being the only reminder that you’re not alone. 

“Do you think he may let me go in there and…check?” You tilt with a shrug of your shoulders. “Like instead of you dumping it, maybe I could do it? Just to see if I notice anything abnormal. If he has a UTI and it’s bad enough that it’s bothering him, he may need an antibiotic.”

“He needs a swift kick in the ass if you ask me.” Wayne sighs, pushing off from the counter. He opens a cabinet and grabs Eddie’s medications for the night. “But, I’ll see what I can do. He’s not in the best mood for negotiatin’ right now, but I’ll see if I can get him to give. Gotta let you help him out sooner or later.”

You nod, waiting at the end of the hall as he talks it out with Eddie. There’s a bit of a back and forth between them, muffled by the living room TV playing behind you. 

You wondered if Eddie would even let Wayne take him to the doctor if he needed to go. He’s clearly very stubborn, but you’re sure a lot of his anger must come from being in pain from what happened to him. It's hard to blame him for not trusting people after how this town treated him, but you wish he would at least give you the chance to prove yourself. 

After a few moments, Wayne walks back out with a not so promising look on his face. 

“No dice,” he sighs, hands slapping against his sides before sliding into his jeans pockets. “Sorry.”

“It’s alright,” you shrug, “maybe he’ll warm up to me someday.”

“He better. He can only keep up this ornery attitude for so long.” Wayne eyes the clock on the wall behind you, taking a half step back into the hall. “D’ya mind if I take a shower right quick? I did a little yard work outside and I don’t want to feel all sweaty at the machine tonight.”

“Of course! I’ll keep an ear out for him if he rings.”

“Thanks,” he takes the few strides toward the bathroom, calling out before he goes inside, “The food on the oven should still be warm if ya wanna help yourself!”

The mention of food has your stomach growling. It had been such a busy day you struggle to remember if you even ate anything at all, and chicken parmesan that sat in the glass container looked mouth watering. The smell of the savory dish had you making a plate so quick you almost dropped the new glassware on the floor. 

You were just about to take a bite when the tingle of a bell rang from his room. Your head perks up, eyes widening in disbelief. 

Just as quickly as you made your plate you abandoned it, moving hastily until you reached the slightly cracked door. Muffled groans could be heard from inside of the room, your hand flexes over the door handle. 

“Um, Eddie?” The groans stop. It's silent besides the sound of his TV. You grab the handle, pushing the door open slightly. 

“Eddie, it’s—“

“Go away.” His strained voice is stern, stopping you in your tracks. 

“I-I’m sorry, I heard your bell—“

“I said go away.”

“Okay, I’m sorry.” You back away from the door, pulling it until it's cracked once again. 

But you don’t move from the door. Rather, you do what you normally do in these situations. You think. Think about how you should have stuck up to him. You should have told him that Wayne is busy, that he either gets your help or no help at all. 

You also think of a kinder scenario, where you’re able to walk in, peel his covers back and tell him it’s okay, that he can trust you, if he would just give you a chance. 

The sound of the bathroom door opening startles you, making you take a step back from the door in front of you. Wayne walks out with a puff of steam, looking down the hall towards the living room, then down to you. He gets spooked seeing you there, shaking his head and his hand flying to his chest. 

“Everything okay?” He asks with a worried tone. 

“Um, Eddie’s bell, he rang it. But he didn’t want me so—“

“Jesus,” Wayne exhales, “Okay, thank you for trying.” He walks past you and opens Eddie’s bedroom door. “Boy!” You hear him say just as the door closes. The rest of the words are muffled as they go back and forth, and you take that as your cue to go and finish your dinner. 

The night was going just the same as it had been the last few nights this week.

“…I have a date to play this morning,” Dorothy declares as she enters the kitchen. Blanch yells out “With a man?!” in shock.

“No, with a Venus Flytrap.” Dorothy retorts with a roll of her eyes.

You laugh at Dorothy’s quip, the late night replays of the Golden Girls keeps you distracted as you half study for an anatomy test. It’s been your favorite subject so far, but it’s still proving to be difficult even this far into your schooling. Your book sits open in your lap, sitting on top of your blanket that you’ve brought from home while you sit cozied up on the Munson’s couch.

You glance up at the clock on the wall that reads just a little past 11pm. You groan, closing your book and sliding off the couch to the floor. You grab your bag and open it, pulling out your clean uniform and laying it out on the back of the couch for your opening shift. You go through your night routine and check the front door locks before getting yourself settled on the couch for bed.

Just as you get settled under the covers, you hear the soft tingle of a bell from down the hall. You jolt upright, looking down the hall where Eddie’s TV illuminated the small crack in his door. Did you actually hear his bell? Surely he knows Wayne went to work tonight, right?

The bell rings again, more aggressively this time and you respond by practically sprinting down the hall, almost tripping on your blanket as you go. You’re about to burst through the door, but stop yourself in time to remember to knock, hand on the knob to keep the door from opening. 

“E-Eddie?” You call into the slight opening. 

“...yeah,” you hear, less muffled than what you normally hear from him.

“Can I come in?”

It’s quiet for a moment before he speaks again.

“Yes, please.”

Carefully, you push the bedroom door open. It’s dark, barely visible thanks only to the TV in the corner. As you step in your eyes adjust, landing on the form in the bed that is Eddie. He’s still mostly covered by his piles of blankets, but you can see a pair of eyes with the glare of the light hitting them looking straight at you, the rest of his face covered with his comforter. 

“Hi,” you say with a little wave, immediately cringing at your actions. “Um, how can I help you?”

Eddie blinks at you, unmoving. The covers over him suddenly rise, pulled down just enough for his arm to snake out, his whole body shifting to reach for something on the floor. Quickly, you move forward and to the side of his bed, not wanting him to over extend himself. 

As you get closer, you see him lifting up a plastic bottle — a hospital urinal, off of the floor slowly. For a split second you remember the easy grip silverware that you’ve been washing for him, and you instinctively reach out for the urinal before he can lift it much further off the ground.

“Let me get it for you, Mr.Munson,” you say, taking the very full container in your hands. When you look over to him, you’re able to see more of his face from his covers shifting. Or, at least what wasn’t covered by long curly hair, his pinched brow and frown lines highlighted by the TV light. He lets go of the urinal, grabbing his covers and pulling them up and over to hide himself once more. 

With a sigh, you make your way into his bathroom, flipping on the lights so you can better see where you’re dumping the urinal. When you get a proper look at the container in your hands, you have to suppress a gasp when you notice the almost brown color of the urinals contents. 

“Fuck,” you whisper quietly to yourself. This is not good. Eddie definitely needs an antibiotic, like, 3 days ago. Especially if he’s complaining of back pain, he could be getting a kidney infection, and he’s in no state to be dealing with that—

“What’s taking so long?”

Eddie’s strained voice snaps you back into reality. You quickly dump his urinal, running a little water into it and dumping that as well before running it back out to him. 

“Sorry, here you go,” you place the container back on the ground, before rushing back into the bathroom to wash your hands.

“Can I get you anything else?” You ask as you turn off his bathroom light. 

“No,” he says from under his covers.

You breathe in, “Okay, um, well I’m going to go lay down. So, just, ring the bell extra loud if you need me again. Okay?”

A grunt is all you get as confirmation from him. A hand pops out from under the covers with a remote in grasp, pushing the power button and leaving you in the dark.

A loud crash wakes you from your sleep. Practically flying down the hall, you push in Eddie’s bedroom door and flip on the light. 

“Oh my god!” You shriek out at the display before you. Eddie’s face down on the floor, halfway between his bed and his bathroom. You rush to his side and give him a quick look over, the first thing you notice being the cord from his lamp tucked around his ankle…his only ankle.

Looking over him more you realize that the plaid pajama pants he’s wearing are tied at the halfway point, emphasizing the missing lower half of his right leg. Now, you knew Eddie had difficulty with mobility. You’d seen the wheelchair in his room before, and the easy access details that were built in the house didn’t escape you either. But, you were not made aware that he was an amputee.

“Eddie, are you okay?”

There’s a pregnant pause before he finally takes a deep breath in, letting it out with audible annoyance. He turns his head hair covering his face the same as before, blowing it away with a puff of air in a comical way that makes you snort when it falls even more into his eyes. You take it upon yourself to move his hair out of the way for him, revealing a very disgruntled and very…handsome face.

“Hi,” he says, shortly, looking up at you with one big, chocolate button eye.

“Hi,” you respond, unable to suppress your smile at his attitude. “Need some help?”

“Guess you could say that,” he huffs, positioning his arms to push himself up.

“What would you like me to do?”

He says nothing, only lifting his hand up in a way that silently asks for yours in return. You take it, bracing yourself as you help him sit up. He grunts as he gets up onto his ass, face scrunching up in pain from all the movement.

“Are you hurt somewhere?” You ask, landing on your knees next to him ready to assess any injuries. 

“Not anymore than I already was,” he says with a sarcastic groan, leaning back on both hands as he breathes through the pain.

“Well, I guess that’s good,” you say, the tension leaving your shoulders as you come out of panic mode. 

As you give him a moment to collect himself, you take the opportunity to really look at Eddie for the first time. His hair is dark, wild curls sticking out every which way from being hidden under the covers. Now that it’s mostly out of his face, say for some overgrown bangs that are currently half covering his forehead, half sticking up, you can see his face pretty clearly. He really does have handsome features, his plump lips sticking out to you the most. 

A scar covers a large part of his right cheek traveling down his neck and almost to his shoulder. Similar scars of various sizes go down his arms and are littered across his torso, all of them looking very new for being a few months old already.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” Eddie says with a tight smile and a sarcastic tone. 

“I’m sorry,” you say solemnly.

“S’alright. Can’t blame you for looking. I’m kinda like a car accident when you can’t look away.”

“No, no,” you shake your head, raising to your feet. “I’m sorry that this happened to you.”

Eddie doesn’t say anything, his head dropping down where his hair could cover his face. He’s truly a pitiful sight, a broken man on the ground with all of his scars on display. You notice his hair is matted in the back where small rat’s nests have formed and you think about how clean the bathroom looked earlier. How long has it been since he’s left his bed?

“Do you want to take a shower?” 

Brown curls fly as Eddie’s head snaps up to look at you, an offended look on his face. “What are you trying to say?”

“I’m not trying to say anything, I’m asking you if you want to take a shower. Also, follow up question, why were you trying to get to the bathroom the begin with? Wait,” you stand up straight, a wave of hot nerves washing over you, “did you ring your bell and I didn’t hear it?”

A deep breath in, and a deep breath out. “No,” he says, his vision casting down to his lap, “I, um… I had to piss. But my piss can’s full, and I—” He huffs, hand running through his tangled hair. His voice picks up an octave, “I didn’t want to wake you up. I don’t want your help.”

“I understand,” you say, “I don’t think I would want a stranger's help trying to take a piss either.” As you talk, you cross the room to where his wheelchair is parked, pulling it over to him and kicking the locks in place. “But — and I’m sure this wont help when I say this — I am in nursing school. I’ve seen some things in the last year. Things that are, unfortunately, permanently etched into my corneas for the rest of my life.” 

He watches you with wide, curious eyes as you stand in front of him, placing yourself with your legs on either side of his. Crouching down in front of him, you reach your hands out to help him up, waiting for him to take your hands in return.

“What I’m saying is that there isn’t anything to be embarrassed about with me. You don’t have to hide from me.” 

He looks at your hands, then up to you. You give him a smile, gesturing at him to take your hands, which he finally accepts after a moment of silence. 

There’s a slight buzz that radiates in your shared touch, his rough, calloused hands grip tightly in yours. You ignore the head that creeps to your ear and count to three, bracing yourself as he uses all of his strength to pull himself up. With a quick pivot he plops down in his wheelchair, his breathing heavy after using so much energy.

“You okay?” You ask, waiting for him to catch his breath.

“Yeah,” breath in. “I’m fine,” breath out.

“Maybe we should skip the shower tonight?” You question with a raised brow.

“I never agreed to a shower in the first place,” he retorts.

You nod your head in acceptance. “Well, what if I at least brush your hair while you’re up—”

“No. Nope. No thanks.” His resistance was punctuated with exaggerated hand movements.

“Alright, alright,” you ceded, not wanting to push your luck. “Do you still need to pee or am I helping you back in bed?”

“I can do it myself,” he says, sloppily maneuvering his wheelchair towards the bathroom, facing away from you. Without another word, Eddie pushes the bathroom door closed and leaves you standing in the middle of his bedroom. You blink a few times, until you remember him mentioning that his urinal is full. Grabbing it from the other side of his bed, you take it to the hall bathroom to dump out, keeping a tentative ear in case Eddie calls out for you.

At the same time that you walk back into the bedroom, Eddie opens the bathroom door and wheels himself out. The look on his face is pained, brows furrowed together with a wince.

“Are you okay?” You ask, setting his urinal back where he could reach it.

“I’m fine,” he says shortly, making an attempt to straighten his face.

“Doesn’t look like it.”

He gives you a sharp glare. “I said I’m fine.”

You were about to throw your hands up in defense, not wanting to poke the bear. But, something inside you told you to keep pushing.

“Eddie, can I be honest with you?”

He stares at you from the other side of the bed.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” you say sarcastically. “I’m pretty sure you have a UTI. Do you know what that is?”

“Yeah, I’m aware,” he states with a huff.

“Okay…so can I ask why you’re not going to a doctor for it?”

His eyes clamp shut, and he breathes in sharply with a bit of a shake.

“Listen, I get you’re like a student nurse or something. But, to me, you’re just a glorified babysitter, alright? You don’t know a damn thing about me, so just…” Eddie looks up at you, waving his hand dismissively. “Answer the bell when it rings.”

Do his words sting a little? Maybe a tad. But really you feel bad for him more than anything. Wayne’s told you that Eddie was a troublemaker at times before what happened, but he has a heart of gold and has always meant well. The sadness in the old man’s eyes looks a lot like the pain in the eyes of the younger man before you. And you know pain makes people behave in strange ways.

“Hey, little lady. I think it’s time for you to get up and goin’.” Wayne’s soft, gruff voice stirs you from your slumber, pulling you from the light sleep you had fallen into after making sure Eddie got back into bed okay. Rubbing your eyes, the light from the kitchen illuminates the wall clock reading 4:30 in the morning. You let out a low, petulant groan as you rise from the couch, sliding down to the ground below to grab your things and get ready for the day. 

The smell of coffee penetrates your nostrils as you wash your face, followed by a scent of eggs and bacon that makes your stomach cry out. You were definitely going to have to stop somewhere and grab something to eat on the way to work.

Just as you step out of the bathroom, Eddie’s bell rings from his room. Not wanting Wayne to leave his food to get cold, you cross the hall and knock on Eddie’s door. When he gives you the go head, you push the door open and are once again greeted by only a lump under a mattress. 

“What can I help you with?” You ask as you enter the room.

“Are you making food?”

“Oh, I’m not. Wayne is though. Do you want me to have him make you a plate?”

“Wayne’s home?”

“Yeah, he just got—”

“Then why are you still here?”

Your mouth snaps shut. If you weren’t so tired, you’d probably just brush it off as him being grumpy. But your lack of restful sleep had you pivoting on your heel and closing the door behind you. You didn’t have the energy to deal with his attitude this early in the morning, so he could wait.

“Smells good in here,” you say cheerfully, pushing Eddie’s comment to the back of your mind.

“Glad you think so. Yours is sitting right there for ya.” Wayne nods his head towards the bar seat where a plate of eggs, bacon and toast sits waiting.

“Oh, Mr.Munson, you didn’t have to—”

“Now, now, can’t send ya into work on an empty stomach now can I?”

You pull out the seat and sit in it slowly. You feel guilty for eating their food, but you would also feel terrible to turn down a meal made for you.

As you start to eat, you watch as Wayne makes another plate. He takes the time to break up the pieces of bacon into small parts and cuts the scrambled eggs up to make them more loose. He grabs the plate and a bowl full of what looks like oatmeal and excuses himself from the kitchen. 

It only takes a moment of him being gone for you to notice that he forgot the silverware sitting on the counter. You thought about just leaving it, not really wanting to deal with Eddie any more at this point, but Wayne did make you food after a long shift at work so you might as well do it for him.

You bump the door open softly with your hip, utensils in one hand and some napkins in the other. The bickering between the two men ceases as they hear you come in with a sweet smile on your face.

“Might be hard to eat without these,” you say sweetly, placing the items on Eddie’s tray. Wayne’s eyes dart back and forth between you and where Eddie is sitting up, uncovered. Eddie glares at you, not acknowledging his uncle’s reaction to what he thinks is the first time you’re seeing his nephew.

Wayne’s hand taps against Eddie’s arm subtly. “Thank you, ma’am,” he says with raised brows, looking at Eddie expectantly.

“What?” he says, playing dumb.

“Ed, seriously.”

“Ugh, fine. Thanks.”

“You are so welcome. I hope you have a good weekend, Eddie,” you say as you turn to leave the room. “See you on Monday!”

Water splashes under your tires as you drive up the muddy driveway to the hidden Munson home. It’s been a dreary day, overcast and a consistent downpour setting the mood from the moment you woke up. All the studying you did in the Munson’s living room last week paid off when you passed your test this morning, and the rest of the day consisted of lab work, which was the only reason you managed to keep your eyes open until the end of class.

As you park your car, pulling your hood over your head to protect yourself from the rain, you rush to your back seat to grab your bags and the two pizza boxes you stopped to get on the way over. A comfort food for you, and you doubted that the two men inside would turn down a slice. Hopefully Wayne would take some with him to work so he wouldn’t have to worry about his lunch.

With full hands you opted to knock on the door instead of trying to fumble your keys out and juggle two large, hot boxes of pizza. It took a moment but the door eventually swung open with an overjoyed Wayne on the other side.

“What’s all this now?” He says with a chuckle, stepping aside for you to come in.

“It’s my favorite rainy day food,” you say as you kick your muddy shoes off, leaving them on the porch and stepping inside. “And I figured I’d get enough to share. Payback for breakfast on Friday.”

As you entered the home, you were pleasantly surprised to find that there had been some decorating done over the weekend. Some shelves line the walls in various spots, mostly empty except for a mug and a couple hats, but it made a world of difference to the space by comparison.

“Ya don’t have’ta pay me back for anything like that,” Wayne says as he takes the boxes from you and takes them into the living room. “It’s the least I can do. I wish I could pay ya something for being here.”

“Well, if it makes you feel any better I wouldn’t take your money anyway,” you say taking in the made kitchen table, no longer covered in boxes. “I like what you’ve done with the place, by the way.” You look at Wayne directly and really notice the dark circles under his eyes. It looks like he hasn’t slept all weekend.

“Thanks…it’s nothing compared to the old place, but over time…” A distant sadness lives in his stare as he scans the room, looking past you before finally focusing once again on the food in front of him. “Well, I’m hoping that we can make it feel like a home, eventually.”

A loud groan from down the hall startles you and Wayne’s head drops with exasperation. “I better go check on him,” Wayne sighs, pushing off from the counter and taking off towards Eddie’s room. 

“Is everything okay?” You ask, following behind him.

“Not really,” Wayne says, “Whatever he has, it’s gotten worse since you left. He’s got a fever that we’ve trying to fight—”

“A fever?!” You stop at the mouth of the hall, “And he still hasn’t seen a doctor?”

“Trust me, if I could get him to go I would. But he’s convinced it’ll pass on it’s own.”

Shit, this isn’t good, you think. Quietly, you peak in the door behind Wayne and you have to catch yourself before you audibly gasp. Eddie’s laid up in his bed, face flushed and his hair pulled up and out of his face with a washcloth on his forehead. The sheets around him look like they’re drenched from sweat and he’s covered in nothing but a thin sheet, likely burning up from the fever. 

Backing out of the doorway, you pad down the hall as quickly as you can and grab their wall phone, fingers hitting the keys as fast as you can move them. You had thought about doing this all weekend, but you’d just hoped that maybe Eddie would cave and let Wayne take him to a doctor.

“Hello?” The familiar voice of your family doctor, who you called Ms. Gene, on the other line pulls a sigh of relief from you. She had been a friend of your grandmother’s and always told you to call her if you ever needed anything, even after hours, staying true to her word when your grandpa had his heart attack and she walked you through how to perform CPR at 12 years old.

Over the phone you told her the symptoms that Eddie was having, but replacing his name with yours. “Oh, my word,” Ms. Gene says on the other line, “That sounds like a pretty bad infection, dear. Probably going to need an antibiotic and some Pridium to help with the pain. Are you still staying with your friend, Tonya? I can call it in to a pharmacy over there for you.”

“Oh, um, I’m actually doing some volunteer work in Hawkins. If you could call in to me, like, as soon as possible, that would be perfect.”

“Hawkins? Where that Earthquake happened? Well, I can’t say I’m surprised you’d go somewhere like that to help. Where do you want me to call it in to?”

“Uummmmm,” you stall, running over to the cabinet where Wayne keeps Eddie’s pain medicine, grabbing a bottle and reading the pharmacy’s information to her.

“Alright, I’ll call that over for you,” she says sweetly.

“Thank you so much, Ms. Gene. You are a life saver!”

“Of course, dear. Oh, before you go,” she say, grabbing your attention again. “I noticed here that you haven’t called for your birth control since February. Is there anything you need to tell me?”

“No, ma’am,” you cringe, “I just, um, I’ve been busy with school and I h-haven’t exactly needed it.”

“Ah, I see,” she says with an obvious skepticism. “Well, if you do start needing it again, just give me a call, okay?”

“Yes, ma’am. Thank you.”

Just as you hang up the phone, Wayne walks back into the kitchen with a defeated look. The combination of Eddie’s condition and Wayne’s obvious stress has you feeling the tension in the air, making your words come out your mouth before you think about them.

“Wayne, I, um,” you stutter, “I need to run into town, to-to the pharmacy. I was going to stop on the way in and totally forgot.”

“Oh, okay,” Wayne turns to look at the clock on the stove. You’d gotten there early again, which hopefully would mean that you had enough time to get to the pharmacy and come back before Wayne needed to leave.

“Ya know you can use our stuff here, right? Don’t have to bring all your own things from home.”

“O-oh, thank you. But, um, the stuff I need is…personal.” He looks at you with a quirked brow and a slight tilt of the head. “Girl stuff,” you state, hoping that would be good enough of an excuse. And it was, the tips of his ears going red when he got the idea.

Thanks to Wayne’s very detailed directions you were able to get around the construction and to the Hawkin’s pharmacy and back within an hour. The rain had let up to a sprinkle when you pulled in again, Wayne walking out of the house as you pulled the keys from the ignition. 

“Sorry, I hope I’m not making you late. Did you grab some pizza?”

Wayne lifts a plastic bag with the food and a couple soda cans, “Got some right here. And it’s alright, I’ll be just fine. Did you, um, get what you needed?” You mimic his move, lifting your plastic bag as well, which elicited a hardy chuckle from the older man. “Good, good,” he says with a nod, “In the hall bathroom, I went ahead and cleared you a shelf in the closet in there. So, feel free to keep your stuff there. You don’t have to,” he says assuredly, “but I figured I’d give ya the option, ya’know?”

Your cheeks squish your eyes with how hard you smile, overwhelmed with the consideration of your needs. Something you’re not used to.

“Thank you very much, Wayne. That was very sweet of you to do.”

His ears turn red again, but he smiles back. “I’m — we’re not really used to having women around, but I want you to be comfortable here. You bein’ here has been more helpful than you think.”

The praise goes right to your heart, and you beam so hard you’re surprised the clouds didn’t part and let in a ray of sunshine over you. Instead, the rain starts to pick up again and the two of you part ways quickly to escape the downpour. 

As soon as you get settled inside, you bust out the prescription bags and look over the medication directions. The antibiotic that Ms.Gene prescribed is for 10 days, and you realize that you didn’t even think about what you would do when you weren’t there. You don’t think Wayne would be mad about getting Eddie an antibiotic since he’s still being so stubborn, but you also don’t want to assume. Maybe you’ll wait to tell him on Friday when Eddie starts to feel better.

You prep the medicine and head down the hall where you can hear Eddie moaning lowly from his room. Knocking first, you push the door open and find Eddie to be in the same condition as he was when you saw him earlier. You felt awful for him, almost missing the bad attitude compared to the pained sounds he’s giving you now.

“Eddie,” you coo softly, grabbing his water jug from his bedside table. His eyes flutter open, half lidded and following your movements as you stand next to him. “Eddie, I’m going to sit you up a bit, okay?”

“Why?” He huffs out, wincing as the head of his bed raises him up to an almost sitting position.

“I have some medicine for you,” you say, showing him the pills in the little plastic cup. 

He shakes his head, “No, no, Wayne already gave me my night meds.”

“These are different from those,” you offer the small cup to him to look at. “I just went and picked them up for you. The yellow and black one is an antibiotic and the little brown one will help with urinary pain.” He keeps shaking his head, refusing the medication. You look up at the ceiling, breathing in and out to calm yourself before you get frustrated. “Eddie, why don’t you want to take them? You have to feel terrible. Do you not want to get better?”

His eyes stay trained on his lap, the gears in his brain turning. His mouth opens to speak, but quickly snaps shut as he shakes his head more. “I don’t have to explain myself to you,” he says, his voice going up an octave as his eyes go glossy.

“No, you’re right. You don’t,” you say softly. “But, I do want to help you, despite what you want to think. If there’s something I can do to help you believe that, I would love to hear it.”

His head luls to the side, eyes moving back and forth before rolling to look at you. “Let me see the bottles,” he says.

“The bottles?”

“Yes, the pill bottles.”

“Oh, okay!” You set the cup on the bedside table and run into the kitchen. Grabbing the pill bottles you all but sprint back to his room, presenting the two orange bottles to him. He doesn’t take them, rather he leans in and looks over them closely.

“Is that your name?” He nods to where your information is listed on the top of the label. 

“Yeah, it is. I had to do it that way. Can’t request something for you so I figured this was the next best option.”

“And Wayne said it was okay?”

“Well, about that…” You set the bottles down, “I kinda forgot to tell him. But with the grief you’ve been giving him, I’m sure he won’t be too upset.”

“Whatever,” Eddie says with a roll of his eyes. “He knows why I don’t want to go…”

You grab the cup of pills and present them to him again. “I’m sure he does. But, you really need to start these before you end up in the hospital. Or worse, the infection spreads and you get blood poisoning and die.” Eddie huffs out a small laugh, but you choose not to ponder on it and instead grab his water jug. “So, are you gonna take them or am I gonna have to call the squad to come get you by the end of the week?”

He sighs and presents a scarred hand to you, the tissue thick and uneven where it looked like some of it may have been graphed. You turn the cup over and let the pills fall into his palm, watching as he brings them to his mouth and takes a sip from the straw of his water. You didn’t ask him to, but he opens his mouth and sticks out his tongue as if to show you he’s taken them, a reflex you wonder if he got from his long stay at the hospital.

As you watch him, you can’t help but look him over again. Admiring his profile, the way his adam’s apple bobs in his throat as he swallows. You notice that his scars on his chest cover his left pec, his whole left nipple missing in the mess of healed flesh. The bumpy flesh on his sides smooth out in the middle, to his belly button, where a trail of hair disappears into the thin sheet—

“Can you put the bed back down now, please?”

“Yeah, yeah, sure.” You snap back to the present, heat on your cheeks and shame in your gut when you realize you were gawking at your patient. Your patient who is sick and needs your help to take care of him. Pin needle tingles flush into a layer of sweat over your body from the guilt.

“Is there anything else you need?” You ask as the bed reaches its flattest position. Hurriedly, you grab everything you left on his bedside table and move it back to where it was next to the bed.

“Um, yeah,” Eddie’s voice strains as he stretches his right hand to reach his bedside table, fingers moving slowly in an attempt to pick up the wash rag you saw on his forehead earlier.

“Want me to run it under some cold water?” Walking around the bed, you pick the damp rag up. Your fingers brush against his, making you retract them back to your body which sends the wash rag to the floor. “Sorry, sorry,” you say quickly, bending over to pick up the rag. You make a beeline to the bathroom, turning on the faucet to it’s coldest setting, splashing a little over your cheeks as it runs out.

“I, uh, I don’t need the washcloth anymore,” you hear Eddie’s voice call out, softer than you’ve heard from him so far. It sparks a bit of concern in you, making you lean back to check on him. He’s pulled the blankets back up over him, his whole body turned away from you. When the TV’s volume goes up a few clicks, you just assume that his pain meds are kicking in and making him sleepy.

After turning off the water, you ask Eddie one more time if he needs anything, to which he simply shakes his head, refusing to acknowledge you anymore. You leave his door open a crack as you walk out and rush across the hall into the second bathroom. You let out a quiet shriek, running your hands over your face as you replay the way you looked at him over and over in your mind. What the hell was wrong with you? Are you that touch starved that any bit of skin makes you act like an 1800’s man who’s just seen a woman’s ankle? You need to get it together, sooner rather than later. 

Maybe a shower will clear your head.

“Eddie,” you call out from across the hall. No answer.

“Eddieee,” you call again. Nothing.

You step out of the bathroom and take the few steps to the bedroom door.

“Eddie?” The sound of shuffling and a few curses make you jump back.

“Eddie, is everything okay—”

“Yes, I’m fine, what do you want?” He sounds aggravated, and you think that maybe he had actually fallen asleep and you had just woke him up.

“I’m sorry, I was just going to tell you I’m going to take a shower. I’ll let you go back to sleep.” There’s no response other than a creak from the bed, so you leave it at that.

After two days of rain, Wednesday is much clearer. The early september sun beat down on your face through the window as your teacher goes through the day’s notes. But you’re barely able to focus on the words, your mind elsewhere as you think about the lack of sleep you got the last two nights. 

As if you had manifested it, your period decided to show up yesterday morning when you weren’t expecting it and you became a victim of period insomnia that night. Even worse, you almost bled through your school uniform on the way from leaving the Munson’s. Thankfully you were able to rush to the bathroom just before class started, but you only felt worse the rest of the day. 

You’re not sure if you were wearing your discomfort in your features or if Eddie was just feeling merciful, but he had been fairly pleasant for you when it came to taking care of him. He even promised to let you work on fixing his hair once he was feeling better.

Well, he didn’t say yes, but maybe is good enough for you for now.

With about thirty minutes left in class, your teacher calls your name and snaps you out of your daydream

“You’re needed in the counselor's office,” she says monotonically.

“O-okay,” you stutter, gathering your things quickly and heading to the main offices.

As you walk in, the lady at the desk is on the phone, not paying you any attention and she plays with the gum in her mouth. You stand there for a few minutes waiting for her to get off the phone, but she seems to be having a personal conversation, her beehive hair tilting to the side as she puts the phone between her ear and shoulder. 

You’re about to open your mouth to say something when a door behind her opens. With some papers in his hand, the guy from your volunteer sign ups, Sam walks out. His brows perk up when he notices you, bright smile on display as he makes his way to you.

“Hey, I was just about to come get you,” he says with a soft chuckle. “Thought maybe you got lost on the way here.”

“N-no,” you say, “I was, um…waiting.” You glance over at the receptionist, whose eyes are glued to the man in front of you.

“Ah, I see,” he says with a nod. “Well, if you don’t mind stepping back into my office with me here.” He motions for you to follow him back to the door he came out of. You can feel the eyes of the beehive staring daggers into your back even after he closes the door behind you.

“Please, have a seat,” he gestures to the chair in front of what you assume is his desk as he sits down behind it. You sit down, straightening your skirt in an attempt to get comfortable as he pulls a folder out from a drawer.

“So,” he starts, “I just wanted to, um, touch base with you on your volunteer work. More specifically, how you’re feeling with your client.”

“You mean Eddie?” You ask.

“Yes, yes, Eddie Munson. I think I told you that day that he wasn’t a very sought after client, and I’m sure by now you’re aware as to why.”

“Because of the accusations.” It’s not a question, rather a statement.

“Yes, exactly.” He leans forward in his seat. “The company that’s running the program was surprised that anyone had agreed to take him. But, I told them that a…” He pauses for a moment, subtly looking you up and down, “...very special person took Mr.Munson in without hesitation. And when I tell you they were relieved — it would be an understatement, truly. But…”

“But?” You ask with a quirked brow.

“But,” he continues, “I’m just…I just want to make sure you’re feeling…safe.”

“Safe? Like when I’m there?”

“Yes. I know he lives with his uncle so you’re not alone, but if you were to be left alone with you, would you feel safe?”

Oh, this guy has no idea.

“Absolutely,” you say without hesitation. “Eddie is wounded at best and grumpy at worst. But I can’t think of a single moment where I’ve ever felt unsafe. I’ve actually felt quite welcome there. They’re very sweet people.”

Sam nods with a satisfied smile as you talk, visibly relaxing in his chair.

“Good, that’s great to hear,” he says, making a note on a paper in the folder in front of him. “I’m glad we were able to find a good fit, for the both of you it seems. Now, on the day you signed up, I did forget to have you fill out this paper here—” He slides a paper in front of you with the VisitingAngels logo on the top. “This is just asking for your basic info; name, address, a good phone number. It’s all for the volunteer company to keep on record. It must have been missing from the folder I had that day.”

“Oh, okay,” you say, pulling the chair up to the desk. Sam slides a pen over to you, and you can feel his eyes on you as you fill out the paper. You spare him a quick glance, and he flashes you a smile. He’s more handsome up close you think.

Once you’ve finished you slide the papers back to him, his finger touching yours as he takes them. 

“Great, thank you,” he says, tucking the paper into the folder and closing it.

“Of course,” you say, straightening up in your chair. “Was there…anything else you needed me for?”

Sam hesitates for a moment before clearing his throat.

“Actually, yes. I, um, I think you volunteer later in the day, is that correct?”

“Yes, I’m usually at the Munson’s house by 5. Why?”

“How long would you say you’re usually there for?”

You feel beads of sweat forming in your hairline. Did someone find out you were staying overnight with Eddie? Would he get in trouble if you were? Would you get in trouble? Would they take him away as your client?”

“Um, I would—I think I leave at 7, on-on average. Yeah…I get there, make sure he eats and get him settled for bed. Sometimes we sit and talk. Y-you know, caregiver stuff.”

“I see, I see,” Sam nods. “So that means…This Friday you don’t have any plans after 7 then?”

Your head reels back. “I’m sorry? I’m not sure what you’re asking.”

He laughs nervously, adjusting himself in his chair. “I, um, well, I’m asking if you’re free on Friday night, because I wanted to see if I could maybe take you to dinner?”

Your eyes dart around the office in disbelief. What is happening right now? You don’t get asked out. Tonya gets asked out by guys at the bar. The girls in your class get asked out by guys in other majors. The girl who bullied you in high school gets asked out by your crush. But not you…

“W-what?”

“Sorry if this seems sudden, but I’ve honestly been thinking about you since that day we met and…I don’t know,” Sam shrugs, closing in on himself a bit. “I just thought I would ask. But I understand if you can’t.”

Damn it.

“Well, I can’t on Friday,” you start, and the strings of your heart pull when the man in front of you deflates. “But…I could do Saturday?”

“Really? Okay, I can make that work.” Sam grabs a post-it note and writes his name and number down before handing it to you. “Here's my number, just in case. I guess I’ll pick you up—” He opens the folder again and points at where you wrote Tonya’s address on the paper, “...at your place around 7?”

You nod. “Sounds like a date.”

thank you for reading.

tagging @boomhauer bc i know you want to share your art lol

[whatdoeseverybodywant]

You're the Only Girl for Me - Chapter 29

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TBH! At this point, this is a joint collab with @paigereeder 😭. GOAT!

Thursday, September 2nd 2021 

Airielle’s peaceful slumber was interrupted by her phone ringing. Groaning, she snatched her phone off the floor next to her and squinted at the screen to see who was calling her. “Oh my god.” She muttered before accepting the call. 

“Hello?” 

“Why in the fuck didn’t you tell me Christopher popped the fuck back up. I knew I should’ve killed that motherfucker when I had the chance.” Her older brother Isaiah seethed over the phone and Airielle sighed closing her eyes as she pinched the bridge of her nose. “Airielle!” He shouted into the phone when she didn’t respond. 

“Because I had it under control.” Airielle looked behind her as Josh started to shift in his sleep, sighing she threw the covers off of her and walked into the living room to finish her conversation. 

“Uh-huh, sure you do. He broke into your spot -” 

“And I moved, problem solved.” She shrugged, eyes glancing around the living room just taking in how much he had actually gotten rid of. “Shouldn’t you be working?” 

Isaiah snorted. “I took the day off.” 

“Hmm,” Airielle hummed. “And that’s why you’ll never be Dad’s favorite” 

“Eat my - “ Airielle hung up before her brother could finish his statement. Rolling her eyes she threw her phone on the island. She looked up when she heard Josh shuffling into the living room. 

“Everything Aight?” Josh mumbled as he walked closer to Airielle and kissed her cheek. 

“Yeah, my brother being a pain in my ass.” She replied, rolling her eyes when he chuckled. “What you got going on today?” 

“Nothing. I gotta do some laundry and gotta pack. Got Smackdown and the House show this weekend.” 

“You wanna go get some breakfast first?” She asked, tapping the screen on her phone to see what time it was. “I’m kinda craving waffles.” 

“You already know the answer to that.” Airielle rolled her eyes with a smile as she wrapped her arms around his waist and leaned her head on his chest. 

“Can you believe it’s about to be a year since we met?”  It's crazy to think about all the ups and downs they went through in a year! If she could go back and change anything it would definitely be breaking up with him after he asked her to move in with him. That would have saved them months of heartbreak. 

“You wanna hear somethin’ wild?” He waited until she lifted her head from his chest to continue. “That wasn’t the first time we actually met.” 

Airielle furrowed her eyebrows together and tilted her head a little. 

“Huh?” 

“We actually met back in 2019. Me and twin had a meeting with Hunter, down at the PC and I saw you there. I mean I was looking, respectfully, but I was still looking.” He laughed when Airielle rolled her eyes again.  “Hunter told us he was taking us off TV after Jon’s latest arrest but he still had - 

“Y’all cut a promo for us.” She whispered as the memory of their first meeting came rushing back. “I remember y’all looking so pissed but still came and cut like one the best promos I ever heard.” 

“Mmhmm.” Josh hummed while nodding his head. “I remember trying to come talk to you, but you weren’t even trying to give ya boy the time of day. I mean I understand why now but shit, back then I thought you were like this stuck up bi-” He stopped himself when she narrowed her eyes at him. He cleared his throat. “You know what I mean.” 

“I mean I was a bitch to you when I came to the main roster.”  Josh nodded his head in agreement and Airielle sucked her teeth, pulling away from him. 

“What? you said it, not me.”  Just as she went to smartass him, his stomach released the loudest grumble she had ever heard. They both stared at each other before bursting into a fit of laughter. “You the one who brought up waffles, I mean you already know how I get down.” Airielle sucked her teeth and pushed him away from her before walking back towards his room so she could grab her clothes to shower. 

“I feel like they just need to go ahead and sponsor your greedy ass Uce.” She chuckled, her back to him as she shuffled through her bag looking for something to wear to breakfast. She stood up straight and gasped as she turned and bumped into Josh. 

“Whatchu’ just call me?”  Airielle bit her lip to stop herself from smiling at the look he was giving her. “Airielle, stop playing with me.” 

“You wanna go get waffles or not?”  Josh tilted his head as he stared at her. He was really contemplating on not going to the Waffle House with her because who the fuck did she think he was. Uce, had she lost her damn mind? He wasn’t her damn Uce. He went to tell her that they weren't going to breakfast but his stomach growled again making her smile. “That’s what I thought.” 

AirielleJones

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“You gon glare at me throughout breakfast or what?”  Airielle asked him as the waitress walked away to put in their orders. “Why can’t I call you Uce?” She pouted. 

“Cause I don’t fuck my family Airielle.” 

“Boy –” 

“Oh my god. Look at you! You’ve gotten so big.” A new voice interrupted their conversation. Both Airielle and Josh both turned towards the new voice. Josh narrowed his eyes as he looked at the woman. She was older than both of them, with dark brown skin; for some reason, her facial features reminded him of Airielle. Josh turned to look at Airielle to ask if she knew who the hell this lady was but he stopped short once he saw the look on Airie’s face. He had only seen that look one time before. 

A couple weeks before she broke up with him she had this same look when he had tried to initiate sex but she wasn’t in the mood for it. That’s the same day he found out Christopher used to force her to have sex with him. He remembers her telling him that her old therapist called it dissociating. Josh immediately stood up and stepped in front of this lady, blocking Airielle, who was still sitting in the booth, from her view. 

“You good?” Josh asked the woman, straightening his shoulders so he was standing at full height. 

“Are you her bodyguard or something?” Another voice piped up from behind the older women and Josh definitely knew that they had to be related to Airielle in some sort of fashion because this girl and Airielle could pass off as twins. 

“Yup. Now answer my question, Y’all good?”  

“You must be Joshua.” The older woman said. Holding her hand out to him. “I’m Abigail and this is my daughter Janelle.” 

“Cool, y’all can leave now.” He said eyeing her hand with disgust. Whoever this woman was made Airielle uncomfortable and he wanted her away from them ASAP. Abigail’s hand hung in the air awkwardly for a moment before she withdrew it and cleared her throat, forcing a smile on her face. 

“Airielle please tell this man that I am your mother and I just want to talk to you.” Josh’s eyebrows shot up at the news. “Please solèy –” 

“Don’t call me that,” Airielle spoke up. “You have no right to call me that.” Airielle stood up from the booth and grabbed Josh’s hand. “I want to leave.” Josh nodded his head immediately. Breakfast forgotten, he ushered Airielle back to his car. 

“You okay?” Josh asked as he pulled out of The Waffle House parking lot. 

“No,” Airielle said. “Pull over.” As soon as the car came to a stop, Airielle threw open the passenger door and threw up nothing but stomach acid. “Fuck!” she cried out. 

Josh handed her a bottle of water and she thanked him, swishing it around in her mouth before spitting it out.  “That was–” 

“If you don’t want to talk about it, we don’t gotta talk about it.” 

“I know.” Airielle smiled and grabbed his hand, stroking the back of it with her thumb. “But I wanna be more open and honest with you.” Josh bit his lip and nodded. “That was my birth mom and her daughter I guess.” 

“Y’all not close. I take it.” 

“Nah,” Airielle shook her head. “She left when – well right after she gave birth to me. She never wanted me, never wanted a daughter, but I see a lot has changed in the past thirty years. I remember growing up, she would always send my brother’s gifts and cards on their birthdays but never mine. I didn’t really care because I didn’t remember her anyway. But um- one day I was just curious as to why she seemed to ignore my existence so I got her address off of one of the packages she sent my brothers and wrote her a letter.” 

Airielle quickly wiped away her tears. She hated crying over this woman. Josh squeezed Airielle’s hand gently. “She wrote me back. Which kinda shocked me but I was happy that she did. I was thinking she was just gonna tell me that she was just feelin' guilty about leaving me but, she said the complete opposite. She wrote me 4 pages, front and back, telling about how many times she unsuccessfully tried to abort me. How she tried to give me up for adoption without my father knowing. How she had a plan to tell my dad that I had died during childbirth.” 

Josh’s jaw was damn near on the floor as he listened to Airielle. No wonder she’s so emotionally challenged  He thought. 

“She blamed me for the fact that she couldn’t see her boys grow up, she blamed me because my dad chose to raise me instead of be with her. The final thing she wrote to me was, I wish you would have died. Do not contact me again. So I didn’t, I ripped the letter up and burned it. Never told my dad or my brothers about it and obviously neither did she.” 

“What the fuck.” Josh whispered, his hand tightened into a fist on his thigh. Abigail or whatever her name is better than her lucky stars that Josh didn’t put his hands on women. 

“Yeah I mean, I just wanted my mom, but she didn’t want me..” Airielle shrugged as she tried to stop the tears but it was too much. She had pushed Abigail and her hurtful words into the back of her mind in the folder with Chris and her unborn baby. Seeing her today just opened up a wound that Airielle thought had semi-healed. 

Josh pushed his seat back and pulled her over the center console so she could sit in his lap. He held her tightly as she cried into his shoulder. Josh gently stroked her back, his voice low and soothing. “It’s alright. I’m right here, okay? We gon’ get through this.”

As her crying eased, Josh kept her close, feeling her heart slow against his. He didn’t let go, knowing she needed this more than anything. He wasn’t just comforting her; he was vowing to stand up for her in every way he could.

Whew.. Miss Abigail is a trip!

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[steddieas-shegoes]

hello again! here's an angsty little steddie thought for you, because I'm sad and i am putting my guys in angsty situations in my head to make me more sad because the brain is funny like that: Steve decides to swing by to visit Eddie after his shift. They've been hanging out a lot more lately,with Robin off to college and the kids preoccupied with school. It's something he looks forward to. He's been spending the day thinking bout the things Eddie says when it's just them. The way he tells Steve that people underestimate him, especially his intelligence. The jokes they share, the soft gazes over a blunt on the front porch. The best part of Steve's day. Truly the best part of his life, nowadays. Especially the soft moments they have together, where Eddie kisses his hairline with a hand resting on Steve's thigh. It's happened a few times but it never turns into a full fledged kiss, but he KNOWS it'll happen soon. He's about to knock on the trailer door when he hears Eddie chatting with his band mates, which is a surprise because band practice is on thursdays not wednesdays,but that's okay maybe he can get to know them a little bit-. "What are you even talking about, Eddie? you're practically drooling over Harrington every time he walks by" His hand freezes mid air and he blushes to himself. "Harrington? nah he is NOT my type." And that? oh. that's...not ideal. But, maybe he can switch up his style a little bit? He knows Eddie isn't the type to wear polos, that's. That's alright. "No way you're SUCH a liar!" "I'm not lying!" Maybe he's just trying to hide his crush?(Images flash in his mind of Eddie's hand creeping up his thigh, and his breath on his neck,before blushing and turning away. Placing his hands back onto his own lap. A soft smile and a blush high on his cheeks.) Maybe he's- "Okay shut up, I'll admit he's easy on the eyes. But dudes only got like two brain cells to rub together." Huh? But he told him monday that- ("You're so smart Stevie, they don't give you enough credit.") "I thought you hung out with him a bunch lately?" "Yeah,it beats watching wheel of fortune. It's funny to listen to what the king has to say, it's like talking to a door stopper." ("You always have something interesting to say.") The echoing laughter rushes through Steve's ears,grips his heart like a vice, before settling like a brick in his stomach. "Nothing behind those eyes!" (I always used to think your eyes were brown, Stevie. But there's green, and red!) Right. That's, that's. Hmm. That's. Go home. It's time to go home. "What was that?" Run back to the car. "Stevie?"Don't say anything. Get your keys get out TWOBRAINCELLS get OUT OF HERE YOU MORON. "Hey wait don't leave, did you uh overhear, of course you heard. God Steve I didn't mean it,I swear. i was just talking a big- I'm so sor-"Don'tlisten.Don'tcryyouidiot.STARTTHECARGETOUTOFHERE.ofcoursenot!ofcoursehedoesntwantyou!ofcoursehedidntthinkyouweresmart.stopcryinggohomegohomehedoesntwantyouherehedoesntwantyouatall.stopcrying.dryyour eyes(NOTHINGBEHINDTHOSEYES). just stop. Get out of here.

Hey

I’m holding your hand when I say this

how dare you (affectionate)

this broke my heart into 726251527382 pieces

in my head, Eddie follows him and begs for forgiveness and Steve makes him work for it because he’s not gonna let anyone in his life who won’t be all in even if it’s just as friends

Eddie does work for it. Harder than he worked to do anything else

he knows he fucked up so bad and just got carried away trying to get his bandmates off his back. he really genuinely didn’t believe anything he said but now he knows Steve thinks he did and he shouldn’t have even said it as a joke or exaggeration regardless of if Steve would hear or not

He even shows up the morning of Robin’s going away party to help run errands for Steve and set up in the rain that wasn’t in the forecast. Steve finds him crying on the back patio over one of the decorations that got ruined by the rain, and he apologizes a million times “I know it’s not enough it’ll never be enough but you have to know I wouldn’t do it on purpose I didn’t know there was rain coming and I would’ve kept it all inside” and then Steve is holding him and telling him it’s okay, all of it is okay

I can’t keep them sad for long it’s my most ridiculous trait

[lovebugism]

I know this is early, but fights on Christmas for the prompts thingy. Maybe with Punchy x Eddie? Or with Steve?

ty for requesting angel! hope u like it :D — eddie tells you that his dad is coming to hawkins for christmas and an argument ensues (peach x eddie, angst, hurt/comfort tw for toxic parents, 1.5k)

blurbcember ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

The smell of a homecooked dinner lingers in the air, warm and nostalgic. You spoon the leftovers into plastic containers for when Wayne gets home from the graveyard shift. Eddie’s laughter sounds from the distance, where he takes a phone call in the living room. The sound is warmer. More nostalgic.

He hangs up and walks back to you, wearing a bright pink grin that shows all his teeth.

“Who was that?” you ask, smiling because he is.

Eddie shrugs, trying to be nonchalant despite his beaming. He crosses his arms and leans against the counter across from you. “That was— That was my dad, actually,” he tells you, still a bit dazed about the whole thing. He’d almost forgotten what his father’s voice sounded like before now.

Your grin fades. “…What?”

He nods with his brows raised behind his fluffy bangs. “Yeah. He’s, uh— He wants to come to Hawkins for Christmas, apparently. Said he’s finally got some time off work, so he’s gonna drive up here in a few days and stay for a while.”

Work doesn’t mean work — not with Alan, anyway. You know this, so you’re not entirely sure why Eddie doesn’t. If you had to guess, the asshole got up to too much trouble and needs a place to lay low until it all dies down.

You try to be supportive of your smiling boy, but your concern is evident, practically dripping from your features. “Oh. That’s… That’s… Does Wayne know?”

“Um, I don’t know. He didn’t say.”

“Don’t you know why that is?” you ask him, trying to laugh. It comes out much more bitter than you intended it to.

“Uh… No?”

You drop the wooden spoon into the bowl and face him entirely. Your hip digs into the counter’s edge — a distant pain that doesn’t rival your burning anger. “He’s not telling Wayne because he knows Wayne won’t let him stay.”

Eddie’s chin jerks back like he’s flinching. “I don’t know what you mean,” he says with a forced chuckle.

You sigh. You don’t want to be insensitive, but his obliviousness makes you impatient. 

“Eddie… He’s… Your dad…” You try to explain it all to him, but you can’t find the words to. There are far too many ways to describe his father, and you come up short in the end. “I mean— you’re not letting him come, right?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” he laughs.

“Because he doesn’t deserve to see you, Eddie. Or Wayne— He doesn’t care about either of you, you know that.”

Eddie goes agape with shock. You’re not usually so confrontational. You’re unusually argumentative, and it surprises him — offends him. “You say that like you know anything about him,” he argues with a scoff. He’s still smiling but there’s little warmth behind it.

“You don’t know anything about him!” you retort, a little harsher than you mean to. Your hands flail as you gesture wildly. “He doesn’t know anything about you, either, Eddie. He’s an addict. He chose thatover you a long time ago.”

Eddie clenches his teeth. You can see it in the way his temples shift. “I told you that because I trusted you,” he says with a tight jaw, trying not to show you how angry he is. “Not for you to use against me—”

“I’m not using it against you, Eddie. I’m trying to protect you!”

He scoffs a cynical laugh. “Well, you’re doing an awful good job of that, aren’t you, Peach?”

His unusual bitterness stings somewhere deep in your chest. 

You don’t know why he’s being so blind. 

Except, you sorta do. You’re the resident expert of letting assholes into your life over and over and over again — like a kicked puppy that doesn’t know when to stop coming back.

That’s the root of your frustration, you think. You know a lot more than he’s giving you credit for, and it’s infuriating to be written off so easily.

You huff and turn away from him again. You pop the lids onto the tupperware containers to busy your trembling hands. “Fine. Let him come. I don’t care. I’m not the one that’s gonna get my heart broken after all this.”

“Wow,” Eddie muses, dragging the vowel for effect. “That’s real sweet, babe— what would I do without you?”

You leave the bowls to cool on the container and disappear down the hallway. You go to his bedroom for your bag, and he doesn’t follow behind you — you’re not sure you want him to. After nearly a week in the trailer, you figure you’ve spent entirely too much time together. 

And as much as it hurts, you know it’s not the end of the world.

If you and Eddie — the neurotic type A and the laid-back-to-a-fault type B — can survive hanging up  Christmas decorations together, you’re pretty sure your relationship can survive just about anything.

He’s still lingering at the counter when you get back, idling like he’s been waiting for your return. He sees your bag slung over your shoulder and deflates like a popped balloon. “Where are you going?” he wonders despite his ebbing anger.

“Home. It’s getting late.”

“It’s barely nine o’clock.”

“Exactly,” you hum, stilling when you reach his side. You press a chaste kiss to the apple of his cheek and walk towards the door without looking back. “Call me when you tell Wayne.”

“C’mon, Peach. You don’t have to go.”

You turn back with your hand on the rusted brass door knob. “I’m mad at you,” you say with a soft smile on your lips.

Eddie grins back at you but doesn’t press it any further. You’re allowed to be angry. Hell, he’s still a little angry, too. And if you wanna be alone, then so be it — as long as you’re back in his bed when all the bullshit’s over with.

‘Cause he’s mature and everything like that now.

That’s why he just smiles as he tells you, “Call me when you get home.”

—————

You call him when you get home that night.

He calls you the next morning when Wayne gets home, all worked up because his uncle took the news about as well as you did. 

You’re not a total asshole, so you don’t rub it in his face. When he comes to you after a few more days have passed — fighting back tears because his dad ditched him all over again — there are no I told you so’s. No bitterness or stupid comebacks. 

You just hold him and love on him like you always do. He needs that now more than ever, you figure.

You sit with him on your couch while he hides his tears in your lap. His dirty sneakers scuff the cushions that you’re usually a stickler about keeping clean. You quickly find that you don’t care as much as you thought you did, because you’ve never seen your boy so sad. 

It makes your chest ache. Like his heartache is your own in some way.

“I’m an idiot,” Eddie grouses, muffled into the pillow in your lap. He feels like one, anyway. He’s spending the week before Christmas crying his eyes out because he was too stubborn to listen to you. 

He’s a total dumbass. 

The dumbest of dumbasses.

Your fingers dance through the soft strands of his chestnut hair, scratching gently at his scalp to keep him grounded. “No, you’re not, Eds. Your dad’s just an asshole.”

He scoffs, managing a small laugh despite his tear-stained face. “Yeah. That too.”

“And that’s not your fault, either. You know that.”

“No, I know,” he insists, sniffling as he turns onto his back. His chocolate eyes are rimmed red and slightly glassy. His cheeks are softly flushed, speckled with a rosy heat. Strands of hair stick to his wet jaw. You smooth them away with the palm of your hand while he wipes at his reddened nose with the back of his.

“I just… I guess I just thought he’d changed, you know?” he confesses, voice wet with emotion.

You nod sympathetically. “I know. It’s the worst feeling in the fucking world.”

You have a different kind of experience in that department — the skeleton in your closet that always comes back to haunt you department. For you, it’s Billy. For Eddie, it’s Alan. The sting is a different one, but it still hurts in the same place.

“I should’ve listened to you, huh?” Eddie asks, the corner of his lips curled into a sad smile.

“I know why you didn’t want to,” you assure, smoothing your palm over the top of his wild head. You hope the warmth of your touch will aid his inevitable post-cry headache. “But I didn’t say it to hurt your feelings, you know that, right?”

“I know. I knew it then, too, I just… didn’t want to believe it, I guess.”

“I know what it’s like,” you promise. And then, when you see his mouth twist into an apology, you cut him off as gently as you can. “And don’t apologize for it, either. It’s okay, Eds. I promise.”

He grins at you, still a bit weighed down with leftover emotion. 

His eyes squeeze shut when you swipe tears from beneath them, the edges of them crinkling ever so slightly. And when he opens them again, they glimmer with a newfound life. 

No one on earth is as resilient as your boy.

[bteezxyewriter12]

Ride~ Jealousy

Pairing- Seonghwa x Named Reader

Word count- 5.8k

Includes- couple from Ride, angst, Seonghwa is jealous and is an idiot about it, fluff at the end, set during Guerilla era,

Tag List- @mingtina @jaxminnie @yeosayang @delightfulmoonbanana @tannie13 @y00nzin0 @marsstarxhwa

@yeosxxx @seokwoosmole @jjongsbebe @wisejudgedragonhairdo @meowmeowminnie @woo-stars @borntowalkaway @usagionthered @san-realblkwife @seonghwasstar @jejeyeppeo @soulseobi05 @kpop-bambi @prayerofthehaim @realisticnotes @pinkies-things @insomniacatiny @stephy-nicole13 @mknae-jongho @bykeynote @blueie-things

Gif Credit- Kyoungjo

Masterlists- check out for more fics

📝Masterlists 📝ATEEZ Masterlist 📝Seonghwa Masterlist

Seonghwa POV

"Seriously jagi?", I groan

"Yeah Hwa", she confirms

"But you always take my pictures. I don't want anyone else", I whine

"Baby it's not my choice. My manager wants her to take your pictures. She's new baby and he's testing her out"

"Yeah but why me? He knows about us, he knows you're my photographer, why is he taking you from me?"

She laughs, "Hwa, its just for this shoot ok? And my manager picked you because you're good at taking pictures. If she....doesn't do a good job, you'll still come out great because you're a natural at posing"

I scowl at her because she's complimenting me but at the same time I won't have her to oogle and be sexy for

That's why I'm so good at it because I see her behind the camera

And I tell her this so she knows

"Aww Hwannie. You don't have to try be sexy if you don't want to. You just are naturally. Just be you"

"You are so good at flattery jagi", I roll my eyes, "But fine. You owe me though"

She smiles, hugging me, "Ok baby. I'll do whatever you want tonight ok?"

I hug her back, nuzzling in her neck, "Yeah?"

She nods, "Yeah"

"Ride me?"

"Of course"

"69?"

"Sure baby", she agrees

"Fuck you in the shower?"

"Uh huh"

Ooo this is getting good

"Let me tie you up?"

She snorts, "Yeah Hwa. Fine"

"Mm ok", I laugh in her neck

"Good", she laughs, pulling back, kissing my cheek and I just smile at her

"I gotta go set up the cameras baby. I'll see you in a little bit"

I nod, "Ok jagi"

Bending down, I give her a soft kiss, then she leaves

I sigh, sitting down, waiting for the shoot to start

I'm not happy about this new girl taking my pictures

I don't want a photographer I don't know, someone who I don't know how they work

The photoshoot didn't start yet and I already want it to be over

--------------------------------

"Can you look up?", the girl asks

I try not to roll my eyes

That's all she says

Look up, look down, look to the side

She's not asking me to change poses or positions and I have to do it by myself

I have to figure out the best pose, the best way to angle my face, the look I should give

She's giving me no direction and she's not even saying the pictures are coming out good

I have no idea if they are

I have no idea if I'm doing the photo shoot concept

I want my jagi back

She's across the room, taking pictures of Yunho

I hear her telling him how to look, how to sit, directing him to the best light, what kind of look she wants him to give

She's acting like a professional photographer not like a person just taking pictures

Like this girl

And I'm so jealous that the guys get my baby while I'm stuck with this newbie

If anything she should have another photographer with her, showing her what to do

Or at least taking pictures along with her so I have some good ones

I look up, at the camera and she snaps a picture

I catch myself mid eye roll and I stop it, playing it off like I'm moving to pose

She just keeps taking the same angle over and over and I'm getting annoyed

I decide to lean back on my elbow, putting my other arm on my leg, turning my head to my profile

Once I hear the click of the camera, I move my head back for another shot

I look around after she takes the photo, figuring that I'm supposed to take pictures with the props I have

A flag and a mask

Kneeling down, I take the flag and put it over my shoulder, keeping the mask next to me

"Ok", she says, taking some pictures, "Uh the mask?"

I pick it up and hold it to my face when she says, "Uhh"

I look at her slightly confused, bring the mask down a little, unsure of what she wants me to do

God she just has to fucking talk and I'll do whatever to get this shit over with

"Uh yeah, you can put the mask back up"

I do, posing and letting her take more pictures

She walks around me taking more and at least she's moving instead of standing in front of me like she's been doing the whole time

Glancing back at Joanne, I see her taking pictures of Wooyoung

He's acting very sexy, giving her smoldering eyes and biting his lip

Like he's flirting with her

"How do I look?", he smirks

I don't hear her answer, as she moves taking pictures but he smiles widely

Did she say he looks good?

Hot?

Why is he smiling like that?

"As sexy as your boyfriend?"

I clench my jaw, getting so fucking angry and jealous

"Uh Seonghwa?"

I look back at the girl, forgetting I'm in the middle of a shoot

"Sorry", I say trying to get myself under control

"Can you pose?"

Seriously?

What the fuck does she think I've been doing?

"Yeah sure"

I stand up, leaving the flag on the floor

I stare at the camera, holding my hand up by my face, moving it a little at a time after every snap

I hear Wooyoung laughing and I glance over at him

He's moving the flag over her, laughing and asking her where she went

He slowly pulls the flag down, over her, joking and teasing her the whole time

Flirting with her

And I don't understand why she's going along with it

Why she's flirting with him too

She pushes the flag off her, then directs him to how she wants him to hold it

He puts the flag bar over both his shoulders, then raises his head giving her a puppy look as she takes picture after picture of him

I look down at the floor, breathing in, the rage that's in my body astounding me

I feel like I'm gonna beat the shit out of Wooyoung

What the fuck is he doing?

He knows she's mine, why is he flirting?

"I like that one", I hear him say

I lift my head, looking at them in anger

He's next to her, way too close, looking over her shoulder at the camera

I guess she's showing him his pictures

He just doesn't need to be that close to her

Again I'm wondering why she's not telling him to move or better yet, fuck off

And I'm so angry that she's not

Doesn't she know that I'm right here, I can see everything?

She should be telling him to back off

They continue talking and I had enough

She wants to flirt fine

I can too

And maybe she'll understand how I feel if she feels it herself

"Uh-", the girl says

"What's your name?", I ask

"Oh uh Jia"

"Pretty name", I say, smiling

Her cheeks blush

"I'm gonna use the flag again ok?"

She nods and I kneel down slowly, making sure I'm staring at her

She swallows, her hands shaking as she raises the camera

"Don't be nervous", I say slyly

She just nods

I pick up the flag, putting it back over my shoulder, my face still towards her and I smile widely

She gasps but takes some more pictures

I'm not even posing, what is she taking a picture of?

Standing up, I put the pole down and pretend to lose balance of it, knocking it against my head, the flag enveloping me

"Oh my god", she says, rushing to me

She pushes the flag off me as I steady the pole

"Are you ok?"

I nod, laughing, "Yea. I'm a little clumsy"

"Oh", she says

She tilts her head, then reaches out and moves my hair away from my face, her fingers lingering in the strands for a little too long, "You're hair is messed up"

And my skin fucking crawls

I don't want her to touch me

I'm good at flirting but I don't want to be doing it

I want to be flirting with my jagi, not some girl I don't care about

Still, I continue to do it

She has to know what I felt so she'll never do it again

I just smile at her again, "Thanks"

Jia smiles and it does absolutely nothing for me

She doesn't hold a candle to my baby

I just smile back and say, "I'm just gonna play around with this and you can take whatever pictures you want"

She nods, "Yeah ok"

I look at the flag, making sure I'm standing so she gets my profile as I move the flag around, pretending to be so interested in it

After a minute or two she says, "I think that's it"

Bending I put the flag down, straighten up and ask, "Can I see?"

"Oh uh sure. Yeah"

I walk over to her, standing as close to her as I possibly can without touching her

Her breathing gets heavier as I look over her shoulder

She tilts her head back, looking up at me, biting her lip

I just smile, uncomfortable with her head almost touching my shoulder

"Can I see the pictures", I ask again, dropping my voice to make it low

She nods, smiling then looking back down

She scrolls through the pictures slowly and I see that I do have some good pictures of me in there among some blurry ones and ok ones

Those are because of me

I did all the work while she just stood there

"That's a good one", I say, pointing out a really good shot

Joanne was right, I am good at posing

"Yeah you look very....uh....", she trails off

"Sexy?", I offer

"Uh yeah. Really uh hot", she agrees

I roll my eyes behind her head, so done with this shoot

"Well thanks for taking the pictures", I say

"Yeah sure. No problem"

Smiling, I nod then glance across the room

Wooyoung is there, glaring at me but I don't see Joanne anywhere

Glowering at him, I ignore him and leave the set, going back to the dressing room to look for her

Once I get there, I look but I don't see her there either

Where is she?

"Seonghwa!", Wooyoung yells, coming into the room

"What?", I snarl

"What the fuck were you doing with that photographer? Why were you flirting with her? In front of Jo too!", he growls, angry

He's angry?

He's calling me out?

Fine, I can do the same

"Me? What about you?"

He looks confused, "What about me?"

"Why were you flirting with my girlfriend?"

"I wasn't"

He is not going to lie to my face

"Then what do you call asking her how you look? If you're as sexy as me?"

Realization hits his face, then anger again

"I just said that to be dumb!"

"Yeah sure. You flirted with her. And when you were playing with the flag, putting it all over her?"

"What are you talking about? I was just playing around. You know me and her are friends and I do dumb things on set. I was trying to make it not boring, I wasn't flirting"

He's really gonna lie?

Not happening

I know what I saw

"You were basically standing on top of her when you were looking at the pictures!"

"No I wasn't!"

"I fucking saw you!", I roar, "I have fucking eyes. I saw everything and I saw her flirt with you too! She did it right in front of me, where I can see!"

He has no idea how much that hurts

He should know she's off limits but of course he has to be a man whore

"No she didn't! She didn't flirt with me!"

"I saw it!"

"No you idiot!", he shouts, "She told me to fuck off when I asked her if I'm as sexy as you. And I realized I went too far and I apologized"

"I didn't hear that", I snap

"She said it quietly so she didn't embarrass me. She told me to cut it the fuck out and fuck off. And with the flag? She was annoyed. She gave me a death glare when she shoved the flag off her and told me to stop fucking around. And when I was standing with her, I didn't notice how close I was. The screen on the camera is so small. She asked me to move back and she angled the camera closer to me so I could see them."

I didn't see any of that

But then again I didn't watch the entire time

"She never flirted with me and I didn't with her. I wouldn't do that. I was fucking around and she wasn't having it. She was actually upset because she couldn't take your pictures. I was trying to cheer her up.", he explains, "And you should know better. You know she loves you with her entire being. She would never flirt with anyone but you"

I swallow hard, realizing that I fucked up

I assumed she was flirting but she wasn't

"I'll ask again. Why did you flirt with that photographer?"

Shame fills me as I answer him

"Because I thought she was flirting with you"

"And you what? Did it to get back at her?"

I nod

"What are you fucking three years old?", he shouts

"No! I was upset and hurt and I wanted her to feel the same way. I wanted her to know what I was feeling"

God it sounds so stupid now that I say it out loud

I did act like a three year old

What the fuck is wrong with me?

"You fucking idiot. You flirting with that girl for nothing. You hurt Jo for nothing!"

I did and I need to apologize

"Where is she?"

"I don't know. But she was upset and she was crying"

Crying?

She was crying?

She's never supposed to cry because of me

Never

Fuck

"What?", I whisper

"Yeah. She was so sad but holding it together while you smiled at that girl. When you went on your knees in front of her looking at her like you wanted to fuck her. Until she saw that girl touch you. Your hair. Then she started crying and I was trying to assure her you were just being stupid. Then you got so close to that girl while looking at the photos. From where we stood it looked like you were gonna kiss her when she tilted her head back. I heard Jo suck in a breath and I knew she was waiting for you to kiss that girl. And to top it all off, she heard you ask that girl if you look sexy. She saw you smirk at her. That's when she ran away from the set and I don't know where she went"

Fuck

I'm such an idiot

Such a fucking idiot

Getting to my normal clothes, I pull out my cell phone and call her

I pace as I hold the phone to my ear

It doesn't even ring before going to voicemail

"Hi, I'm not here right now-"

"Fuck", I yell, hanging up the phone

Her phone is off

Her phone going right to voicemail is a tell tale sign that it's off

I run out of the dressing room, checking all the rooms as I hurry down the hallway to the bathroom

They're all empty

Getting to the woman's bathroom, I knock on the door, calling her

Nothing

I shove the door open, going in, not caring if I get yelled at

I need to find her

Explain

Grovel

"Jo?"

The room is empty but I check the stalls one at a time to make sure

She's not here

I leave, checking the men's room just in case

Empty

Maybe she's in her car

I run to the exit, shoving the door open and run into the parking lot

Running to the spot I'm pretty sure she parked in, I yell in frustration when I see it's empty

The parking lot isn't so big and I walk up and down each aisle, scanning each car

It's not here

She's not here

The photoshoot isn't over yet so I know she didn't go home

I just have no idea where she is or where she could of went

And I'm panicking

I messed up so badly

I should of talked to her instead of assuming and just doing something that could hurt her

Wooyoung is right, I should know her better than that

I know she loves me more than anything

I know she sees only me, wants only me

So what the fuck is my problem?

I'm just a fucking moron

Going back to the building, I try calling her again but it still goes straight to voicemail

Fuck

--------------------------------

I haven't stopped pacing for an hour

Joanne's manager came and told us to take a break

I asked the manager why and he said that Joanne called, saying she was feeling sick and she needed a little bit of time to take meds and for them to kick in

I keep calling her, hoping her phone is back on since she called her manager but it's not

She must have called him and turned it off again

I can't take this

I need to see her, I need to talk to her

I can't relax, I can't calm down, I'm worried about her

I hate not knowing where she is

I hate thinking that she's crying and I'm not with her

Five minutes later, her manager comes back and tells us that we're starting again in five

And I run out of the room and straight to the set

Bursting into the set, I immediately find her at one of the tables, setting up a camera

"Jagi", I call, getting to her immediately

She doesn't answer, doesn't look at me, just continues to put the lens on the camera

"Jo?"

"What?", she answers

It's not a mean answer, it's just sad

"Baby, where were you? I was looking for you everywhere", I ask anxiously

"I was out"

I don't know what to do

She's not being responsive

I understand why but I thought she'd maybe want to talk or hell even yell at me

"Where? I was worried"

"Out"

I feel like crying

She's never been this cold with me, not even before we got together

"Jagi I-"

"No", she says shutting me down immediately

"But I want to -"

"No", she repeats

"I can explain", I start

"Stop", she says firmly, "No"

I close my mouth, at a loss of what to do or how to get her to hear me out

"If you wanted to upset me, hurt me, congratulations you did", she says softly

What no!

Of course I didn't want to upset her

I just wanted her to feel a little jealous like I was feeling

It was a stupid and I regret it

"If you wanted to make me question our relationship and whether you really want to be with me, you achieved your goal"

Wait what?

Question our relationship?

She's questioning our relationship?

Because of flirting?

"Jo that's not-"

"I don't really want to talk to you right now Seonghwa", she cuts me off

My mouth drops open as pure fear runs through my body

She's never said that before

Any minor disagreements we have she always talked to me

And we never fought

Not once

"Jagi-"

"No. I just want to finish the photo shoot and go home. Alone"

Tear immediately well up in my eyes as I realize she doesn't want to be around me

She doesn't want me coming over tonight

And I don't know what to do

I haven't slept without her in a year and a half

I don't think I can

"But....but....", I stammer

"I just need to think about things Seonghwa. Whether we're going to work or not"

Oh my fucking god, what did I do?

"Nnn...no jagi...please-"

"I can't be with someone who thinks it's ok to flirt with someone else, especially in front of me. If you did it and I wasn't around, that's bad enough. But right in my face? No. I'm not dealing with that"

"Joanne, I'm sor-"

"Just leave me alone Seonghwa", she says, breaking my heart

She finally looks at me, so much hurt in her teary eyes that it takes my breath away

She's hurt because of me

I put that look on her face

I made her cry

I hurt her

I hurt my jagi when I swore I would never do anything to hurt her

I'm such an asshole

"Joanne I didn't mean to hurt you...I ...I was jealous of you and Wooyoung. I thought you were flirting with him"

"You know me better than that Seonghwa. I would never do anything to hurt you", she says, her eyes looking away from me

I know

I should of remembered that

I shouldn't have let my jealousy take over for nothing

"I...I'm sorry. I was stupid ok. I flirted with her to get back at you. To make you feel jealous too. I didn't mean it"

"That's even worse Seonghwa. That just means that you don't trust me and you want to do what? Get revenge on me for something I didn't even do?"

"No not revenge...it wasn't...it wasn't..."

God I don't know how to explain this

It seems like revenge but it wasn't

I just wanted her to feel what I felt

"I don't want a boyfriend who is going to do hurtful things to get back at me. I don't want a boyfriend who doesn't trust me. Without trust there's no relationship. That's not what I want"

"Please Jo, it's not like that!", I cry

"I need you to leave me alone Seonghwa. I have to think about this and I can't have you around me right now. It just...it just hurts"

"Baby please. I'm sorry. I'll do anything you want. Just please, don't leave me. I love you"

"Then leave me alone. That's what I want"

That is the furthest thing I want to do but I did say I'll do whatever she wants

And if I do it then maybe it'll show her that I'll do anything to fix this, anything to be with her

"Ok jagi. If that's what you want, I'll leave you alone", I whisper, the words completely breaking me

I want to be around her all the time and this is going to be torture

"Good", is all she says

She's silent as she continues to set up the camera and I have no choice but to walk away

I don't want to crowd her and get her angrier

I make my way out of the set and to the bathroom

Locking the door, I lean against it, sliding down to the floor, crying hysterically

I miss her already

I'm terrified she's going to leave me

I can't be without her

I can't

She's my everything, my life

I can't function without her

This is all my fault and I can't even fix it

I just hope that if I give her this space, she'll talk to me when she's calmer and I can fix everything

Because I don't know what I'm going to do without her

--------------------------------

Staring at the ceiling of my room, she is all that's on my mind

I'm exhausted but I can't sleep

Last night was torture

I couldn't sleep without her and I kept waking up almost every hour

At 5am I just gave up and got up

I texted her throughout the day but she never answered

We were just practicing today so we didn't need a photographer and I had no clue where she was all day

If I wasn't a complete idiot she would of been with me, watching the practice

I was a mess all day, fucking up every move in the choreo and getting everyone mad

I just can't help it

Today wasn't a normal day when she just couldn't make it to the practice

Today she decided to stay away from me, because she wanted to be away

I hurt her so much she doesn't want to see me

Today killed me and it solidifies what I already know

I can't be without her

Glancing at the clock, I make a decision

I need her

I can't stay here, staring at my ceiling all night

I can't miss her anymore

I need to get her back

I'll beg her, do whatever she wants, I just need her back

Getting up, I dress quickly trying not to make noise

Hongjoong actually came back to the dorm tonight and he's knocked out

I don't wanna wake him but I am gonna wake someone else up

I just hope he's not too mad

Leaving my room, I go into another

"Yunho", I whisper, shaking his arm, "Yunho"

He snores so loudly, I don't know how San stands it

"Yunho", I say a little louder, shaking him harder

"Huh?", he says groggily, his eyes barely open

"Yunho, it's me"

He squints at me, lifting his head just a little

"Seonghwa? What the fuck?", he grumbles

"I need a favor"

"What time is it?"

"2:30"

"You need a favor at 2:30 in the fucking morning?", he glares

"Yes. Please. I need you to drive me to Joanne's apartment"

"What why?", he asks rubbing his eyes, "Didn't she tell you to leave her alone?"

Yeah all the guys know what happened because of Wooyoung's big mouth

I got six more rips from all of them about what I did

I lost count how many times I was called a fucking idiot

But they're right and I deserved it

"I can't. I need to see her. I need to talk to her"

"I don't think that's a good idea", he says

"Please Yunho", I beg, trying not to cry, "I can't be without her. I feel like there's a huge hole in my heart because I'm not with her. I need her. I need to beg her, do whatever I have to get her to come back. Please"

He doesn't understand how much I need her

No one does

None of them have been in love before

They don't know that with her gone I feel like part of me is missing

And it hurts

He sighs, "Yeah ok. Give me five minutes"

"Thank you", I say in relief

"Yeah yeah"

I leave the room to let him get dressed and I wait in the living room

I need to learn how to drive so I don't have to rely on Yunho

We all need to learn to drive

"Ready?", he asks me, coming into the living room

I nod, "Yeah"

"Let's go", he says and I follow him out of the dorm

Hopefully, I'll have my jagi back soon

--------------------------------

Putting my key to her apartment in the door, I turn it, hearing the click of the lock turning

I unlock the bottom lock too, then open the door

I quietly close the door so I don't make too much noise

I don't want her to freak out or wake up in a panic

Keeping the light off, I make my way to her room

I know the way around her apartment like the back of my hand

I'm here every night

Except last night

Hopefully that will be the only night I'm ever away from her

As I get closer to her room, I hear noises

Is she awake?

Listening closer, my heart drops when I realize she's crying

Her door is slightly open and I gently push it more, looking in the room

I can make out her figure in the bed

Her back is to me, her sobs muffled from her face being in the pillow

My heart shatters and I move fast to her bed

I just want her in my arms

"Jagi?", I call softly

"Go away Seonghwa", she sobs

My god, I never hated the sound of my full name as much as I do right this second

"I can't jagi", I say softly, tears flooding my eyes

"Yes you can", she whispers

"No baby, no"

I can't stand it anymore

I get in the bed next to her, wrapping my arms around her, getting as close as I can, holding her against me

Burying my face in the back of her neck, I sob too

"I'm sorry baby. I'm so sorry. Please jagi, I was an idiot. I love you so much jagi. Please, I'll do anything baby. Please don't leave me. I need you"

"You don't need me Seonghwa. Not if your flirting with someone in front of me"

"Yes I do. It didn't mean anything jagi-"

"Yes it did. You did it to get back at me. You didn't even think that I'd tell Wooyoung to fuck off. You actually thought I'd flirt with him. That hurts Seonghwa. I love you so much and you think the worst of me"

I know it sounds like that but I don't

"Jagi no baby. I was insecure and I handled it wrong. I should of talked to you instead of doing what I did. I swear, Jo, I made a big mistake and I swear I'll never do anything like that again"

I hope she can hear how sorry I am, how much I love her, how much I regret everything

She's quiet for a few agonizing minutes and my heart is pounding

"You let her touch you", she finally says, tears in her voice, "She touched your hair. The hair I always play with, that's only supposed to be for me. You are only supposed to be for me but you acted like you wanted her"

She buries her face in her pillow, crying harder

I hate how much I hurt her

I'm never supposed to hurt her

I'm supposed to make her happy but I failed

I was so concerned with my feelings, with being so petty that I didn't think about how she was feeling

"I am just for you jagi. I swear. I don't want her. When she touched me my whole body cringed and I wanted to slap her hand away. I don't want anyone but you touching me. I swear"

She just shakes her head, making my heart pound in my chest

She's letting me hold her but she still feels so far away from me

"I just want you Jo. Just you"

"It doesn't feel that way"

"It is and I can prove it baby", I tell her, reaching in my pocket

I move my hand from around her, bringing it closer to her face, "Look jagi"

She moves her face from her pillow as I hold out the ring I bought her months ago

"What is that?", she asks

"A ring baby. I was gonna ask you to marry me. After the comeback and before the tour, I was going to take you on vacation wherever you wanted to go and I was going to propose to you.", I tell her softly, "I love you so much Joanne. You are my other half, my better half. I felt so empty spending just one day away from you. Like I was missing part of me. I knew from the first time you kissed me, I knew you were the one I want to spend my life with. I'm sorry for what I did jagi but I promise it will never happen again. I promise, I'll spend the rest of my life showing you how much I love you and that you're my only one. I swear"

"What is happening right now Seonghwa?", she asks, sounding confused

I reach over to her nightstand, turning her lamp on

"Sit with me baby?", I ask her

She does while I stand up, pulling her closer to the edge of the bed

"Seonghwa what are you doing?", she asks tiredly

I look in her eyes and kneel down on one knee, holding the ring out to her

"Joanne, will you marry me?"

She's silent as she looks at me, my heart pounding in my chest

"Are you being serious?"

"Dead serious", I answer

"Yes", she says and I immediately stand up and sit next to her

"But you can't do what you did again. It killed me to watch you flirt with someone else. I hated seeing you give the smile you give me to someone else. If you want to marry me you have to be just for me. No one touches you"

"Never jagi. I promise. No one but you is ever going to touch me. I am just for you baby. I don't want anyone but you"

She gives me a small smile, "Ok Hwa"

Hwa

I can't even explain the happiness I feel just from hearing her call me Hwa

It's amazing

"I love you", she says

"I love you so much Jo"

I feel like a huge weight has been lifted off me and I feel like I can actually breathe

Taking her hand, I slide the ring on her finger, it looking so beautiful on her tiny hand

She looks down at it, smiling wider, then gazes back at me, tears in her eyes

Happy tears

She moves closer to me, her arms around my neck, pulling me to her lips in a kiss

My entire body relaxes as I fall into her kiss

I'm so fucking happy I got her back, that she's now my fiancee but even more that she's in my arms right now

It's what I was missing the whole day

"Come jagi", I say, laying down and taking her with me

She immediately cuddles into me, her head on my shoulder, my arms around her and my hand in her hair, running through the soft strands

"You don't know how much I missed you baby", I whisper, "I couldn't sleep last night without you. I kept waking up until I gave up at 5am. I just wanted you"

"I wanted you too Hwa. I didn't get sleep last night either. I just kept thinking that you may not want me anymore", she says softly

"Never jagi. That will never happen. You're my everything"

"And you're mine Hwa", she says, hugging me tightly

"I'm never letting you go Jo. Never. I swear"

"Good. I'm never letting you go either"

"Good jagi"

We settle down in bed, holding each other tightly

And I finally feel whole again

[partyanimal167]

I’ve just been watching Bleach and in the credits to ep 118, Grimmjow gets called a Professor 👀 and now I can’t stop thinking about it…

So how about an AU where Grimmjow is a professor? Sorry if that’s too vague and random 😅

Oh no, that's not too vague. Thanks so much for suggesting. I always laugh thinking about certain characters being "responsible" adults esp when it comes to working with other people lol. I was so close to making Grimmjow a culinary professor, but it'd be too easy lol. I hope you like this!

CW: sfw, college au, gn! reader, cussing (bc let's be fr now), slight flirting near the end

There were so many signs that this class was going to be...not normal. However, when you gleamed through the professor reviews there wasn't anything out of the ordinary...well you didn't read them all. Mistake number one.

Mistake number two was not reading the syllabus (who does though) and showing up to class when it started--10am. There were a few people, but after waiting fifteen minutes, not even half the class was there and neither was the professor. After another fifteen minutes, you were starting to get a bit antsy and confused, but soon the rest of the class filled in. Then one guy came in with ripped jeans, a white jacket, shades, and a Monster in hand.

Damn, this guy looks rough. I bet he was partying too hard with the new semester starting. You jumped when a bag slammed on the teacher's desk. You tilted your head as the man's shades came off, and you were met with blue-as-hell eyes and a grumpy expression.

It seems you weren't the only one confused.

"Hey! Class was supposed to start at 10! Why is the professor late?" one guy yelled from his seat. A few other students mumbled in agreement.

"Oi, why the hell are you yelling?! Too fucking early in the morning," the man barked back. You could feel his voice rumble in your chest. It sounded as if he had just woken up not too long ago either. The man went over to his seat and kicked his feet on the desk. He popped open his energy drink and went on. "Literally on the first page of your syllabus it says that class starts at 10:30 because 10 is too fucking early and I like my sleep. It ain't my fault the dean wouldn't give me a noon class, tch."

You couldn't believe your ears. This guy can't be serious. This is my literature professor? You didn't like to make assumptions about people, but the guy looked to be around everyone else's age and even if he did teach a class, with his attitude you'd think it'd be something...not like literature.

"Anyway, the name's Grimmjow. I don't really care if you call me Professors. That's your business. This is Global Literature of the 21st Century. I hate repeating myself so listen the first time, and I don't give out extra credit unless you drop off a 12-pack of these first." the man went on tapping the can.

You sunk it your seat a little. What the hell did I sign up for?

~~~

After those first couple of weeks, you decided that you would do your absolute best in that class and avoid being a nuisance to that grumpy professor. Grimmjow definitely had a reputation on campus. Many students had a love-hate relationship with him--grateful for the extra time to sleep in, no bullshit, and the somehow rowdy yet engaging teaching. Definitely hate though for the teasing, cussing, yelling, and him being ready to chew out whatever dumb ass he picked that day.

So it certainly wasn't your best moment when the man practically ordered that you came to his office hours later that day.

You slowly opened the door to his office and met with the rather odd scene of your professor with reader's on his nose going over papers. For a moment, he looked really peaceful and actually almost professional.

"Oh wow, you actually fucking showed up."

And moment over.

You stopped yourself from messing with your elbows and nodded. "Uh yeah what's up, Grimm?" you immediately winced on the inside unsure of how the man would react to the unofficial nickname. But he didn't say anything.

He pointed at the chair, and you immediately sat. He rubbed his face and pushed the glasses off his head. "Look, I'll make this quick. Tell that idiot Jackson to stop stealing whole paragraphs from your papers or I'll break his arm."

You blinked. "Excuse me?"

There was that annoyed look again. "I'm not stupid. The guy has been copying sentences and paragraphs and piecing them together as his own work. He's already going to get in trouble, of course. But seriously, your work always seems to be included. Is he your idiot boyfriend or somethin'?"

The mention of a boyfriend flustered you a little even though you wouldn't dare consider that particular classmate. "Oh no uh- I'm single, and I kinda don't know how he's getting my assignments. I mean we do work together in the library but-,"

The man cut you off and waved his hand. "Okay, okay whatever. Just be mindful of where you're leaving your shit I guess."

You nodded then paused for a moment. "So I'm not in trouble?" You couldn't deny that being in front of the man made you nervous.

"Tch, for what? You're like one of my best students." Grimmjow easily said. "I actually think you know how to read a book and write. Some of these fools are using ai bots as if I can't tell." That was as close to compliment as you ever heard the man say. His face softened for a moment before he grinned meanly. "Well, I will give you some advice."

You weren't sure what it'd be, but you brightened up at the offer. "Sure!"

Grimmjow flicked your forehead before leaning back into his chair. "I got a rule that I don't go dating students, so you better fix how you keep eye-fucking me before I make it a problem." he snickered.

"What! I don'-,"

"Get out."

You squeaked before hightailing it out of the office--face warm and heart racing.

One thing you did know for sure though, you were certainly ready to see what type of problem your professor would give you.

~~~

Grimmjow! I want more of you lol. Thanks for reading! I'll be here if anyone has any thoughts, prayers, or ideas haha

[munson-blurbs]

i am alrREADY SENDING IN MY REQUEST SO I DONT FORGET AND I NEED THIS

Peanut Butter Cup - Nerds

IM SO EXCITED.

Fake dating/Bookworm!Reader/Steve Harrington

Warnings: fake dating, Harrington familial dysfunction, drunk family members

WC: 1.1k

Divider credit to @saradika

Steve had heard it all from his parents:

“Why don’t you have a girlfriend yet?”

“Just go out on a date, Steven.”

“You spend all damn day at that video store; you’re never gonna meet anyone that way.”

He normally shrugs it off, until his parents give him an ultimatum: get a girlfriend before the annual Harrington Family Reunion in two weeks, or don’t bother showing up at all. 

“Twenty years old, and you barely passed high school, work a dead-end job, and don’t even have a girlfriend,” his father mutters, disgust marring his features. “You’re a disappointment.”

The insult reverberates around his skull all day: disappointment, disappointment, disappointment. It’s not the first time his father has hurled the term his way, and it likely won’t be the last, but the impact continues to sting.

It’s still gnawing at him when you walk in the door, sliding a VHS copy of The Shining across the counter with a bashful smile.

“Sorry, I know it’s a day late,” you apologize, already digging into your bag for change. “How much is the fee?”

Steve dismisses the notion with a wave. “Don’t worry about it,” he says, already checking the movie back into the system. “You, uh, went to Hawkins High, right?”

“Mhm,” you confirm, zipping up your purse and hitching it back up your shoulder, “class of ‘86.”

“‘85,” he chirps, clearing his throat to temper his enthusiasm. “Anyway, hope the movie was good.”

You nod and smile again; the gentle upturn of your lips has Steve melting. “It was. The book was better, though.”

And that’s when Steve finally places you: back in high school, you volunteered at the school library and, on more than one occasion, had helped him find a book for research projects. You were pretty then, and you’re even prettier now.

“I haven’t read the book,” he admits, embarrassed that he hasn’t read much of anything besides a comic book or two since graduation. 

Your jaw drops. “Well, now you have to!” You grab your car keys from your back pocket. “I’ll swing by tomorrow with my copy, if that’s cool?”

“Y-Yeah, ‘s cool,” he stutters, giving his head a soft shake to shift the hair from his hazel eyes. He watches as you walk out of the store, the sway of your hips drawing him in. 

He probably would have stared forever if Robin hadn’t cut in. “Hey, Dingus, you’re drooling.”

You stop by Family Video the next day to drop off the book. And then a few days after that, you go there again to grab another movie. Soon enough, you’re a regular customer.

“Can I ask you for a favor?” Steve blurts out from where he’s standing next to you as you peruse the horror section. “Feel free to say no, to tell me to fuck off, and I will. I will just…fuck right off.”

“Shoot.”

“Could you pretend to be my girlfriend at my family reunion next weekend? Nothing weird,” he rushes to add, not wanting to imply any unwanted contact. “Just hand holding, arm around your shoulder…no feels will be copped, I swear.”

You pinch your eyebrows, perplexed. “Is this the trade-off for having my late fee waived?” you tease, thumbing The Exorcist and tugging it from its spot on the shelf. “Because I’ll pay it.”

Steve laughs, shaking his head. “Nah, just tired of hearing my folks complain about me not having my life together. Figured if I showed up with a smart, pretty girl on my arm, they’d shut up for a little while.”

Your face burns at the compliments, both at the words and that King Steve is the one saying them. “What’s the dress code?”

You and Steve arrive in his Beemer, his hand already pressed to the small of your back as you walk into the restaurant. A room filled with Harringtons greet you as you enter the room, and your stomach flips as you wonder if you can pull this off.

“Showtime,” Steve murmurs in your ear, taking you around the room to meet his family. You’re suddenly self-conscious of where your black dress lands on your thighs and the cut of the neckline. Sure, Steve had approved it, but what did he know?

You note that he’s been gazing at you since he’d picked you up earlier, eyes drawn to you like a magnetic force. It’s part of the whole bit, you try and convince yourself, but something nags at you that Steve isn’t that good of an actor.

The conversations go as easily as they can; you spend the evening peppering in “facts” about your relationship that you and Steve had rehearsed over and over. Some of the details were truthful, like meeting at Family Video and bonding over horror movies. Other parts were much more embellished: relationship duration, your first date, the way Steve bragged that you were the most beautiful girl he’s ever laid eyes on.

It’s smooth sailing until Steve’s inebriated father stands up, clumsily clinking his knife to his wine glass. “I’d like to make a toast,” he slurs, swaying as he speaks, “to my son, Steve, and his girl! Never thought I’d see the day he’d land someone like her.”

Your eyes remain glued to the floor, waiting for the moment to be over, but if the impromptu speech wasn’t awkward enough, one of Steve’s equally drunk uncles calls out, “Give her a kiss, Stevie!”

Steve shakes his head with an uncomfortable chuckle. “Nah, we’re not really into the public–”

“Aw, c’mon!” His boisterous voice echoes throughout the restaurant. “Kiss, kiss, kiss!” he chants, and soon enough, most of the family joins in.

“Shall we shut them up?” Steve mumbles, turning to you. “Y’don’t have to…”

“N-No, we can.” It’s not the most conventional first kiss, but then again, nothing about this arrangement is normal. “We can just…”

Steve’s hand is on your cheek, nose nudging against yours as your lips press together. This isn’t a simple peck; no, it’s far more involved, more intimate, than you had anticipated.

You melt into him a bit more, resting your own hand on his bicep until the kiss comes to an end. The men hoot and holler; the women exchange awws.

“Now that,” Steve’s dad guffaws, clapping a hand on his son’s back, “is the kiss of true love!”

You manage a small smile, wondering exactly what just happened. The kiss was the best of your life, and it was supposedly just for show.

Steve’s breath tickles your earlobe as he whispers, “he may be drunk, but he’s not wrong.” His cheeks are pink at the admission.

It’s certainly a conversation you’ll need to have later, but you can’t say you disagree. For now, your fingers intertwine with his, and you give them a quick squeeze. 

Maybe it’s the wine, but you swear you love him back.

--

[sapphic-gardn]

Willow | joel miller x f!reader | pt. 1

part 2

Summary: When you arrived in Jackson at the age of eighteen, you found a place to rest your mind and live comfortably while keeping to yourself. Five years later, Tommy Miller’s brother arrives and finds a way to get right under your skin.

(no physical description of reader, no use of y/n, enemies to lovers type beat)

Warnings (18+ mdni): mentions of loss/grief, swearing, age gap (reader is 23 Joel is in his 50s), angst, mutual pining kinda?, no physical description of reader, will specify with each chapter

Word count: 1.3k

a/n: Hi guys! This is the first part to my first ever Joel Miller fic. AHHH!! I’m so nervous but I am also really excited. I have planned this out for awhile and I just hope it manifests into something you all can enjoy. This first part is short but it’s kind of a prologue so you get a feel of Joel and reader’s dynamic. Let me know what you think <3 I’m shaking in my boots as I’m posting this

(The title is based off of Taylor Swift’s song Willow. I was listening to it while I wrote this. I just adore her sm)

credit to @cafekitsune for the cutie divider <3

Your cheeks stung as the bitter breeze swept across the dense forest just outside of Jackson. You tugged your heavy coat a little tighter to your chest as your horse trotted over the rough terrain.

“‘S that alright with ya?” Your patrol partner’s voice reeled you back in from your daze.

“Sorry, uh, what did you say, Tommy?” He let out a dry chuckle and you noted his look of amusement before directing your gaze ahead of you once again.

“I’m gonna be helpin’ Maria out with the baby for a few weeks. Gonna have you patrollin’ with Joel for awhile. Alright with you?” Tommy repeated himself with a huff.

Your eyes went wide and you snapped your head to the right where Tommy swayed on his horse and looked back at you with slight desperation.

“Joel?” You cleared your throat and quickly averted your eyes to the trail ahead, “Yeah, that’s fine.”

No no no. That is not fine. Joel? Joel fucking Miller who you have a big fat embarrassing crush on? Joel Miller who is old enough to be your father? The man who only speaks in grunts and groans? Please, let this be some twisted fucking dream.

Tommy sighed in relief, “I’m glad to hear it. Listen, I know you two are barely acquainted—haven’t said more ‘n two words to each other—but he’s good. He won’t give ya a hard time.”

A feeling of unease settled in your gut as you prepared yourself for humiliation on your next patrol with Joel fucking Miller.

Your life before Jackson was not glorious in any way. The bouts of starvation and taking shelter in abandoned homes had you convinced you were going to die alone sooner rather than later. That is, until Maria found you. Doe eyed and shrunken into a fetal position in a dark corner of a crumbling cabin.

It was surreal when you first arrived five years ago. Barely eighteen, grieving the loss of your parents, taking in the settlement before you. Life in Jackson was so peaceful despite the chaos that surrounded its walls.

Maria carved out a place for you in the community. She placed you in a little cottage a few houses down from her and Tommy. You were assigned to different jobs around the commune before discovering your strong suit was gardening. It was beyond anything you could’ve hoped for—a home.

You mostly kept to yourself. Everybody was so kind and welcoming but with the state of the world and the recent loss of your parents, it was easier to create a barrier. Your trust was sparse and only extended as far as Tommy and Maria. There was always something missing, though. Someone missing. And then, Joel Miller showed up five years later.

When you first met Joel, it was through Tommy’s efforts. You had been in the garden, harvesting vegetables when Tommy called out your name, “I want ya to meet my brother, Joel, he’ll be livin’ right next door to you. Thought it’d be best to introduce y’all.”

When you turned around, your breath hitched at the sight of him. Tousled gray hair framing his stoic expression complimented with deep brown eyes that looked right through you.

Joel grumbled something that sounded like a greeting, ignoring your outstretched hand in front of him.

“A man of few words, I guess.” You let out a humorless chuckle and placed your hand on your hip. Joel just walked away in response to your commentary. Asshole.

“Don’t take it personal. He’s like that with everyone.” Tommy ran a hand through his hair and sighed, “Alright, I’ll let ya get back to it, then. See you tomorrow at the stables. Patrol at 7 a.m. sharp, miss.” You nodded in affirmative and waved him goodbye.

The rest of the day was spent distracted by thoughts of Joel occupying your brain. What was his problem? Why didn’t he say anything to you? Did he always wear that scowl on his face? That damned gorgeous face.

The following month you had successfully dodged Joel like the plague. Sure, you wanted to see him but avoiding another interaction with him was a top priority. And you were happy with that. You could yearn from a distance—or so you thought.

You were tossing and turning in your bed unable to slow your heart rate. In the morning, you were to meet Joel at the stables for patrol. Fuck. The anticipation was unbearable. How would you act around him? No one has ever gotten to you like he has. What if you say something stupid? What if he doesn’t say anything at all?

You don’t know what time it was when you finally got some shut eye but you were awoken from your sleep by the sound of pounding on your front door. You looked at your watch and cursed under your breath. You shuffled to your front door, too blanketed in sleep to care that you had on a tank top that left barely anything to the imagination.

“I ain’t waiting all damn day!” You heard the gruff voice call out from the other side of the door before you swung it open. You were confronted with none other than Joel Miller. He took in your appearance and his look of anger momentarily turned into a look of bashfulness. Joel cleared his throat and looked down at his worn boots.

“Aren’t you just sunshine? Look, I’m sorry. I slept like shit and didn’t wake up to my alarm. Give me a few minutes, I’ll be right out.” You were rattled but didn’t let your expression show it.

Before you could retreat, Joel spoke up once more, “Five minutes ‘s all I’m givin’ ya. Hurry it up, little girl.” With that, you slammed the door in his face.

You swear that was the fastest you’d ever gotten ready in your life. Before leaving, you gave yourself a once over in the bathroom mirror—you looked far from pristine but at least your breath smelled fresh and your jeans fit just right.

As you stepped out the door, you eluded eye contact with Joel. And with a grunt, you both descended your front steps to walk to the stables.

The walk was silent for the first few minutes until you decided to speak up, “I’m not a little girl, y’know. Don’t fuckin’ call me that.” Sure, you were young, but he had no idea what you were capable of. Anger and embarrassment started bubbling up in your throat.

Joel just chuckled and quirked an eyebrow at you. It bothered you that he didn’t say anything back, but you just pushed it aside and started walking ahead of him. You had quite the mouth on you and it stirred something inside of Joel. You were a willing opponent fighting to put him in his place.

At the stables, you and Joel barely exchanged words, all of which consisted of double checking supplies and grumbles of confirmation before heading out.

Once both of you made it about a mile out of the gates, Joel began thinking of what to say to you. He was content with silence, he liked his solitude—but when it came to you, curiosity got the best of him.

“So—“ Joel started but you were quick to cut him off.

“Don’t have to say anything to me. Next few weeks’ll be painless if you keep to yourself and I do the same.” You kept your eyes ahead as you spoke. If you looked at him, your cold facade would simply melt under his gaze.

Joel didn’t try to rebuke. He figured it was best to keep you at arms length. A woman like you was nothing but trouble for an old man like him. But how he craved to know what was going on in that pretty little head of yours.

a/n: I hope you like it so far! I am working on the next part already. Let me know your thoughts :) love you -Jen 🤓

Taglist: @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @alejaa-a @cool-iguana @littleshadow17 @planet-marz1 @alyhull

[midastouch013]

could you write about Hermione Granger that she was dated to date you and she would get money for it. But over time she started to fall in love with us. And then we found out.

if you don’t do it it’s fine.

-dt415 🐥

Stupid Dare

Summary: It was just a dare, but what if it becomes something more?

Warnings: Yelling, fights, but happy ending

P.S I'll be taking 'Mione requests only till Wednesday

---

"I dare you to sneak into the Forbidden Forest at midnight,"

"Or how about we see who can charm Professor Flitwick into giving us extra credit?"

"I've got it! We dare you, Hermione, to ask Y/n out on a date!"

Hermione blinked in surprise, caught off guard by the unexpected challenge. "What? Why?"

Ginny grinned, nudging Hermione playfully. "Just to prove you're not a wimp, Hermione. You're always so focused on your studies and rules. This'll show everyone you can be spontaneous."

Ron chimed in, adding his own teasing encouragement. "Yeah, come on, Hermione. Live a little!"

Caught between reluctance and a desire to prove herself, Hermione hesitated. She was usually one to follow the rules, but the prospect of breaking out of her usual mold intrigued her.

After a moment's contemplation, Hermione squared her shoulders, a determined glint in her eyes. "Fine. I'll do it."

"And if she does say okay, you have to do at it for a month"

"Okay okay, whatever"

With her friends' cheers echoing in her ears, Hermione set off to fulfill the dare, unaware of the surprising turn her evening was about to take.

And so she found herself standing before you in the Gryffindor common room, disturbing you from the muggle book you were reading, nervously biting her lip. She'd been dared to ask you out as part of a silly game, but she couldn't deny the flutter of nerves in her stomach as she awaited your response.

"Um, Y/n," she began, her voice a touch uncertain, "I, uh, I was wondering if you'd like to, um, go out with me?"

You regarded her with curiosity, noticing the slight tremble in her hands. She seemed genuine, and despite the surprise of her asking you out, you found yourself feeling oddly flattered.

"Sure, Hermione," you replied with a smile, unaware of the dare that prompted her invitation. "I'd love to go out with you."

Relief washed over Hermione's features, her tension visibly melting away, but she stood there unsure on what to do next.

"Oh"

"So Three Broomsticks tomorrow at 6?" you proposed, as she didn;t seem to have anything planned

"Oh, yeah, yup, sure"

"I'll pick you up after Quidditch practice"

"Yeah- okay"

---

As the sun dipped low in the sky, casting a warm golden hue over the Hogwarts grounds, you made her way across the Quidditch pitch, your broomstick slung over your shoulder. Quidditch practice had been intense, but exhilarating, and now you had another exciting event to look forward to: her date with Hermione.

With a smile on your face and a skip in your step, you headed towards the Gryffindor common room to meet Hermione. You had promised to pick her up for your outing to the Three Broomsticks, and you were determined to make it a memorable evening.

Upon reaching the common room, you spotted Hermione sitting by the fireplace, a book in hand as usual. You couldn't help but admire the way the firelight danced across Hermione's features, casting soft shadows and illuminating her eyes with a warm glow.

"Hey, 'Mione," you greeted, approaching with a friendly smile.

Hermione looked up from her book, her expression brightening at the sight of you. "Oh, hi, Y/n! Ready to go?"

You nodded, extending her hand to her. "Absolutely. Shall we?"

Hermione's cheeks tinged pink as she placed her hand in yours, allowing herself to be led away from the comfort of the common room and into the bustling corridors of Hogwarts.

As you walked side by side, you couldn't help but feel a sense of pride in accompanying Hermione. She carried herself with a grace and intelligence that you found captivating, and you were determined to treat her with the utmost respect and courtesy.

Arriving at the Three Broomsticks, you held the door open for Hermione with a flourish, gesturing for her to enter first like a true gentlewoman. Hermione's eyes sparkled with appreciation as she stepped inside, a smile playing at the corners of her lips.

Throughout your evening together, you made sure to engage her in lively conversation, asking about her favorite books, her studies, and her aspirations for the future. Hermione, in turn, opened up more than usual, sharing her thoughts and dreams with a newfound ease.

--

As your dates continued, Hermione found herself increasingly drawn to you, despite the initial dare that had brought you together. Each outing brought new discoveries and deeper connections, leaving Hermione grappling with conflicting emotions of guilt and affection.

One evening, as they strolled through the Hogwarts grounds beneath a blanket of stars, You had reached out to gently brush a stray lock of hair from Hermione's face. The simple gesture sent a shiver down Hermione's spine, igniting a warmth in her chest that she couldn't ignore.

Another time, during a visit to Hogsmeade, you surprised Hermione with a meticulously crafted bouquet of her favorite flowers. Hermione's heart fluttered at the sight, touched by the thoughtfulness and care behind the gesture.

But it wasn't just grand gestures that stirred Hermione's feelings; it was the small, everyday moments that truly captured her heart. Like the way you would listen intently as she rambled on about her latest research findings, or the way you would offer a comforting hug whenever Hermione felt overwhelmed by the pressures of schoolwork.

Despite her initial reservations, Hermione found herself falling for you more and more with each passing day. She was charmed by your kindness, intelligence, and unwavering support, and she couldn't shake the feeling that perhaps your connection was more than just a dare.

Yet, even as her feelings for you deepened, Hermione couldn't shake the nagging sense of guilt that lingered in the back of her mind. She knew that your relationship had begun as a dare, and she couldn't help but wonder if you would feel betrayed if she ever found out the truth.

But as you both shared more laughter, more conversations, and more stolen glances, Hermione couldn't deny the growing certainty in her heart: she was falling for you, dare or not. And that thought terrified her

--

As the end of the month approached, Hermione and you found yourselves drawn to each other more than ever. Today, as you walked together along the tranquil shores of the Black Lake, the air filled with a tangible tension, charged with unspoken emotions.

Unable to resist any longer, you reached out to gently cup Hermione's face, your thumb tracing the curve of her cheek. "You're so beautiful, 'Mione," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

Hermione's cheeks flushed pink at your words, her breath catching in her throat as she met your gaze. With a tender smile, you reached up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear, your fingers lingering against her soft skin.

And then, in a moment of pure instinct and longing, Hermione leaned in, closing the gap between you. Her lips met yours in a soft, tentative kiss, sending a rush of warmth coursing through your veins.

Time seemed to stand still as you melted into each other, the world fading away until there was only the two of you, lost in the sweetness of your first kiss. It was a moment of pure magic, a silent promise of the love that was beginning to bloom between you.

--

The dormitory was silent as Hermione paced back and forth, rehearsing the words she would use to finally come clean to you. But before she could gather her courage, the door burst open with a force that made her jump.

"Is it true?" you demanded, your voice echoing off the walls of the empty room, your eyes blazing with a mix of hurt and anger.

Hermione froze, her heart pounding in her chest as she met your gaze. "Y/n, please, let me explain—"

"Is it true?" you repeated, your voice rising with each word, the fury in your eyes intensifying. "Did you ask me out as a bloody dare?"

Hermione's throat tightened as she struggled to find the right words, her mind racing with excuses and explanations. "Y/n, I… I didn't mean for it to—"

"IS IT TRUE?" you roared, your fists clenched at your sides, your whole body trembling with emotion.

Tears welled in Hermione's eyes as she met your gaze, her voice barely above a whisper. "Yes," she admitted, her voice breaking with regret. "Yes, it's true."

The air crackled with tension as you paced furiously around Hermione's room, your hands running through your hair in frustration. "Why? Why would you do that"

Hermione's eyes filled with tears as she struggled to find the right words, her voice trembling with emotion. "I didn't mean to hurt you, Y/n. It was just a stupid dare, I swear—"

"A stupid dare?" you spat, rounding on her with fire in your eyes. "Do you have any idea how much you've hurt me? How could you think this was okay?"

Hermione's defenses rose as she felt the sting of your words, her own anger bubbling to the surface. "I made a mistake, okay? I never meant for it to go this far, but you have to understand—"

"Understand?" you interrupted, your voice rising with each word. "Understand what, Hermione? That you thought it would be funny to toy with my emotions? That you thought it was okay to manipulate me for your own amusement?"

Hermione's eyes flashed with indignation as she took a step forward, her hands trembling with pent-up frustration. "I didn't manipulate you, Y/n! I never wanted to hurt you—I just wanted to prove that I wasn't a wimp, that's all!"

"A wimp?" you scoffed, disbelief coloring your tone. "Is that what this was about? You're so afraid of being seen as weak that you're willing to hurt someone else just to prove a point?"

The room fell silent as the weight of your words hung heavy in the air, the truth of them ringing painfully in Hermione's ears. For a moment, all that could be heard was the sound of their ragged breaths and the pounding of their hearts.

And then, with a heavy sigh, Hermione spoke, her voice barely above a whisper. "I'm sorry, Y/n. I'm so, so sorry."

The tension in the room was palpable, thick with unspoken words and shattered trust. You stood there, seething with anger and hurt, while Hermione's heart raced with guilt and regret. She knew she had to explain herself, had to make you understand the depths of her remorse.

"Y/n, please," Hermione began, her voice trembling as she took a tentative step forward. "I hate myself for what I did. I hate myself for hurting you, for betraying your trust. I never wanted any of this to happen, I swear."

Her words spilled out in a torrent, her voice cracking with emotion as she poured her heart out. "I've spent every moment since that stupid dare regretting it. Regretting the pain I caused you, the way I let my fear of being seen as weak cloud my judgment. I know I messed up, Y/n, and I don't expect you to forgive me, but I need you to know that I'm truly sorry."

You remained silent, your eyes locked on hers as you processed her words. The pain and hurt in your gaze tore at Hermione's heart, and she felt tears prickle at the corners of her eyes.

"I fell for you, Y/n," Hermione continued, her voice barely above a whisper. "I fell for you in a way I never thought possible. And I hate myself for using something as precious as love as part of a stupid game. But please, please believe me when I say that my feelings for you are real. I would never do anything to hurt you intentionally."

Before she could say anything more, you closed the distance between you in a single stride, your lips crashing against hers in a desperate, passionate kiss. It was a kiss filled with a whirlwind of emotions—anger, hurt, longing, and yes, even a glimmer of forgiveness.

[qqueenofhades]

Once you get offline, Biden’s doing ok with everyone but Republicans and racists. Unfortunately, that’s a pretty big voting bloc, but it should be manageable. More unfortunately, Harris is. Not popular. With anyone. Like, we’re talking Dan “To not have a mind is being very wasteful” Quayle levels of dissing. You can blame some of it on sexism and racism, but enough women and people of color have jumped on the “Kamala’s letting The Team down” bandwagon that there’s got to be more to it than this. Any thoughts?

Yeah, uh, I don't think that's fair OR accurate, and deserves quite a bit more reflection and pushback than is implied here (since your question frames it as thinking there MUST be something wrong with her and invites me to expand on it). First off, I am not comfortable comparing the first female vice president (AND female VP of color) to empty suit Dan Quayle, and especially when there's such a disparity in their background, social perception, and accomplishments, not to mention their role in the administration. So:

"You can blame some of it on sexism and racism, but -- " Okay, but how much? Are we actually assigning a weight to that and taking it into consideration, or hand-waving it aside in search of the "real" cause? Online Leftists are already disposed to irrationally dislike Kamala because of the "she's a cop!!!" business that went around during the primaries, which was likewise inaccurate and misleading, but showed how women, especially women of color, are often treated in white leftist spaces (including by leftist-identifying women). That very much WAS down to sexism, racism, and perceiving her as "shrill" or "there's just something I don't like about her." Okay, what is that? WHAT is the thing you don't like about her? Would you notice it in a male politician? Would you critique it in a male politician? If the answer is any part unclear, this needs more work and is in fact reflective of that dynamic, whether or not anyone is aware of it or thinks that's the reason why.

No, seriously. If someone professes that they "just don't like" Kamala or "there's something about her that rubs me the wrong way" or whatever else, my immediate next question would be "Why? What don't you like about her?" And keep drilling down through whatever excuses about "unlikeability" or "personality" or whatever else is offered. If this can be persuasively articulated in a way that a) exposes a substantive policy reason, b) can be differentiated from what any male vice president or other person in her position would do or what should be expected of them, and c) isn't just about "offputting vibes," then sure, we can have a discussion about that. Otherwise, yeah. That's not convincing me that it's anything other than the constant, long-running, ever-present discomfort with seeing a powerful and accomplished woman of color, who started her career prosecuting sex criminals, was the first Black woman in the Senate, and is now the first female vice president, actually state her issues and own her role.

"Enough women and people of color have jumped on the 'Kamala Is Letting the Team Down' bandwagon that there must be -- " Really? Must there? First of all, it's damn near impossible to find any Online Leftist who's willing to give Biden accurate credit for his accomplishments -- see the "Biden is bad and uninspiring and anti-trans but we should I guess vote for him anyway" rhetoric which is the closest they can possibly get to acknowledging it. (None of which is actually true!) When that's the case with the top of the ticket, it's orders of magnitude easier to project that irrational dislike and distortion onto "shrill" or "dislikable" Kamala. So who are these "women and people of color" who don't like Kamala? Are they in the room with us right now? Do they actually care about/vote for the Democrats, support their policy accomplishments, and realistically understand the progress that's been made and what remains to be done, or do they want to use Kamala as yet another convenient stick to beat the Democrats (since they won't give them accurate credit to start with?)

Even if this was true, sexism and racism somehow magically wasn't a factor (which uh, it is not) and Kamala had some terrible personality defect that was unique to her and her alone and not any of the far worse vice presidents there have been in the last 20 years alone: what is this kind of question intended to accomplish? Are we supposed to fear that by voting for Biden, we might vote for Kamala as well? Well, she was on the ticket last time too, and they won the election. Don't know what else to tell you.

[bitchinbarzal]

My first baby | Tater Tot & Eddy

After tatum’s meltdown about Stella and Finn having a dad and she didn’t, Ethan was hurt.

He had always treated Tate like his babygirl, she was his first daughter. She had taught him how to be a dad.

Now, she didn’t think of him as her dad, she thought of Ryan as her dad and him as just Stella and Finn’s dad.

He was just Ethan.

Very pretty of him, the rest of that week Ethan didn’t pander to Tatum. He was just Ethan to her and he would be just that.

His routine with Finn and Stella didn’t change but if Tate didn’t want him to be her dad, he wouldn’t be.

Tate started to notice Ethan’s absence a couple days into the week. It really hit when a package from the devils came in the mail, typical for the team before the season.

The package had three little jerseys in it, the two littlest ones had his number and the name ‘DADDY’ on it while hers just said ‘TATUM’

She was visibly uncomfortable when she noticed, looking to her parents for an explanation

“What’s wrong baby?” Her mom asked, leaning over to see the jersey.

“Uh- they gave me the wrong one” she mumbled, showing the jersey to everyone.

“What’s wrong with it T? Not the right size, we can get it changed no problem” Ethan asked and Tate huffed

“It’s the wrong on the back! Look!” She waved her jersey next to Finn’s “Finn’s says daddy and so does Stella! They got mine wrong”

Ethan bit his lip “Tate you said I wasn’t your daddy… that’s why they didn’t put it on there I asked them too”

His wife looked at him, a little shocked he had stooped so low against their daughter.

Tate stuttered, looking for an answer before she dropped the jersey on the table and fled up the stairs.

Ethan looked at his wife, who was already glaring at him

“I can’t believe you did that!”

“She said I’m not her dad!”

“Ethan she’s six!”

“Yeah? Six years I’ve been her dad but he gets all the credit - I’m not trying to be mean Y/N but if she doesn’t want me to be her dad, I won’t be. It’s her choice it always has been” he snapped “I get that she’s the baby, but my feelings matter too - i stepped to the plate at eighteen and gave up everything to give her anything”

She sighed softly “Will you please just go speak to her?”

Ethan gets up, passing off Stella to her mom and heads up the stairs.

He can hear Tate crying before he gets to her room, knocking softly “T?”

“Go away!”

“Tate let me in, please?”

She’s silent for a moment, only some shuffling before the door opens and Tate is standing infront of him with a red puffy face.

It takes a moment before Ethan realises behind her, the floor is covered in Jerseys. His jerseys.

The 73 and ‘DADDY’ all showing on them.

He looks down at Tate who is sniffling still “I don’t want you to not be my daddy”

“T, I don’t want that either!”

“Then don’t leave me!” She sobs, hurdling into his legs. Ethan’s hand strokes the back of her head, trying not to cry himself.

“Tatertot, I’ll never leave you… you know that right?”

She shakes her head “I get scared that maybe you won’t like me like daddy Ryan doesn’t like me and now you have a baby girl like he did and then he left me and didn’t want me anymore”

Ethan crouches down infront of her now, holding her firmly “I love you T, so much. You were my first baby, you know that? I loved you first before anyone else-“

“Except mommy”

“Except mommy, yeah. Are we ok, T?”

She nodded softly, her head falling onto his chest “We’re ok daddy”

[thetimelordbatgirl]

I found this on the Descendants subreddit:

What do you think?I dunno I feel about this.

For starting orders, are these from the Descendants guide book??? Because if so, I didn't know that was potentially out yet...unless these are preview pages??? If so, kinda weird Red or Chloe didn't get their pages previewed...unless they contain spoilers and can't be shown unlike Mal's and Uma's and the page on transformations... Not gonna lie though, these preview pages are kinda making me wanna buy it...soley to see how the fuck Descendants explains ANYTHING in its universe at this fucking point.

But to answer the question: let's get transformations page out of the way first, because uh, I find it the most meh lol- its just basic knowledge about transformations and Maleficent, Mal and Uma being the only characters so far to have that ability...though confusing how its surprising to Auradon, since they a fairy tale kingdom, transformations shouldn't be a surprise really... Though they really gave a list of shit Mal did with her dragon but then said 'oh and Uma can transform too I guess' like they really did not care to go into Uma much there, though curious why they saying its only via necklace she can do that as I assumed it was Ursula's magic/DNA in general that allowed Uma to go octopus form... Plus lemme just add: 'battled Uma' last I checked all Mal did was fly around and blow FIRE at WATER and that's it, Ben handled that shit more then Mal did really.

Now onto Mal's....first: United States of Auradon...okay nice to know I guess Beyond The Isle Of The Lost definitely ain't gonna be connected to the film at this rate because there they called it United Kingdom of Auradon, but now we back to the film title here, aka United States of Auradon. But heyyyy! We can celebrate that they actually resisted the urge to blame Ben for Mal's problems for once! ...It's sad I consider that an absolute win, really, but its Descendants so... "Confident and natural leader"...wait is that meant to be serious or...because I kinda laughed there given how much of a 'confident' and 'natural leader' she was in D2 and D3... "Particularly because she felt guilty about the VK's she'd left behind" Yeah, she felt so guilty in fact that she literally showed zero fucking concern in D2 about the VKs when treating the Isle like a get away place, let alone showed zero concern when Evie did on the Isle about the VK's and in D3 basically went, "Fuck those kids, my happily ever after is more important-", when choosing WITHOUT HESTIATION to close the barrier and punish the VKs for crimes they didn't do and still intended to do this even during the lies revealed scene...so clearly guilty about leaving the VKs behind, guys. "Eventually, she helped convince the Auradon citizens to accept all VKs into Auradon Prep." And by that, I mean likely everyone else did the work but Mal's being given credit because main character and Descendants wants you to believe she actually gave a crap about the VKs after that council meeting scene lmao. "Mal is talented in a lot of areas, both in artistic endeavors and in spells and magic"...wait we NOW remember shes into art???? Because D2-3 did not fucking remember that detail well before making her into generic main character for personality and shit- but also where's being a bully and getting away with it and other crimes like love spelling someone and lying in those talents? She's very oddly good at those, even after she's meant to be good. "mess with other students" Well, that's a brutally honest description of what Mal was like with magic in Auradon Prep lmao. "the queen she was always meant to be" I...Do I need to point out saying Mal was always meant to have a form of power over people isn't great, given what she's like, or...? Like, taking someone who had a form of power on the Isle and used it to be a bully and shit and giving them power over a kingdom when they haven't even changed much isn't great, but Descendants seems to think Mal's the greatest so no wonder they acting like it was simply destiny she was always meant to be queen... Also I guess Mal still has the ember and didn't donate it to the museum so uh, there's that...also why does Hades' image look the most awkward lmao???? Did they not have a stock character image of Hades like Maleficent and Ben or...

I...really don't have much to say about Uma's page lmao- not because its meh or bad, its just not giving me much to complain about as it didn't at least villainize her like Descendants normally loves too...though interesting choice to say Uma only wanted to go to Auradon because she was envious of Mal and not because she wanted to free the villain kids...but I guess we can't let someone else care about the villain kids when we pretending like Mal gave a shit about them suddenly! But uh, guess this is confirmation that Fairy Godmother fully retired??? She and Ben's parents really do just like to ditch their jobs at the nearest chance and hand it off to the nearest young person- though I still really don't get why Uma would want to be a head mistress of a school, like I know she'd want to help villain kids and such, but like, she can do that outside of being head mistress technically, it just feels random for her character. Also niece of Uliana...are they actually gonna address this fully in the film or...we know Uma captured by Queen of Hearts so like....sigh, Uma suffering more in plot bullshit, first it was Mal's plot bullshit, now its Queen of Hearts bullshit, she cannot catch a fucking break. And one last question: when did the Isle of the Lost become a KINGDOM??? It was called a prison last I checked, why does it count as a home kingdom now??? If I was a villain kid and asked my home kingdom, I wouldn't say the Isle of the Lost, because that's a prison I was stuck on for existing basically.