#what a time that was I remember it weirdly vividly

[daveyfvckingjacobs]

Oooooh I love that sm. I love how you write them so much. Here’s another one that I wrote while disassociated so I have no clue how this looks. Was basically just typing words. But a sick fic in honour of me being sick :) - 🤠anon

Jack shivered. Davey noticed.

Jack squeezed his eye shut when the Newsies got too loud. Davey noticed.

Jack was sitting alone in an alleyway with a half full bag of Papes next to him and his head leant back against the wall. And Davey noticed.

“Jack?”

“Dave?“

“are you ok?” “Yeah, Yeah im fine just lotsa walkin Today. Racer needed someone to…” he was cut off by Davey’s hand on his forehead. “…hi?” “Jackie you’ve got a fever” “oh…. Right” “we could take him back to our place? ‘Member when ma got you, me AND Sarah better last winter?” Les said over Davey’s shoulder. “Yes, I remember” “wait but what about the-“ “I’ll take care of it, love”

Jack pouted. “C’mon” Davey patted his arm, pulling him up off the ground.

when they made it back to the Jacobs’ apartment Mrs Jacobs waved excitedly. “Hello Jack! What a lovely surprise. Are we really done already, boys?!” “Mama Jack’s gotten himself sick” “oh you poor dear.” Mrs Jacobs ran her hand over his forehead and cheek. “Better get him to bed shall we?” Davey nodded.

When Jack was settled in Davey’s bed Les and Mrs Jacobs started working on dinner. When Davey decided to get up to shut the window Jack whined, reaching out for him to come back. “Oh hush, it’s probably the cold that got you sick in the first place you know.” Jack huffed.

When Mrs Jacobs opened the bedroom door to call them both for dinner what she was not expecting to see was one boy fast asleep and the other staring out the window drawing shapes on his back.

Davey looked up at her. She grinned smugly at him, crossing her arms. Davey frowned and rolled his eyes. She ruffled his hair and left. But when she opened the door again 20 minutes later Davey had drifted off too. His head resting back against the bed head. Now it was her turn to roll her eyes.

…. I have no idea if this makes any sense. But whatever. Here’s some cookies 🍪🍪 (I wore gloves so you won’t get sick dw)

1. tysm :)))

2. sick fic sick fic sick fic!!!!! I love it sm esther just shaking her head and rolling her eyes cause she knows davey’s gonna end up sick too but she’s not gonna wake them cause look at them

[flowercrowngods]

they tell you about school and they tell you about work and they tell you about taxes and responsibilities and ideals you have to reach. they don’t tell you about baking chocolate cookies from scratch at the ungodly hours of 11 at night and sitting on your kitchen floor while watching a home decor competition show while you get to munch on a cookie that tastes like the hot chocolate you used to make when you needed a reason to live as a teenager. they don’t tell you about getting to eat another cookie while you think about capturing this moment in a mason jar and shipping it through time to your younger self who gets scared so easily by school and work and taxes and responsibilities and ideals. your younger self who wonders if there’s still comfort, still good things, and if you get to claim them for yourself at some point or if comfort is always a question of dependence. they don’t tell you about that, when for years we do nothing but dream about moments like these

[flamingpudding]

I have a theory!

Duke groaned, his head tumping against his desk on his side of the room. He had heard these words often enough by now to know that his roommate was going to start ranting about something strange but weirdly fascinating again.

The last time his roommate started with that, he went on a rant how all rich people have a secret basement below their homes or some secretly identities with a bulletpoint list of what to look out for as a warning. Which Duke had a hard time not laughing about as he thought about Bruce, who ended up checking a lot of the bulletpoints.

"Danny what is it now?" Duke ended up asking after all. He knew he wouldn't be able to stop his roommate. No one aside from his sister apparently could, Danny even gave her number to Duke as an emergency number in case Danny ever gets so caught up in his own thoughts that even he himself couldn't stop himself anymore. Yeah that was weird to watch Danny trying to stop himself, but it was fascinating that his sister only needed to say his name twice over the speaker.

"Duke hear me out!" Okay of to a good start, so this meant Danny wasn't a hundred percent behind his own theory.

"Red Hood is a ghost or part ghost!"

If Duke had been drinking something, he would have taken a spit take here. For some reasons he had the image of Jason wearing a bed sheet saying the most deadpan 'Boo' in his head when Danny said that. He coughed, trying to hide that amusement. "What makes you say that?"

"You know how you 'saw' that I am a 'Meta'?" Danny ask him in return and Duke nodded still feeling a but weird with how Danny sounded when he refred to himself as Meta but also vividly remembering how his roommate pretty much blinded him on the day he moved into the dorms. "I can kind of see something similar. Like I explained how I have a ghost sense and all that, right?"

"Yea, you did." Duke nodded along, he new his roommate became a Meta through a lab accident. Once Duke had asked him and they had the cleared the air about both of them being Metas, Danny had somewhat opened up a bit on his whole weird family and Duke thought his family wasn't normal but compared to the Fentons the Batfamily might as well could be.

"Well last night I ran into him when I went scrap collecting for my engineering project!"

"DANNY!" Duke couldn't help but scowl. One the school was providing materials, Danny didn't need to do that and two, if he met Red Hood aka Jason that meant Danny wandered far enough to end up near or in Crime Alley! He would need to bug Jason later to find out more about that.

"I know, I know." His roommate waved him off. "Anyway, my ghost sense tingled. Soooo Red Hood got to be a ghost or part ghost, considering he hit a wall instead of phasing through it when he chased me..."

"Danny!" Duke scowled him again, hidding his amusement behind it. Now, he really had to get THAT story out of Jason later, plus he wanted to see if there maybe was possible video proof of Jason running into a wall chasing after Danny.

"Anyway! I got more than just that! Listen here, you know how I told you about some of my parents' inventions..." Danny instead continued finally starting his rant.

[misguidedasgardian]

The Dragon's mistress (15.1)

15. The End of the Beginning part 1

MASTERLIST

Summary: Finally you reach a breaking point

Warnings: cursing, mentions of war, mentions of death, humiliation, use of the word bastard and traitor, incest, heavy angst, pregnancy, polygamy, poison, blood, might miss some warnings

+18, MINORS DNI

Wordcount:  2,5 k

Notes: the first part to the end! muahaha YOU WON’T BELIEVE WHERE THE POISON ENDS UP IN!

Aemond waited patiently, as the maester, (one chosen by him), examined Floris as bitter tears fell down her eyes.

“The Queen is with child, my lord, congratulations”, whispered the old man, and exited the chambers 

Aemond and Floris looked at each other, she was scared, he was incredible conflicted, he had laid with her, yes, he had given her the tea, most of the times, seems his seed was strong… that thought made him smile

Two heirs

He had no reason to quarrel, he had two wives, with babies in their bellies each 

He was happy, the Baratheon threat became the least of his concerns by now

“Good”, is the only thing he said to her

If you had a boy and Floris a girl, or vice versa, he would betrothe his children amongst each other, so there will be no quarrel, if both had boys, yours would be the first born, so he would be the King one day, and if both were girls, he could easily try again, this time, only with you. Floris would be done for. 

Soon he became ecstatic

“I am pleased, my queen”, he said, forgetting all about the promise to Corlys, “you shall remain here, with your position in this court, and by my side, as (y/n) will”, he continued, Floris only nodded, from this day on, a new found respect and fear for her husband was born in her.

After you received the news of Floris state, it as weird to focus on one feeling, for once, you were scared, of what was going to happen if she had a boy and you a girl, for example, and then, you felt relieved, and then, you felt fearful again

But there was nothing you could do, so… more weeks passed, and you paid no mind as you took care of yourself, your own baby inside your belly, and your baby brother, who you loved with all your heart, and now, little Jahaera was trusted to your company and specially the one of Viserys. 

“She cries a lot”, whined Viserys, “she is weird”

“She is not weird”, you chided lightly, “she had suffered a lot, she lost her mom, and dad…”

“I lost my mom and dad too”, he pointed out, and you only sighed, “and I’m not crying all the time”

“She is different from you, we are all different”, you consoled

Jahaera was a sweet child, but like Viserys had said, she was sensitive, cried all the time, and you understood it, she was a couple of years older than Viserys, she remembered all more vividly. The children were put together so they can share, you had encouraged it, they were of similar ages, of royal blood, they needed to be together. Alicent, weirdly, also encouraged it, you believed it was because of Viserys’ name, as you had glimpses of the Queen looking at your brother with longing in her eyes, perhaps he reminded her of her other grandchildren that had passed. 

Viserys seemed miserable when he played with the little princess, but he was a sweet child, he was trying, and poor Jahaera was so young, she needed a new life, even after, especially after what happened to your entire family. She was too young to be so miserable 

As she had been called, Jahaera entered your chambers after being announced by Steffon the King’s guard, the little girl barely raised her gaze from the tiles in front of her, you heard your baby brother sigh, and you looked at him with a warning in your eyes 

You were seven moons along now, and you had grown beautifully -according to Aemond- you could even tell it was an energetic baby, always making his presence known by his little kicks, specially at night, where he most nights prevented you from sleeping.

Even though now you had your baby brother and your own baby to occupy most of your thoughts, the people of court and in general still gave you the side eyes when you walked by, you tried to ignore them for the sake of your baby brother, distracting him by playing in the gardens with him or reading to him in the big library.

But still, it hurt

And you could see that aggression trying to poke into your brother as well, and that is what truly concerns you.

That your brother could sense that you both were not welcomed here, that he was unwanted, that he could be treated unkindly

He was only a boy and you didn’t want him to grow up knowing resentment and unkindness, that could do very badly to a boy that is soon turning into a man.

Your train of thoughts were interrupted when Aemond entered your chambers, you looked at him immediately, he seemed to have come here to talk to you about something bad and important, you could see it in his face, but as soon as he looked at the children playing together by your feet with wooden dragon figurines, his face softened, he then his eyes trailed to your baby bump, and then finally to your face, and that made him cave completely 

“Good afternoon, my beautiful family”, he said, Jahaera was the one to raise her silver haired head, smiling shyly at him

“Good day uncle”, you could tell that she loved his uncle Aemond, you didn’t know what to do with that.

“Why don’t you both go out there and play, you could go to the gardens”, urgent Aemond, both children didn’t think about fighting him, Viserys out of fear, and Jahaera out of devotion, but children exited the room nonetheless

“How is my heir treating you?”, he asked teasingly, you frowned, touching your big belly

“She or he is fine”, you warned, paying no mind to his insinuations about your child 

You knew what Aemond expected, he wanted a male heir, you wanted it to be a girl just to spite him, just to make him mad

A little girl to look similar to your mother, that would be something wouldn’t it?

But Floris was pregnant too

And you didn’t want to think about it but, if she had a boy and you a girl, you were going to be in trouble, her child was going to be a problem for you, but you didn’t want to think about that, really. But you also had to be realistic.

“Is there something you wanted to tell me, my King?”, you asked him, the frown return to his face

“Yes”, he said then, pacing about, “you still are not completing your duties as Queen”, he continued, and your gaze went to your lap, avoiding him

“those tasks you gave, they…”

“You haven’t completed them”, a Queen had tasks, she was the mother not only to the heirs of the Kingdom, but for every person in the realms, her duty as to care for the common folk, and Aemond had given you small tasks, such as revising old laws about women in the different Kingdoms, and also organize charities in the city.

You tried to comply

You did

But you came across awful impediments, the small folks hated you, angry mobs would stop your carriage in the streets and they would scream at you awful things, and also, the small council, the masters of law and even the maester would ignore you when you tried to speak to them, not letting you do your job

“I’m very sorry”, you whispered, but by only looking at your face, he could tell what was the real reason

“I told you, to let me know if someone…”

“It’s alright”, you whispered, “I don’t want to create animosity between you and your people”, you whispered, and he sighed loudly

“You are not doing your part, the people will never take to you if you don’t do your duty”

“i know”, you couldn’t care less, about the people, or the council

You just wanted to go home

Now more than ever, I you wanted to be safe, in peace and quiet, with your baby brother, and your child, but Aemond was never going to let you go, ever 

You both were interrupted by the captain of the King’s guard

“My King, my Queen, there has been an incident in the gardens”, you stood up quickly from the longchair you were sitting in, and followed the knight outside, followed closely by Aemond 

If a Mester hasn't been called, it meant that your brother was somewhat fine, so you weren’t that scared, but to “grab” both King and Queen for a child, it had to be something serious 

When you arrived in the garden, there was already a small audience, of people of court, lords and ladies

“I didn't!”, you heard Viserys say

“you did!”, accused Jahaera, the people quickly got out of your way to let you trough, as you could reach both children

“This is treason!”, said one lord

“There are only children!”, said another

“He is a threat! they will always be a threat!”, said someone else

“that’s true, they will never be loyal to the real King”

“What happened?”, demanded Aemond

“Little Lord Viserys referred to the late Usurper as Queen Rhaenyra”, explained one of the Kingsguard, and you paled, as your mothers name was like an unforgivable curse around the castle. 

“She was my mom!”, he fighted, “A queen!”, you rushed to him and grabbed his hand, and shushed him, you looked around to see the entire court gazing back at you, hate in their eyes

“He is just a child”, you defended, Aemond looked at you, like pondering what to do, “I shall talk to him”, and before something else happened, or someone else said something, you grabbed your baby brother and rushed away from the gardens, and away from the situation

“I spoke the truth!”, he fought you, luckily he wasn’t that strong, so you kept a tight grip on him as you walked back to your chambers

“I know”, you whispered back to him, but said nothing else utility ou were back under the protection of the walls of your room 

“You cannot said such things”, you said firmly

“Jahaera said he missed his mother the Queen, and I also said that I missed my own mother, who was also a Queen”. Your eyes filled with tears and you whimpered and hugged your brother by your side

“I know, my love, I know”, you whispered with a broken voice, he was only a boy, but to keep him safe, he had to know what happened, not in detail, of course, but he had to know the danger he was in.

So you told him, without much detail, what happened in the war, and what side won, and which side lost. 

He has been a different boy since then, looking at your belly with sadness, knowing who made you pregnant, the man that did terrible things to your family.

“Why don’t we leave?”, he asked then, looking up at you

Yes, why don’t you?

You send Viserys to his chambers, to be prepared for Aemond’s daily visits, that happened at night. 

You found it strange when a maid you had never seen before brought you your nightly tea, to soothe your worries and let you sleep, you barely took a sip, a small one, when you were interrupted by Aemond

“What happened today”, he started, you left the cup aside and faced him

“It will never happen again”, you said firmly, “please don’t punish him”, you continued, “he is a child, he has suffered enough”

“I wouldn’t dream of hurting him”, he assured you, “but I have to take measures…”, you gulped, as your eyes filled with tears

“please let us leave for Dragonstone”, you begged him, and he got angry, very quickly

“Again with this nonsense?”, he spitted, “I said a million times, no, you are mine, that child is mine, you are staying here”

“How long must I suffer, the people HATE me Aemond, is not going to be long before someone tries to…”, you stopped yourself when you felt a warm liquid fall from your nose, scared, you touched it with the tip of your fingers, to look at it and realize it was blood. Your eye-seight began to tunnel, and you believe to have heard Aemond calling your name from afar.

The floor called you as you couldn’t stand any longer, but your body never touched the ground as Aemond catched you in his arms

“CALL A MAESTER! NOW!”, he screamed at the top of his lungs.

He would never admit it, but he had never been more scared in his life. And you fell unconscious in his arms.

A day and a half you were unconscious, Aemond was pacing in the floor of the room as the maesters woke you up with strong-smelling herbs

You struggled to open your eyes, that felt as heavy as rocks 

“The princeling within the Queen’s belly is fine, your grace”, said the maester, as his assistants woke you up, “she had presented no bleeding, and there was movement… so we can tell it's fine”

“Good”, Aemond muttered, his eye stuck on your barely waking form

“We should thank the gods you entered the chambers when you did, because she only drank little poison”, Aemond then looked a thim

“Poison?”, he asked, alarmed, the maester paled

“I believe someone tried to poison the Queen, and almost succeeded”

An emergency small council meeting was held, and the only thing that made Aemond leave your side was the rage and the drive to find whoever did this to you

“The Queen was poisoned!”, Corlys screamed, enraged, punching the table, “an exhaustive investigation had to take place to discover who was it”

“It is not strange, the are still many loyal to the Baratheons, and many know what his grace did”, pointed out the Lannister

“If it was not for the amount she ingested, she could be dead, this was an inside job, nobody is safe!”, continued the Sea Snake, “she must be placed somewhere safe”

“Various poisons are missing from my cabinets”, lamented the maester, “this as well might be only the first attempt”, everyone was unbelievable disgusted with the situation, and somewhat scared, if you could get poisoned, it meant nobody was safe

“Who delivered the tea?”, asked Aemond

“A girl, but we cannot find her, it seems she was only here to deliver the poison and then ran away before anyone could realize what had happened”, Aemond looked at some point in the wall, his hand made a fist over the table

“The first priority is the Queen”, said Corlys, “we have to keep her and the princeling safe”, he continued, “they are the priority”

“I agree”, said the Lannister, “we have to send her away”, he was not helping your cause, but wanted you out of the way, and that, also helped you

“What are you saying?”, asked Aemond

“Your grace”, muttered the Maester, who weirdly, was a biased voice in all of this, “if the culprit is still at large, we must keep the Queen safe, and it would be best if she is send somewhere safe”, he continued

“If the objective of whomever did this to get rid of the Queen, and by sending her away, we are agreeing to those sick terms”

“But we need to be smart”, said someone else

Wanting to get rid of you or not, the stars seemed to align for you, to give you a hope of escape. 

[hyukaslvr]

just like the stars // j. han

<masterlist

summary✮⋆˙ you and jisung met unexpectedly, both of you being idols and needing to get away from stress and your thoughts. so when needed, you had each other, the hood of your car, and the stars beeming down against you two- and your long talks, of course.

genre✮⋆˙ fluff, idol!reader, idol!jisung, friends to lovers, secret friendship and relationship

warnings✮⋆˙ han jisung(yes, he is a warning, gosh)

w.c✮⋆˙ aproxx 1k

a/n: han han han han han. god, i love han. this has been in my drafts for awhile unfinished and i just had to finish it. also, please acknowledge my secret secret reference at the end, thank you love you💋.

han jisung was the light you needed in your life ; his laid back smile, his contagious laughter, his puffy cheeks, his crescent eyes, his soft and loving hands, his small careful gestures- everything about him glowed, shining like broken glass and straight through your pounding heart.

how you met was weirdly addicting, you thought about it almost everytime you snuck out with the boy. it was quiet funny too.

you were trying to escape your thoughts, stealing the keys to your companies car that is lended to your group and you whenever you needed to drive without a team member. you remember the night so vividly, you being stopped at a stop light, not even noticing the car doors were unlocked until the back opened, revealing and bundled up jisung, also trying to escape his thoughts. his apologies immediately rushing out as he thought you were an uber or a taxi driver, yet you let him stay. the two of you knew of each other, never talked before yet it was so easy to talk to him that night, and every night after that.

you drove him around for hours, almost until daylight rose, that’s how you found your special spot. driving around with no clue or direction, finding yourselves on a cliff with the most perfect view of the entire city lights.

you let yourself back into real time, letting yourself stare at the boy beside you. you couldn’t stop staring, even if you wanted to. you were way too distracted with his cute hand gestures as he spoke, letting his body and mind relax as the wind blowed against the two of you. you give him a hum of agreement, letting him know you’re listening to his ranting, but we both know your mind and heart was some place else, blown away by his beautiful structure.

the stars beamed down on him, like bright pixy dust, making him stand out in the dark night. god, you lived for nights like this, especially with him.

the both of you wrapped in your favorite blanket that stays in your car, specifically for nights like this, but you would never dare to tell him. the nights you both escape your dorms, away from your members and companies attentions, letting yourselves talk for hours in the middle of the night on top of the hood ; it was so peaceful, letting yourselves speak your minds to eachother, knowing you both wouldn’t dare mention any of these meet ups or what gets spoken about to anyone, not even chan or your leader.

“i think the song came out great, it isn’t the top song of our comeback- but it definitely made impact,” he finally faced you, his cheeks slightly pink from the cool breeze blowing harder against his skin, staring at you with a smile that almost reached his eyes.

“you did great, ji. but, i think secret secret is still my favorite produced by you, through-” he playfully pushed you, causing a fit of giggles between the both of you; not the both of you, just you, as he’s poor heart couldn’t handle the sound. now, he wishes he put your laugh in a song, it’s better than any song he’s ever heard. his cheeks may have been cold two seconds ago, but they’re flushed and heated now, eventually letting himself laugh with you, a huge smile plastered across his face.

“you’re taking the blanket!” he teases, tugging hard to get more warmth around his prickled arms from goosebumps, caused by mainly from what he calls: your music. you didn’t let go of the blanket though, you simply scooted closer to the boy, letting your side and your head fall onto his, a satisfied smile on your face as he stiffens at your touch and warmth.

“thank you, han,” your hands resting in his lap, snuggling your head deeper into his neck, “you always make things better, nights like this always do,” you continued, not letting him question your blurting. he lets his heart control his arm, letting it droop around your waist and pulling you closer to him. he would use an excuse of being cold right now just to hold you, but he couldn’t let this intimate moment down with his silly cover ups.

his empty hand reached to hold your cold to touch ones, letting his thumb slowly drag across the skin as his hums in agreement, “i like spending nights away with you,” he speaks quietly, closes his eyes slightly tight before opening them to look at you as your head raises a bit to listen to the man more intently.

“and i like you,” you blurt, lost in the look in his eyes, the stars glistening in them, “the stars look pretty tonight,” turning your head away to lose his locked eyes. a hand removes from your nestled ones, softly grabbing your chin and tilts your head back towards him, but you didn’t dare open your squeezed shut eyes.

“y/n, look at me,” he pouted, his heart beating like crazy watching your lashes fluttered open with your lids, almost immediately locking eyes with his shaken ones, “you like me?”

“so if i do? i like the stars too-”

“but you like me?” his face inches closer to yours, a smile enlarged his face, making your breathing hitch while his breathing tickles your lips. the distance being close enough to barley lean and kiss him right there and then.

“like you in what way?” you give him a teasing smile, hiding the fact your whole body was rising in heat and your stomach felt exploding with butterflies, “in a way i want to kiss your stupid smile off your face? maybe-” your remarks cut off in the best way possible, his soft lips locking his yours and you let him kiss you.

your hands left his lap, reaching to hold the face you always wanted to cup in your palms. you let yourself melt in his hold, his hand leaving your chin and wrapping around your waist tighter than ever, pulling your body closer to his if that was even possible.

kissing jisung felt indescribable, his head turning slightly to kiss your plush lips more deeply. you couldn’t put into words how accomplished you felt with yourself, you’d pay your shoulder if you weren’t mushy in his arms. his lips felt and tasted better than you ever thought they would, you imagined it happening but never expected it to be way better than your silly day dreams.

you practically chased for more once his lips pulled away from yours, trying to catch both of your breathings, letting you both stare in a daze at each other. he looked so beautiful in this moment, you wanted to take a picture of his slightly moisturized lips that were once against yours, his mouth slightly ajar as he caught his breath.

“and i like you, in a way i wanted to kiss you,” he finally speaks, his eyes searching around your face, watching your cheeks darken with a soft smile on your lips.

“yeah, i think i like you in that way too,”

“you think?!” he scoffs, rollling his eyes as you giggle, a smile never leaving his face though, turning his head completely away in childlike manner. you use the advantage of your hands still on his warm cheeks and pulled his back down to yours to leave another soft kiss on his lips.

“keep kissing me and i think i won’t be able to stop,” he says, letting his forehead lean against yours once your lips break apart.

“and what if i don’t want you to stop?”

“then you’re asking for it!”

his lips placing across the skin on your face, giggles emerged from your stomach and your chest as he sprayed you in kisses. “i, like, you, so, much,” he speaks between kisses; first on your cold nose, the second on your forehead, the third on your left cheek, the forth on your right, the last one being your lips. you kiss him back with just as much love, wrapping your arms around his neck, letting the noise of the car honking below you and the wind blowing against your ears fade away, as all you can pay attention to is the lips against yours.

han jisung was your light, your love, he was everything you’ve ever wanted, even if you’ll stay a secret. that was okay with you, your secret late night sneak outs made up for the fact you couldn’t look his way in public events.

he was your secret secret, and you were glad to be his.

[tickletastic]

Please, Call Zatanna

Fandom: DC

Ship: Mentioned Birdflash (haven't said this on my previous DC fics, but batcest shippers, please DNI)

Summary: If Dick had a nickel for each time he woke up in Jason's body, he'd have two nickels. At least this time he can take advantage of it.

Strangely, it’s not the first time that Dick has woken up in someone else’s body. Or the second, even. The first time was after a weird mission with the Titans, and he woke up in Bart’s body, buzzing like he was going to die if he didn’t move, starving like he hadn’t eaten in months. The second time, he woke up in Jason’s body, a familiar redhead in the bed next to him, a small child cuddled between him and Roy. He had jolted like he was electrocuted and stumbled to the manor while Lian and Roy still laid peacefully in bed. It was, without a doubt, not the highest on the list of ways that Jason would have liked to come out to his family, but none of them had made a big deal of it. 

That’s all to say that, while nobody expects to wake up in another person’s body, Dick weirdly recognizes the weight he wakes up with, has a muscle memory of throwing the weight around the last time he and Jason ended up in this situation. Last time, Jason’s body had been sore, bruised ribs and two fractured fingers that he hadn’t bothered to mention to anyone. This time, he feels pretty alright other than the ebb of exhaustion encroaching on his alertness, and the dizziness that could likely be contributed to missing a round of meds the previous night. 

He can hear a groan from somewhere down the hall, the clattering of stuff falling to the floor, and predictably, Dick’s own body is dashing through the door. Jason looks beyond fed up, and the only relief is that he hadn’t gone home to Roy and Lian the night before, and that he had somehow, for the second time, avoided Roy seeing him in this embarrassing ass situation. Jason rolls his eyes with a grunt before glaring daggers towards Dick, “what the fuck did you do this time?”

“Me?” Dick gasps, offended, but unsurprised. He has been known to piss off a magician or two from time to time. “It was your fault last time!”

“Was not! How was I even supposed to know there was a witch in Gotham? She wasn’t fuckin’ around in crime alley, I never encounter the weird shit that you and Bruce do!” 

“Master Jason,” a voice says from the hall, Alfred clearing his throat, “language, please.”

“Sorry, Alfie,” Jason sighs, looking down at his hands. 

“Wait,” Dick says, tilting his head to one side, dark brows furrowed, “how’d you know that’s Jason?”

“Consider it an old man’s intuition,” Alfred looks between the two of them, partially flabbergasted that Dick’s body is wearing an expression so vividly Jason, and Jason’s body is wearing one that’s so vividly Dick. “Though I was unaware we were dealing with another magic incident.” 

“We were unaware too,” Dick groans, “I want out of this bulldozer.” Dick makes for the door, grabbing Jason and dragging him non-committedly behind him. They’ll have to call Zatanna again like the last time, and Dick is praying she’s not off-world again. He doesn’t love having to call one of his ex-girlfriends to get him out of embarrassing, avoidable situations, but it could’ve been worse, Wally had begged Dick to stay the night last night, and Dick is suddenly very glad he had said no. 

Jason rolls his eyes, following behind Dick, not making much of an effort to actually walk, “don’t talk about my hard-earned muscle like that.”

When Jason stops in the kitchen, claiming he’s hungry and his pit-stop is Alfred-approved, Dick paces the hall anxiously, hearing constant, numb buzzing in his mind. He remembers the noise from their last body-swap, remembers having to fight off a green haze that nobody else could see. Jason grins when he peeks his head into the hall, but it seems he hasn’t even realized that he’s not hearing the buzz, as if he’s the same with it or without it.  “Chill, dickface. Can you like, eat an egg or something? My body needs protein.”

Dick glares in Jason’s direction, and it almost startles Jason how stern his older brother is able to look in a body that’s not his, “I’m sure you’ll last two hours without a protein bar.”

“Says you, you weigh like three pounds,” Jason jabs, walking into the hallway to follow Dick to the cave. 

“I’m lean,” Dick groans, “you try doing a quadruple front flip with the body of a football player. In fact, I’d love to see you try.”

The cave, as usual, is dark and cold, a breeze seeming to come from nowhere at all. Tim is at the table closest to stairs, slumped over his laptop, eyebags deep and drooping. He has a mountain of Monster cans in front of him, and a coffee pot that Dick is certain Bruce swapped for decaf at some point, though it seems it didn’t matter anyways. Dick shoots him a disappointed look, letting out a tired sigh knowing that he’ll probably have to drug Tim’s tea or something to get him to actually sleep. 

Tim looks startled by the expression, a light blush on his cheeks, and Dick is reminded that he’s not in his body, but in Jason’s. Jason shows his affection through playful aggression, he doesn’t have the oldest sibling instinct to be exhausted by Tim’s shenanigans instead of worriedly amused.

“Timmers,” Dick calls, Jason’s timber voice coming out higher, more cheerful, “is B down here?”

Tim’s brow furrows, and he squints at Dick, His glasses sit low on his nose, and he pushes them up closer, but seems no more satisfied, no less confused. “Uh, I think so. He was like,” Tim takes a moment and looks at the time on his phone, “like two hours ago? I don’t remember him leaving I think?”

“Great, thank you, Timmy!” Dick skips deeper into the cave, and Jason has to physically restrain himself from tackling his own body because of how fucking stupid Dick is making it look. 

Bruce doesn’t look as exhausted as Tim, but he’s certainly getting there, slouched over a pile of files, sifting through them lazily and looking between them and his computer screen. He looks infinitely more exhausted when he looks at his eldest sons, putting his head in his hands and lightly pulling at the ends of his hair, “I will contact Zatanna again.”

“Thanks, B!” Dick exclaims, grinning widely. There’s something dopey about the expression being on Jason’s face, but Bruce still has to look away to hide his own grin at seeing a rare smile on Jason’s face. 

Dick turns back around, heading back towards where Tim was sitting, and Jason watches as Dick throws the younger boy over his shoulder, overestimating Tim’s weight, or, more accurately, underestimating his strength, and having to adjust. 

“Jason, what the f-”

“Not Jason!” Dick quips, pretending to drop Tim, “all thanks to some evil witch or warlock out there.” 

“Even worse,” Tim responds, but he hardly struggles when Dick moves to the stairs, intending to get him to finally sleep after who knows how long awake. 

Jason takes the opportunity to move towards the training area, hoping to try out Dick’s escrima sticks in Dick’s own body. He had tried to use them a few times, when he found them lying around or during the odd training session, but he just didn’t have the nimbleness to make them work, it was all about fists when he was fighting. 

He does a few flips, practices throwing himself around like it’s nothing, grabbing onto things he had never been able to jump to, doing tricks he hasn’t done since his Robin days. When Dick comes back, he watches Jason attempt some sort of backflip, one that lands him facedown on the mat. 

Dick rushes over, grabbing one of Jason’s arms and flipping him over on his back, looking unimpressed when Jason groans, a hand finding his face. “You better not have just bruised my body.”

“Bruised? You’ll be fine, dickhead, I’m sure you’re not made of glass,” Jason replies, rolling onto his side. 

“What hurts? Seriously, Jason, if you messed up my body I’m going to break one of your fingers before Zatanna gets here.”

“Chill!” Jason replies, sitting up, criss-cross in a way that makes this feel like he’s in a primary school class, getting chided by a teacher for spoiling To Kill A Mockingbird for the rest of his class.

“You’re impossible,” Dick sighs, reaching down and reaching for Jason’s ribs to make sure he won’t be feeling pain once he’s back in his body. Jason jolts away with an aborted squeak, swatting at Dick’s hand. 

“Fuck off!” Jason shouts, rolling away from Dick, he stops once he feels far enough away and gapes at Dick, “your body is like, crazy ticklish.”

“Oh, shut up,” Dick replies, waiting to plan his attack.

Jason eyes the room’s exits, figuring out which one could get him as far away as possible. Dick just grins, knowing it won’t matter once he catches Jason, knowing there will be no way for him to actually escape. 

Luckily for Dick, he sees Jason looking shiftily towards the back exit, the one that leads from the training room down the hallway to the medbay. Dick jolts forward and narrowly misses Jason as he runs, making it to the hall. Dick rounds the room to another exit, walking briskly down the hall, and he’s soon cutting off Jason’s path, grinning evilly as he watches Jason contemplate his next move. 

“You know what’s about to happen,” Dick says with a light laugh. 

“Can you ever just leave me alone?” Jason grunts, looking around to bolt again, “you’re so annoying.”

“I legally can’t,” Dick responds, and in seconds he’s tackling Jason to the ground, Jason, who had made the mistake of looking back for an escape route, “I’m your favourite big brother, after all.”

Jason is grappling against Dick’s hold, but he knows it’s over when Dick uses his thighs to pin him down, Jason’s current body no match for his actual one when it comes to strength. He doesn’t even know where to protect, other than the vague ideas he has from when Bruce used to tickle Dick, or he and Dick would get into mostly one-sided tickle fights as children. He moves his arms down to protect Dick’s ribs, but he’s not even sure if they’re Dick’s worst spot, and he’s beginning to realize that Dick knows exactly where to tickle, it’s his body, after all. 

Dick grins, lopsided and playful like he always has when he’s messing with his siblings, and he pretends to think, looking at Jason as he gradually grows more anxious. Dick moves his arms down so they rest limply by his sides, and Jason, noticing that the hands are eerily close to his sides, tries to jerk away. Dick grins, teasingly wiggling fingers next to Jason’s stomach, content when Jason starts to squirm. 

“Whahat thehehe fuhuhuck,” Jason giggles, “why ahaham I laahahaughing?”

Dick blushes faintly, shaking his head, “no way, is this bothering you?”

Jason shakes his head, brows furrowed, “it’s yohohour fuckin’ bohohody, why ihihis thihis getting me?”

“It’s the anticipation,” Dick explains, frustratingly level and calm, despite the pink blush on his cheeks, “I guess my body doesn’t like it.” 

“Yohohou’re tehehlling meHEHE,” Jason shrieks as Dick’s hands finally truly descend, fingers spidering over Jason’s tummy, “DiHIHICK! Stahahp ihihit!” 

“Nope, I’m taking full advantage of this situation, I never tickle you anymore.”

“Behehecause I’d kihihill yohohou!” Jason squeals, hands firmly on Dick’s wrists, not doing enough to push his hands away. Jason doesn’t know enough to predict that Dick is going to go for the sensitive spot between his belly button and left hip bone, but he’s suddenly arching his back, gasping and squealing as he tries to figure out some sort of strategy to defend this body he knows nothing about. 

“Hmm, where should I try next?” Dick thinks out loud, examining Jason’s red face, the smile up to his ears, he shakes his head when Jason insists that he try nowhere, and settles for a spot that will make Jason snort, “you know, I’m pretty bad on my ribs.”

Dick’s fingers wiggle upwards and drill into each rib, and Jason flops between arching his back and falling flat, “Plehehease! Yohohou- yohohu’re stuhuhupidly tihihicklish!”

Dick blushes, but he doesn’t bother denying it, he’s very acquainted with it, “alright, but right now it’s you that’s stupidly ticklish.” 

Dick does a motion that’s something between pinching and spidering on a middle rib, and Jason snorts before falling into hysterical giggles, throwing his head back. When he does the same to the top rib on both sides, Jason shrieks, trying to clamp his arms to his sides. Jason’s face is progressively growing redder and redder, and he can’t seem to figure out a way to predict where Dick will go next, entirely unaware of how ticklish Dick’s body is and where. 

Dick’s tries to put his hands under Jason’s arms, but is unable to because of how strongly Jason’s arms are clamped down at his sides. “Alright, well, you asked for this.”

Dick’s fingers fly down to Jason’s thighs, skittering between his mid thighs and hipbones, and Jason screams, bucking violently, flinging his arms instead of strategizing. “FUHUHUCK- N- DIHIHICK, PLEHEHEASE!”

“I think you can take a little more,” Dick laughs, shaking his head, “I have pretty decent lung capacity.”

Jason has felt Dick tickle him to pieces before, he knows that Dick’s skilled in tickling younger siblings to pieces, tickling all the back-talk and sarcasm and bad moods out of them. He himself has been tickled to tears at the hands of Dick. But this? Jason has never felt so thoroughly tickled before in his entire life. Every spot, every tactic, completely taking him apart. 

When Dick pinches above Jason’s knee, scratching underneath it every few seconds, erratic and unpredictable, Jason’s done for. He descends into wheezy, silent laughter, his hold loosening on Dick’s wrists. 

Dick relents, pulling his hands away as he watches Jason try to catch his breath, tears slipping from the corners of his eyes. He suddenly looks sheepish, looking off towards the door, “you know, I uh- I actually can’t tell your signs when you’re in my body. Did I go too far?”

Jason waves Dick off with a limp hand before covering his face with his arm, “you do that weird half snort half wheeze thing.”

Dick glares, his voice scandalized, “no I don’t!”

“You so do,” Jason responds, reaching a hand up to taser Dick’s bottom rib. 

Dick snorts, rolling off of Jason, “you’re still ticklish? Why didn’t you try to fight me off?”

“One of us has some self-preservation skills, Dickie,” Jason says with a wink, the expression is completely Jason, even though it’s Dick’s face, “you and I are going to have some fun when this is over.”

Dick pales, laughing nervously. “Uh, did you hear that? I think I heard Bruce call me, I’ll- I-” Dick bolts from the room, leaving with a bright blush. 

Jason just laughs, rolling his eyes. Dick might play the role, but he’s not dumb enough to expose every spot, every tactic that makes him a hysterical mess… Unless, of course, he was looking forward to the revenge.

[tsunaaism]

In too deep. | Atsumu x Reader.

; be honest with me, baby. I'll make it last.

His eyes first set on you in the hallway. Atsumu doesn’t know what came over him; your presence was magnetic, noticeable even through the bustling sea of freshmen. Then you, of course, noticed his stare, sending a smile and an acknowledging nod—

And it was all it took. He reckoned your siren-like ability, your silent confidence so enchanting to him.

Though to his dismay, he wasn’t the only one lured in. Multiple gazes were focused on you, and news spread like wildfire. Even his friends won’t shut up, claiming that they’ve got a little crush.

You are pretty. Atsumu won’t lie about that—but the attention surrounding your name made him hesitant. She’s just a passing hallway eye-catcher, he thought.

That was once. But then, you were standing right in front of him, sipping gin and tonic as music boomed loudly. It was his, and coincidentally, your friend’s birthday. Nothing much. Just friendly small talk, an obligatory formality everyone does.

He didn’t think of it much, it was cool—a neutral first impression. You were physically attractive, yes, but he couldn’t see anything past that. At least, not yet.

And maybe this was all a setup, but his friend asked if he could model for one of his project. Atsumu is an athlete, after all; he was gifted with an attractive face and a well-built physique. Chattering as he walked into the studio, he momentarily lost his focus as he saw you. Clad in a black dress, all dolled up and waiting for him.

"When can we start?” Your voice broke his trance. Atsumu simply raised his eyebrows, returning your cheeky smile with his.

Then you started talking with each other.

He texted you first. Sent a mundane question, maybe a boring conversation starter—but you were friendly. Your sense of humor was sort of odd, but he found it hilarious. You started hanging out with Atsumu in friend groups—but they started dissipating as days pass—and suddenly, you went out everywhere together. Just the both of you.

Atsumu was in the dark. Does he like you? Or was it just a fleeting crush? But it was never the familiar, pumping heartbeat he felt. You were comfortable; you felt like home, someone he’d been talking to for years and not weeks.

And everything felt easy. He got to know you. You are a good cook. Intelligent and weirdly creative. Even your messy rambles register themselves in his head. Your weird laughs, your snores, and soon enough, your breathy moans—then the feeling of your nails raking through his back. He remembers all of it vividly.  

Atsumu thought he had you. His friends speaks of you all the time—and nobody knows, but he’s the only one who gets to touch you.

Right?

But it all slowly dissipates. His view slowly cleared. You laughed and smiled, but none of it felt real. As if he was nothing to you. Just a fleeting comfort in a new place. Just someone to talk with, to relieve your stress. Just a friend.

Though, you never pushed him away, always oh-so-welcoming to his advances.

"What do you want?”

 He finally spoke. His voice echoes within the silent apartment.

“What are we?”

His hands raked through his hair. It’s his fault. He shouldn’t have expected so much. He’s just a good friend to you, huh? Maybe even just a fuckbuddy. Despite all those nights—despite how much time you’ve spent together and the secrets you’ve shared?

Why do you act like that, then? Why do you return the same warm gaze if you didn’t feel anything? Have you been lying? Playing him?

"Did I expect too much from whatever is going on? From you? So all this time is just child’s play for you?”

Your silence is all he needs. Atsumu nods sarcastically, tired eyes gazing into your eyes.

"It’s all my fault all along, huh? Too attached, is that it?”

"I don’t believe you.” You say, “I should’ve left you earlier.”

"So you were playing me.” Atsumu’s form caged you, “You were, weren’t you?”

“In too deep.” You whisper, “I warned you not to get attach-“

“Stop with this bullshit. Am I the one in too deep or are you?”

He held your chin up, “Or are you?”

You’ve kissed him. Hugged him. Cared for him when he was sick, stayed during his ups and downs—and now you’re trying to tell him all this meant nothing?

"Please.” He finally gave in, hugging your form. He wants to hate you for this. But how could he?

You can’t explain whatever feeling is washing through your body. You’re not used to whatever this is. True love is made up; you’ve always been in shallow situations—ones that you know will never last—and Atsumu was no different. You know he wouldn’t stay forever, that whatever you have right now is meaningless and will go away, but if he’s like this, how could you hold back?

"I see no future with you.” You coldly say, feeling him holding back his breath, “But you’re right. I’m in too deep.”

His hug tightens.

“We’ll work it out.” He says.

He still couldn’t understand how time brings you into his life, but he knows this all won’t go away. He knows his feelings would stay, no matter how long.

A/N: My writing has honestly gotten super rusty and i'm getting back to it. I'm gonna start writing more hehe but this one kinda awkward lol

[apricotpopsicle]

Sweet Talk

masterlist || requests || ao3

pairing: best friend!Eddie Munson x Reader

word count: 15.6k (oops lol)

warnings/tags: eddie is alive and graduating because i say so, Hawkins is fine too, fem+afab reader, "mean" reader (she's just bad at emotions), eddie and reader make fun of each other a lot! descriptions of light violence, dubious d&d knowledge (sorry), underage(?) drinking, eddie and reader both drink a little, mention of reader having hair, some angst because ofc, mentions of eddie almost dying, mentions of vomit (nondescriptive), insecurity, perceived unrequited feelings, SMUT, slight dom!eddie ig, fingering (f receiving), dirty talk, light choking, unprotected p in v (plz use protection y'all, this is just fantasy!), sort of semi-public sex/chance of being caught

description: based on this ask! i definitely did way more than you asked for nonnie my bad lol

Minors DNI!!!!!

---

Your relationship with Eddie Munson has always been unconventional, to say the least.

You've been unlikely friends longer than most people in your life remember. You, however, remember vividly how it happened- the first day of third grade, Mrs. Walcott's class, during lunch. He was what the teachers called a "trouble student," all fidgety limbs and mischievous smiles. You were a "pleasure to have in class," quiet, and mostly kept to yourself.

The day you met Eddie, one of his friends had dared him to yank on your braids in exchange for a twinkie. As soon as his hand released its grip from your hair, you turned around and punched him in the face.

The lunch room went dead silent when his butt hit the floor. You hadn't hit him hard enough to hurt, just enough to stun him. But you could see in his eyes how surprised he was that the shy, mousy girl could lay him out flat like that. You thought he would cry, yell, run to get a teacher. Instead, he opened his mouth wide and devolved into fits of laughter.

You both got in trouble. And in detention that afternoon, he offered you half the twinkie he earned. You thought about punching him again.

You've been inseparable ever since.

That moment defined your whole relationship. If a stranger saw you interacting, they easily could've mistaken you for a couple mortal enemies. You were both sarcastic and a touch combative, but it was all in good fun. He really was your best friend. Your dynamic held a strange kind of intimacy- it was the kind of relationship where you had virtually no secrets from each other.

Okay, maybe you were never exactly "vulnerable" with each other, but it was good. You kept each other grounded. Even when times got hard, when his dad went to prison, when your parents nearly lost the house, you were the only people who could cheer the other up. The only ones who could make each other feel normal. And you never made a dig harder than the other person could take.

When you graduated high school and started going to the local junior college, he was so proud of you. Mostly, he was over the moon you were staying in Hawkins. He didn't say that directly, of course, but you knew. He showed his gratitude by teasing you for not getting out of town, and you teased him for being a super senior. And then, a super super senior.

It was nice. Normal. It was enough for you.

Lately, though, things have been different. You've been so busy with classes and work, and Eddie's been just as preoccupied with running his D&D campaign, and finally snatching up his high school diploma (and apparently, saving the world). You haven't been calling or hanging out like you used to. You've both been weirdly distant. Especially you.

What's even weirder, is on the occasions you do hang out, he's almost... nice to you. Not lobbing insults as fast, not so quick to poke fun at you for stumbling over a word. Maybe it's the fact that he almost died, or that you're both getting older, or... maybe he just doesn't feel as close to you anymore. But you can't get mad at him for being nice. You're definitely not freaking out about it.

And most importantly, you're not freaking out because all the weirdness made you realize you've been in love with him for years.

Nope, not freaking out at all.

But you push those swirling thoughts out of your mind. Your feelings towards your best friends aren't important right now, because today is an important day. Eddie's and your absolute favorite day of the year- the Hellfire Alumni party. An annual tradition that started after the first graduating class of Hellfire club crashed a meeting with enough booze to tranquilize an elephant.

This is the day that every current and former club member can gather together, come home from college, from new cities and new lives to play a crazy, elaborate one-shot (then throw a crazy, elaborate party). This is the event of the year for the nerds, freaks, and outcasts of Hawkins.

And this year, with your parents serendipitously out of town for the week, it's your turn to play host.

You have a solid hour before everyone is set to arrive. The game would be ending soon, but you left early to set up. As per tradition, the afterparty's host was "tragically and without any coincidence at all" sent off on a side quest early in the game to allow for plenty of time to prep for guests.

You flit from living room, to kitchen, to back porch, affixing cheesy homemade D&D decor to the walls, setting up string lights and seats, laying out snacks on the tables, and making sure coolers are stocked and readily available. There's still so much to do if you want this party up to your impeccable standards. This might be too much for one person, and you curse yourself for being too stubborn to ask for an extra set of hands. With how much effort you were putting into the party, you haven't even had time to change out of your Hellfire shirt.

The one you helped Eddie design.

You pause your fussing on the streamer you're hanging up as soon as he crosses your mind.

You'd managed to avoid him completely at the meeting, having shown up late and left early. He was just making you... nervous. Ever since his near death experience in the Upside Down, and how nice he's treating you now, you just can't push down your emotions. Any time he's close to you, you can physically feel the words "I Like You, You Idiot" being pulled from your throat.

And god, it's so hard when he just looks so Goddamn good. Jesus, it's like you can't even control yourself around him anymore. Any time he laughs, or touches your arm, or stretches to reveal a sliver of skin riding above his jeans, the urge to jump him is nearly untamable. That stretch of skin lives in your head rent free, and you start to picture the fabric lifting up and off his body, imagining him in front of you bare and soft and so warm-

Fuck fuck fuck, you need to get it together. You can never let him know he's affecting you like this, or it's bye-bye best friendship and hello awkwardly bumping into each other at the supermarket until one of you moves away.

You've decided it's much better to just push him away until you get a handle on your feelings. Keep him at arm's length. That always works, right?

Luckily, you don't have too much time to dwell. The sound of the front door slamming open returns you to reality.

Right, you're on a step-ladder, hanging streamers. Don't fall off and break your neck because you can't stop thinking about how in love you are with your best friend. How embarrassing would that be?

"I'm coming in! Oh my god- it looks like a middle school dance in here," a deep voice calls from your front corridor.

Of fucking course. Who else would show up at the worst possible time?

"Well, speak of the devil," you call back over your shoulder, ignoring his jab about your awesome decorations and trying to sound as nonchalant as possible.

"Jesus, don't call me that," Eddie's voice appears right behind you this time. You hurry yourself to look busy with the crepe paper you're hanging. Nothing's amiss, you're not avoiding him, nobody has a crush on their best friend. Keep it cool.

"Right, I forgot about the whole 'Eddie-Munson-is-Satan-Reincarnate' thing," you turn over your shoulder to flash a shit-eating grin and feel it falter momentarily. You whip back around quickly, hoping he didn't catch sight of your panic.

Fuck, he looks so good right now. Pale cheeks tinged pink from the excitement of the evening, Hellfire shirt stretched tight across his chest, his hair pulled back into a scraggly low bun with curly tendrils framing his face, neck extended upwards to look at you on the ladder, and God wouldn't it be so easy to reach out and just bite it-

"Wish everyone else could forget," he mumbles.

Right, touchy subject. Roll it back. You want to push him away gently, not to remind him of his recent trauma. Thankfully the feds had spun some story and greased plenty of palms to clear Eddie's name. Legally, he was free and clear, but the town is much slower to forget.

"Well, thank God for government hush money," you offer, glancing back with a smirk.

He chuckles lightly, shoving his hands in his pockets.

An awkward silence settles over the room. Why is he so quiet right now? It's not something you're used to with him. The silence makes your skin feel too tight, your face feel too hot. You feel exposed under his gaze, like an animal cornered.

It's been a while since you've been alone with him, and you can practically see his unasked question hanging in the air between you- are you avoiding me?

You really, really don't want to explain the answer to that question.

He moves forward slightly, his full lips parting around the beginning of your name, so you do the logical thing. You interrupt before he can say anything.

"Is the game over? I thought I had more time," you return to the red streamer billowing loosely above your head. You may have only interrupted Eddie to prevent him from questioning you, but your statement is true. There's plenty left to accomplish before your guests arrive, and you expected more time to complete everything.

Eddie readjusts himself, retreating from whatever he was about to say.

"Nah," he tilts his head, "I had Henderson take over. Wanted to help you set up."

This throws you for a loop. You carefully turn yourself around on the stepladder to face him.

"You, Edward James Munson, left the campaign you've been planning for the past three months to help me... hang streamers?"

That's entirely unexpected. Thoughtful. Sweet, even? Some unwelcome part of you swells at the mental image of Eddie leaving the drama room early, keys in hand, eager to see you. Telling everyone Sorry guys, go on without me, gotta help my girl set up the party!

God, he makes you sick.

"Yeah, figured you'd fuck it up," he says, grabbing an extra roll of streamers off the couch and lobbing them at you. "Couldn't let that happen, could I?"

You catch the roll against your stomach with an unattractive grunt, and the misty vision of Eddie calling you his girl fades away. Right, back to being rude. Good. That's good. Less confusing.

"Asshole," you mutter amicably.

"Only for you," he smiles. You feel your heart tug in your chest, so you throw the streamers at his head. He ducks it with a boyish laugh.

You point out all the tasks that still need attending to, and Eddie makes himself surprisingly useful. Almost everything was finished prior to his arrival, but you'd be lying if you said that his help was unwelcome.

He clears off the couch and finishes laying out all the snacks, and you deal with this fucking streamer that just won't stay up, God damnit.

You both work in silence for several minutes, Eddie moving from room to room just like you did before he arrived. Hopefully with all the prepping, he doesn't have a chance to grill you, and you don't have a chance to slip up and confess anything.

Perfect. Having a task will keep you from utterly embarrassing yourself.

Speaking of your task, this streamer is the worst piece of paper you've ever encountered in your life. This is your White Whale, your Mount Everest. The bright tail of it flutters in your face mockingly, refusing to be affixed to the corner of the room. You wipe a bead of sweat off your temple and clench your jaw on the thumbtack pinched between your teeth, refusing to let this goddamned children's decoration get the best of you.

Somewhere in your periphery, you sense Eddie finish what he was doing and come to a rest leaning against the doorframe. The tiny hairs on your neck raise from the feeling of his eyes on your back.

You're fighting for your life over here, and Eddie is just... holy shit, he's laughing at your very serious, momentous struggle with the streamers!

Whatever, just focus, you think, trying to ignore how shaky his gaze makes your hands, how his laugh makes your stomach flutter, This streamer is imperative to the party's well being.

The corner of the wall is just barely out of your reach, but you refuse to readjust the stepladder again. That's basically admitting defeat. Maybe if you just- just lean over completely to the right, keeping one hand on the ladder for support? Yes! If you fully extend that should work- one arm completely outstretched with the streamer in hand, the ladder squeaks ominously underneath your feet, but you ignore that, you've nearly got it-

The ladder starts to keel over, threatening to send you with it.

Your best friend peels himself off the wall, crossing the room swiftly. He steadies the ladder with both hands, putting its legs firmly back on the floor before you can topple over. His arms bracket you in, and you return to an upright position. Ok, maybe that wasn't the smartest idea you've ever had.

He shakes his head, exasperated.

"Here, Jesus, you're gonna hurt yourself, sweetheart."

Before you have a chance to process sweetheart, Eddie climbs the ladder behind you. He doesn't even tell you to get down first, he simply steps onto the rung underneath the one you perch on. The smell of him envelopes you, the faint scent of cigarettes and weed, of drug store cologne and no-tears apple shampoo. You can feel the heat from his body against your own, pressed behind you, and it's all too much. This is too domestic of him. He's rendered you completely dumb.

His hands snake around your front to pluck the offending decoration from your viselike grip. One strong, ring-clad hand grips your right shoulder for balance. His chest flexes against your back as he leans over with minimal effort to hold the end of the streamer against the wall.

Was it this hot in here before? It feels really hot in here all of a sudden.

"Ok, now give me..." He says absentmindedly, reaching towards your lips with his other hand to pluck the thumbtack from your mouth. Your brain short circuits at the feeling of his calloused fingers brushing your parted lips. It sends an embarrassing bolt of warmth through your stomach, and if he hadn't been basically holding you up, you would have fallen off the stepladder.

"And- got it!" Eddie stabs the thumbtack through the end of the streamer with a victorious flourish of his hand. He leans back in and rights himself behind you, moving his palms to grip your waist for balance.

Fuck. Fuck. He's too close. His hands feel way too good on your sides. He's holding you close, back to chest, and you're sure he can feel your heartbeat thumping wildly out of your ribcage.

This is not good for your "pushing him away" plan. This is, in fact, the exact opposite of pushing someone away.

Eddie slinks back down the ladder, his hands sliding gently down your sides, his breath ghosting down your back as he descends. You can feel your pulse in your teeth. 

And of course, when you shakily turn around, he's offering his hand to help you get down like a total gentleman. Because of course he's doing that right now.

Stupid fucking chivalrous, crazy-hot Eddie Munson.

You need to put a stop to this. Stop letting him be nice to you before you ruin everything (and make sure he doesn't know you were ridiculously turned on by all that).

"Ok, you're being weird," you say, ignoring his outstretched hand. You step off the ladder without his help, and shove the last of the streamer roll against his chest. That puts a healthy amount of space between the two of you, and you can finally breathe again.

"I'm being weird?"

"Yes."

"I'm being weird?"

"Yes," you repeat, purposefully ignoring how he emphasizes the first word.

He pauses. You're not letting this go.

"Weirder than normal?" a lopsided smile appears on his face. You fight the urge to smile back. He's trying to joke it off, but you have to stay strong, set some boundaries. Cool the situation down before you do something you'll both regret.

"I'm serious," you cross your arms against your chest. If anyone asked you'd say they're crossed in annoyance, but it feels more like protecting your vital organs.

"Ok, I'll bite. How am I being weird?"

"You left the game early for me," you list off on your fingers, "You're helping me decorate. You haven't said one thing yet that makes me want to punch you!"

"So?" he drags a hand across his face.

"So! So, you're being... nice to me."

That sentence hangs in the air for what feels like an eternity. Yes, he's definitely the problem. Nice is definitely the problem. If he would just stop being nice, no more being in love with him! Problem solved.

An imperceptible emotion flashes across his eyes, but he recovers before you can name it.

"Aww," he coos mockingly, "I'm always nice to you, princess."

"Fuck off," you shove his shoulder gently. You hate that nickname, and he knows it. He gifted it to you in detention the day you met, with half a twinkie held out like a peace offering in his hand. You punch like a little princess, he told you, and it stuck. You hate it, and it helps to ground you further, having a taste of your normal back and forth.

You realize you haven't taken your hand off his shoulder. Withdrawing it quickly, you put another few inches of space between you, the back of your knees knocking into the stepladder.

"We're not nice to each other, Munson. Be mean to me."

"You want me," his head tilts curiously, "to be mean to you?"

"Yes!" you rapidly exclaim, much louder than you intended. He takes an unsteady step back at your outburst.

"... Ok?"

"Thank you," you breathe.

The two of you stand silent like that for a long time, you still cowering against the ladder, him still cradling the streamers to his chest, unspoken words hanging thick in the air.

Eddie swallows loudly. You feel like he's about to say something, and if he keeps looking at you with his stupid beautiful doe eyes you're either going to kick him out or tear his clothes off.

This time when you hear the front door swing open, you're desperately grateful for whomever is barging into your house unannounced.

Walking single file into the living room is the newest group of Eddie's friends/World saving partners- Steve, Robin, Nancy, and Jonathan. You thank God for the group's intrusion. Like, for real, you might give each and every one of them a kiss for rescuing you.

Steve is the first to spot the pair of you.

"Hey, Munsonnnnnn! Woah," Steve looks around, squinting as his eyes adjust to the room's sparkly adornments, "it looks like prom in here."

Eddie's back is to him, and he makes one more attempt at eye contact with you before turning to greet the newcomers. You avoid his gaze.

"Hey, pretty boy!" Eddie turns on his heels, shaking off the awkward fog between you and slipping back into his cool-guy persona, "Glad you could grace us lowly freaks with your presence!"

The pair meet in the middle of the room and do an awkward half handshake/half man-hug.

"Well, no idea how to play yD&D , but I do know how to party," Steve says, raising a six-pack high in the air.

You exchange quick hellos with Jonathan and Nancy. Robin waves at you before scanning her eyes around the room. Her expression drops when she realizes no one else has arrived.

"We're early? Oh my god, we're early! That is so lame," Robin grumbles, kicking Steve lightly in the ankle.

The group bickers and laughs, blissfully unaware of the strained tension between you and your best friend. Unaware of how, if you had taken Eddie's hand when he offered it earlier, you would have pulled him into you and kissed him right there.

You mumble something about needing to go get changed, slipping past the group and rocketing up the stairs. The boisterous conversation fades behind you, and you exhale a sigh of relief.

It's only one night. You can handle yourself for that long.

"Where's Henderson?" you faintly hear Steve ask.

This is exactly what you needed. All your fussing over the decor might have seemed ridiculous at the time, but looking out over the living room, at all your friends enjoying themselves under the fairy lights and streamers fills your heart to the brim.

You play the gracious host, grabbing everyone new drinks, directing your friends towards the bathroom, keeping the music going and the people happy. There's a lot more people than you expected, but it's a perfect scenario for you- with all this party tending, you have no time for Eddie to catch you alone.

Several hours in, with a light buzz going, you find yourself trapped on the couch, being regaled with the epic tale of how the campaign went down after your departure.

A very long, extremely thorough tale.

"- and then I rolled two nat 20s in a row," Mike informs you, absolutely beaming, "I swear, I was on fire tonight!"

"Mmmhmm," you mumble for the hundredth time in the past 15 minutes, head leaning on your fist. You definitely need more beer if you're going to indulge them in this much longer.

Dustin shoves his friend in the shoulder.

"Pants on fire, maybe," Dustin turns to you self-righteously, "It wasn't an honest roll. He totally bumped the table."

"Did not!" Mike scoffs.

"Uh, did too!"

"Did not!"

"Did too!"

The pair continues their back and forth for an embarrassingly long time. If this is the future of Hellfire, God help you all.

"Boys!" your eyes snap upwards when you hear Eddie's voice enter the circle, "Boys, boys, boys. Let's stop trying to look cool in front of the lady, shall we?"

Eddie towers over them, his features lit softly by the fairy lights above him. Donning what he believes is a menacing look, he takes on the role of the ever-annoyed parent. The boys turn to him and plead their argument, talking over each other, growing increasingly louder and more frantic. He silences them after a few moments with a dismissive wave of his arm.

"No one cares, kiddos," He tuts. They pout as he continues, gesturing to you with the cup in his hand, "And what do we say for dick-measuring in front of the nice lady?"

"Sorry," both the boys mumble to you at Eddie's behest.

Eddie shoos Mike from his spot on the couch next to you, encouraging him to find his little girlfriend. He plops down ceremoniously, two red solo cups in hand. He positioned himself close, his ripped denim-covered thigh brushing your own. The drag of his leg against yours is so intoxicating, it's hard to remember why being this close to him is a bad idea.

"Both those drinks for you, Munson? That's excessive," you tease.

"Yup," he pops the word theatrically, and brings both the cups to his mouth at the same time. He sips them both goofily and inefficiently, a dribble of cheap beer trickling from one of the cups down his smooth chin.

You pursue the drop with your eyes, and imagine following the trail with your tongue, licking a lazy stripe from his jaw up to his open mouth. You nearly have to stifle a moan picturing what it would taste like- the amber liquid mixing with clean skin and spit.

"You're an animal," you mutter, feigning disgust at his antics.

He growls playfully at you. The noise would have been weird and cringey if it didn't make you throb involuntarily between your legs. It takes all the strength you can muster to roll your eyes.

"Actually sweetheart," he wipes his mouth with the back of his tattooed forearm and passes you one of the cups, "I grabbed this one for you."

Almost in a trance, you grab the beer from him and hold it close to you. You should be making a snarky remark about not wanting to drink his backwash. But once again, the smallest morsel of affection he throws your way leaves you vulnerable and speechless.

Why is it such a bad idea again to give him a thank-you kiss on the cheek, to snuggle into his side, to praise him profusely for thinking of you?

Because, the rational part of your brain reminds you, you're going to ruin your friendship, stupid.

Right. That.

You shrug off your lovesick daze and level Eddie with an indignant look. Not wanting to rehash your previous conversation in the middle of the party, you reiterate your point silently.

What did I just say about being nice to me? you raise an eyebrow at Eddie.

He stares back, then looks off quickly, giving in to your silent demand.

Right, sorry, He throws his hands up in surrender, Won't happen again.

A derisive snort erupts from the boy on the floor across from you. Right, Henderson. You'd forgotten he was there. And unfortunately, he'd been watching the entire non-verbal exchange with your best friend. He's also annoyingly perceptive.

"Booooo," Dustin cups his hands around his mouth, "Get a room, lovebirds."

You feel your cheeks heat up, and Eddie scoffs.

"I can hardly stand being in a room with you now," he throws cheekily at you.

You breathe a sigh of relief. This is... good. This is safe ground, familiar ground. You honestly aren't sure how you'd react if he was nice to you again.

"I'd leave right now if this wasn't my house," you hide a smile on the edge of your solo cup.

Now it's Dustin's turn to scoff.

"Oh please, Eddie, you never shut up about her! It's getting really annoying. You two should do us all a favor and just do it already-"

Eddie sets his drink down and moves so quickly to put Dustin in a headlock, the kid doesn't even have a chance to react.

They wrestle childishly for a minute or two, rolling around carelessly, knocking into people and furniture alike. You watch on in fake annoyance, only interjecting to berate them for bumping into your parents favorite lamp.

Eddie releases Dustin with a huff, having successfully pinned the freshman, and throws his hands over his head victoriously.

"Congrats, Eds. You physically dominated a twelve year old. We're all so proud."

Dustin sputters incredulously, something along the lines of I'm fifteen, actually.

You giggle at that, and Eddie settles back into your side. This time, much to your displeasure and excitement, he throws his arm around your shoulders. He's touchy in general, and for all your catfighting, you're no stranger to being tucked into his side like this. But today, with your light buzz and fuzzy emotions, it feels more intimate. More dangerous.

His fingers trace absentminded circles on your upper arm, and you shudder lightly at his touch. You should throw his arm off of you, but can't bring yourself to. Not when it feels so right.

Dustin picks himself up off the floor and dusts himself off with a huff.

"Eddie's just mad because he knows I'm right. There's too much sexual tension," he says, his bruised ego shining through. Damn, that kid always sounds like such a know-it-all. It's just his tone.

Your best friend leans in close, his lips lightly brushing the shell of your ear, and your breath involuntarily catches in your throat.

"Not even in your wildest dreams, sweetheart," he whispers loudly, then leans back with a toothy grin.

You curse the way your stomach drops at his statement. His mixed signals are driving you crazy. He still has his arm wrapped around you, but he basically just rejected you, basically said he would never even think about you in that way.

But this, this is normal, isn't it? Exactly what you asked for? This is how you guys are, he's an asshole to you, you're an asshole to him, why should your feelings be hurt, you never let it hurt, you won't let yourself get hurt.

The boys wander to a different topic, something about how lame the graduation ceremony was this year, completely oblivious to the internal riot happening in your head.

Not even in your wildest dreams, sweetheart. What the fuck did he mean by that? It's not like you were banging down his door or anything, you never even thought- I mean, yeah, fuck, ok maybe you thought about fucking him all the time, any way he would have you, but it's not like he knows that, and God did he have to say it like you were so fucking unappealing, like even the thought of being with you was some big fucking joke-

You shake your head violently, willing the physical action to clear your mind. Like an etch-a-sketch, you think blearily.

Yeah, you're definitely done with alcohol for the night.

Eddie's eyes drift back over to you at the sudden movement. His dimples fade away, the lazily content look on his face morphing into one of genuine concern.

"Hey, you ok?" he asks so earnestly it makes hot tears prickle behind your eyes.

Now he's being too nice again, and you can't handle it. It's just all too fucking confusing, his arm around your shoulder suddenly feels too restricting, too mocking.

Jesus, you need to get yourself together before you respond. The phrase I'm fine dies on the tip of your tongue. Ok, just don't say anything revealing, don't say anything at all actually, just don't say anything-

"Am I really that repulsive?" you spit, not meaning to let so much vitriol drip into your words. The plastic cup creaks in your hand, and you release the tension in your fist. You didn't even realize you'd been squeezing it so hard. Fuck, chill out, you're both just kidding around, he didn't mean to poke the one raw nerve you've been hiding from him.

Confusion flashes across his face. You never react like this to his teasing.

"Hey, I'm sorry, I didn't mean-"

"Munson, you wanna fuck me so bad it makes you look stupid."

The party is still going strong, but you swear the whole world goes silent in that moment. Maybe it's all the blood rushing to your ears, or the lack of a standard sarcastic reply from your friend.

You must have said that much louder than you intended, because now everyone in the living room is trying very hard to pretend they're not listening to your conversation.

Your mind flashes back to that moment in third grade, right after Eddie hit the ground. That achingly long, silent moment after you'd knocked him down, when you were waiting for him to say something, anything, and then he started laughing.

C'mon, start laughing.

But this wasn't a childish squabble. There was venom in your words, a tidal wave of repressed emotions and raw anger and lust and hurt, feelings you didn't even have the words for- and Eddie felt it.

His face blushes a deep scarlet, and his arm retracts from your shoulder like it had burned him. You’re itching to pull him back in, to take it back, to apologize, to explain that you were just kidding, but you're frozen.

"'M gonna get some air," He stands up swiftly, not making eye contact with you.

"Eds, wait-" You reach out for him, trying to grab his arm. He slips easily from your grasp and shoves his way through the mass of partygoers, disappearing into the hallway.

Well, that could have gone better.

"Shit," you mutter, slumping back into the couch. This is exactly why you'd been avoiding him in the first place- so you wouldn't stick your foot in your mouth.

When you glance up from your wound-licking, everyone's eyes dart away from you, avoiding your gaze.

Real nice, guys.

Dustin must feel guilty for instigating your outburst, because he stands up from his spot on the floor and takes point on damage control.

"Alright, show's over everyone. Go get another drink or something," he announces to the room, waving everyone away. He plops down on the couch and awkwardly puts a comforting hand on your shoulder.

"Sorry about them. We're just not used to Mom and Dad fighting,"

You laugh bitterly at the epithet the freshmen class had dubbed you. While it normally makes you secretly giddy to hear the kids refer to you and Eddie as such, you're not ready to give up on wallowing in your own self-pity.

"We fight literally all the time."

"No, you don't," he says matter-of-factly, "You never really get mad at Eddie. And I can't even imagine him being mad at you. What you actually do," he pauses, "is convoluted flirting."

You let out a groan. Is it really that obvious to everyone how you feel about him? You must not have been hiding it as well as you thought. That's so humiliating. And if everyone knows... that means Eddie must know too. Despite what you just yelled at him, he's not a stupid guy.

He must have figured it out. No wonder he's been so weird to you the last few months. It must be what... pity?

Oh my God. He's been so nice lately because he feels bad for you.

That's almost worse than him not liking you back.

"Christ, Henderson," you try denying, a transparent last ditch effort to cover up your feelings, "you have no idea what you're talking-"

"Are you dicking me around? You're fully dicking me around right now," he states incredulously, "You. Are. Into him."

Denial isn't going to work on the kid. He's too goddamn observant for that.

Hearing your feelings out loud like that, even if it isn't you saying it, sends a shot of anxiety through your stomach. Normally you'd dissent and evade the topic, but that hasn't exactly been working out for you tonight. And if everyone knows already, fuck it. 

You decide to give honesty a try.

"It doesn't matter, ok? Eddie doesn't... see me like that," you concede.

"Have you ever, I don't know, asked him?" He questions, his voice tipping right on the edge of condescending.

"... No."

Dustin pats your arm sympathetically, as if he's soothing a petulant child rather than someone five years older than him.

"Well, that seems like the place to start."

Still pouting, you shake your head.

"Why would I do that, Dustin? Just for him to reject me? It'll ruin what we have," you sulk and look down at your hands. The whole incident with Eddie sobered you up immediately, making the foamy cup of beer you're clutching look extremely appealing right about now. Moving the cup to your lips, you start to gulp it down. Dustin, clearly fed up with your self-indulgent wallowing, stands up and snatches the cup away from you.

"Hey!"

He holds the cup out of your clawing reach, and speaks at you loudly, in that sanctimonious tone he uses when he thinks he knows better than someone.

"You may be too stubborn to see it, but you're both so into each other it makes me sick!"

You're not even listening to him anymore. You're so frustrated at how this conversation is going, with how your whole night is going. Jesus Christ this kid is a total fucking headache! First he causes your fight with Eddie, then he totally embarrasses you by making you admit your crush, and now he's snatching shit from you? All of the misdirected irritation you've felt building since earlier balls up in your stomach, threatening to break out. Malicious words start to form in your mouth, preparing to absolutely rip him a new one. What a self righteous little-

Pause.

His sentence finally registers in your brain.

Both? You're both so into each other?

All the anger you felt dissipates in a split second. Both. Meaning, you and Eddie. Feeling the same way.

No, there's no way. It had to be a figure of speech, or a slip of the tongue. The part of you desperate to protect yourself retains there's no way that's what Dustin meant, but a cautiously hopeful warmth spreads through your chest all the same.

"He- when you say both- do you mean he also..."

Dustin cuts you off with an exasperated sigh of your name.

"Just go talk to him."

You've been doing laps around your house for nearly twenty minutes in search of your best friend. Everyone is 100% annoyed with you by now. You'd asked all your friends at least twice if they'd seen him, and only got back half-hearted shrugs and variations on "I don't know, we thought he was with you."

He has to still be here. His shoes are still by the door, and Gareth assured you that Eddie's van is still parked outside.

He wasn't on the back porch with the smokers, or in the kitchen, or in the basement with the other type of smokers. You tried checking your bedroom, but the door was locked, and from the outside you could hear multiple voices making some very emphatic sounds. Mental note- bleach literally everything in your room tomorrow.

Wouldn't it be a real cosmic gut-punch if that was Eddie in there with someone? a jealous voice in your head croons. You roughly push the thought down.

The only place left to check is the upstairs bathroom. When you reach the door you notice the light is on inside, yellow light leaking from the doorframe.

You move your hand up to knock, and waver momentarily. Your hand is still poised to rap on the door. Maybe it's not Eddie in there, you consider. Maybe it's just someone who had a few too many, and you're about to bother some poor soul hugging the toilet bowl.

Yeah, that's perfect. It won't be him. He definitely just left his van behind, walked home without shoes, and you can both take the night to cool off. You won't have to confess anything tonight. You'll call him tomorrow, apologize for being a dick, and pray he doesn't hang up on you. Everything will go back to normal.

Clinging to your false hope, you tentatively knock on the door.

"Ocupado," a muffled voice bleeds from the other side of the door.

Eddie.

Of course. You wouldn't be that lucky.

You steel yourself for whatever lies ahead, and turn the knob. Part of you prays it won't open, that he miraculously shed his bad habit of forgetting to lock bathroom doors. But the knob rotates without resistance.

No going back now. You swing the door open and shut it behind you swiftly. The sounds of music and laughter muffles abruptly as the door closes. Sitting hunched over on the edge of the tub is your best friend, his head sheltered in his hands.

"Holy shit, occupied!" He raises his head to rail at the intruder, "What part of- oh," he cuts himself off abruptly when his eyes land on you.

He stares at you intently, his jaw ticking from how hard he's clenching it. Both of you are waiting for the other to speak, neither one wanting to break the silence first. You squirm under his piercing gaze and lower your head to peer at the floor.

"The, uh, door was open," you mumble after a while.

"Jesus Christ, what if I was taking a shit or something?" he hisses.

Normally you'd wrinkle up your nose and call him gross, or admonish him for not locking the door, but you don't have the energy for that right now. You lean back against the door for support and cross your arms over your chest. He still refuses to break eye contact with you.

"... Sorry."

More silence.

"Well?" he asks pointedly. He looks pissed, more pissed than you've ever seen him, "What's so fucking important that you had to bust in here?"

His tone reignites the swell of anger in your stomach. Normally he's the funny kind of asshole, but right now he sounds like a total prick. You can't believe you were really coming in here to apologize and confess your feelings to him.

"I'll just go," you snap. You turn around to leave, gripping the door knob tightly, "This was a mistake."

You barely manage to crack the door open before Eddie appears behind you, reaching over your shoulder to close it firmly. He's boxing you against the door, his breath fanning over your neck. Against your better judgment, you register a dull throb between your legs at the position he has you in.

He reaches down to lock the door this time, still caging you in, a silent demand that you don't run away from this conversation. You swallow audibly.

He's not going to let you avoid him any longer.

Eddie lingers behind you a moment before retreating again, allowing you space to turn around and face him. His brown eyes, normally soft and jovial, are squinted in irritation. His broad shoulders shake lightly, with hurt or anger you can't be sure.

You take a deep breath and prepare to apologize for earlier, but he cuts you off before you even begin.

"What the hell is your problem tonight?"

He raises his eyebrow at you, impatiently waiting for your response.

Lie, the cowardly voice in your head says. Dustin was just jerking you around, you're going to ruin everything. Lie lie lie, you can't let him know how you really feel.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," you say coolly.

"Really?" he crosses his arms and pouts, mocking your closed off stance.

"I don't-"

Eddie cuts you off before you can double down.

"I'm nice to you, and you tell me to fuck off. I'm mean, and you lose your shit. I'm walking on goddamn eggshells over here, so pick one, because you can't have both."

He finishes his monologue, his breath coming out in short puffs.

Oh my God, you think, I must seem literally crazy right now.

It sucks to have your own behavior laid out so plainly like this, to be confronted with how your actions are hurting him.

You can't even get defensive, because the worst part is, he's right. You were mad at him for sending mixed signals, but you're the one who's been avoiding him for weeks and embarrassing him in the middle of a party. And now you're flipflopping so fast he can't even keep up.

In all your self-absorbed uncertainty, you never stopped to consider how confusing you must be to him right now.

You don't answer him fast enough.

"Just tell me what you want from me!" he begs.

"I just- I want-" you start and stop several different sentences, but can't find the end of any of them. You sigh raggedly and tilt your head up towards the ceiling, harshly blinking against the frustrated tears beginning to bead up in your eyes.

You can feel him inching closer to you. When he speaks, his voice comes out gentle, low, almost... hurt?

"Do you want me to be nice to you or not?" he implores, "I'll be mean if you want mean. Whatever you want, sweetheart, I'll do it. You just have to tell me."

"I... Both. Neither?"

He huffs at that, rolling his eyes to stare up at the ceiling.

You think you're confused, buddy? Try living inside my brain.

He's not getting anywhere with this line of questioning. He tries approaching from a different angle this time.

"You've been avoiding me," he states. It's not a question.

"... Yeah." you admit carefully.

He purses his mouth tight and nods. You'd only confirmed what he already knew, what you'd both been dancing around all night.

"Did I do something wrong?"

No, you shake your head tearfully.

"Do you want me to," he sighs, "give you some space, or whatever?"

"No!" you exclaim. The thought makes you panic, a single teardrop finally spilling over your lash line, "Fuck, God no, that's not- I mean, I thought I did but- that's not what this is about."

Eddie's curses under his breath, growing tired of playing twenty questions.

"Then what is it about?"

"I-" like you, you idiot, "It's just.. I can't- God! Fuck, I can't!" you groan dramatically and bury your head in your hands.

Why is it so hard to just say Munson, I want you? It's just Eddie. Drug-dealing, music-snobby, ridiculous, overdramatic, forgetful... 

Caring, funny, thoughtful, loyal, beautiful Eddie Munson who you don't want to lose forever all because you have a stupid crush on him.

He crosses the chasm between you hesitantly. Grabbing both your wrists, he removes them from your face, replacing them with his own. He cradles your face tenderly, like you could shatter under the weight of his hands, and uses a thumb to swipe away the tear on your cheek.

He breathes your name gently, and you glance up at him through your lashes.

"Please, just... tell me what you want," he whispers. His face is so close to yours, every freckle and hair visible in perfect clarity. His eyes dart around your face intently for an answer.

What do you want? He wants you to choose what you want?

Fuck this, you choose. You choose fuck this- fuck how beautiful he looks right now, fuck how him touching you like this makes your heart flutter, fuck how badly you wish you could drop all the stupid pretense and tell him that I need you to be mean to me because otherwise, I'm gonna admit I like you!

"I like you," you blurt.

Fuck.

Eddie's eyebrows shoot up at your declaration. His hands fall from your face as he backs up a bit, and you want to scream. You actually might scream, he looks so freaked out.

"You... like me?"

Fuck.

"Yes," you repeat. You're fighting to seem confident, like that will quell the pit of fear in your stomach, will lessen the wave of humiliation threatening to drown you. His eyes open impossibly wider, an indiscernible expression on his face.

You backtrack quickly, "No. No! I'm so sorry, of course not! You know what? I take it back. I didn't mean it, I was just kidding! Just please, please forget I ever said anything, ok?"

He shakes his head and points a finger at you as you ramble.

"Nooooooo. You said," a mischievous smile spreads across his face, his voice sing-songy and teasing, "You like me. Like, like me like me. Like, you want me."

Of course he's letting this go to his head. You told him you like him and now he's laughing at you. The last thing you can handle right now is him making fun of you when you're at your most vulnerable.

"Well, if you're gonna be a fucking dick about it-" you shoot your hand out once more to reach for the door. Eddie blows out a sharp breath and pulls your arm towards him, maneuvering you to face him with your back pressed against the sink.

"Sorrysorrysorry, I’m sorry! Will you stop trying to run away from me? It's getting annoying," he says, not at all unkindly. He still has that wide smile on his face, the corners of his eyes crinkling up in amusement.

Your face is still radiating heat. Your breath comes out in sharp pants. One of Eddie's hands moves to your hip, the other attempting to lift your chin upwards. You move your head out of his grasp.

He says your name again, vying for your attention.

"Would you just look at me," he jostles your hip playfully, "Please? You don’t have to be embarrassed.”

You shake your head at the ground. Now he's trying to cheer you up when you totally just ruined your friendship? This is so fucking humiliating, you wish the ground would open up and swallow you whole.

His head rolls completely around, face-framing curls flopping in his face. His whole body tilts to the side in a dramatic display. 

And in that moment, Eddie makes a decision- you just admitted something, and now it's his turn.

"Does it really make me look stupid?" he asks, tightening the grip on your hip, pulling you ever so slightly closer to him.

You finally raise your gaze to his.

"I- what?" you blink dumbly up at him.

He quickly drags you in even closer, until there’s no space between you at all. Your hands fly up for balance, landing squarely on his broad chest.

"You said earlier, it makes me look stupid," he swallows, "How badly I want to fuck you."

You must have passed out from sheer embarrassment. That’s the only explanation for what’s happening right now- you’d knocked yourself out in humiliation, and now you’re laying on the bathroom floor, dreaming. Because there’s no way Eddie actually just admitted to wanting you, no way he’s holding you this tightly against him, and no way he’s licking his lips as his eyes dart down to your mouth.

"What..." you repeat dazedly.

His head dips down at an aching crawl, like he’s giving you the chance to push him away.

"I thought it was kind of obvious,” he chuckles, “But I like you too, sweetheart. Always have,” a boyish, vulnerable smile flashes across his face.

Instantly a tidal wave of relief floods your body. Your sigh fans across his face, still so close to your own. You didn’t ruin anything. He likes you back. 

Eddie likes you.

“We can talk about what this means later,” he murmurs intimately, one thumb stroking your hip, “But right now I really need to kiss you, so just… tell me to stop."

You don’t stop him. His plush lips brush yours briefly, chastely. Tingles spark where his mouth presses to yours, and now you know it’s not a dream. None of your dreams have ever felt this electric.

When he goes to pull away, you don’t let him. You grasp his face with both hands and pull him hungrily into you, kissing him again- harder this time, more insistent. His mouth parts under the pressure, and he swipes his tongue against your bottom lip. You give him entrance immediately, and you both let out a soft moan at the feeling of his tongue massaging against yours.

It’s unreal- absolutely unreal how good he is at this. When you used to hang out alone, he would always divulge the details of his latest hookup- which cheerleader is actually freaky, which Corroded Coffin groupie cornered him at a venue. You would laugh when he proclaimed himself a sex god (of course, you’d also be secretly jealous of whichever girl he was hooking up with). But you never thought he was actually as good as he claimed, you thought he was exaggerating out of male-pride. Now you can't believe you’d wasted so much time not kissing your best friend.

A giggle rumbles up from your chest.

Oh my God, you think giddily, I’m kissing Eddie. My best friend Eddie.

He pulls away reluctantly with a final quick peck, a string of spit connecting your mouth to his.

“What?” he smirks down at you, with an expression that can only be described as adoration, “What’s got you all giggly, baby?” his hands brush comfortingly up and down your arm.

You snort again at the pet name, your heart swelling and your head lighter than air.

“You,” you ball up his shirt in your grasp and yank him back down to you, “Just you.”

He reattaches himself to your lips, resuming his worship of your mouth. Your arms slide up from his chest to clasp around the back of his neck, and you kiss him harder. One hand reaches up into the curly hair tied up behind his head, and gives an experimental tug. He rewards you with a short gasp. His tongue swipes against the roof of your mouth, almost like he’s trying to tickle you, and you giggle again. 

Kissing him is really, really hot. Ridiculously, leg shakingly, earth-shatteringly hot. 

It’s also full of silly moments. You’re both teasing and prodding at the other, trying to get the other to laugh into the kiss. But you’re also both gasping and panting, holding onto each other with all your strength, growing more and more turned on.

“You know what’s weird?” he says into your mouth.

“Hmm?”

“This doesn’t feel weird. Like, at all,” he squeezes your hips. You give his hair another gentle tug in response.

He’s right- even when you imagined what this moment could be like, there was always the underlying fear that it wouldn’t work, that you and Eddie together would be too awkward. But this is so you- so perfect.

You kiss like that for what feels like forever, taking time to explore each other. Eddie paws at whatever he can reach, the curve of your ass, the plush of your thighs, the divots of your spine.

As the kiss grows more and more heated, the silly teasing dies down. The hands wandering your body grow rougher, more frantically grabbing at you. Your underwear starts to dampen uncomfortably. Something hard and warm presses against your stomach. You’re aching to find out what.

He disconnects from you again, and you pout.

“Hop up for me?” he taps twice at your hip bone.

With his help, you brace yourself on the counter and haul yourself backwards to sit on the edge of the sink. 

“Good girl,” he praises, sharp canines flashing at you roguishly.

Your cheeks heat up at the endearment. Good girl. You’re his good girl. Fuck, that sounds so good coming out of his mouth. You cover your face with your hands and let out an embarrassed whine.

“Oh my God,” he snickers, “I so knew you’d be into that.”

“Shut up,” one hand shoots out to shove at his shoulder. He catches it and presses a mockingly apologetic smooch into your wrist. “Kiss me again.”

You don’t have to tell him twice. Two ring-clad hands grip your legs and spread them wide, an open invitation for Eddie to stand between them. He accepts graciously. Now that he has better access, he tilts your head backwards and leans down to mouth at the spot where your neck and shoulder meet.

Eddie works up and down your throat, pressing bruising kisses into the sensitive skin there. Your hands wander his body as he works, shakily pushing hair from his face, grasping his taut biceps, clutching his ass.

“So good for me,” he mumbles.

You gasp when he sucks and nips one spot particularly roughly, then soothes it with his tongue. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you register that you’ll have crazy hickeys blooming tomorrow, bruises that everyone else will definitely tease you for. But you can’t bring yourself to care, not when Eddie decorated you with them so lovingly.

His hips slowly start to grind into yours, stuttering against your warm, still clothed center.

“Just let me know if you want to slow down,” his words say one thing, but the desperate way he ruts in between your parted thighs says another.

“I’m good,” You shake your head vigorously. You’re burning to keep going. You’ve waited so long to have him touch you, love you, worship you like he’s doing right now. You’re ready for whatever he’s willing to give you, “I wanna keep going. Please.”

“Fuck. Yeah, ok,” he stifles a groan at the desperation in your voice. Lithe fingers slip beneath the hem of your shirt to splay against your stomach. His fingertips twirl intricate patterns on your skin, and you shiver at the temperature difference between his hands and the cool metal of his rings. 

With your permission he tugs your shirt upwards and over your head, tossing it on the floor behind him. Silently, you thank your earlier self for putting on your cute bra today.

“Is this ok?” he checks in with you, keeping his hands to himself with great difficulty. His eyes rake over you hungrily.

In answer, you reach behind you to unclasp your bra, tossing it over Eddie’s shoulder.

You lean back on your palms, pushing your chest out as confidently as you can. His eyes bug out of his head the moment you’re half naked, and it’s a shot straight to your ego.

“Holy shit, babe,” he reaches out greedily to grasp at your chest, palming both, pushing them together and then letting them drop into his hands, “Did you know you’re really fuckin’ hot?” he tweaks both nipples in his hands, grinning as they perk up under his touch.

You squirm under his praise.

“Oh, you’re shy again, huh?” he smirks, and dips down to catch the peak of your breast in his mouth. One hand flies shakily to his hair as he nuzzles at you, cradling him tightly to your sternum.

He pulls away from you with a pop, then switches to the other side. His tongue slides over your nipple lasciviously, the tantalizingly wet sound of spit on skin reaches your ears. A soft moan leaves him as he rolls the sensitive bud between his lips. 

The gentle scrape of his teeth is what breaks you.

“Fuck, Eds,” a sound embarrassingly close to a whine escapes your throat.

“Shit, baby, you sound even better than I imagined,” he mumbles against the skin of your chest.

You feel an impossible amount of wetness spreading between your thighs at his admission. He’s thought about this- the mental image of Eddie alone in his trailer, hand palming his cock roughly, getting himself off to the imagined sounds of you moaning- it’s almost too much for you to handle.

“You imagined this?” you ask breathlessly.

He looks up and scoffs, making a face that says, are you kidding me?

“Only every night since I hit puberty,” he ducks back down to suck a mark into your collar bone.

Your head is spinning. Eddie’s lips are on you, his hard cock is nuzzled against your thigh, his soft pants and curses are all because he’s touching you. This all feels unreal, and you’re desperate for more of his skin to be exposed to you.

“Your turn?” you hum, tugging at the bottom of his shirt.

He disconnects from your skin with a pop and grins wolfishly at you. He reaches behind his head and pulls off his t-shirt in one fluid motion, turning at the waist to toss it into the steadily growing pile of discarded clothes.

You should be focusing on his pale taut chest, the curve of his collarbone, his bare arms flexing underneath his tattoos, the sparse trail of hair on his stomach disappearing into the waistband of his boxers- but you can’t.

Your eyes fall to his ribs immediately, to the crisscross of bite marks and scar tissue lacing his sides. You knew he’d been injured saving the world, but you’d never seen how bad it was.

He rushes back into you, eager to reattach his lips to your skin, but you hold him at arm's length. You can’t take your eyes off his healed wounds.

You must look as concerned as you feel, because he's quick to brush you off.

"It looks worse than it is," he tells you humbly, grabbing one of your wrists and pressing it to his side, inviting you to gently brush against the battle-marred skin.

Fuck, it's so easy to forget how close you were to losing him. How he could've been gone, and you wouldn't have had the chance to tell him how you really feel. The last thing you said to him would have been some dumb, meaningless quip. The thought makes you lightheaded, your breath coming in short puffs.

"Hey," he lowers his head to your level, purposefully holding eye contact with you, "I'm okay. I’m not going anywhere, I promise."

You nod erratically, pressing your hands more firmly into his sides. His heart beat flutters through his ribs against your palms. Steady. A bit elevated. 

Perseverant.

"Yeah, I know. I know, I was just thinking," you clear your throat against a voice crack, "That you look pretty metal."

“Yeah?” his face splits into a wide grin.

“Yeah. Metal as hell, Munson,” you lovingly caress the wounds on his side once more.

He pulls you into a heartbreaking kiss. Not as lustful as earlier, softer, yet more insistent. Full of heart and hope and love, and the unmistakable feeling of being alive.

The kiss quickly grows deeper and more desperate, his tongue dragging headily against the roof of your mouth. Your back arches into him when he bites at your lower lip. You both pant into each other's mouths, the press of your nipples against his chest sending shivers down your spine.

Your mouth reaches for his neck, and you mimic his earlier ministrations on you- licking a long wet stripe up his neck, suckling bruises into the hot spot right below his blushed ear. His hips give a weak stutter when your teeth catch his earlobe, and you swear his eyes cross.

“I so knew you’d be into that,” you repeat his tease from earlier, and nibble gently on the shell of his ear.

He presses into you impossibly closer, and what can only be described as a whimper falls from his lips when you leave a love bite on the crux of his jaw.

“Can I touch you now,” he sighs, “Please?”

Mmhmm, you nod eagerly. Equal parts of excitement, arousal and anxiety course through your veins- you’ve waited for this for so long, and now that it’s finally happening, it’s a tad nerve-wracking.

His hands fumble with the button of your jeans, and he glances quickly up at you with a look equally nervous and elated. You’re relieved to know he feels just as nervous as you do. It sets you at ease. Eddie always makes you feel better, even when he isn’t trying.

He pushes and paws at the fabric until it passes over the curve of your ass. You lift your hips off the counter, allowing him enough room to peel the denim off you and drop it to the floor. His eyes glaze over when he turns his gaze back to you.

You sit before him, lips kiss-swollen, chest heaving, completely naked except for a pair of tiny black of panties.

Eddie’s sanity has left the building.

“How are you even real,” he groans, more to himself than to you.

One shaking hand deposits itself on the crease between your thigh and your waiting center. You hum with need. The hand on your thigh peruses you lightly, testingly. You’d expected him to dive right in, to rip off your underwear and go to town, but he doesn’t. He draws it out, building up the anticipation.

His thumb brushes a line across your damp underwear with a smile.

“That’s cute,” he crinkles his nose when you jolt at the sensation of his thumb catching your clit. He goes back to touching everywhere but that electric spot, teasing and rubbing around it, his finger exploring you through the fabric.

“What is?” you shiver, fighting the urge to take his hand and push it back to where you ache for it most.

“How wet you are for me already,” His finger slides shallowly underneath the elastic, just barely ghosting across the sensitive skin. He raises the band of your underwear and lets it go with a snap. You jump slightly at the stinging sensation.

“Eddie!” you yelp, “Stop teasing, you’re being-”

“Mean?”

You huff a small laugh. At first, you think he’s joking. But a mischievous glimmer flashes across his eyes, and then he’s hardening his expression.

His thumb returns to your clit, and you nearly sob in gratitude until you feel how soft he’s being- just barely grazing the nub with each half circle. 

“But I thought,” he leans down and gnaws a gentle bite into your pulse point, “You wanted me to be mean?”

You shake your head desperately.

"No? So what, sweetheart" he says in between nips at your neck, "You gonna let me be nice to you now?"

His thumb circles faster, still only applying the faintest hint of pressure through the soaked fabric. You attempt to grind your hips up into his hand, but he holds your hip down flush against the counter, only allowing you to take as much as he wants to give you.

"I get to say all the nice things I've wanted to say?" he whispers against the shell of your ear. You mumble under your breath, unable to form a proper response. Eddie stills his hand completely.

You let out an embarrassing whine.

“Yes, God, whatever you want, just please, please touch me,” desperation leaks into your voice.

Eddie smiles against the side of your throat and yanks your panties down to hang off one ankle.

“Well, because you asked so nicely,” he swipes two fingers through your folds without further delay.

Your breath catches in your throat as two of his fingers circle your entrance, collecting the wetness that pools there. Fireworks flash in your vision. He dips ever so slightly inside of you, then works his hand upwards towards your clit and gives a testing rub. You stutter through a moan.

“Right there?” he strokes more confidently this time.

“Yeah, that’s- yeah,” you sigh, throwing your head back.

“Fuck,” he drops his head to your shoulder, staring at the way his fingers work against you.

He lets you rock your hips into his hand for a while as he strokes you, chasing the growing sensation. It’s like he can read your mind. He knows exactly the amount of pressure and speed you require to be shaking under him. He’s hardly even touched you, but you can feel your orgasm building up, curling around your insides like tendrils of smoke.

You’ve never needed anything more than to touch him back. With unsteady hands, you reach out to unbuckle his belt, shoving his pants half-way down his thighs unceremoniously. Your hand wraps around his dick through his boxers and gives a few squeezes. He bucks into your hands with a moan, his rhythm on your clit faltering.

You whine when he bats your hands away reluctantly.

“Don’t worry about me, pretty girl,” he whispers, refocusing on you, swiping against your bud in a way that has your toes curling, “This one’s all you.”  

His two fingers disappear momentarily, and he shushes you before you can whine again. He replaces it with his thumb, continuing the rhythm you liked before, and trails his index finger down to inch slowly into your waiting entrance. You gasp at the feeling. It’s just one finger, but it’s so long and thick that you can feel yourself stretch around it.

“You have the prettiest pussy baby, Jesus,” he presses an adoring kiss to your shoulder and gawks at the way his fingers thrust inside you, glistening with your slick.

You can’t even bring yourself to be embarrassed.

Chattering voices pause outside the doorway, and you fight to still yourself, even as Eddie’s fingers work against you, inside you. 

You’re suddenly very aware that he’s fingerfucking you in a bathroom, in the middle of a party, with all your friends just downstairs.

He adds another finger without warning, and you have to slap a hand over your mouth to stifle a moan. Eddie turns his ear towards the door, gauging the distance of the people outside, never pausing the rough drag of his fingers against your walls. His free hand raises to his lips, one finger against his smirking mouth in a hush gesture.

He pulls the tips of his fingers forward in a come-hither motion, rubbing deliciously against the spot inside you that you can never reach with your own hands. Luckily at the exact moment a loud whimper leaves you, whoever’s outside erupts into obnoxious laughter.

You both pause and turn to the door, waiting to make sure no one heard you moan. After what feels like an eternity, the voices in the hallway fade away, the sounds of footsteps thunder down the stairs.

Eddie drops his forehead to your shoulder once more, and redoubles his efforts, thrusting his fingers harder into you, the thumb circling your clit nearing on vicious.

“That was a close one, babe,” he teases, “almost got caught.”

You can feel your bottom half tightening, and your pussy starts to flutter around his hand. Eddie smiles and circles his thumb around, hitting from a new angle, and you’re about to combust.

"I ha-have a room, you know," you gasp through your fingers, your legs start to shake around him.

Eddie shakes his head vigorously into the crook of your neck.

"Nancy, Steve, an' Jonathan are using it."

Well, file that away to ask about later.

“Guess you have to try and keep quiet,” he leans up to kiss you, silencing your growing pants with his mouth.

You whimper against his lips, the hip held in his grip thrashes upwards into his hand, and he holds you steady through it. Your hole squeezes his fingers rhythmically, warning him of your impending orgasm.

“Shit baby, you gonna cum for me already?” he asks incredulously. Color stains high in his cheeks, and he looks so proud of himself, so proud of you.

You nod pathetically.

“Such a good girl,” he simpers.

The rubber band in your stomach tightens impossibly, threatening to snap. His fingers move inside you once, twice, and you’re gone.

“Eds- Eddie, I-” you lean back and come around his fingers with a broken moan. 

It’s like a wildfire, ripping through your whole body without abandon.You don’t care how loud you are, because the only thing that exists right now is Eddie- his hands, his mouth, his panting. You clutch his arm roughly, your nails leaving half-moon impressions in his flesh. He works you through it gently, lovingly pumping his fingers inside you until you have to push his thumb off your clit, shivering from overstimulation.

You catch his lips again in a sloppy, sated kiss.

“That was… wow,” you lean back, resting your cheek against the cold bathroom mirror.

It was much more than “wow”. That was better than you ever dared to hope. If you knew this would happen tonight, that your feelings would be returned, that Eddie would be smiling down at you after giving you one of the best orgasms of your life, you would have walked in on him in the bathroom ages ago.

“Very wow,” He smiles slyly and slips his fingers wetly out of you. 

The cool glass of the mirror against your cheek is a welcome contrast to the hot drag of his fingers leaving you. Your breath still comes out in heavy pants, recovering from your climax. Even as you come down, you still feel that spark inside your gut, that need for him.

Eddie leans across your naked torso to plant a kiss on your cheek, and he nuzzles his nose into your hair.

“Do you wanna stop?” he whispers into the side of your head.

Hmm? You murmur, your brain still fuzzy from the orgasm he just gave you.

“We can stop here, if you want,” he kisses your forehead, “Go back to the party, or just talk?”

You glance down at the erection clearly visible in his boxers- at some point when he was fingering you, he must have shoved off his ripped jeans completely. His chest is flushed completely, heaving silently, and you can tell how turned on he is. He’s straining against his waistband with arousal, and he’s still thinking about your comfort first.

“No!” you lean forward, and brush a finger across the front of his boxers. He shivers at the faint touch, “No, I wanna… wanna keep going.”

His hands tighten against the edge of the counter, his knuckles blanching from the pressure.

“Yeah?” his nearly growls, eyes darkening at the prospect.

“Yeah,” you smile coquettishly, “I want you to fuck me.”

His eyes roll back into his head and shut tight, almost as if he’s saying a quick prayer.

“I was really hoping you’d say that,” he kisses you again fervently, like he’s a man dying of thirst and you’re the last sip of cold water.

His hips slot between yours again, grinding intentionally this time. You exhale a moan as the tip of his cock nudges your oversensitive clit through the fabric. Your wetness spreads around the front of his boxers messily, and you’re about to tear them off him-

"Fuck, shit!" Eddie rips himself away from you without warning, leaving you cold and exposed on the counter, "Shit shit shit," he mumbles. A spike of anxiety rips through you.

"What? What's wrong?"

Eddie drops to his knees on the ground, grabbing his discarded jeans off the floor and digging through the pockets fervently. You nervously cross your arms over your bare chest, watching as he tosses the pants back down. He sighs heavily, not having found what he was looking for.

He rises up and moves to the cabinet above the toilet. Swinging the hinge open, he rifles through your toiletries, cursing under his breath the whole time. He's still in just his underwear. The sight would be comical if this display wasn't making you so nervous.

"Eds, what are you-"

"I don't have a condom. Shit!" he interrupts with his back to you, still shoving through your belongings frantically.

"Eddie-"

"You don't have some down there, do you?" he turns around, points to the cabinet underneath the sink and advances forward to squat in front of you. He grabs both your ankles with one hand and holds them to the side, placing a distracted kiss on your knee before reaching to rummage in the drawers under you.

"Do I keep condoms in the bathroom my mother cleans?" you snort, your legs flexing in his grip, "No."

"Fuck. How about plastic wrap?" he punctuates each suggestion with the slam of a drawer, "Ziploc bag?" slam, "A really thick sock?" slam.

"Eddie, stop," you giggle and grab his face between your hands, stilling his restless body. He stares up at you through his lashes, breathing hard, and trails his hands up from your ankles to grip your thighs.

"It's okay," you reassure him, "I'm on the pill. So, if you want to- I mean I really want you to- ya' know..." you trail off.

He exhales unsteadily.

"You want me to come inside you?"

Your chest tightens with slight embarrassment. Hopefully that doesn't freak him out, but yes. You can't think of anything besides Eddie fucking into you with no barrier, feeling every twitch, him spilling so deep inside you that you can feel it for days after.

You nod at him, tight lipped.

His forehead drops to your thigh and he lets out another shaky breath. You wiggle impatiently on your tailbone, waiting for him to respond. He settles his shoulders decisively, and you're almost worried he's about to turn you down. Instead he lunges up and catches your lips in a bruising kiss.

"This is my fuckin' wet dream, I swear," he yanks your hips to the very edge of the counter. He kisses you again, all tongues and teeth, and his underwear disappears in an instant. 

You’re floored. Like, your jaw is dropped, absolutely flabbergasted- and that’s not a word you throw around lightly.

“Holy shit,” you pull away to stare at him, completely naked and aching before you.

“Impressive, right?” he waggles his eyebrows at you, “Do I live up to your imagination?”

Impressive is definitely the right word. You’d felt him earlier, just briefly, but nothing could have prepared you for the sight of him. He easily has the nicest dick you’ve ever seen. It’s fucking pretty- a trail of dark hair leading mouth-wateringly down, blushed as red as the rest of him, and leaking pearly drops of arousal at the tip. 

It’s also way bigger than you anticipated. Like, I don’t know if it’ll fit bigger. Your eyes widen with slight anxiety.

I have no idea where the fuck you think you’re putting that, buddy.

“I mean, yeah. Better than imagination. But- uh…” you swallow. He has to know how intimidating this is.

“Hey, you’re gonna be fine, baby,” he drops the smug act and cups your face, “I’ll go slow, ok? Just let me know if I need to stop.”

With one final glance down at his throbbing cock, you give a sharp nod.

“Yeah, ok,” you steel yourself and brace against the counter as he grabs himself with one hand, giving a few short pumps before lining himself up with you.

The stretch you feel around just the tip of his cock is insane. He’d already worked you open with an orgasm around his thick fingers, and you’re drenching both your thighs with your arousal. You’re as prepared as you could possibly be, but this much of his cock inside you already makes you feel full.

“Oh my God,” he groans as he slowly breaches the ring of muscle at your entrance, “You’re so wet baby, Jesus.” You know from previous drunken conversations that Eddie has never had sex without a condom before. It must be taking all his willpower to go slow for your sake.

He moans your name brokenly, just barely inching himself inside you. You desperately want to hear that again.

You wiggle your hips gently and clench around him, anything you can do to get him to moan your name again. He has to shoot his hand to the countertop and grab it ferociously to stop himself from bucking his hips fully into you.

“Not nice, sweetheart,” he growls, “I don’t wanna hurt you. Play nice.”

Your pouting is cut off by a moan when he gently thrusts further into you.

“Fuck- how are you still so- ah- tight?” the hand gripping the counter comes up to clutch at your breast. His grip is just on the edge of painful, and he claws at you like he’s trying to distract himself, to calm himself down. You hope you’ll have finger shaped bruises to stare at in the morning.

You hum and pant, “I think you’re just really… really big.”

He huffs an uneven laugh at that.

He’s only halfway in when you hold him still with your thighs, clenching them tight around his waist and trembling with exertion. It’s not exactly painful, it’s just so much. You need a second before he continues.

You tremble for a few moments, then give him a quick nod, his cue to keep going.

“Good?” he swipes a hand down your arm affectionately.

“I’m good, I’m- I’m good,” to be honest, you could use a few more seconds. But you want him to just fuck you already so bad, you’re willing to endure a bit of pain.

He clicks his tongue in doubt. He’s always read you like a book, and he knows you’re fibbing a bit.

“Relax, sweetheart. Just relax for me, ok?” his hands drops down to your clit and starts to circle gently. You sigh and lean back against the mirror, giving Eddie ample space to bite at your exposed throat and chest.

The new angle, paired with Eddie’s mouth and fingers relaxing you, serves to open you up enough for him to bottom out completely. You both moan when he sinks fully into your heat. 

His hand removes itself startlingly from yours. Your calf comes up to rub against his hip, and you attempt to kiss him, but he’s not looking at you anymore.

Eddie’s eyes are trained straight ahead into the mirror, his brows furrowed deep, his mouth clenched hard. His arms are braced next to your shivering form on the counter, and his whole body is statuesque with tension, except for a slight shake in his shoulders.

“Eddie,” you whisper, “It’s ok, you can move now-”

“No.”

He doesn’t even look at you when he says it. He keeps his eyes trained forward, his brows cinching impossibly tighter. It almost looks like he’s giving himself an internal pep talk in the mirror.

You scoff. It’s sweet that he’s trying not to hurt you, but you’re more than ready.

“Really, I’m ok,” you wiggle your hips around his thick cock, feeling victorious when he exhales sharply, “I want you to-”

His hands grab your hips fiercely, holding you down with all his strength so you can’t bounce down onto him. You pout at him, eager for him to do something, do anything.

“I know. I know, just… give me a second,” he grits out, “Or I’m gonna finish before we even get started.”

Oh.

You hide a proud smile. Your pussy is driving him so crazy he’s about to cum without even moving. It’s ridiculously hot. It’s also something you can tease him for later, but not right now. Right now you lean back on your hands and put space between your bodies, giving him room to calm himself down.

“‘M trying to think about baseball.” he huffs humorously, “But I don’t know anything about baseball.”

You start to grow fidgety as the seconds tick by, waiting for him to move. 

You’re only getting wetter at the feeling of him unmoving inside you, filling you so completely, like he was made to fit right there.

“Eddie, please,” you whine, teasingly clenching around his length, “”S ok. Don’ wanna wait anymore, just please, please fuck me-

He tilts his hips back and then thrusts forward, and he’s finally, finally fucking you.

It's not comfortable. The counter digs into the flesh of your thighs, your panties hang garishly off one ankle, every thrust of Eddie's hips shoves your head into the mirror behind you. 

It's not comfortable, but you hardly even notice because it feels so good.

He thrusts into you, and you lose track of time, lose track of anything besides the feel of him burying himself deeper than you thought possible.

“Oh my God,” you dig your hands into the curly hair at the base of his neck, his hair tie having long since been pulled out. His forehead is flush to yours, and he’s peppering your face with little kisses, a sweet gesture in stark contrast to the filthy way he fucks into you.

“You ha-have no idea how… fuck- long I’ve wanted to do this,” he moans at the feeling of your warmth dragging wetly against him.

“Me too,” you admit breathlessly, “‘S always been you, Eds.”

“Just for me, yeah?” he says with a sharp thrust, “This little pussy is all for me?”

If anyone else had spoken to you like this, you would be beyond embarrassed. But there’s something about the way Eddie spits filth so possessively, so passionately. It makes you burn with need.

“Yes, fuck, all for you, only for you,” you whisper.

You can already feel that tension growing in your stomach again. His hair forms a soft curtain around your face, and he’s the only person in the world right now. His tongue flicks out over his lips as he concentrates, and even as his thrusts grow more desperate, he flashes you the sweetest smile.

Perfect.

One of your hands reaches back down to your aching pussy, to the place where he splits you open. You gingerly caress the place where his cock meets his body and he stutters.

Your hand trails back up to your clit and you start to circle it, chasing the orgasm you can feel squeezing your insides.

He pulls your hand away and replaces it with his own, using his thumb to work toe-curling strokes into your clit in time with his thrusts. Your eyes roll to the ceiling at the sensation, and you’re so close.

Eddie’s close too, you can feel it. His pants and moans grow higher, breathier. The movement of his hips grows frantic and erratic, and he starts to shake. He loses the ability to form sentences, the only coherent words coming out as broken curses and stutters of your name.

The hand that isn’t circling your clit slides up your body and deposits itself over your collarbone.

“Can I…” he hovers his palm over your throat, asking for permission.

“Yes, ohmygod, please,” you lean your neck up into his waiting grasp. He gives a gentle squeeze, never harder than a soft grip. It isn’t about controlling your air. Instead it feels like Eddie having total possession of you- the willingness to place your most vulnerable pieces in his hands for safe keeping.

Eddie nearly cums on the spot when he catches sight of you with your eyes shut tight, moaning his name, with his rings glinting lowly around your throat.

Neither of you are going to last much longer. The hand circling your clit doubles down, and you nearly black out. Full body shivers wrack your body, and Eddie isn’t doing much better- he looks ready to snap.

“You gonna be a good girl and come for me again, baby?” he asks you, lightly squeezing at your throat and bearing down on your clit. 

You nod and whine as his cock nudges against your plush walls, your pussy fluttering around his cock as you come hard.

“Fuckfuckfuck,” both his hands drop to your hips when he feels you coming around him, and he ruts up into the tightness. He gives a full body shake and a final broken little whimper, and then he’s spilling deep inside you.

You’re both panting, chests heaving with your release. You lean back so your shoulders rest against the (now foggy) mirror, and Eddie follows, draping himself over you, cuddling you as best he can in the cramped bathroom.

When he goes to slip out, you stop him with your thighs, keeping his cock still inside you. You’re not quite ready for him to leave your warmth yet. He chuckles lightly and drags you back up to a sitting position. You grumble, but allow him to manipulate you where he wants you. He pulls your arms up to rest around his neck, and his come down to wrap around your waist. You exchange soft breaths, both caught up in what just happened.

“Well, fuck me,” he mumbles after a minute or two, “I was always rooting for us crazy kids to get together,” he tickles lightly at your sides.

You giggle at that, and snort again when his whole body seizes up. Whenever you laugh, you clench around his now-softening, overstimulated length.

“Fuck. I gotta take it out now, sweetheart,” he warns. He slips wetly out of you and slots his mouth over yours to catch the moan falling from your lips. You feel intensely empty, but satiated. Although now, you’re not sure you’ll ever feel whole again without some part of him inside you.

Seconds later, his cum begins to drip out of you. Eddie notices as you stiffen up, eyes dropping to your naked center then back up to your face. Before you have a chance to deal with the mess, he’s dragging your panties from your ankle, up your legs, and hitching them to their rightful place over your ass. He flashes a dastardly smile, very aware that his cum will stay in your underwear, keeping the smeary mess between your thighs. Gross.

Hot.

He leans onto the counter and kisses you easily, lazily as you both come down from your highs.

After a while you part from each other. He offers a gentlemanly hand to help you down onto your shaky legs. 

The pair of you begin to redress in silence. It’s just a tad awkward. Still nice, but the vibe is a bit delicate. You can feel a question lingering in the air- where do we go from here?

“Well, Henderson’s gonna be really smug about this,” Eddie smirks, pulling his underwear and pants up his legs in one easy motion.

You pause halfway into pulling on your shirt over your head, your arms extended upwards, your belly exposed to the muggy bathroom air.

“Dustin talked to you too?” your voice is muffled by the fabric. Eddie laughs at the sight.

“Yeah, he’s the one who convinced me to leave the meeting early tonight. He helped me work up the nerve to tell you how I feel,” he admits.

You finally wrestle your shirt down.

“Oh my God,” you cup the sides of your face in embarrassment, “That kid is a little fucking puppet master! He totally manipulated us into- not manipulated, sorry, that’s not the right word, that makes it seem like I didn’t want to- you know, but I really, really did, I promise,” you ramble on, growing increasingly more flustered, “Ugh, not the point! I’m totally gonna kick his ass!”

“Well, I’m gonna thank him,” Eddie drags you into him and plants a sweet kiss on your cheek, “And then I’m gonna kick his ass.”

You laugh gently at that. Silence settles back over you again, and you back up ever so slightly to cross your arms over your chest. One of Eddie’s hands grabs at his hair and pulls it in front of his face, hiding behind it.

“So, I-”

“Eds-”

You both speak over each other, and giggle again. This kind of awkwardness is new, and sweet, and something you’re excited to explore with him. Your palm slides down his arm and catches his hand in a loose hold.

“You first?” you offer.

He nods and takes a deep breath.

"I went through a lot a few months ago,” he taps the scars on his rib absently, “And maybe it would be easier if we were just friends.”

Your heart sinks at those words. You drop his hand and retreat further. Oh. Maybe you misread everything that just happened. Just… friends. Just friends who hook up? You don’t think you could handle that.

“No, hey, listen. That came out wrong,” he huffs, and grabs both your hands in his once more, “Almost dying from those stupid fucking bats, it made me realize... I don't want ‘easy' with you. I don’t want to be just friends. And I don’t want this to just be a hookup, either.”

You exhale shakily. You’re beyond relieved, but questions still niggle in the back of your mind. Was he worried about that? That you just wanted a hookup?

"This isn't just... I don't want you to think- fuck, why is this so hard?" you groan.

"Yeah, it was pretty hard, huh?" he waggles his eyebrows suggestively.

“Shut up,” you shove lightly at his shoulder, “I’m trying to be vulnerable here!”

He smirks down at you gently.

“Not exactly your forte, sweetheart.”

Once again, he reads you like a book. But if you want to make this work, you have to let him know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, how you feel about him. 

Be vulnerable.

Your two index fingers hook into the loops of his belt and pull him into you flirtily. You push yourself up on your tiptoes and bring your face close to his, like you’re about to kiss him.

“I think you should spend the night,” you pull back slightly just before your lips touch his. His face sours jokingly, but he allows you to continue, “And then tomorrow you should take me on a date. And then, you can ask to be my… boyfriend, or whatever.” you make a silly face at the word boyfriend.

His doe-eyes light up, and his teeth bare in the most radiant smile you’ve ever seen.

“Boyfriend, huh? Very official. I like it,” he leans in slowly, achingly slowly, and his lips are just barely brushing yours-

Knock Knock Knock.

Both your heads whip around to the door at the sudden sound.

“Hey,” you recognize Dustin’s muffled voice, “Are you guys done having sex in there? I need to pee and Gareth’s totally throwing up in the other bathroom.”

You cover your mouth to hold in a raucous laugh. Yeah, you’re totally kicking that kid’s ass later. Eddie holds his hands up to you as you're about to respond, and gives you a shh gesture. He cups his hands around his mouth like a megaphone.

“AhAhAh! Fuck ohmygodfuck I’m gonna-,” Eddie loudly fake moans and whines in a high pitched voice at the door, aiming to scar the kid for life. You hit him lightly on the shoulder, holding in silent giggles the whole time.

“EW WHAT THE FUCK,” Dustin screams, and you hear him run off loudly in the opposite direction of the bathroom.

You turn to each other and burst into laughter. Eddie throws his arm around your shoulder as you unlock the door, opening it wide, ready to face whatever comes next together.

"You're such an asshole, Eddie," you roll your eyes. Your face feels like it’s going to split from how hard you’re grinning.

"Yeah,” he gives you a quick peck on the cheek, “Only for you, princess."

___

here's where that line is originally from!

crossposted to ao3

[rowniebow]

and they were roommates | peter parker x male!reader | 3/7

summary: microwave, pancakes, and a mother.

pairings: tasm!peter parker x male!reader

cw: death and cursing but idk does there really need to be a cw for cursing

word count: 2.9k+

an: i hope someone is liking this as much as i am haha...

previous ⭒ masterlist ⭒ next

⭒

"what is this?"

you glanced over your shoulder and the back of the couch to find peter sitting at the island of your shared kitchen staring at the television screen. you wondered when he got there and how you didn't notice him watching with you.

"a movie."

"what movie?" he rolled his eyes a bit at your response.

"forest gump," you shoved the popcorn you had made into your mouth. "you've never seen it?"

"no, why?"

"it's a classic!"

"aunt may and uncle ben weren't the biggest on family movie nights."

you shrugged a little, and patted the seat next to you on the couch. when he sat and made himself comfortable, you silently offered the popcorn to him, which he denied.

the last half of the movie that he had joined you for was enjoyed by the two of you in a comfortable silence.

when the movie finally ended, peter glared at the credits. "that was nice, i guess, but why is it a classic? it's no star wars or lord of the rings-" his eyes fell away from the scrolling words and onto your slouched body.

your body uncomfortably drooped over itself, your chin falling to your chest. peter almost winced from the pain it looked like your neck would be in if you stayed like that for much longer.

he, gentle and smooth as ever, slowly snuck the popcorn bowl from your hands and quietly sat it on the coffee table. he fetched a pillow and throw blanket from your room, propping the pillow on the arm of the couch. he gently pushed you over and onto the couch into a more comfortable fashion, hand on the side of your face to monitor how fast you fell onto the pillow. he laid the blanket out over your body, tucking you in and silencing the television before it could wake you.

he let out a heavy sigh when he watched you cuddle yourself into the couch-bed he had made you. he was practically sweating trying to make it all okay enough for you. he glared at the time, finding it to be awfully late, as per usual with him.

he tip-toed his way to his own bedroom, his sights lingering on you from his doorframe.

⭒⭒

peter awoke on a bright sunday morning to find you at the island, enjoying a bowl of extremely sugary cereal that he remember very vividly criticizing you for, even though it was his guilty pleasure cereal and he just so happened to be trying to eat better at that moment and was just mad that they stayed tempting him in the cupboard.

"these are so bad for you, y/n."

"you say that like i care."

"well- you should! your body is a vessel. everyone should take care of their body."

"if you're seriously trying to talk me into eating plain ass cheerios with you... some battles you have to fight on your own, peter, and your bland cereals is one of them."

"i'm not! i just think you should be more mindful of your cereals."

"you only live once, parker."

"you won't be living long at all with that big ass bowl."

today, peter thought, he'd join you in the short happy life club with your unhealthy cereal and got himself a bowl.

"oh, peter!"

"yes?" he spoke absentmindedly as he poured himself the cereal then milk groggily.

"i've been forgetting to tell you all week: i have to leave soon for a while. i'm not sure when i'll be back but i shouldn't be too long."

peter couldn't help but let his neck snap so he could look you in the eyes. neither of you had gone any where for an extended period of time since you two moved in.

"what? where are you going?"

"ah, my mom is sick in a hospital in jersey, so i'm gonna go be with her."

peter looked over your face, jaw nearly dropping at your unmoving features. "y-your mom is in the hospital? i'm sorry, are you okay?" his voice was weirdly soft, a caring part of him you hadn't seen before

you almost laughed at his words, "yeah, i'm fine, thanks."

peter thought over your actions for a moment. he quickly came to the realization that this was, yet another thing, that he didn't know anything about of his roommate of nearly seven months now. frankly, he didn't even know you had a mom. he assumed not since you told him you've been moved out since so young. did you have a dad, too?

"w-what is she sick with?"

you looked up at peter. seemingly shocked at his interest.

"she - well, she's had cancer for a year or two now. the doctors told me she's on her way out." peter looked at you and your features, at how nonchalant you were despite the gravity of this conversation. he looked as though he were studying you with wonder under a microscope. "i shouldn't be gone more than a week."

peter wanted to ask why you seemed to not care so badly.

you were tempted to tell him without him verbally asking (his expression really gave away his thoughts).

you only smiled, though, deciding to play oblivious.

and peter saw your smile, your genuine smile, and let his thoughts move along to the fact that you'd be gone for about a week.

you would be gone.

peter expected himself to be giddy at the thought of the apartment all to himself. he expected to have butterflies in his stomach out of excitement for you to be no where around for days straight.

he furrowed his eyebrows, however, when he felt his stomach swell with sickness at the thought. his chest became heavy and suddenly it was as though he was heaving to breathe.

you would be gone.

"are you already packed, then?"

"yes,"

"are you going to catch a cab to the airport?"

"yes,"

"do you want me to come with?"

"come with me to see my mother die?"

"sure! or just the cab ride, if you want?"

silence.

"for safety, of course."

"i think i can handle myself, pete. thanks, though."

peter's eyebrows were knitted together, creases clawed at his skin.

"are you-," you giggled to yourself a bit. "is peter parker going to miss me?"

"fuck no. i'm going to be living my dream while your gone!" lies.

"oh yeah?"

"for sure. i'm going to bring all my friends over and we'll party and make a mess on your bed." lies.

"really now?"

"absolutely." lies. lies lies!

"okay, i'm sure excited to hear about all zero of your friends hanging out and making a mess out of my bed when i get back."

you gathered your dishes and washed your bowl and spoon.

"i'll see you when i get back! have a good time with your zero friends!"

"yeah, whatever." he grumbled.

your footsteps disappeared down the small entrance hallway and out of the door along with your voice wishing one last goodbye.

peter looked around the now empty and silent apartment.

the time was two twenty-three, mid afternoon. he had woken up a lot later than usual, a lot later than you and he could tell.

the apartment was practically spotless. dishes, done and put away (other than the bowl and spoon you used). floor, swept and vacuumed. couch, fluffed pillows and peter's favorite throw blanket sat along the back. coffee table, wiped down and television remotes sat symmetrical with the sides. the microwave, still dirty but he was well aware of the silent protest you two had over it so he never considered that.

you went through the effort of cleaning the apartment so it would be nice for him while he was gone.

peter finally groaned into the silence. it had been less than a minute and it was already unbearable.

and that pissed him off.

he couldn't go one minute without you here in the apartment. jesus christ. he made his way to his room, ready to angrily blast his comfort playlist, abandoning his forgotten bowl of sugar on the counter.

⭒⭒⭒

throughout the week you were gone, peter was angry.

he found himself yelling into his mattress when he found himself craving the song you always play on repeat. he found himself yelling even more when he couldn't remember the name of it, and he was not about to text you to ask.

he found himself sitting at the island alone, grimacing at the taste of his pancakes because they were so bad compared to yours. he didn't know what he did wrong to make them so bad, he used the exact same two dollar box mix that you did.

he found himself sneaking into your room to light the candle that you always had going, that was very against the rules your landlord set for your apartment and peter always scolded you about but you never listened. ("parker if you think that man gives a shit about anything other than our rent you are insane,").

he found himself rewatching movies he had never seen before living with you. forest gump, wizard of oz, home alone. you judged him a lot for not seeing these before. you even watched some of the horror films, despite not liking horror, just because they were your favorite.

and peter? man, peter was mad. the thought never left his mind: why does he want you home so bad? were you truly that big of an improvement in his life?

maybe peter was just sad that he had to be alone. oh, but he never really had problems being alone before.

he wanted to scream! he missed you. horribly.

⭒⭒⭒⭒

on the seventh day of your absence, peter had grown worried.

you said not more than a week, hadn't you?

are you for sure going to be back today then?

did something happen?

should he check the news?

were you okay?

his eyes were glued to the news on the television for hours. his lips were gnawed raw.

he, honestly, hadn't even realized you were consuming his thoughts. he went about his day as if this new found obsession was a daily occurrence for him.

in some ways, perhaps it was.

the way you sat on his shoulder in the grocery store, imaginary nagging running through his mind as he sorted through the ice cream flavors.

the way you always seemed to be haunting him in the pictures he captured for work. behind the building, on the power lines, sitting in that empty chair.

the way you cling to his back while he swung through the skies at night. were you going to be up waiting for him all night again (the answer is always yes.)? should he go home early? he knows you have a big day at work tomorrow.

peter didn't think anything of this, though. i mean, you were constantly around him. the two of you, even if it wasn't always positive, never ceased your conversations.

in the mornings rolling your eyes over breakfast.

in the afternoons on the weekends, struggling to deal with whatever rash temperature new york brought into your shitty run down apartment.

up late at night, struggling to watch a movie and instead pointing out annoyances within each other.

it's only natural that you were always in his mind.

⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒

on the ninth day that you were gone, peter had made his decision.

after many hours of careful consideration and contemplation, he has decided to text you.

a small sentence. maybe two. nothing fancy.

nothing to show you at all what has been consuming him the last week.

"are you coming home soon?"

no, no! that's too... desperate, he thought.

"hey, did your trip get extended?"

ew! that 'hey' is too much, good lord.

"come back i need you to go to the store"

...no, that might be a bit too mean.

peter was practically pulling his hair out. why was he so nervous about a simple text, he'd never know. he let his phone fall next to his head, a loud groan pounding it's way through his lips.

he glared at the ceiling of his room, his bedroom door open as if he expected you to come in complaining any moment now.

after several moments of staring at the popcorn textured white sky, he shakily picked his phone back up.

"you okay? thought it was only going to be a week?"

his eyebrows were knitted together at his words. he wasn't happy with them, but he was satisfied.

⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒

you felt your phone buzz in your pocket and lord have mercy on whoever was texting you right now. who could be bothering to interrupt your peace with your self in this one, small moment? a small moment that was meant for you and no one else? a small moment where you could let yourself be?

tears threatened your eyes in frustration as you breathed calming breaths. a shakey hand reached into your pocket, lines of vulgar thoughts running through your head.

peter parker: "you okay? thought it was only going to be a week?"

you nearly threw your phone out of fright. since when did peter text you? you two basically only had each other's information in case of emergency.

was this an emergency? you didn't think so.

you supposed it could have been. you did say a week. peter was probably thinking you had died in some tragedy because of your lack of contact.

your breath stopping nearly choked you.

peter was texting you? he was thinking about you? about when you'd be back?

no, certainly he just hasn't been cleaning or needs groceries. maybe he really did follow through with his threat and was trying to have people over.

what were you to say back, though?

"sorry, i meant to text you-"

no you didn't, don't lie! you didn't think he was giving a second thought about when you'd be back.

"i’m all good, thank you for asking!-"

no, no! thank you for asking? what kind of bullshit fake ass response is that.

"oh i'm great. mother died, see you soon."

you chuckled to yourself a bit at the thought of that one. you personally would laugh at the blatancy but you supposed most people wouldn't appreciate the sour attempt at a joke.

you tapped the phone on your head, attempting to knock a socially acceptable response out of it. a shaken breath concluded your thoughts, assuring yourself that whatever response given would be brushed over, anyway.

"my fault! i'll be home late tomorrow"

yeah, yeah, for sure. that's very cool, calm, and collected of you. very mature response. absolutely doesn't let anything on at all.

you escaped the broom closet you were hiding in. you left your small moment.

you left your one small moment of peace with your self. a small moment that was meant for you and no one else. a small moment that was meant for being alone, and was infiltrated by peter parker, all the way from new york.

and you weren't mad.

maybe even glad.

⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒

it was extremely late when the door to your apartment creaked open (a new issue about the shit hole to try and solve).

peter had decided to stay home to greet you when the clock struck nine at night and you still weren't back yet. he and decided to refrain from his nightly endeavors.

so when the door creaked open after he had passed out on the couch to the sound of car alarms going off on the street below and light tapping against the window, his sensitive ears perked up and his dizzy body came with them.

he sat up alarmed and saw you immediately (thank god for the front door being a straight shot from the couch).

he saw your tired eyes and new creases between your brows.

he saw your chewed lips that were too similar to his own.

he saw your drenched clothes from the pouring rain and your wet hair.

he saw you as your whole and full self and wanted to run and scoop you up in his arms.

but he refrained, of course.

"h-hey!" he watched you struggle through the door with your small suitcase.

"hi, pete,"

"how was your trip?"

you laughed a bit. you would hardly consider that shit show a trip. "it was fine. did you have your friends over?"

peter saw your tired smile and couldn't help but smile too. "oh yeah, your room is totally trashed."

"great," your dropped everything in the small kitchen. a sigh escaping your lips as you rummaged through the fridge that was oddly full.

peter watched you pull out a box of left over pizza he had the day before... for breakfast.

he missed your pancakes a lot.

"how was your mom?"

"oh, she-you know. passed. that's why i was staying longer than i thought. her funeral was yesterday."

peter didn't understand you. how you were speaking so casually about the death of someone who you were close to - who he assumed you had been close to. but he wanted to understand.

you obviously weren't that close based off of your actions. maybe you were in shock, he thought.

"i’m-i’m sorry to hear that," he tensely watched you, anxiety dropping like a pit when you went to throw your pizza in the microwave.

"yeah- did you-?" you stared into the microwave. "did you clean the microwave?" your eyebrows were furrowed and your face was only accusatory. as if it upset you.

"yeah, i got tired of it." and hand shot up to scratch the hairline on his neck.

"oh, okay," you started the microwave and watched the seconds count down. peter went to say something but you spoke again.

"thanks,"

⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒

peter cleaned the entire apartment, and the microwave, for you as soon as you said you'd be home the next day.

⭒ next ⭒

[rain-fluff]

Journal Eleven: How do you mourn?

The topic of death seems to creep up on me a lot lately. I remember hearing the announcement so vividly; it was officially shared by the beloved band members and staff of the GazettE that their beloved bassist Reita had passed away at the age of 42. I couldn't really believe it first. I was just listening to their music a few days prior on my commute to uni. Rather, I've been listening to their music on and off during my commutes because despite the loudness, it keeps away my anxiousness from others stares when I walk into the MRT. It felt so recent when I wanted to revisit the music that I used to fangirl over in my preteens. What do you mean he's just gone?

I lied down on my bed in complete silence for a few minutes just trying to digest the news. I had a crush on this man, he had a charming yet mysterious air to him that captivated my little 12-year-old heart. I remember digging for translated interviews of their radio shows, wishing I could have cool adult conversations with them and having fun. Sure he was a half my age when I discovered their music but what preteen wasn't impressionable by adult influences like that, you know? I was so fascinated by their outfits, their creative expression through music, how they looked so free and was living life how they wanted to. I grew up and they were nothing more than a distant nostalgic memory at first but they resurfaced again when I was looking for music to listen to on Spotify. Weirdly enough, they we're really nice to listen to at six in the morning, too tired to start the day but too paranoid being confined in a small space as you make your way for your 8 a.m classes. Reminiscing on how much I crushed on him was just a silly afterthought but they we're still a strong influential presence to me today.

I was amazed to see that there was in fact a really active community amongst the fans; moreso the international fans to be honest. I didn't think that there were people who would take flights to Japan just to see what I felt was a fairly niche band from a rather niche music genre to this day. I remember crying reading heartfelt stories of how the fans listened to their music during hard times. I think it really broke me when only days later, official statements we're released by the band members expressing their thoughts and emotions. I can only imagine how hurt they must've felt losing such a close friend like that. The GazettE has always been five. This was a para social relationship that I never really expected to affect me so strongly.

I think many will agree that it will never be the same; Ruki's commentary on how he perceived the situation has settled in my mind for a while now. It made more sense as to why I felt so hurt by some deaths before, making me feel more grounded of how I should handle and carry my pains moving forward. I still chase after his bass playing while listening to their music; one of the few things that we as active listeners can still cherish and keep today. I'll always remember you Reita-san. And so will everyone else.

[chthonic-cassandra]

Having a lot of thoughts about Xenogenesis. [discussion of sexual violence and coercion below]

Yesterday I reread all of Dawn and almost all of Adulthood Rites; I stopped almost at the very end and I think that was enough. I remember Imago very well (I accidentally read it before the others and then I wrote yuletide fic for it) and so don't feel the need to revisit it at the moment.

Dawn remains very strong, stronger perhaps in reread when you know where it's going and can watch for the nuances. I don't think the others in the series work as well, and Adulthood Rites in particular I think isn't structured very effectively as a novel. I also think there are things that get lost in the shift into the pov of the human-Oankali construct characters.

The interest in impossible choices, in attachment to your captor, in what I like to call concubine problems (Lilith taking off her clothes and lying down on the battlefield with the enemy!) is so sharp and nuanced in the first book. I think it's weirdly easy to miss this - the thread in which the humans' discomfort with the Oankali is based in prejudice against what is different, and in homophobia, is a tricky misdirection. But Butler is fundamentally interested in consent and the impossibility of consent.

The Oankali are supposed to be appealing (I think this is effective especially with Nikanj, whose appeal for Lilith is I think very well drawn), and in them the book does this queasy and fascinating thing in attempting to construct a moral framework that does not center around autonomy. But Dawn at least never loses the horror of that, alongside the fantasized erotics of a partner who knows your desires better than you know them yourself.

Butler cheats in this by putting Lilith in several impossible double bonds, one of which is the inescapability of sexual violence in the plot. The first human man Lilith meets tries to rape her; the other surviving humans almost instantly turn to it as a tool. This is so marked when the scene where Lilith interrupts the attempted rape within the human group is placed in the text almost exactly up against Nikanj forcing Joseph into ooloi-facilitated sexual contact for the first time, which I had not recalled as vividly as it struck me this reread. The time skips means that we don't see Lilith's first sexual experiences with Nikanj and its mates; we see her once it is already an accustomed part of her life. But we see Joseph saying no; we see Nikanj telling him that his body was saying yes, that it knows better than he does. And then, right at the end of the novel, we see it enacting this ultimate violation of impregnating Lilith without her consent, because it sees that she is 'ready.'

But there's the double bind, right, first because if, in this world, rape is inescapable, then what Nikanj and the other ooloi offer/force might be the better alternative. It's a violation of consent in which one is cared about, in which one has attachment and safety. Dawn as a text is clear-sighted about those tradeoffs. I think Adulthood Rites loses the thread somewhat, partly in Butler's increasing focus on genetic inheritance as the site of preservation, violation, and transformation, which does something else that I do not personally find as emotionally compelling. I think there would be ways of telling the stories of the second two books which would land better for me; in some ways it feels like Butler flinched away from some of the horror there. A lot still to think about.

[llau-ren-ti-a]

The Bad Batch Ask Game

created by @wreckers-wife

@nahoney22

First of all thanks for the message and thank you for bringing this to my attention, my asks are open now 😁

So let's get right to it!

21. Which Batcher is the best cook?

I'd love to say Hunter, but with his senses it could get difficult (hell, I consider myself a decent cook and can't prepare meat half of the time bc I can't stand the smell) so I'm going with Echo and Cross!

Echo because he actually values food that isn't 'standard rations' and has a thing for proper nutrition and Crosshair because he's a control freak in the kitchen - he won't let you lift a finger and only serves whatever meets his expectations.

38. What color do you associate with each Batcher?

That's a tough one, but I'll try my best!

Wrecker

Wrecker was the easiest to come up with, and I know, yellow is a happy colour and that's why I associate him with it bla bla bla - his scar reminds me of the sun, a star bursting across his face. He's warm summer days spent in the sun, elderflower lemonade and daisies.

When I was in school we used to play "Yellow Car", whenever you spotted a yellow car you could hit one of the fellow players, and I think he'd be weirdly competitive about that.

Omega

Omega was a close second, and my colour is turquoise! Do you know this specific shade of turquoise that every other girl's rooms had back in the 2010s? Either you knew someone who had a room like that or you were that person. I can remember that so vividly and she instantly reminded me of her so much. She'd totally be one of those girls with turquoise walls.

I'm also so sure adores the ocean and sky, aside from the storm grey she was surrounded with on Kamino.

Tech

A little conflicted about our dear Tech - he reminds me of vaporwave and 80s computers; to me he is the embodiment of 80s and 90s synthwave (aesthetic), black and neon pinks and blues and purples and oranges - it was really a tie between the latter but I went with purple, it's still quite a nice colour and I think he'd center his whole being around this colour like many purple people do. (Orange people are actually exactly the same, but they are less vocal about it haha)

Echo

Sad beige clothes for sad beige children.

Look me straight into my bright blue eyes and tell me Echo would not absolutely THRIVE in a clean, cozy minimalistic apartment. I would pay an ungodly amount of money to wrap him up in a beige silk/mohair blend cable knit sweater and watch him drink a black tea with milk and sugar while he's sitting on clean white bed sheets. Need I say more?

Hunter

(Sidenote: I am having an absolute field day imagining Hunter in one of those Park Ranger Uniform shorts)

I think the consensus is that a lot of people associate him with red (because he is the leader of the squad and their colours are black and red...)

And I get it, red and brown suit him well in my opinion, but he really is green to me. Not really sage green or dark forest green, more the yellowish chartreuse kind of swampy green.

Crosshair

I get it. I absolutely do. The angry, dangerous, even lustful dark reds and blacks that so many people pair him with.

My soul tells me he is green. Not that friendly, lively kind of green that Hunter has, but this dark and forgotten shade of ancient woods that block out the sun once you've walked a few steps into them. Kind of Twilight-esque pacific northwedt vibes, but scarier and less blue filter.

I know he would kill me if he heard me compare him to Hunter like that, but I really think they are quite alike.

The difference lies here:

Hunter invites you in, whereas Crosshair is warning you to stay away.

- - -

I hope that made some sense haha!

That was fun, thanks for the message! <3

[infernalodie]

𝐑𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 || 𝐄𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐞 𝐖𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐦𝐬

Inspo: Balmorhee - Remembrance

Pairing: Ellie Williams x Miller!Fem!reader

Requested - 🚨🦇

Summary: Life was a cruel reality that someone like you would be taken by sooner or later.

Warnings: Angst and some pretty graphic stuff.

Words 2738

She was too afraid to wake up. She hadn’t seen you seem this relaxed in a long time. She'd missed the sight of the calm breaths that left you, your body relaxed against her.

Ellie couldn’t remember the last time she was able to experience this whenever she woke up in the middle the of night. It was either you were gone, riding out on a patrol with Jesse or Joel. Or you had made your way back inside Joel’s house, leaving the auburn-haired girl lonely. Yearning for the warmth you so humbly provided. These moments were memorable and Ellie was glad she got to have them with you.

She traced shapes into your back amongst the many scars that were forever burned into your flesh. Finding her own relaxation of being able to see and experience this moment. Unable to obtain it outside of this little hut she had out back of Joel’s house. You’d reassured her that if anyone had something bad to say about your guys’ relationship, you would surely make them choke on their teeth. But Ellie wasn’t sure why, she just couldn’t bring herself to be public with you. There were those lingering touches and eye contact that the two of you shared, but nothing to scream your guys’ relationship.

But it’d been like that since you two met. There had always been something there, but timing and coincidences prevented you two from ever being something. But when you turned 20 and Ellie finally turned 18, the two of you confessed all of the feelings the both of you held for one another. And if Ellie’s immunity brought you closer, the intimacy the two of you shared brought you incredibly closer. Not able to go a day without at least sharing a kiss.

“If you keep doing that, I might just have to tell my Dad I can’t do patrol today.”

A smile formed on Ellie’s lips as she retracted her hand, watching you roll over onto your back. “What’s on your mind?” You asked softly, reaching out and cupping Ellie’s cheek.

The touch was enough to make the Williams girl melt in your hold. Leaning into it and closing her eyes as she sighed lightly. Feeling your calloused thumb brush against her cheekbones. “Nothing, just gonna miss you today,” she answered. “Our patrols are so fuckin’ weirdly timed, I’m not going to get back in time to spend it with you. Tomorrow will just repeat itself.”

“Well, you wouldn’t be able to hang out with me in private since we’re watching that movie with Joel tonight, sweetheart,” you reminded with a chuckle. “But I’ll work something out with Tommy and Maria. I’m sure they would be willing to give us some days off. Then, we can stay in bed together and maybe cook.”

But before Ellie could even say a word, agree to the idea even, a knock sounded at the front door. The inevitability finally reached both of you as Ellie smiled through the disappointment. “Duty calls.”

You sighed, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to her forehead. “I’ll stay here tonight after the movie.”

Moving from the girl, you sat up and Ellie finally saw your missing left arm. The flesh burned in an attempt to cauterize the wound. The edges of the wound still showed the brutality of the cannibal's ruthless hacking of your member. She still remembers that day vividly. She remembers how you were sobbing out her name as they took that piece of you away. And it only made the memory worse when she had to hold you down while Joel took a scalding hot piece of metal to the wound to save you.

A lot of the time, Ellie blamed herself for what was taken from you. Because, for a while, you were far too exhausted and injured to do anything. And the trip to Saint Mary’s Hospital had only been worse for her as she would often wake up to the sounds of your whimpers and muffled sobs as you cried into your jacket. Those nights became harder and harder for Ellie to ever meet your gaze. Even talking to you became a struggle because of the fate she could’ve met and you nearly dying.

But for a while, she finally recovered for some years until she eventually found out about what you and Joel did at the hospital. How you murdered all those Fireflies to save her. You were quick to forgive as the two of you were on far more patrols together than her and Joel. She did give you a piece of her mind, multiple times, but it might’ve been just that that helped her forgive you for those atrocities.

“Can you hand me my prosthetic?” You asked, glancing over your shoulder from your pile of clothes. Ellie moved tiredly over to the bedside table and grabbed the prosthetic arm with a hook on it. Hand it to you, she watched you effortlessly strap it on before getting your clothes on.

Another knock sounded at the door and you grumbled in annoyance. Slipping your jacket on with a tiny bit of trouble, the hook catching some thread occasionally before you finally got it free. Zipping up your jacket and shrugging your backpack onto your shoulders, you crawled onto the bed and pressed a kiss to Ellie’s head. Already noticing how tired she was, knowing for damn sure she was going to sleep past the time she should.

“I’ll see you in a few hours, baby.” She smiled tiredly, closing her eyes as she pushed her lips out into an exaggerated pouty kiss. You chuckled, pecking her on the lips. “Love you.”

Making your way to the door, you were immediately greeted by Joel and Tommy. At first glance, they seemed to know what you were doing at Ellie’s place. Which immediately has you raise a finger, silencing them. “Don’t say a word.”

The two men chuckled, walking on either side of you as you started on your trek to the front gates. “We weren’t going to, kiddo,” Joel reassured softly, kissing the top of your head.

“We’re working in the North West  post, right?” You inquired, already having forgotten the information after the not-so-rowdy night prior. Remembering vividly how you knocked Seth on his ass for making a not-so-nice comment to Ellie.

“Maria wants up there, yes,” Tommy confirmed. “There’s been too many sightings of infected lately.”

“I say that’s better than ‘em hunters.” Joel pointed out as you nodded in agreement. But something worse awaited you outside the walls. A far fiercer entity that had been building up rage for years. And you and your father were the targets.

“Joel Miller.”

The voice of a girl, who’d you only met minutes prior was drowned out by the ringing of your ears. The shotgun blast blinded your senses as you blinked rapidly. Doing your best to process the bullet wound in your side as well as your dad’s mangled leg by the shotgun round.

You had told both your uncle and father that it wasn’t a good idea to save this one girl. A day could come when saving this one girl could dictate the future. You guys save this one girl, and maybe someone far more important dies. Maybe a family, searching for help in that snowstorm could be in need of your help. That family might’ve been able to be saved if you just let this one girl die. You were playing devil’s advocate, but under the circumstances, you could guarantee both the older men wished to side with you in this situation.

A man held your arms behind your back as you lifted your head to see your Uncle laying unconscious on the ground. Turning your gaze, you found your father pressed up against the sliding doors. Two of these soldiers held him there as his eyes stayed focused on Abby.

“Why don’t you say whatever speech you’ve got rehearsed and get this over with.” The sound of your father's tone seemed like finalization. The signing of a contract coming to an end. You’d felt it the moment you crumbled to the ground from the gunshot, that was bleeding profusely through the articles of your clothing.

But you didn’t have to remember far back to try and piece the reasoning of why these people were doing this. No one hunts down two specific people for the fuck of it. There had to be a reasoning to it, and the one you came up on was Saint Mary’s Hospital.

A shaky and uncontrollable laugh filled the small room with most of the people turning their heads. Found you laughing, pure amusement on your face as you shook your head. “Oh, God. Fuck. You guys are Fireflies, huh?” You inquired, causing a few members to glance at one another. “Right, thought so. I gotta ask, who did I kill that’s got your panties in a twist, sweetheart?”

Abby slowly turned to you, that rage mounting another level as you smiled at her mockingly. “Was it your daddy?”

The instant that the question fell from your lips, the Hispanic guy walked over and punched you in the face. But that did very little to silence your laughter as you whipped your head back, moving the strands of your unkempt hair out of your face. The metallic taste of blood soaking into your tongue as Abby stood over top of you like an animal. But the attempt of intimidation had been long forgotten as you raised a brow.

“I’ll tell you what, Machoman.” You spit out some blood from your mouth, hissing as the faint sting in your stomach. “You are the least intimidating bitch I’ve ever fuckin’ seen. I mean, I’ve faced cannibals and all you’ve faced is fucking dumbells. Did your daddy drop one on you when you were younger?”

There was a steady silence, only your breathy laughs to be heard over the top of Abby’s heavy puffs of air. Hands clenched by her side before she grabbed you by the collar of your shirt and started punching you repeatedly. Each one felt like a hammer to the face as your head continued to be knocked back every time you tiredly raised it. The sound of your father’s yells filling the air coming as muffled to your ear.

Then she stopped, shoving you to the ground where you hissed in pain. Abby grabbed a golf club and instantly got to work on your father as you laid there tiredly. You don’t know how long you laid there, watching your father’s crippled body get beaten on like an animal. Only saving enough strength to stay awake and watch it all play out.

But then there was some wrestling by the door. Too exhausted to turn and see, but able to hear her voice. “You’re going to fucking die!”

Your busted-up face formed a tired smile. A choked laugh fell from your lips as the arguing with the ex-Fireflies came to a stop with them all turning to do. Still holding that same surprise as before. Ellie watched as you carefully lifted yourself up, face scrunching up as you contained a cry from the bullet wound in your side. Leaning against the small couch behind you and looking up at Abby.

“You can kill us,” you told her. “You can do whatever you’d like to our bodies. But I’ll tell you one thing, it ain’t doing shit to bring your precious daddy back.”

Abby didn’t hold back with swinging the club, hitting your square in the cheek. The blow had your mind spiralling as you panted. Face squished to the ground as blood seeped out the corner of your mouth. Eyes slowly blinking as you stared at the tiny dust bunnies on the floor. “He’s going to see you as a monster, sweet cheeks.”

A hand grabbed you by the hair, a yell slipping out past your lips as your head was raised and slammed against the ground. A large splotch of blood grew with each slam of your face as Ellie called out your name. Sobbing out pleads for them to stop this.

And when it did stop, Abby rolled you over onto your back and straddled your waist. Pressing both her large hands to your throat. Staring at your face that had blood all over it with your nose broken and cheek growing from the hit of the club.

But she could see the tears in your eyes, the unusual smile that formed on your lip as you stared right back at her. Some part of Abby had hoped that you and Joel would beg for your lives. Only now, you were going against everything she thought would happen. With your smiles, your evil laughs, and the nightmarish comments, her expectations had been broken with you standing at the forefront.

“You sure this is what your dad would’ve wanted?” You gasped out, feeling the pressure on your throat increase as your eyes started rolling back. So, in a last-ditch effort, you used your hook and stabbed it into Abby’s back. She yelled out in pain, getting off of you as you gasped for air, coughing harshly. Holding your side as a shaky cry fell from your lips.

Turning on your side, you saw Ellie’s tear-stricken face as she sniffled and sobbed out for you. But her eyes flickered to the side, a scream ripping from her lips as your vision went black.

The chirping of birds filled the warm summer air. Your eyes flickered open, instantly raising a hand in an attempt to block out the sun that blinded you. Glancing down at your side, you found only a red splotch in your clothes. No pain, no dread, just peace. Lifting your head, you saw the autumn leaves gracing the ground. A familiar dirt path greeted you. One that was left in your memories that you had long forgotten.

But it drew you in like someone was calling out for you. So, you walked down the path. The sun at your back with the soft breeze moving through the trees. Until you met the clearing of the treeline and landed at the small beach of a lake. A rowboat was beached and flipped over with those familiar engravings of knife grazing the hull.

Brushing a hand over it, you smiled softly. You sighed softly as your eyes shut.

“Hey, Y/n.”

The air inside of your lungs was sucked away as you spun around and found the longing sight of your little sister, Sarah. That beaming smile of hers was still very much there with those baby blues staring up at you. She still had the clothes the day you had last seen her. A long sleeve t-shirt and her pyjama pants.

Your face scrunched up as your lips wobbled. “Sarah.”

That giddy giggle fell from her lips as she ran over to you. You fell to your knee, becoming engulfed in a hug and held the little girl close as possible. Missing her touch and presence as a whole dearly. When the world had been normal, you were inseparable from your sister. And when she died, a piece of you left with her.

A sob wracked your body, pulling her impossibly closer as you shook your head. “I’m sorry for what happened to you,” you wept into her shoulder. “For everything, dad’s lost.”

“Y/n.” Sarah pulled away resting both her hands on your shoulder.

You shook your head. “I should’ve been there. I should’ve protected you. You wouldn’t be dead if I was just there to save you.”

“That’s not your burden to carry.” You shook your head, denying the girl’s words. “It’s not even Daddy’s. None of it was either of your guys’ faults.”

Pursing your lips, you inhaled deeply and glanced up at her. You could be swallowed whole by those beautiful blue eyes. And it felt like you were slipping towards them. “I need to stay with Ellie,” you muttered. “I need to hold her and Uncle Tommy together.”

But Sarah shook her head, smiling softly. “No, you don’t,” she told you softly. “You only think you do. The war’s over, Y/n.”

Sniffling, you shook your head. “We don’t know that.”

Sarah tilted her head, cupping your cheek while her other hand pressed against the center of your chest. “I mean with you.”

[theroundbartable]

I looked at old foto Albums that my mom made and BOY. What the heck happened to me in puberty?!?!

I always assumed I felt normal as a kid. Like, my neighbor friend already had an unhealthy relationship with her own body weight, while I was like, a stick. I wanna say I was a pretty child tho, because I'm a bit vein, but I also know that I didn't really like my appearance while I was a child.

It wasn't something I could "achieve", so I thought it was weird to judge something I had no control over, I simply took myself as I was, although I was an isolated child. The kindergarten report says that I was easy to upset, although not for long, needed a little more time than other's to get stuff right and that I struggled fitting in.

The pictures of me look very happy and joyful tho. Since this is when my traumatic experiences occurred, I imagine that I was better at suppressing it in those early years.

I also had a sugar addiction. I had pocket money, but I was constantly broke due to all the candy. My aunt warned me that I'd get fat if I didn't stop (i was 12-13ish), my parents forced me to eat even if I wasn't hungry (me with threats because I was obedient, my siblings ... Worse because they weren't). I was told candy wasn't real food, so I simply obeyed and stuffed my candy into me anyway. Another problem was that my dad had thrilled into me that "you need to finish what you start" which I translated to bags of chips and other stuff. In addition to all this, I ate when I was upset. As a result: my stomach got bigger and I needed more and more food.

Puberty hit me like a brick.

I wasn't fat per se, but I basically doubled in weight (remember I was a stick, still growing and also estrogen, so it's just a little overweight but definitely noticeable.)

My hair turned darker and weirdly wavy, my eyes turned bad (now that I think of it, it's weird that that started with puberty), so I now wore glasses and braces. I didn't get zits tho. Like maybe 3-5 during certain days during the month but nothing more. And of course, my shame grew, my aggression Levels grew and also my sugar addiction got worse. I isolated myself more.

And I can tell by the pictures. I'm no longer staring into the camera with a laugh. I look down, somewhere else or force a smile that don't reach my eyes. It's so noticeable and it's so... Sad.

I noticed before how in pictures with my friends, I was always further apart from them than they were. Almost as I didn't fully belong.

It's strange to see it so vividly and know how I look now.

I'm by no means a stick, but I'm also not overweight anymore (even if my BMI says I am). I no longer have braces but the sugar did some damage. And lastly, I'm wearing contacts now. I like my eyes. I have blue eyes like people like to describe in fanfictions.

I look more and more like the child from all those years ago. I even managed to unravel the old laugh

[lezbianz]

i so vividly remember one time in like sixth or seventh grade i was really into my chemical romance. because duh i was 12. and you know being the fat nerdy lesbian in any situation is always going to open you up to ridicule, but this is ESPECIALLY true in a weirdly sporty middle school. so anyway kids liked to bully me but not too bad - just make fun of me enough for it to hurt but not enough that i wouldn’t, like, edit their essays for them.

anyway, one day this one kid who’s been routinely asking me out as a joke comes up to me, eyes twinkling with mirth and mischief. and i’m like, oh god, what does this cunt want now? so i’m preparing myself to have to fake-reject him for the fifth time that week, dreading the snickering from the other boys at the mere thought that anyone would find me attractive, when he says to me, in a voice that made it clear he thought he was about to absolutely own me, “hey reg, what the fuck is your chemical romance?”

it’s clear the dude thought i was being cringe and weird by constantly talking about “my chemical romance,” assuming i was like, in some made-up relationship. but oh my god. i was dumbstruck. this was 2016 or 17, my chemical romance was not some underground band that no one had ever heard of, and i just. stood there. unable to process what was happening. so i just looked at him and was like “…it’s a band.”

anyway, he mumbled something or other and walked away, and it really wasn’t a big deal at all, but i still think about that moment. the absolute confidence with which this boy swaggered up to me, ready to #own me for the possibility that i was claiming to have a “chemical romance” with someone, just haunts me. what’s your chemical romance. good god.

[sh4tt3rg1rl]

TAOCC IS AMAZING, and boy has it changed since I first showed up

Aka: Elsie gets really sentimental for once

I’m gonna be honest, this is not the community I expected to end up in on this site. I joined Tumblr about October 29th and expected to end up as maaaaaybe a minor artist. At best. At the time TADC was just “that glitch thing that was blowing up that I thought was pretty good” and I was much more into murder drones anyways.

…Holy crabs, looking back on that…I had no idea what I was gonna end up getting into lol

I randomly followed the @/ragatha1 ask blog at one point, kind of confused as to what an ask blog was but hey, why not? That’s how I found Soup’s gangle blog and boy did things go off the rails. I was…so confused, I showed up smack dab in the middle of the Tiger insanity with no idea who any of these characters or people were. At that point iirc, “TAOCC” wasn’t even the name for the whole thing yet. I made Easton and was like “okay I’ll just have this goofy guy who likes sandwiches, no angst here, maybe he’ll make some friends, I really hope everyone likes him!”

BOY WAS I IN FOR A SURPRISE

I joined my first ever magma at that point as well! And I vividly remember being really confused but just doodling my sona in the corner and then people were like

“Uhhhh who the frick is Elsewhere I like your art :D”

and I was like

“Um

you what”

and thus I joined magma…a lot. Lol. That’s how I got to know soup and you (Xeya) and a few others. I felt so…weirdly new. Like impostor syndrome was in full force. That feeling hasn’t…really ever gone away, tbh.

And since then I’ve figured myself out mostly with only a few embarrassments to my name. I’m really grateful for the people I’ve made friends with, especially Fei, Star, Soup, and Xeya, as well as Kumo and Candy mods. You guys have been lovely to me, and I don’t know how I ever came to deserve that. It’s been rough at times, and I had to/still have to figure out boundaries and how to be assertive basically from scratch. This website still hurts me sometimes, and I accept that I’m a bit odd in some respects. But overall, people have respected that here much more than they do in my actual life. People have respected me here more than they tend to in real life. Before this I could share my writing and art with one person. One. I would go stir-crazy because I would make art and writing and never get to show anyone, which meant I just…spent like an entire year not doing anything. It sucked. And now I will just,..make art and characters for the funsies, and not get scolded for it. I can write incredibly florid descriptions and scenes about stuff like a freaking TOWN’S DESCRIPTION, and people will like it and tell me I’m good at this. I honestly might consider becoming a writer now when I become an adult. I learned that I can be shamelessly self indulgent when writing and people will enjoy it lol. Thank you guys for dealing with that btw lol. I will just MAKE CHARACTERS FOR PEOPLE FOR THE FUNSIES, a willingness I thought I’d all but lost. Like, I saw a 3d printer in my chem class two days ago and went “hmmm yunno what I could give a character in TAOCC a 3d printer for a head and that’d be so cool! Yunno, maybe Xeya would like it if I made that for her.” AND HERE WE ARE I’M CURRENTLY MAKING YOU A CHARACTER WITH A 3D PRINTER FOR A HEAD.

Also, you guys have no idea how grateful I am that you go along with my giant overarching plotlines. Like, my first test of the idea was Dusk’s domain and Sun’s trip to see Northeast, and then I was confident enough that people would care that I made the entire Lull/dungeon thing. The dungeon has been my magnum opus of writing, I put more work into that than almost anything else I’ve ever written. And people actually…respected that. I’m terrible at writing fight scenes, and yet I carried a fight scene for multiple hours with like…20 characters! I DIDN’T THINK I COULD HAVE TWO CHARACTERS FIGHT AND MAKE IT WORK AT ALL! OH MY LANDS I HAVE ACTUAL SELF CONFIDENCE NOW!! AAAAAAAAA-

anyways, that aside lol

it’s been wonderful, really. I feel like the pros far outweigh the cons for me, and the cons for me can be mitigated anyways entirely on my side of things lol. I came to this site looking for a community of people who would appreciate me, stupid flaws, autism, anxiety, writing and all. And I think I got that. And I want to find more, I want to keep going beyond this little bubble, but I want to always come back to this little circle of people. I don’t care how many rps or writing messes I end up in, TAOCC is always going to have a special place in my heart, flaws and all. It’s helped me get through some serious mess in my life, and being excited to come home to whatever insanity these lil guys are up to today makes me happy like almost nothing else.

From the bottom of my heart, thank you.

Thank you for letting this odd moth in, I hope I’ve earned it.

HELL YEAH YOUVE EARNED IT!!!

You've been literally one of the kindest people I've met on the site. One of the most talented too! I've never seen someone write like you and. Honestly. Genuinely. I look up to you in quite a few aspects.

You're funny, kind, caring, skilled, and a great person overall. and im SO FUCKING GLAD YOURE MY FRIEND EEEEE HUGS SPINS YOUUUU

... (kicks feet) and I heard something about a 3d printer head oc youre making for me.... (teary eyed) (/pos) (me when people do things for me. i love yall. sm. love you elsie sm sM SM SM SM SM!!!)