#Dusty is cranky

[westaysilly]

IM HOME!!!!!!

#FINALLY !!!!! #I MISS YOU DRAWING TABLET MWAH #I MISS YOU OLD DUSTY LAPTOP MWAH #I MISS YOU CRANKY BED MWAH #OWWWHH YEAHHH

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

Hold onto me

a/n I think someone suggested something along the lines but tumblr deleted the ask and now last night it hit me again.

summery: You're not really Joel's girl. Or are you? When Joel gets stabbed and the journey to get Ellie to the fireflies takes an unwanted turn. Will you survive to see another day after David gets a hold of you.

warnings: my lack of skills in writing, blood, shot wounds, choking, death, guns, violence, David is a warning himself, sexual assault.

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Heavy. The past couple of days have left you feeling heavy. Nothing made sense. No matter what you did, you simply couldn't find any sort of comfort. The panic still lingered. The light ink of blood—Joel's blood—still coated your palms. As if it had seeped deep within you. As if it had become a part of you. And it had, in a way. Making you restless at night. Jumping up from nightmare after nightmare. A finger pressed onto Joel's pulse point, counting the beats anxiously.

What idiot pulls a knife out of a stab wound? Even amid fear, you couldn't wait for Joel to be able to stay conscious long enough so you could lecture him. Under what rock has he been raised? Neglecting the most basic rule of survival. But then again, he wouldn't care for your opinion. He never did. Maybe because his ego was really big. Or maybe because you were simply no one to him.

Ever since you joined them, Joel has mostly been cold. Sure, occasionally your heart would flutter when he would shrug off his jacket and throw it your way. Or handed you a cup of coffee. Pulled a blanket more over your shoulders when he thought that you were asleep. Or left bits of his food for you to finish when he saw you swaying slightly. Other than that, you were always welcomed with a calculated look. A look that you couldn't read, yet you knew that it didn't carry any real care in it. As if he was waiting for you to mess up so he could finally get rid of you.

You all met in Jackson. Tommy had told you many stories about his older brother. You had been tasked with gathering information about him on your own. But none of the trips had been particularly successful until Joel Miller himself came through the gates of Jackson. "You didn't do him justice, Tommy", you had laughed as the four of them sat down in the food court. "He ain't all old and cranky". The girl beside him, who you later learned was Ellie, had snorted. "He's the definition of cranky", she muttered, earning a frown from Joel.

"Do you think it's getting better?", you looked down instantly. Ellie was rubbing her eyes, still leaning against your side. You pulled the dusty blanket even tighter around her. "His fever is going down", you muttered, rubbing her shoulders in hopes of providing some more warmth. "Does it mean he's dying?", Ellie had been worried sick ever since. She had gone into shock after it all happened. Just sat in the corner. Barely blinking. Then the guilt came. Then tears. Besides fetching snow to break the fever that Joel had, you held her in your arms. Offering her the last and only thing you had — comfort.

"No, Ellie, it doesn't", placing a kiss on her forehead, you rested your cheek on her head with a deep sigh. "I'll go hunt us something to eat and…", you stated firmly, but Ellie cut in almost immediately, "I can go as well. The chances of us getting something if we both go are higher". The girl pulled away from your embrace and now looked straight into your eyes. "I ain't letting you go anywhere alone, especially with a gun", you said, shaking your head. Joel would never agree to that, and you wouldn't either. You were in a bad enough situation. It didn't need to get any worse.

"So we starve…", Ellie said dramatically, throwing her hands in the air. "Are you questioning my hunting skills?", you placed your hand on your chest playfully, pulling the most hurt expression you could manage. It did make Ellie crack a smile for a moment, but her face fell again. "I just want to help somehow", she mumbled. And you knew how she felt. She had been blaming herself for what had happened to Joel. She had been letting the weight of his limp body drag her down. You knew you couldn't do anything about it. She needed Joel's reassurance. Nothing else was going to cut it. "Fine, but you shoot anyone who comes near you", you said, pointing your finger at her. Ellie only nodded.

Joel let out a pained growl, and you instantly looked his way. Ellie had already rushed to the back room to look at the guns, leaving you two alone. "Hey, cowboy", you purred, reaching to change the warm cloth from Joel's forehead. "Don't let her", Joel snarled through gritted teeth. "Unfortunately, you are no longer in charge. Focus on recovering", you tapped his shoulder with a smirk, but he grabbed your wrist instantly, even if it caused it immense pain. "If something happens…", the look on his face said it all. You nodded. "I know you'll skin me alive, Miller. My hearing is perfectly fine".

With two rabbits by your side, you let yourself sit in the snow for a moment. Head in your hands. You hoped. Hoped you all were going to pull through. That you were strong enough to hold the front line until Joel was strong enough to fully boss you around. The truth was, you were mortified. Had been for a while, and then Joel came into your life with his broody attitude, and all of a sudden you felt the safest you've ever been. Even if you just sat in silence. Even if he was annoyed. There was always comfort in his presence. A safety blanket that you naively believed was unbreakable. Until this. And now you were back to being scared.

"Where have you been?", you said angrily, once Ellie walked into the basement. You had been pacing the place for at least an hour. She hadn't returned to your meeting spot. "I got this", Ellie said, pulling out a bundle in her hands. "What, Ellie? Where did you get those?", your body froze at the sight of medicine and a needle. No. No one had access to stuff like that, and if they did, the price for it would be astronomical. "Ellie?", you asked her again in a much sharper tone. "Some man… well, there were two of them", she muttered. "Ellie", you nearly cried out. Guts turned instantly with a sickening feeling.

"They live nearby", your head immediately jerked up to the door at the top of the stairs. "Did they follow you?", you asked as the anxiety started to creep in. "No, I don't know…", now even Ellie's voice trembled slightly as she too looked up. Your lips thinned. Sure, if they didn't follow her, then maybe it was nothing, but there was just that something, that inkling, that told you that something was not right here.

"Right, let's just be grateful then", you said, shaking your head, reaching for the bundle as you stepped closer to Joel, who stirred, opening his eyes just as you fell to your knees beside him. "Wait", Ellie caught your wrist right as you were about to stab the needle through Joel's skin. "I just… Will this hurt him?", her big, scarred eyes meet yours. "Not more than he already is. This will kill down the inflammation", you clasped her palm, squeezing it slightly. "You promise?", she asks quietly. "I can hope", you admitted. Giving Ellie fake hope wasn't something you were willing to do. It would only break her more in the end.

Ellie lay down by Joel right after you pulled his shirt down, bringing the blanket over his body once more. Joel leaned into her, yet his eyes met yours briefly. Something like a silent thank-you lingered. You gave him a little smile before brushing your hands through Ellie's hair. Hoping for a moment of calmness as well.

You suddenly jumped up to the sound of the front door slamming. Jole's arm falls from over your side as you scramble to get up, reaching for a knife. Yet the footsteps sound familiar. Way too familiar, making your muscles ease until a terrified Ellie practically falls from the staircase. "They followed me", but she doesn't look at you. Reaching for Joel's knife and pushing it into his hands. "If anyone comes here, you stab them straight in the neck. You heard me?", she asked the male before turning to you.

"We need to go; we need to distract them so they…", Ellie started to ramble once more as her breathing picked up. "Take the gun, get on the horse", you pushed her forward slightly. Reloading your guns as the banging upstairs rang out. Right as Ellie was about to jump into the saddle, you grabbed her by the shoulders, "You go straight for the woods, lose the horse, and never turn around". Her body was visibly shaking, yet she muttered, "And you?", "I'll be okay kiddo", you lean in to press a kiss to her forehead as you lift the garage door.

Everything that followed after that was a blur. You took out every single man that stood in Ellie's way. You smirked to yourself as she managed to disarm a man with a shot. Maybe it was just fool's luck, yet you couldn't help but feel proud. More than happy that you convinced Joel to give her a couple of lessons prior. You saw Ellie flying off the horse as one of the guys shot the animal a couple of times. Hitting the ground with a thud and sending all of your senses on fire. "Hey, fucker, pick someone more your size", you fired a bullet into his head carelessly. Ellie let out a scream just as the man fell to the ground. But you gave it no second thought, yanking her up by the collar to stand. "Run", you barked out, not even recognizing your voice. She staggered back like a scared animal before she took off. Right as another shot rang out, you cried out in pain as a bullet pierced your thigh. You turned around, teeth-gritting against one another. Aiming your gun at the two males there. You managed to shoot one of them, and then something hard came into contact with your head, and everything went dark.

Blissful is the state of not knowing. When you can't identify if you are dead or have already entered the afterlife, even if you weren't sure that shit was a thing in this broken world. And it's the sharp pain that ripped your eyes open as you choked out a cry. Head hitting the wall behind you as the unfamiliar faces filled your vision.

"And I thought you were a goddess while you were sleeping", the male pulled his fingers out of your wound, licking them eagerly. "But your eyes", you blinked a couple of times, trying to figure out where you were. Or what was happening? Have they got Ellie too? Or did she manage to escape? Was she with Joel now? Safe and sound. You clenched your jaw, starting ahead of yourself.

"Little lamb, do you feel blessed?", you knitted your eyebrows together, turning your head to the side so you could escape the male's fingers touching your skin. "When I see you bleeding out in front of me, I will", you crocked out. To your surprise, he only smiled and said, "Ah, I knew your soul called to mine; you have the devil inside you". You couldn't move because of the chains, which left you vulnerable to his touch all over your body. Yet your face stayed cold. Unreadable. Untouchable. "I'm David", the male put a hand on his chest, yet the smile made you want to vomit. "Where's your scary partner, huh?", he leaned closer to you. "Probably out there doing scary partner things", you sassed away. David's face bloomed with a smirk.

"You can have it all. Be a true leader. Be mine", he continued, brushing his hands through your hair, but you turned to the side, spitting right at his face, "I'd rather eat my shit". David's face darkened as he clenched his fists. Turning away from you, he let out a sigh, saying, "You are in the dark still. Don't worry, I'll get you back to the light, doll." They turned quickly and stabbed a needle into your neck, and just like before, the world around you turned into nothingness almost immediately.

Jole had been beating up the two males in front of him for what felt like hours. "I'll ask you one last time. Where are they?", Joel pulled a handful of the man's hair, pulling his face up so he would face him. "Man, please, please", the pleading continued. The pleading that was driving Joel insane led him nowhere. "Where are they?", Joel snarled, pulling harder. "The town", "What fucking town?", the booming of Joel's voice echoed through the room right as his left fist came in contact with the side of the male's face.

It was a nightmare. The worst one he had ever had. The last thing he saw was Ellie's mortified face. He saw you ushering her outside. The slight tremble in your own hands didn't go unnoticed by Joel. And now he had no idea where you were. Were you even alive? He would burn the whole town to the ground if any of you were hurt. No, Joel wouldn't allow himself to make the same mistake twice.

He felt guilty. So guilty. He needed to find you somehow. Even in his slightly delusional state, Joel felt you. Felt your gentle touch. The way you squeezed his hand. The way you ran your fingers through his hair. It was an odd feeling. Something Joel had long forgotten. He had no recollection of the last time someone cared about him. Yet alone reach for him in such tender ways. Joel often cursed himself for the frustrated remarks that he threw your way. He didn't mean them. He just didn't know how to approach this.

"Joel", the voice said, making him blink, and he only now realized that he had been beating the man without stopping all this time. And now his disheveled body lay limp in front of him. Joel turned around quickly, his body running cold at the sight in front of him. "God, Ellie", he blurted out, crossing the room in a couple of steps. Bringing the girl to his body. Feeling the fear easing. Feeling her smaller hands holding onto his coat. Feeling the way she trembled.

"Are you hurt? Did they do anything?", Joel pulled away eventually, cupping Ellie's face as he looked her over. The girl only shook her head. "They took her", only now did Joel notice Ellie's tear-stained face and the lip that still quibbled. "What", Joel breathed out, silently urging her to speak. "They she… she saved me and just.. they", Ellie looked behind her, pointing somewhere, and Joel quickly turned her face so he could face her.

"Hey, slow down, baby girl, slow down". With a couple of breaths in, Ellie finally spoke up again. "They dragged her off, Joel". Her voice was desperate. Just as desperate as when Joel got stabbed. You and Joel had become her whole world. She never had anyone to rely upon, and now you both were so important to her that every time anything happened to any of you, it threatened her whole existence. "Do you know where they took her", Joel asked calmly, never dropping eye contact with the girl. Ellie nodded her head, Joel did the same, "We'll get her back; don't worry about it, kiddo. I won't let them do anything".

You woke up loopy. Head pounding. There was no recollection of what had happened. Until minor snippets started to explode in your brain. You tilted your head up. None of the clothes were on your body; you were only in your underwear. Your body went cold. Heart beating faster. A sickening feeling rose as you turned over to vomit. Shaking violently.

The door to the room opened, making you flinch. You watched the man who came in with fear. You watch him push the tray of food through the lower part of the cell, trying to stay as far away from you as he could. As if you were diseased. As if you were the one who was insane here. "I can't reach it", you muttered. "Please", you begged. He looked back at the door. Then at you. David must have given him strict orders, and if he was hesitating so much, the consequences for breaking those orders had to be severe.

"Please", you begged again, and with a sigh, he reached for the keys that dangled from his pants, unlocking the door. Then stepped in. "Can you… Could you help me sit up?", you asked, lifting your hands slightly and reaching towards him. "You own my head", he bit back before licking his lips. You mimicked his expression quickly. "Of course", you breathed out, "I'll even choke you". You smile sweetly at him before you move the metal shackles around his throat, pushing against his skin. You wrapped your whole body around him. Like a snake holding its prey. Choking out the last drops of air. You let the tears stream down your cheeks as you leaned back, pressing even harder.

The moment the choked-out plea for help died down and he sank against your body, you quickly reached for the keys in his hands before rolling him away from you. You kept asking yourself… What would Joel do? How would he stay calm? You had seen him completely dissociated while he shot people who meant any harm to the people he cared for. The question now was - Would you be able to do the same?

Still, with only your underwear on and a throbbing leg that without a doubt would get infected eventually, you stumbled out of your little cage. Clothes should have been your priority considering the cold weather outside, but you just didn't care and couldn't care. You could smell other people on your skin. Feel the fantom sensation of their fingers. You needed to get out.

"Where do you think you're going", the sound of that voice made bile rise in your throat. You quickly turned around before you darted into the room closest to your right, shutting the door. "You bitch", David barked from the other side of the door, rattling the handle frantically. You needed to think. Needed to make a plan. Your eyes scanned the room, falling onto the door across it. Pulling them open, you stumbled into what appeared to be the kitchen.

Your hands rested on the counter for support at the sight that was in front of you. Human bodies hang from the ceiling. Some were missing parts of their bodies. Parts that, without a doubt, filled the buckets in the back of the room. "Don't worry, you won't become the next supper", you felt David's arms sneaking around your waist as he pulled you back into his body. With an inhumane-like growl, you staggered forward, reaching for the butcher knife.

"Get your hands off me", you screamed, every word met with a knife that David managed to dodge the first couple of times before the blade hit his flesh. His cries blended into static silence. You couldn't even hear yourself. The blood slowly coats your body. But you didn't stop. Couldn't stop. Until the knife slipped out of your hands and you finally saw the body in front of you. A choked-out sob slipped past your lips. Your eyes darted to your hands. Hands that didn't feel like they were yours.

You were so lost in your thoughts that you didn't even hear the door being pushed over. You did not hear your name being called out. Only when two hands reached for your shoulders did you jerk back, once again reaching for the bloody knife. "It's just me, just Joel", his hands were in the air as he slowly moved closer to you. The blade slipped to the floor, and you darted forward, arms wrapping around Joel's neck as you buried your naked and trembling body into his chest.

"I'm tired. I tried", you mumbled through the tears. Joel pressed you tighter in his arms, "Shhh, it's okay. I've got you", his voice was low. It was the kind of low that made most people think twice, but to you, it was so comforting. "I tried, Joel,", you repeated yet again, pulling away slightly, and Joel was quick to catch your face in his hands. "I know, darling". And of course, he knew. He saw the bodies that were left in the snow. He saw the purple-faced male in the cell. He saw your torn clothes. The blood was all over the cell and the corridor. The smell of blood in the air was thick. So thick that he could practically taste it, and this whole time Joel was trying to keep the flame of hope burning. To keep believing that you would give them hell. That you would not yield. That you would not let them break you.

And now here you were. Bruised. Covered in cuts. With a swollen thigh. Blood all over you. Trembling. And even if the fact that you were breathing was supposed to be enough, Joel couldn't help but feel the need to butcher every single breathing creature in this building. "I tried to be strong", you croaked out, right as your legs gave out. Joel was quick to catch you in his arms, saying, "And now you don't have to because I'm never letting go of you". Your eyes met his, and you knew that Joel meant every word that he said. You wanted to open your mouth. To tell him. Tell him how much you need him. And how scary it was to be there without him. But your body fully shuts down.

Joel quickly shrugged off his jacket before he wrapped it tightly around your body, reaching to lift you into his arms. "That's it. You'll be okay", he mumbled against your hair before carefully stepping out of the room. There and then, Joel realized one thing. One truth that he tried to ignore for so long. When you love someone, you have no control. You are powerless against all the feelings in your body. And if you truly want to love, you have to let that feeling wash over you.

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TLOU taglist: @theslytherinwriter @daddysfavoritesexkitten @randomstory56 @woofgocows @ohthemisssery

#joel miller x reader #joel miller imagine #joel miller x you #the last of us imagine #the last of us x reader #tlou x reader #tlou imagine #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal x reader #joel miller

[stevie-petey]

episode four: the body

For the second time within a week, Steve Harrington almost kills you with his stupid BMW. Granted, the first time wasn’t necessarily his fault due to your crying, but this time just felt personal.  “Hey! Henderson!” “Jesus christ-” You’re biking to the Wheeler’s, lost in thought as the sun begins to set, when stupid Harrington scares the shit out of you.  His unexpected shouting causes you to swerve your bike towards his car and he has to slam on his brakes to avoid hitting you.  “Do you, like, have a fantasy about me hitting you with my car?”

summary: you basically have a "no babe don't cry over ur dead brother ur so sexy" moment with jonathan, hopper plays mr love doctor (cute date idea: coffin shopping), and somehow nancy wheeler makes you realize that you're a horrible babysitter and an even bigger idiot. meanwhile: steve harrington is frustratingly charming.

rating: general but plenty of cursing as usual.

warnings: cursing, fem!reader, and use of y/n.

words: 8k

before you swing in: hello ! happy eve of a spending time with loved ones, however ya choose to celebrate or not celebrate and all that jazz. i hope y'all are well and doing okay :) a LOT happens in this chapter, so buckle up. so many feelings and revelations my god. also this chapter is one i really loved writing purely because i got to explore more of steve and reader so ,,, ya welcome ! (hopefully i was able to clear up jonathans thoughts and how he processes, i really want it to come across as someone hurt and overwhelmed rather than just him being cranky lmao). anyways, enjoy !!

-

It’s a quiet morning.

You roll over, the sunlight streaming through your curtains, and for a moment you forget. It’s a blissful moment, sweet naivety that strokes your cheek and coaxes your eyes open. As you throw your arms over your head and stretch, last night’s events haven’t caught up to you quite yet. 

Then you feel Jonathan’s body next to yours and for a moment you’re confused. He never sleeps in your bed whenever he spends the night, being ever the gentleman. No matter how many times you offer, he always insists on respecting your mother’s wishes and sleeping on the giant beanbag chair within your room, and it always makes your heart warm. 

Your mother had specifically bought the beanbag for Jonathan when you were thirteen. He had been spending more and more nights at your home, sneaking in through your window to avoid his parents fighting. At first he would simply fall asleep on your carpet, despite your many reassurances that he could sleep in your bed, so when your mom unexpectedly barged into your room one morning and saw him lying face down on the ground, she freaked. 

Once you had explained everything to her (with Jonathan’s permission), she had shoved you guys into her car, dropped him off at his house, and then found the beanbag at a garage sale for $10. 

“This way, he’ll have a place to sleep that’s soft and cozy, away from my young daughter,” she had said during the drive home. You had covered your face in embarrassment at her implication, but you were also incredibly proud to call her your mom at that moment. She may be overbearing at times, but she was the kindest woman you’ve ever met. 

You rub your eyes and glance at the bean bag that sits between your bed and wall, its dusty blue color almost glowing in the early morning light. Then you glance at Jonathan, who has woken up before you, and notice the redness in his eyes and the dark circles now darker than ever. 

Then it all comes rushing back to you. 

Will’s body in the quarry. 

Holding your brother as he mourned his friend. 

El, so quiet and shy and sweet, running away after your cruel dismissal. 

Jonathan showing up to your window hours later, broken and devastated. 

Then, late into the night, the two of you falling asleep, side by side in your bed, both needing each other more than ever before. 

The two of you get ready without saying anything. You hand Jonathan some spare clothes of his that you keep in a drawer before giving him some space as you go and take a shower. You spend longer than usual getting ready, but you pay no attention to the clock. There’s no way you’re going to school today. You’re not leaving Jonathan alone for even a second. 

Jonathan finishes getting ready before you do and waits in your room. Neither of you have said anything yet, last night being too fresh in your memories, but words aren’t needed between the two of you. 

You take his hand and lead him into your kitchen and wordlessly hand him a banana. He stares at you, and you stare back, silently challenging him to decline the food. He needs to eat. You’ve noticed how thin he’s gotten with everything happening. 

He sighs, knowing he won’t win this fight, and takes a bite out of the banana in a mocking manner, but you’re just relieved he’s eating. 

You grab your own breakfast before writing a note for your mom, informing her that you’ll be with Jonathan today and promising to make up any missed assignments as soon as you can. Then you quietly go into Dustin’s room to check up on him, but his bed is empty. You glance at his alarm clock and note the early hour, he doesn’t normally leave for school for another thirty minutes, which makes you frown. 

Where the hell did the kid run off to?

An uneasy feeling settles over you, but you don’t have time to question anything. Knowing Dustin, he ran off to school earlier than usual to see his friends and distract himself from last night. While your mom offered you both to stay home for the rest of the week due to Will’s death, neither of you have ever been good at staying put and dealing with your emotions.

Wherever your brother is, you know he needs his space.

Once everything is settled, you join Jonathan in his car and drive to his place. While he never explicitly asked you to this morning, you know that you’re going to his house with him to help him deal with his mother and the funeral preparations. 

He doesn’t have to ask, and you don’t have to tell him that you’ll help. 

You both just know. 

About halfway to his place, Jonathan finally speaks. 

“The cops say that Will crashed his bike and fell into the quarry,”

“Jonathan, we don’t have to talk about it right now-”

“My mom doesn’t believe that he’s dead. She-she insists that he’s in the walls, that he can speak through-through… Christmas lights.”

His voice shakes as he speaks, and you can’t tell if it’s due to grief or anger. 

“Will is dead and my mom chooses to believe that there’s some monster in our walls that took him.”

“A monster?” you think about El and her powers and the fear on the boys’ faces when she pulled out the Demogorgon piece. Then you remember the other night at the Byers’ home when Joyce came running outside as the lights were flickering wildly. Her fear had been genuine. 

“A fucking monster that’s hiding in our walls. She wouldn’t… she wouldn’t listen, Y/N. I tried talking to her, to calm her down, but she just…” His words fade off, and he clenches his jaw as tightens his hands around the steering wheel. 

You’re not sure what to say. It��s a tough situation, a fucking heartbreaking one, and it’s all so unfair. Jonathan needs his mom, but his mom needs Will. 

You rest your hand behind his head and allow your fingers to rub circles against his skin. He leans into your touch, and for now this is all you can do. 

The state of the Byers’ home has only gotten worse since the last time you were there. There’s now letters painted on the wall and string lights placed all throughout the house. There’s also clothes in random corners and trash thrown around. 

Jonathan had been staying in this house alone, watching his mother spiral. Your stomach twists with guilt. 

You should’ve been there more for him, but instead you allowed your petty need to help everyone distract you from what’s important. 

Joyce is passed out on the couch with an ax clutched between her hands, which breaks your heart even more. Jonathan walks over to wake her up and you give the two of them some privacy as you head into the kitchen to make Joyce some breakfast. 

Their fridge is barren, but you aren’t surprised. You make do with the few eggs you find and get to work; it isn’t much, but it’ll have to do. As you prepare breakfast, you notice a stack of Will’s drawings on the kitchen table, which causes you to gag with remorse. 

There’s still so much of Will within these walls, his entire childhood still locked inside, untouched, and yet the house lacks his presence. 

He’s gone. 

– 

You wait with Hopper in the morgue waiting room, nervously tapping your foot and frantically trying to distract yourself with a comic. The words blur together in your head and the images float around. You can’t focus on anything. For once, Spidey’s quips and banter can’t distract you from reality. 

Not only are you incredibly worried for Joyce and Jonathan, but the thought of Will’s body being a wall away from you sends chills down your spine. You can’t imagine what’s happening behind the doors, and you’re secretly relieved that you’ll never know. 

“What’s taking so long?” Hopper’s voice breaks you from your thoughts.

You put your comic down and listen, figuring that it’s best if you’re caught up on everything so that you can store away any useful information for later. 

The front desk lady sighs. “Well, everything’s been a bit chaotic around here without Gary.”

This catches Hopper’s attention. “Without Gary?”

“I thought you knew. Those men from State, they… they sent Gary home last night.”

Now this catches your attention. Why would the State replace the town’s coroner? 

“So who did the autopsy?” 

“Someone from State.” 

Hopper looks at you, almost as if to ask if you’re also hearing this, and you give him a slight nod. It’s odd, really damn odd. 

“Why would they send someone for a little boy?” You ask Hopper, but he only shakes his head in response. 

In the back of your mind, you think about what El had warned you of. The bad men, the people she has to hide from… it didn’t make sense at the time, but now…

Your thoughts are cut off as Jonathan runs out the door, his hand over his mouth, and you immediately get up to help him outside. He throws up against the wall outside, and you wince at the smell. You’ve never been good with people getting sick, but Jonathan needs you right now, so you rub soothing circles on his back as he throws up. Once he’s done, you head back inside and wait for Joyce. 

You offer Jonathan a tissue before coaxing him to rest his head on your shoulder. Having nothing else to do, yet urgently wanting to help, you begin to read him some panels from your comic. He doesn’t say anything, so you take it as a sign to keep going. Your voice is hoarse from all your crying, but you read aloud anyways. 

Hopper watches your interaction with a small interest. You don’t notice his curious eyes and the way they seem to glint with sincerity. In his eyes, the two of you will get together soon enough. 

After a couple minutes, Hopper finally asks Jonathan how Joyce is holding up. The boy straightens up, but grabs your hand to steady himself, and responds as best as he can. He explains the lights, the letters on the wall, everything. 

“She’s had anxiety problems in the past, but this…? I don’t know.” He takes a shaky breath, and you draw reassuring patterns on the back of his hand. “I’m worried it could be… god, I don’t know.”

“She’s grieving,” you remind him, and he nods. 

“Yeah, she’s grieving, but she’ll be okay. We’ll be okay; my mom, she’s tough.”

“Like Spider-Man,” you say, though you don’t really mean to. You’re tired and the words just slip out, but Jonathan begins to laugh. 

“Yeah, like Spider-Man, you’re right. Thanks, bug.” 

“Anytime, bee.” 

Jonathan smiles at you, still softly laughing, and it’s then that you realize. He hasn’t laughed in days, he’s hardly even smiled, and yet here he is, smiling at the stupid nickname you gave him and laughing at the stupid joke you didn’t even mean to say; you realize you’d do anything to get him to laugh again, to give you that smile that he’s only ever reserved for you. He squeezes your hand and his eyes shine for a moment with a familiar warmness that has always made you weak. 

It hits you like a cold, cruel wave on a harsh winter day. 

You’re in love with Jonathan. 

Fuck.

It’s horrible timing, and you feel sick with guilt for realizing that you love your best friend merely hours after his brother has died, but now it’s all you can think about. 

You love him, you love him more than you’ve ever loved anything before, but you can’t tell him. It wouldn’t be fair, and you don’t have the time. 

You’re thankful when Hopper begins to talk again, reiterating that Joyce is tough, so that you have the time to process your newfound feelings. 

Then Joyce comes crashing through the door, screaming about how whatever is in the other room isn’t Will, ignoring everyone who tells her to calm down. Both you and Jonathan stand up to calm her down, your comic dropping to the ground in the process, but she doesn’t listen and instead runs outside. 

“Mom!” Jonathan follows after her. 

You sigh and tuck your hair behind your ears before picking up the comic. You know that Jonathan needs to be alone with Joyce right now, give them some privacy, it’s a personal matter. More personal than anything else, and yet you also selfishly don’t want to be near him for a few moments so you can collect yourself as well. 

As you’re gathering your things, Hopper clears his throat. 

“Do you love him?”

You freeze, having not expected such a personal question. You’ve only just realized your feelings for him, how the hell has Hopper already figured it out? “What does it matter? His brother is dead and his mom is losing it.”

Hopper rubs his hand over his face, giving you a warning look. “But do you love the kid?”

It’s the way he says it, like it means life or death, that has you respond, “I do.”

“Take care of him, then.” He looks you in the eyes as he says it, urging you to understand the weight of his words, and you do. 

You’ve heard about how his daughter had died and his wife divorced him soon after. They’d only ever been rumors to you, but now you know that they’re true. He’s telling you to take care of Jonathan, that your love for him means that you have to take care of him in a way that no one else can. 

In a way, you suppose that you and Hopper aren’t so different after all, and you gain a new sense of respect for the man. 

You swallow deeply and nod at him before excusing yourself to follow after Jonathan and Joyce. 

– 

The mother and son in question are a few blocks down the street, Joyce waving her son away as he follows her with the car. 

You sigh. 

This day definitely sucks. 

Running up to them is a pain in the ass, honestly. You get that you gave them some privacy, but damn. Did Jonathan seriously have to take the car as well? 

When you finally catch up, he’s parking. “Hey, what are you-” 

He doesn’t spare you a glance as he turns the engine off and runs after his mom. 

“Seriously?” You groan, clutching at a stitch in your side from running. Usually you’re a great runner, actually choosing to go for a run whenever you’re particularly stressed out or anxious. However with the shitshow that this week has been, you haven’t gone on your morning run in a while and you’re starting to feel the effects of being out of practice. 

Joyce, being surprisingly fast, is hard to catch up with, but you do your best as Jonathan sprints ahead of you. When he finally reaches her, he grabs at her jacket with a determined look in his eyes. 

You hang back, now regretting the fact that you left the coroner’s office in the first place. 

“Mom, stop!” 

“Just go home, Jonathan.”

“No, this is not an okay time for you to shut down.”

“Shut down… what-” The confusion in Joyce’s eyes is enough to make you feel Jonathan’s frustration as well. You feel for the woman, you really do, but she has another son to worry about. Jonathan is still here, he’s lost his own baby brother, he needs his mom now more than ever.

But Joyce, too lost in her own grief and desperation, can’t see that. 

“We have to deal with this, mom. We have to deal with the funeral!” You’ve never heard Jonathan raise his voice at his mom before, but after days of begging for her attention, you’re proud of him for defending himself.

The word “funeral” seems to snap Joyce out of her daze and once again she goes on her tangent about how Will’s body isn’t really back at the morgue, that he’s still alive, and Jonathan’s anger in his voice makes you ache. 

As he and his mom continue to yell at one another, a few nosy people in the town area stand and watch. They whisper to each other, no doubt about how Will’s death has made Joyce Byers crazy, and you kick a few rocks at them. 

“Fuck off! At least pretend that you aren’t a bunch of nosy assholes like most decent people do.” A woman sneers at you, but you wave your arms above your head, “Oh! Scary! Get fucked!” 

Eventually they do as they’re told and walk away from the screaming mother and son, which pleases you. 

You really hope that random lady wasn’t a patron of Bookstrordinary though. 

“Yeah, well, while you’re talking to the lights, Y/N and I will be planning a funeral for Will!” Jonathan’s voice is laced with bitterness as he screams at his mother, breaking your heart even more. “I’m not letting him sit in that freezer another day!” 

Joyce storms off, but you notice that her shoulders shake with tears as she leaves. 

It’s such a devastating situation, and while you’re also frustrated with the way she’s been treating Jonathan, you also know that maybe her craziness isn’t exactly “crazy”. El is still out there, even if you’re not sure where, and you think about how she was able to control the comic book and the game pieces. The static electricity you felt in the air when she used her powers, the same static you felt at the Byers’ home a few nights ago when Joyce came running outside with the lights flashing and Will’s song playing on the radio.

But then you think about how El promised that Will was alive. 

He isn’t; you see his dead body every time you close your eyes. 

So really, what is there to believe?

Lost in thought, you don’t notice Jonathan walking towards you until he grasps at your arm and flings you along back to the car with him. He’s breathing heavily and you notice that he’s shaking. He’s in no condition to drive. 

As you near the car you quickly reach around and grab his keys from his pocket before running over to the driver’s side and throwing yourself into the seat. Jonathan hates when you drive the car, not because you’re a bad driver, but because some part of him truly believes it’s impolite to make a girl drive. 

As cute as you think his chivalry is, today you couldn’t give more of a damn. 

Jonathan stands outside your door. “Y/N-”

“Nope, no time to argue, Byers. Get in.” 

“But-” 

“In.”

He does as he’s told, albeit with some attitude, but eventually the two of you are off. Without having to ask, you drive to the local funeral home. While you and Jonathan are similar in many ways, the one thing that pulls you together is planning. You both cling onto the stability that planning provides, and right now Jonathan is clinging onto his responsibilities for Will’s funeral.

Like he told his mom earlier, you and him have a funeral to plan. 

The funeral home is closer to the edge of Hawkins, so the drive is a longer one. Along the way Jonathan slowly begins to calm down, untensing his shoulders and releasing his clenched jaw. You let him take all the time he needs, thankful that for now you have some time to yourself to reflect over today’s revelation.

You love Jonathan. 

Those three words are heavy within your chest, and you almost don’t want to think about them, but you know that sooner or later you’ll have to. You glance at Jonathan, the late fall sun casts a warm glow on his face that for a brief moment brings back the boy you knew only a week ago, before everything changed. Then he turns to face you and you see the red in his eyes, his cheeks sunken in, and you know that you don’t have the time to unravel whatever you feel for him. 

He needs his best friend right now.

Jonathan’s voice breaks you from your thoughts, his voice cracking a bit from disuse. “Can we talk about yesterday?”��

You cast him a quick glance. “Yesterday?”

“Our… our fight, I guess.” 

“Oh,” you shift your hands on the steering wheel, now suddenly painfully aware of the silence within the car. “We don’t have to right now, bee. We should be focusing on the funeral arrangements.” 

Your voice catches on the word “funeral”, it still hasn’t sunk in yet that Will is really gone. 

“Bug, for the past eighteen hours all I’ve been thinking about is Will,” he takes a shaky breath and you gently place a hand on his, encouraging him to keep talking, “but when I’m not thinking about him… I’m thinking about you and what-what you said yesterday.” 

“I said a lot yesterday-” 

Jonathan gives you a pleading look. “Please just let me get this out, okay?”

You purse your lips but remain silent. 

“I will never, ever deserve you. This week and my actions have proven that. This isn’t some pathetic attempt to make you pity me, I was an asshole to you and I recognize that. You love people in a way that terrifies me, Y/N. You’re my best friend and I think I would actually die if I ever lost you.”

A snort escapes your lips, “you probably would.”

“I definitely would, but this isn’t about me. I’m so, so sorry for how I’ve been treating you lately and the fact that you’re driving me to a funeral home after watching my mom have a meltdown in the town square without even batting an eye is all the more proof that you’re too good for me.” 

“I wouldn’t say too good, but yeah. Close enough.”

“It’s more than enough, bug. That’s what terrifies me: I’m afraid that I’ll never be able to repay you for all that you’ve done for me, even before Will disappeared; you’ve been taking care of me since we were twelve.”

His words hang in the air as you allow them to wash over you. There’s so much you want to disagree with, namely the fact that he doesn't deserve you, but you know that he wouldn’t want to hear your arguments. 

Again you think about how similar the two of you are, and while you both give your all to the people that you love, your love comes freely while Jonathan has grown up believing that it comes with conditions. It’s never been a problem in your relationship until now, but you guess with how much you’ve been overcompensating for everything, the need to return it all has caught up with him. 

Finally, you speak. “You feel that you can’t accept my help because I’ve already done enough for you. Is that it?”

“Yeah,” Jonathan takes a deep breath. “I know it’s stupid, especially because I’m asking for your help right now with the funeral preparations, but…”

“I understand, but we’ll get through it,” you pull into the funeral home parking lot and turn the car off. “We always do, right?” 

“Right,” Jonathan’s smile is a weak one, but you accept it nonetheless. 

“Now, you ready to go look at children’s coffins like real men and women do?” 

He laughs at your poor attempt at a joke, but even he can admit that objectively the entire situation is morbid. “Only real best friends go coffin shopping together.” 

“My thoughts exactly, good sir.” Then, before you forget, you reach over and whack Jonathan’s head with the back of your hand. 

“Ow! What was that for?”

You shrug your shoulders, “ask Nancy.”

And with that, you unbuckle your seatbelt and head into the funeral home, trusting that Jonathan will follow eventually enough. Things aren’t exactly the same between the two of you, especially with your newfound feelings for him, but it’s a start. 

“I deserved that,” you hear Jonathan grumble, which makes you smile. 

You’ll take whatever you can get.

– 

You spot Nancy before Jonathan does. 

It wasn’t intentional, really, but the funeral home director was droning on and on about the different wood selections for coffins and finishes that you can customize and it all makes you want to throw up; the coffins before you are so small, you weren't really paying attention in the first place. 

She stands in the doorway and motions for you to get Jonathan’s attention, who is deeply focused on everything the old man is saying. A part of you wants to ignore the girl, but the scared look on her face tells you that this is something serious. 

You nudge your shoulder against Jonathan’s and point at Nancy; he excuses the two of you as you walk towards her. 

Jonathan shoves his hands in his pockets, a bit guarded. “Hey,”

“Hey, your mom, um… said you’d be here.” 

“You talked to Mrs. Byers?” You ask, feeling a sudden possessiveness over the woman. Sure, you were kind of okay sharing Jonathan with Nancy so long as she was with Harrington, but Joyce? She’s like a second mother to you.

It made you uneasy that Joyce even talked to her in the first place. 

Nancy tilts her head at you. “Yeah, it was only for a brief moment though. She seemed pretty… distracted.” 

“No shit. Her son died, Nancy.” 

The girl flinches a bit at your tone, which causes Jonathan to yank at your sleeve and shove you behind him. “Ignore her, we’ve had… Well, it’s been a long day.” 

You feel your shoulders drop and unclench your fists. “Sorry, is everything okay? Is it the boys?”

“No, they’re fine, I just,” Nancy’s eyes shoot towards you, uncertain, before directing them towards Jonathan. “Can we talk for a second?”

The photos Nancy shows you makes your blood run cold. They start with Barb sitting alone by the pool, but slowly she pulls out more and more pieces of the torn picture to create a terrifying image with a shadow-like figure looming over her friend. 

Jonathan tries to sum the shadow up to lens distortion, but you know that he’s wrong. Nancy asks more questions, trying to figure out exactly what has happened to Barb, but all you can think about is El. 

You check the time on your watch and curse. It’s late afternoon now, you’ve been gone with Jonathan since early this morning. Dustin hadn’t been in his room when you left and you stupidly assumed that he’d gone off to school. Now, seeing the picture of Barb and that thing… Something is so goddamn wrong. 

“The cops think that she ran away,” Nancy says. 

“Just like they did with Will,” you’re whispering more to yourself than to them, but Jonathan hears you anyway. 

“Maybe she did run away-” 

Nancy shakes her head. “No, she wouldn’t do that. They don’t know Barb. When I went back to Steve’s… I thought I saw something.”

Your head shoots up. “Nancy, what did you see?”

“Some weird man,” the urgence in your voice confuses the girl, but you silently push her to keep talking, “or… I don’t know what it was.”

Both you and Jonathan are quiet afterwards for very different reasons. 

He’s quiet because he probably thinks Nancy is crazy, just like his mom. 

You’re quiet because you’re currently afraid you’ve accidentally left your idiotic brother and his friends and El alone with very real monsters and possible bad men. The figure Nancy saw… El being terrified of bad people finding and hurting her…

Well shit. 

“I’m sorry, I-I shouldn’t have come here today-”

You stop Nancy from leaving. “No, you should stay… I think,” you look at Jonathan, nervous for how he may react to what you’re about to say. “I think I might have an idea of what you saw last night. A lot has happened since Will disappeared, things that I’m still trying to understand, but I think I know where to start finding an explanation.” 

Jonathan turns to you. “What? Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Technically I did try telling you a few nights ago but then you yelled at me and threw a jacket at my face-” 

“You threw a jacket at Y/N?” Nancy asks, which you and Jonathan ignore. 

“But for now I can’t tell you anything else. I made a promise, and I’m not sure I’m right or even sane for considering it an explanation, but we need to leave. Now.”

“A promise? To who?” There’s an edge of hurt in Jonathan’s voice and you desperately wish you could explain more to him, but now isn’t the time. Not with Nancy sitting between you two and her own brother involved. You don’t want to cause any unnecessary worry for her; right now she needs to focus on Barb. You’ll wrangle in the boys, it’s your fault they’re even alone right now with El.

“I can’t exactly say who, but just trust me, okay? Again: I really hope I’m just insane and worried about nothing and that this will all be an embarrassing laugh for us later.”

“Y/N-”

“Jonathan, we need to go.” 

“‘We’?” Nancy now speaks up, seemingly fed up by your vague exchange with Jonathan.

You try to collect yourself and pretend like you have some amazing plan. “Yes, we. Jonathan will take you to the photo developing room at school and see if you can make the pictures clearer. On the way there, he’ll drop me off at home so I can grab my bike and head out.”

“And what will you be doing?” The boy asks.

“Tracking down my brother, unfortunately.” 

He gives you a doubtful look. “C’mon, you can’t expect me to just let you run off on your own without more of an explanation.” 

You know he’s right, but you just… you can’t tell him about El and the bad men yet. You can’t. Not until you know for sure what the hell is happening. 

“I’m sure it’s nothing… but just in case, I really need to find Dustin, okay?” 

I’m a really, really bad babysitter, you think. 

Jonathan opens his mouth again as if to argue, but you hold your hand up to silence him. You really don’t want to waste time fighting with him. He has to trust you on this, whether he likes it or not. 

He sighs with defeat, “Just be safe, please.”

You also really don’t want to put anyone else in danger. It’s bad enough that you allowed the boys to get dragged into this mess, but you refuse to drag your best friend in as well. But really, who knows? Maybe you’re just a regular idiot who believes in fairy tales and monsters, not some idiot who leaves three overly naive boys alone with a girl with superpowers. 

God you hope you’re just a regular idiot. 

However, if Joyce believes that Will is alive, even without the knowledge of El and her powers, then you’re sure that the boys also believe he’s alive and will inevitably go looking for him again. Alone. In the same woods Nancy saw that strange figure. 

You cast those thoughts out of your head and give Jonathan what you hope is a reassuring smile. “When am I not safe?”

You really, truly hope that you’re just an idiot, but if the photos that you just saw scare you. Before he can change his mind, you quickly reach over and snatch Jonathan’s keys from his jacket and give him a peck on the cheek before running out to his car.

“I call shotgun, Nancy!”

– 

Unsurprisingly, the drive with Nancy and Jonathan is an awkward one. Things are still a bit tense between you and him for reasons you’re not sure you can tell him about just yet, and now Nancy is in the backseat trying not to make any sound, so really it was a doomed car ride from the start. 

It’s not that you don’t like the girl, but there’s something about the way she acts around Jonathan that honestly makes you want to collapse. You know she’s with Harrington, but the tenderness Jonathan has shown her the few times they’ve interacted makes you uneasy. 

Yesterday you chalked the uneasiness to simply never sharing Jonathan before, but now you know the truth. 

You’re jealous because you’re in love with him. 

It’s a nauseating feeling. 

“So, how long have the two of you been friends?” Nancy’s question surprises you, mostly because she should already know the answer. You know she’s just trying to make conversation, but the question itself further reminds you of why the two of you had drifted apart in the first place. 

“I moved here when I was twelve, remember? Your family helped us move in.” 

“Oh, right. Sorry,” You see Nancy nervously playing with her fingers in the rearview mirror, which makes you feel bad. She’s trying, you know she is. 

“It’s fine,” you try to catch her eye, and when you do you give her a smile. “I know you probably don’t remember much from that day. It was the middle of the school year and our brothers immediately started being annoying together, so you had gone inside after only a couple minutes.” 

Nancy laughs, now remembering that day. “Didn’t Mike hold an initiation for Dustin that night?” 

“Yeah,” you laugh with her now. “That’s actually how Jonathan and I met. Remember, bee?” 

Jonathan’s smile is a soft one, a smile that makes you feel weak because you know you’re the reason it’s there. “Of course I do. We both showed up at the Wheeler’s house at the same time to pick up our brothers.” 

“And then-” 

“I answered the door.” Nancy finishes for you. 

“Yup. Ever since then, Jonathan hasn’t been able to get rid of me.” 

“It’s been horrible,” he says with a monotone voice, but it’s clear to everyone that he’s joking. 

You punch his shoulder. “You weren’t complaining when I saved you from those bullies later that week.” 

Jonathan gives you a pointed look and tries to subtly motion towards Nancy, clearly embarrassed that you've brought the bullies up in front of her. Like he wants her to think he’s someone cooler than he really is. 

Your smile vanishes. 

He wants to impress her. 

“Right, sorry,” you clear your throat and if Nancy notices your sudden mood change, she doesn’t say anything. You squeeze your eyes shut for a moment and remind yourself that what matters right now are the boys and El. They should be your priority, not petty boy drama. 

Luckily Jonathan pulls into your driveway not long after the abrupt conversation ending, which you’re thankful for. 

You unbuckle your seatbelt and turn to face Nancy, and it takes everything in you to force a smile on your face. “Alright, well, this is my stop! Nancy, I’m trusting you to tell me whatever you and Jonathan find. I’d ask him to keep me updated, but I know he’ll inevitably forget.”

The girl nods at you. “You can trust me.” 

Can I?

Although you’re not exactly sure what it is that you don’t think you can trust her with. Then, your eyes drift to Jonathan and the way he’s staring at her from his own mirror, and you realize that maybe she’s not the one you should be worried about. 

“Good,” you turn to Jonathan now. “I’ll call you later, okay?”

“And I’ll answer… probably.” 

“You’re so sweet to me.”

“I know, right?” 

You snort at the boy and wave goodbye to him and Nancy before getting out of the car. Your bike is in the shed, so you motion to Jonathan that he’s good to leave. When he’s sure you’re okay, he waves at you one last time and drives away. 

It feels like you’ve made a huge mistake as you watch Jonathan and Nancy leave, but you don’t have time to think about why. Dustin’s bike isn’t in the shed alongside yours, which you expected, and you have to find him. 

Your brother and his idiotic friends need you right now. 

– 

For the second time within a week, Steve Harrington almost kills you with his stupid BMW. Granted, the first time wasn’t necessarily his fault due to your crying, but this time just felt personal. 

“Henderson!”

“Jesus christ-” You’re biking to the Wheeler’s, lost in thought as the sun begins to set, when stupid Harrington scares the shit out of you. 

His unexpected shouting from the other side of the road causes you to swerve your bike towards his car and he has to slam on his brakes to avoid hitting you. 

“Do you, like, have a fantasy about me hitting you with my car?” 

You glare at the boy. “You are a man, I am a woman. It’s getting dark outside. What exactly made you think it’s a good idea to yell out at me?”

“Well, I mean, I called after you.” He says, so matter of factly that it makes you want to strangle him. 

You hate him. You really do.

A strand of hair has fallen in your face, so you blow it away before bothering to answer. “My apologies, you called after me and almost killed me in the process.”

Steve winks at you. “Apology accepted.” 

You stare at him, unamused and still in the middle of the damn road, and after a couple beats of silence you cock your head at the boy. “Are you going to tell me what you need or…?”

“Oh,” Steve coughs, as if startled by your question. “Honestly I didn’t really have a plan when I called after you. I just kinda did, so…” 

“Right, well.” You clench your jaw in annoyance. Why are you even surprised that Harrington has wasted your time? “This was fun, let’s never do it again sometime!”

You ride off on your bike, trying to quickly get up the hill so that you can get to the Wheeler’s before it gets too dark to see. The hill is brutal and it’s almost embarrassing how long it’s taking you to get up it, and as you’re huffing and dripping in sweat, headlights come up from behind you. 

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” you groan. 

Steve’s car is now right next to you, the fucker having done a complete u-turn to follow after you. His window is still rolled down and he has one hand on the steering wheel and the other hanging out his window. 

“Hello again, Henderson.” 

“I never said hello back to you.” 

“C’mon, at least pretend to be happy to see me.”

You let out another groan as you continue to struggle up the hill. “I physically cannot do that, sorry.” 

Steve, ever the comedian, responds, “It doesn’t seem like you can physically get up this hill either.” 

You don’t give him the satisfaction of laughing, but you’re a bit annoyed that his quip was funny. What a jackass, honestly. 

“Henderson,” your silence doesn’t deter the boy, “just get in the damn car already.”

Once again you almost crash into the BMW, this time because of your complete shock at his request.

“What?”

He gives you a look as if you’re the insane one in this situation. “You’re sweatier than I am after basketball, and at the rate you’re going I’d say you’ll reach your destination in about three to five business days.”

You stare at him, speechless. 

He stares back at you with a smirk on his smug little face, knowing that he’s won the argument. “Get in the car and I’ll throw your bike in the back.” 

You do as he says, your mind completely blank and still taken aback. Sweatier than him after basketball? There’s no way that’s true, and also who says that to someone they barely even know? As if you’re really that sweaty-

You see your reflection in his car mirror and wince. 

Okay, so maybe you’re a little sweaty. 

Fuck Steve Harrington. 

The boy in question tosses your bike in the trunk as you hesitantly get in the car. He watches as you sit yourself down and laughs. “It’s a car, Henderson. It won’t bite.” 

“Yeah, but you might.” You slap a hand over your mouth, embarrassed by the implications of your words. 

Steve raises an eyebrow at you as he turns the car back on. “Careful there, last I checked you’re a taken lady.”

The embarrassment you previously felt is gone, now replaced with your usual annoyance when it comes to Steve. You think about what he did yesterday to Jonathan’s camera, the cruelty in his eyes as he watched the thing shatter onto the ground. He didn’t show any remorse, and while you understand that he had been defending his girlfriend, he had taken it too far. 

“How many times do I have to tell you that Jonathan and I are just friends?” 

“Please,” Steve huffs with amusement, “the two of you have been inseparable for years. Besides, no way a guy like Byers can just be friends with a girl like you. Not scientifically possible.” 

You wrinkle your nose. “What’s ‘a girl like you’ supposed to mean?” Then another thought occurs to you, “Also, you didn’t even know my name until this week, so don’t go acting like you know my relationship with Jonathan.”

“Relax, Henderson. It was a compliment. All I meant is that you’re decently pretty, all things considered, so I wouldn’t blame Byers if he was in love with you. It’s human nature.”

“Okay, that’s just really sexist-”

“As for knowing your name only this week, you’re wrong.”

“I’m sorry?” You ask, confused. 

Steve places a hand over his chest, almost as if he’s reaching for his heart. “Apology accepted, it means a lot to me.”

“Ugh,” you scoff at him. “That wasn’t an apology and you know it. Can you just take me to the Wheeler’s, please?”

“Woah, slow down there. First I need you to tell me why you thought I didn’t know your name, then I’ll take you to my girlfriend’s house. Free of charge.” 

If you didn’t know any better, you’d think that you see some offense in Steve’s eyes for thinking he only recently learned your name, but why would he care? Besides, you know he’s never paid any attention to you before this week.

“It was literally this week that I had to tell you my name after you almost hit me with your car, Harrington.”

“Okay, hey,” the boy holds a finger up. “Actually, you almost hit me with your bike because you were too busy hysterically sobbing.”

He’s right, but you won’t tell him that. Minor details, honestly. You’re about to tell him as much before you realize what he’s said. “Wait, you knew I had been crying?”

Steve gives you a well, duh look. “Yeah, that’s why I pretended not to know your name. Figured you wouldn’t want to talk about it and the least I could do was make you laugh. And viola, I did.” 

He had willingly tried to make you laugh?

His words make you flush, which seems to only amuse him further as he chuckles at you. You wave your hand at him, now more annoyed than ever. “Okay, fine. Whatever, so you knew my name before this week, big whoop. Can you just drive now?”

“I’ll take that as an ‘I’m sorry Steve for assuming you’re an asshole who hadn’t noticed a girl you’ve known since you were thirteen’, then.” Steve takes the car out of park and begins to drive to the Wheeler’s which you’re relieved by. 

You feel uncomfortably warm after that conversation, regardless of the fact that you’re still overheated from your biking. There’s no way that Steve has seriously known about you since you were twelve and he was thirteen. No, you decide that he must be lying, playing up his usual boyish charm. He’s been this untouchable entity ever since you moved to Hawkins, so why would he have paid any attention to you?

Then your mind floats to his compliment, calling you “decently pretty”, but then again not even five minutes earlier he stated that you sweat more than he does after basketball, so really his words should mean nothing.  

And yet, after the week you’ve had and your fight with Jonathan and Will’s death and El’s mysterious powers… 

Steve’s words make you a bit giddy, embarrassingly enough. You hate that they do, because he’s Steve Harrington and he’s with Nancy who is beautiful and kind and everything you’re not. It doesn’t matter what he thinks of you. 

You pick at your nails as he drives, the car silent, and you accidentally graze against the cut on your finger from yesterday. It’s scabbed over by now, but the pain is still fresh. 

“I know that what Jonathan did was wrong, I won’t excuse his actions. Standing up for Nancy was the right thing to do and I admire you for it, really,” Steve spares you a glance as he drives, nodding his head slightly to indicate that he’s listening. “But breaking Jonathan’s camera wasn’t.” 

He groans. “Nancy said the same thing, but what’s the big deal? The creep shouldn’t have access to a camera if he can’t use it properly.”

The slight warmth that Steve had somehow put in your chest dissipates at his words. “Jonathan isn’t a creep, but regardless of the situation, the big deal is this: not everyone can afford a fancy BMW and Raybans. Not everyone in Hawkins lives in a giant mansion with a pool. He worked so hard to afford that camera, it’s not something that he can just buy again on a whim.” 

Steve shifts uncomfortably in his seat. “Henderson, you know I didn’t mean it like that-”

“I know, but it was still a shitty thing to do.”

The silence that settles in the car is a heavy one, and you almost feel bad for Steve. You know he hadn’t thought about the repercussions of his actions, but you suppose that the fact that he hadn’t considered the price of a camera was proof enough of his naivety. 

When you get to the Wheeler’s, Steve gets out of the car to help you with your bike. He doesn’t let you do a thing, so you stand there and awkwardly watch. You can tell that he’s trying to make up for his actions from yesterday, which you appreciate. 

“Thank you,” you say once he places the bike down. 

“All in a day’s work.” Steve responds, wiping his hands off on his jeans. 

As he turns to leave, you stop him. “And thank you for earlier this week, ya know, for making me laugh after falling off my bike. I, uh, appreciate it.” 

He seems surprised by your sincerity, but he smiles. “Again: all in a day’s work. And listen, I’m sorry about Byers’ camera,” Then he quickly adds, as if afraid he won’t have the nerve to later, “I’m sorry about Will, too. I figure you were close with him and now he’s…”

His words trail off, not wanting to say the word “dead”, which you can’t blame him for. 

“For what it’s worth, I don’t think you’re a bad person.” Steve turns to face you now, your words catching his undivided attention. “You just have the worst taste in friends, but when you aren’t around them… I guess you’re alright.” 

He laughs a bit, but there’s a certain emotion in his eyes that you can’t quite name; you have to stop yourself from leaning in closer to him. Suddenly the space between you feels too close and you take a step back, but as you move you feel Steve’s hand ruffle your hair. “I guess you’re ‘alright’ too, Henderson.” 

You watch as he leaves, standing in the Wheeler’s driveway for longer than necessary. You place your hand on your head and find yourself smiling, the warmth of his touch still faintly there.

-

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#steve harrington x henderson!reader #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #stranger things #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things rewrite #slowburn #angst #wdtai #m's writing #hey what happens in this chapter ? everything #the answer is everything

[katebishopshands]

But I’m a Cheerleader ! ! Pt. 2

(Cheerleader!Kate Bishop/reader)

Pt. 1 here!!

»»-------------¤-------------««

Cheer camp continues, and the pursuit of the coveted Spirit Stick is on.

First impressions are everything, with it being the firsts official day of camp it is crucial that your team makes a good impression on the camp coaches and higher ups. And it appears that you’re not the only ones who want to make a good impression, the Archers are hot on your tail…

Maybe you’ll make some impressions you didn’t intend on when you came to camp this year?

(18+ CONTENT IN THIS PART)

»»-------------¤-------------««

“She HAS to sit her team right next to ours?” You growled into your oatmeal. It was a sad attempt at something nutritious. A brown banana covered in brown sugar and cinnamon frowned up at you.

You needed your strength today. First official day of camp meant back to basics. Perfecting benches, extensions, jumps and starting to learn the dance that you’d perform at the end of the week. The team needed to start out on a good foot so you could impress the camps coaches.

“ I mean it IS the dining hall..there’s not a ton of places to sit” Yelena looks up from her cereal to look at you and then in the direction where you were shooting lasers.

Kate Bishop sat her perfect self and her perfect team at the table across from your own. You could hear her loud mouth talking to America from where you sat.

Shoving a spoon of oatmeal in your mouth you muttered to yourself, “god does she ever shut up”

“Someone’s in a cranky mood…” Yelena sips on her coffee while side eyeing you.

You felt your eye twitch. Yes, you were in a cranky mood. Even after you had told Kate after your awkward confrontation yesterday to please be quiet at night, she hadn’t listened. Music was playing , loudly, in her room till at least two in the morning.

You couldn’t help but wonder last night in your sleep depraved state as you stared up at the dusty popcorn ceilings of your dorm, what Kate bishop wore to bed?

Was she a matching set girl? Or maybe a tank top and boxers type? Does she sleep with her hair up or maybe down?

You had never seen her with her hair down, maybe you’d get that chance this week. Static fuzz hit your stomach at the thought of taking Kate’s hair out of her tight ponytail.

“Yes, Yelena..I am cranky because my OTHER neighbor couldn’t shut the fu-“

“Ahem”, someone clears their throat above you. You both stop your conversation, looking up to see the last people you wanted to converse with at 7:45 in the morning. Kate Bishop and America Chavez.

Kate quirks a full eyebrow at you in your frazzled state. She looked utterly perfect to say the least. Full lips, dark brows and thick lashes. A spattering if beauty marks across her face Big blue eyes staring down at you. Part of you wanted to feel her gaze like this more often.

As quickly as the thought entered your head, you shoved it out. You had no time to be crushing on Kate Bishop.

Long black hair pulled into a ponytail, a matching purple and black workout set on. The sports bra exposing her muscular arms.

You salivated a little bit.

“We just wanted to say good luck this week!” America smiles at you. It’s honestly welcomed in comparison to the way Kate was eye fucking you.

You swallowed nervously and gave America a half pleasant smile.

“We don’t need your luck” Yelena spits at the other two captains. Kate looks unphased at the blonde, but America looks a bit shaken. She was a little younger than you guys, so it was obvious Yelenas little outburst had spooked her.

Kate puts her hand on Americas shoulder.

“Listen we just came here to wish you guys luck this week, we mean no hostility” Kate puts her hands up in a defensive manner,

“Just because we’re rivals doesn’t mean we can’t be friendly”.

She smiles at you, and America nods her head .

“Well…that’s very kind of you”, you say through grit teeth, your hand white knuckling the spoon you were holding.

You catch Coach Nat out of the corner of you eye. She’s watching the exchange unfold in front of her. First impressions start now, so if you want that spirit stick, it’s time to be the better captain. A team player if you will.

You smile at the two girls in front of you, your demeanor shifting from guarded to a sickly sweet confidence.

Sticking your hand out, and Kate meets you in the middle. You touch each other for the very first time, and you could’ve sworn you felt sparks between your hands.

“May the best team win this week”,

Kate shakes your hand, returning the smile. Once you let go, America turns to go back to her breakfast table,

“See you around..” Kate looks at you one last time, taking you in before she heads back to her table. Something mischievous glints in her eyes.

Goosebumps prick up on your arms.

Turning to Yelena, you look at her, bewildered at the exchange that had just occurred.

“God what the fuck “

»»-------------¤-------------««

“You look like shit” someone whispered behind you as you reached down towards your left leg while you stretched. Swiveling your head towards the voice and flipping your ponytail over your shoulder you were greeted to Kate Bishop standing to your right. Hands on her hips and head tilted. She smiled slightly at you.

“I don’t need you here right now, Bishop” you said standing up. You crossed your right arm across your chest, grabbing it with your left and stretching.

“I’m just pointing it out, looks like you could use some better sleep. Aren’t captains supposed to be the most prepared on the team?” She tilts her head to the opposite side, batting her dark lashes at you.

“I would’ve slept fine, but someone decided to have a party in their room” you deadpanned. Not believing she had the audacity to say shit to you, especially when she knew the reason you didn’t sleep well. If you didn’t know better, you’d say she did it on purpose.

“Damn, there was a party and I wasn’t invited? Lame” she laughs at herself before her eyes meet yours. You switch the arm you’re stretching. You’d hate to pull something during the first rotation of the day.

Kate had never paid this much attention to you before. A couple snotty words to each other, and dirty glances towards the other, sure. That was normal, but the level of taunting she was doing to you was unnatural for your usual dynamic.

You held her gaze, not wanting to back down.

“You look cold…I’d hate for you to pull something” you pout at her, crossing your arms in front of you. You wanted to give her a taste of her own medicine. She was the most insufferably cocky person you had met in your life. Girl thought she could talk your ear off for the entire warm up session before jumping into an hour and a half of choreography.

“Yknow..I am a little..”, she trails off, eyes locking on a stray piece of hair hanging in front of your face.

Kate goes to move the hair from your face, but you catch it before she can. Tucking the hair behind your ear, you glare at her. She leans into your ear,

“Maybe you can show me uh…some of your favorite ways to warm up?”

Kate backs up,searching your face. What she had said was, in theory, completely innocent. But it ignited something in your stomach. Your hands felt more clammy, your heartbeat raced. The heat in your face rose to your cheeks and ears. You KNEW Kate had a double meaning to her words.

Your fists clenched, suddenly you felt like you had a stick shoved up your ass with how upright and pissed off she made you feel.

You glanced around, checking to see if anyone had seen this whole interaction occur. Yelena, Coach Nat…hell even America or Clint Barton. You’d take anyone at this point.

No one seemed to pay attention to the rival captions standing at the front of the mat. Music played quietly, and teammates chattered as they stretched and warmed up. It was almost as if the two of you were in your own world. Where the only concerning thing was your bickering and how much you could piss each other off.

Kate smirks at you before she opens her mouth to speak again.

“I’m serious though, you’re good. I’d love to know how you got to be that good.”

Her shoulder brushes yours as she passes you, knocking you back a bit. She turns back towards your direction but continues walking.

“You know where to find me if you’re open to some private lessons..”

She turns. Black ponytail swinging behind her. Your eyes lingered in her figure. Purple leggings clinging to her fit frame. Back muscles exposed in her sports bra.

Your mouth felt dry. You needed water.

The rotation hadn’t even started and you felt like you had run a marathon.

Walking as quickly as possible, you made it to the bleachers where your water bottle sat. You sat down on one of the steps, raising the bottle to your lips. You started to chug almost as if you hadn’t had water in weeks.

What the fuck is Kate’s deal. Her confidence was intoxicating. Something about being around her made all will to be defensive die inside of you. She was able to run circles around you and you could do nothing about it.

“Whoa whoa, slow down. You’re gonna be sick!”

You look up, it’s Yelena. She’s taking a seat next to you, her brows furrowed in concern.

“ you look flushed? We haven’t even started??” She searches your face for an answer.

Her question makes you flush harder. She absolutely could not know Kate Bishop was the cause of this.

“Oh my god, are you sick? I can go get Natasha. She knows how the food here can just absolutely fu-“

“Lena I’m fine”

“Oh..”

She gives a skeptical look your way. Green eyes flashing with concern. You pull your water bottle away from your mouth, setting it back on the bench.

“I’m just hot, it’s really hot in here”

You stand, wiping your sweaty hands on your own leggings.

“It’s not that bad..

“Yelena.”

You cut her off, not sure if you’d be able to handle any more questioning from her. The blonde stands with you.

You adjust the bow sat in your hair, attempting to wipe Kate bishop from your head for the next hour and a half. You could analyze your interactions during passing time, but you needed to be focused.

“Now, let’s dance”

You started down the bleachers, Yelena in tow.

If you wanted to get that spirit stick, Kate Bishop couldn’t be distracting you. She never has distracted you, and she wasn’t going to start now, no matter how sweaty she made your palms.

»»-------------¤-------------««

The rest of the day was brutal. Existing on a college campus, with minimal AC in the middle of summer was quite honestly the worst thing ever. Well, next to seeing your team crumble under the pressure right in front of you.

Every you could’ve sworn you got worse. Dance was fine, and the tumbling portion was alright. But stunting was the worst you’ve ever seen it.

The amount of times you had to catch your flyer from falling just during the hour and a half rotation was insane.

You could’ve sworn coach Nat had never been so mad in her life.

Of course this was all under the every watchful eyes of The Archers and captain Kate Bishop herself.

You could feel her eyes on you all day, burning into the back of your skull.

“I think tomorrow will be our day, I have a good feeling.”

Yelena converses with you outside of your dorms. She’s trying to lift your spirits like the good friend that she is, but it’s not working.

“I’m just really worried…today was the worst I’ve seen us perform”

You bite your lip, anxiously playing with the hangnails that were around your nail beds.

“It’s only the first day, and the pressure is on this year, we’ll come back”. Yelena puts a hand on your shoulder, her green nail polish glinting in the dull lights of the hallway. She squeezes a little, smiling reassuringly at you.

Yelena was a little intense at times but she always knew how to make you feel better. After debriefing with Yelena, a shower was well needed.

You looked at your sad dorm room, your tie blanket on the flimsy mattress. Box fan tucked into the window, blowing a warm breeze into the room. Setting down your backpack, you begin to take your shoes off, socks leaving a sweat print on the linoleum flooring.

“Gross” you grimace looking down at it. Through the silence in your room, the sound of a bass filled beat caught your ear. You groaned, beginning to take your hair out of your ponytail.

You knew exactly where it was coming from. Kate Bishops stupid room. You gave a couple hard bangs on the wall, signaling to Kate that you wanted her to keep it down.

The music didn’t turn down. Taking a deep breath you continued to get ready for your shower, giving her another hour of music time before you went over there and bitched her out.

Truthfully, you didn’t want to see her again tonight. You had dealt with enough of her for the day and another ounce of Kate Bishop for the day might actually kill you.

Getting out of the shower you did your usual bedtime junk, brushing your hair, motioning your body up. The whole 9 yards. You needed it so bad after the day you had.

Kates music still blared as you got dressed, putting on a ratty competition T-shirt and some boxer shorts with little hearts on them.

You were too tired to bitch her out, deciding to get in bed instead of going next door to tell her to shut up.

Turning the lights off, you padded your way over to your bed, ready to let sleep overcome you.

You waited. And waited. Turning to your left. Turning to your right. Rinse and repeat. You even tried flipping the end of the bed your head was. Nothing.

The bass continued to shake the wall the bed was up against. You tried banging on the wall again. Nothing. Again, another bang to the wall and you were greeted to nothing in response.

You shoved your blankets down, sitting upright in bed and angrily standing up. Kate bishop was not ruining another night of sleep because she wanted to play her music. Hadn’t she ever heard of headphones??

You crossed the room, opening up your door and slamming it behind you. It was a quick turn over to Kate’s room, and before you knew it you were banging on her door.

The hall was quiet, as it should be. It was well past lights out. Most of the girls would probably be asleep by now. Except for Kate Bishop.

Your fist continued to meet Kates metal door. The beat of your pounds echoing in the otherwise silent hall. You were getting annoyed now, she had ignored your pounds on the wall and now she was ignoring your knocks on her door. All you wanted to do was go to sleep.

“Nice jammies” you hadn’t even noticed that the door had opened, you had been too caught up in your train of thought.

Kate stood infront of you. She was leaning against the door frame. Her hair was still up, but gone was her workout set.

A pair of loose black shorts hung low on her hips. The shorts were topped off with a matching tight black tank.

You scolded yourself for looking, Kate wasn’t wearing a bra. Pervert

You swallowed, hard.

“Shut up”

“Woah what did I do?”

Kate looked at you. She was annoyed, and you were too.

“You know exactly what you’re doing”

You took a step towards her, crossing your arms over your chest. It was cold in the hallway surprisingly. Your bare legs covering themselves in goosebumps.

“Listen, if you’re going to show up to my room at this hour of the night, I at least deserve some sort of explanation “ Kate tilted her head to the side, lightly poking her cheek with her tongue. You said nothing.

She had to know what she was doing. Her music didn’t pause when she opened the door. You could still hear the beat from where you stood.

“Turn your music off” you said flatly.

“I’m tired and I want to go to bed, turn it off” you were beyond pissed right now.

“Okay then go to bed” Kate snaps back at you. Her voice raised ever so slightly.

“I can’t with your fucking music this loud”. You jabbed your finger into her chest.

She stumbles backwards a little. “Oh my god will you calm down? It’s just music, it’s not that big of a deal” Kate looked just as pissed as you now. Her blue eyes staring daggers into you, her breathing a little elevated .

“Just some music? I couldn’t sleep last night because of you. “ you’re nearly yelling now

“My team, fell apart today because I felt like shit, and you kept fucking staring at me”

Fists balled into your sides, You began to blow up on the dark haired girl opposite of you.

Kate shakes her head a little, popping her jaw in annoyance.

“So I need you to shut the fuck up and just-“

“Jesus fucking Christ”

Kate rolls her eyes and grabs your wrist forcefully. You fight her a bit, trying to pull free of her grip. She quickly pulls you into her room, letting you stumble forward once she releases you. She slams the door behind her and then turns to face you.

“Could you be any louder? Both of our teams are trying to sleep and you’re out there yelling about some stupid music”

Once again, the audacity of this girl.

“Y’know, I was actually starting to like you today, but you’re nothing but a dick”

“The same goes for you” Kate crossed her arms, malice laced in her tone.

You’re standing chest to chest with her now. You’re able to smell her lavender chai perfume. Her chest rises and falls with the heavy breaths she’s taking.

“I actually think you’re a really good captain. You care about your team, and you and Yelena make a great duo.” Kate starts out. She’s got a different energy about her that you can’t put your finger on. That same static fuzz feeling you had from the first moment you saw each other yesterday invaded your stomach. She made you shiver.

“But dear god do you need to get the stick out of your ass. Maybe then your team would be halfway decent”

You saw red. You came over here to be civil, ask her to turn down her music. But now you’re stood in Kates room and she’s insulting your team.

You could’ve sworn your brain was short circuiting .So you did what was logical.

You kissed her.

You kissed Kate Bishop hard as fuck.

Your lips collided with hers, grabbing at the front of her tank top and pushing her back against the door. As soon as Kate’s back hit the door it was like something clicked in you.

You pulled away panting.

And Kate chased you. Kate Bishop chased your mouth to continue kissing you.

You pushed that thought away from your mind.

“I’m sorry I just..i don’t know what happened” your fists were still clutching the front of Kate’s shirt. She looks at you. Pupils blown, lips parted.

“Shut up” Kate gushes before diving back into you.

Her hands envelop your face. Callouses from stunting brushing your cheeks.

Kate kisses you like she needs you to breathe. Holding you impossibly close.

“I-“ you gasp in between kisses. You’re fighting for dominance in the kiss. Slowly but surely traveling down the small hallway that lead to the main room.

“Fucking hate you” you bite at Kate’s lip. Pulling her bottom lip a little you grin at her. She snorts, pushing you up against the nearest wall.

“You sure about that?” Kate leans into your ear. Her hands find your breasts. She squeezes them.

It feels so good. It feels so good and relieves a bit of the ache that had started growing in your shorts. You couldn’t take the cocky grin Kate had plastered on her pretty face.

You bit your lip, fighting the moans that are attempting to escape your throat.

“Such a tough team captain” Kate laughs as she continues to feel up your tits.

“Shut it” you grab her hands in an attempt to stop her movements.

“So tough all the time, don’t you want to let go?”

You do. You do want to let go. Especially when Kates fingers are reaching towards the bottom of your shirt.

“I can’t “ you shake your head as you feel her fingers lightly brush against your stomach.

“I think you can, pretty girl”

Kate thrusts her knee up into you. It meets your drenched core and you break. You break so easily under her influence.

“There we go” she pulls your shirt over your head, tossing it behind her shoulder.

“Fucking hell Kate”

“Tell me about it” she ogles you. Staring at your tits. She can help it, a finger goes in to tweak one of your nipples. Another moan from you.

Kate removes her knee from your cunt and urges you towards her bed. You move your mouth to her neck, latching on and plastering kisses down it. She reaches for her phone on the bed, and turns her music up.

“Can’t have anyone knowing we’re doing this, can we?” You moan at her words. Thinking about Yelena knowing Kate was groping at your tits right now was a little too arousing.

In a Kate drunk haze, you eagerly shove your hands down her shorts. Your fingers being met by a lack of underwear and her warmth.

“Holy shit” you whisper to yourself. She was soaked. Bickering with you had turned her on beyond belief.

Kate gives a whine and leans forward as your fingers meet her cunt. She rests her head on your shoulder.

“God don’t stop” she meets your eyes. Big blue eyes pleading for something, anything.

“Oh Katie …” you pout at her. A guttural moan comes from Kate as the nickname slips off your tongue. You’re able to manhandle Kate up against the creaky dorm bed.

Eagerly, you tear her shorts down, letting them pool around her ankles. And she lets you. She submits so easily to you.

“Where’s your ego now,huh?”

You kiss her cheek as your fingers find her clit. She has no words, the only noise leaving her mouth being a few airy moans. Rubbing circles on her clit, you return to her mouth.

She’s licking into your mouth, craving any attention she can get from you. Kates hips begin to buck into your hand as you begin to tease her hole with your fingers.

Kates hips begin to buck into your hand as you begin to tease her hole with your fingers.

“I’ve wanted this-“ she pants out

“Since our first cheer camp together” she locks eyes with you. Her knees are shaking as you’re able to put two fingers inside of her, thumb still lazily playing with her clit.

“When I..I.. accidentally did my full into you”

She smiles a little bit before she goes back in for a kiss. You kiss her back for a bit before pulling away again.

“You left me with a black eye for a week” you laugh at her as you increase the speed of your fingers. Kates eyebrows kit together.

She’s close. You can tell by the way she squeezes you and the sweat that forms around her hairline.

“What a bad girl” you whisper in her ear. And that’s what it takes. Kates knees give out a little as she finishes. A string of curses and your name leaving her lips. You continue to finger her throughout her aftershocks.

Once your fingers are pulled out, you put them into your mouth, sucking her release off of them. Kate catches her breath as she watches you.

“Fuck” she pants, sitting down on her bed. You bat your lashes at her a little, crawling towards her.

Kate kicks off her shorts and pulls her tank top off of her sweaty body. You were right for being such a pervert earlier. She’s gorgeous.

Abs on full display, perky tits right there for you to grab.

“I need you to ride me..like right now”

You’re pulling your own boxers off before she can finish her sentence. Once you’re hovering above her thigh, Kate’s strong hands grip your hips, forcefully shoving you down onto it.

She rocks with you, helping you set a brutal pace.

With all the teasing of the night, it’s going to be sooner or later before you bust.

Kate sits up as you grind your sticky cunt against her toned thigh. Her lips attaching themselves to one of your nipples.

You moan, throwing your head back in pleasure. Your hands planting themselves in her hair, yanking on the black locks.

You’re tired of the ponytail. You need to see her hair down. With a final pull to the actual hair tie, her hair is freed.

Her dark hair falls to her mid back in loose curls. She’s so gorgeous it’s annoying.

Kate delivers a bite to your nipple, pulling your attention from her hair.

“Doesn’t it feel nice?” She smirks up at you, aggressively guiding your hips against her. The friction is delicious. Her thigh rubs perfectly against your swollen clit.

“Hm?” You respond. Too horny and caught up in the hopes of your release to register what she’s saying to you.

Kates sucks a hickey on the side of your tit.

“Fucking the rival captan? Getting the stick out of your ass?”

The dorm bed is hitting the wall, you can hear it and see it. The shaky wooden frame making a rhythmic beat out of your fucking. You pray to whatever god is listening that Kate’s music is loud enough to cover up the noise.

Before you know it that static fuzz feeling is taking over your whole body. Like you’re a child standing too close to an old TV.

“Kate shit..I’m close” you frantically rock your hips into her. You want your release so bad.

“I’ve got you, I’ve got you” she punctuates her words with a squeeze to your hips.

“Jesus Christ.. “ you’re gushing all over her. You can feel your cum dripping down her thigh and your own .

Kate falls backwards, letting her head hit her pillow.

You’re sweaty and tired, and you smell like sex. You think about how you regret showering before you came over. But then again…you didn’t come over thinking you were going to fuck your rival in the first place.

Kate looks up at you, gently helping you remove yourselves from her thigh before she gently pats the limited space next to her. You unsurely lay down next to her, not sure if you should walk of shame your way back next door or stay.

You get your answer when Kate pulls her naked body flush against yours,arm wrapped around your waist.

Neither of you say anything, just listening to the other breathe.

You should be worried about your alarm set for 7 am in the room next door, or how you’re going to get out of the room in the morning without being caught, but you’re not.

The only thing in your head in the moment being “I just fucked Kate Bishop”.

»»-------------¤-------------««

Check out the playlist!! And stay tuned for more!!

-ET🏹

#hawkeye series #hawkeye show #kate bishop #kate bishop x reader #marvel #mcu #kate bishop hawkeye #kate bishop x female reader #kate bishop fanfiction #kate bishop fic #kate bishop au #kate bishop mcu #kate bishop smut #kate bishop x y/n #Spotify

[witchthewriter]

𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐅𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐰𝐢𝐧 𝐒𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞

⤷ female, ambiguous race, and any size reader. Requests are open, thank you for reading!  

a/n: how are we feeling with ep 5??? I feel like I’m being fed with CRUMBS. I want more Harwin, he is my favourite for Rhaenyra (well fav in general). 

Also, this is like a mix of headcanons and an imagine; I just like the dot points breaking up the text🌷

ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ    

SFW🌿

⭑ Your father was the head of a smaller house that was well-known for creating great soldiers. Your brothers were already in the King’s guard, so political matches to further your house were left on the women’s shoulders. 

⭑ And it was because your father was in good faith with King Viserys, that you, along with two of your younger sisters and father, were invited to court. 

⭑ The journey was long, almost two weeks travel, to get to King’s Landing. And as soon as you got there, you were on the move again, as it was Aegon’s second birthday celebration. 

⭑ In the carriage, you felt cranky, sticky and uncomfortable. 

⭑ Your periods had arrived the day before and your sisters weren’t old enough to understand how the monthly attack made a woman feel. 

⭑ “Y/n, you must fix your face before we arrive,” your father commanded. 

⭑ Your attention snapped towards the patriarch of your house and a pang erupted in your abdomen. Fix. My. Face? You thought angrily, the pain was indescribable, and it was all you could do to not rip your father’s head off. 

⭑ “What was that, m’lord?” You retorted. Spitting the name like a viper. 

⭑ Your father knew he had made a dire error. Sitting up straighter, he replied sheepishly, “Nothing y/n.” 

⭑ “No, no. Say it again, please. I misheard you.” 

⭑ “I spoke out of turn,” her father replied. And even though he was the patriarch of your house, the father of so many knights, the one who was expanding your name. 

⭑ He was still a man, who did not understand women. Especially women on their period. 

⭑ No one spoke until your arrival. And even then, your father adverted his eyes. But when you thought he didn’t notice, you asked your sisters to help clean you up. 

⭑ The sun was still high in the sky as you stepped out of the carriage and onto the dirt ground. A tent had been erected in the middle of the grounds, and a fire stood blazing. 

⭑ Your body was being attacked by pain and anxiety; daggers and butterflies. Surely not every woman felt like this while at court? Wouldn’t these nerves subside? 

⭑ But the weight of the world felt heavy on your rose-gold-clad shoulders. Your dress showing your collar bones and a golden necklace hung on your chest, with your house’s animal in the center. 

⭑ There seemed as if hundreds of people engulfed you. Your sisters hung by your sides, hands clasping your own. 

⭑ Your father led the way, his cloak billowing in the dusty wind. You blinked violently, but the dirt had found its way in your eyes. Your sisters squealing as they too were attacked by the wind. 

⭑ But in the mere seconds your eyes had closed, your father had disappeared and you were lost in the waning crowd. 

⭑ Social gatherings weren’t your forte, especially ones that were so important. 

⭑ “Where’s papa?” Your youngest sister asked, she had only celebrated her 9th year last month. 

    “We’ll find him,” a deep voice replied from behind you. 

⭑ Spinning around, your sisters still holding onto your hands, you saw a tall man with dark hair and a beard to match. 

⭑ He offered you a kind smile. And you could tell that he was trying to show you that he was no threat. 

⭑ “Thank you, Ser,” you curtsied, although awkwardly, as your sisters trembled into your dress. The sun was too bright for them to see Ser Harwin’s smile. All they could make out was a dark giant with a deep voice. 

⭑ “I know this can be overwhelming,” he remarked. His honesty was something that you weren’t expecting. 

⭑ Harwin bent down, so he was eye to eye with your youngest sister. He looked at her with a jokingly stern stare, then smiled. She mirrored him. 

⭑ “Do you like food?” He asked, a dramatic expression of questioning on his face.

  “Yes,” your sister responded lightly. 

“Do you like sweets?” 

     Both of your sisters’ eyes lit up. And your middle sister answered for both of them. 

    “I hear there are tables full of cake, pastries, sweets, and biscuits inside.” 

⭑ He stood up and the girls flocked him, grabbing onto his hands as they pulled him inside. But Harwin waited for you to move, opening his arm so that you could link yours with his. 

#harwin strong #harwin strong headcanons #ser harwin strong #ser harwin strong headcanons #house of the dragon headcanons #house of the dragon #game of thrones #game of thrones x reader #Got #GoT headcanons #harwin strong x reader #ser harwin strong x reader

[thgfanfictionlibrary]

E Rated Fics Masterlist (19)

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 / Part 8 / Part 9 / Part 10 / Part 11 / Part 12 / Part 13 / Part 14 / Part 15 / Part 16 / Part 17 / Part 18 /

Created: November 17th, 2023

Last Checked:-----

Sole Beneficiary-hutchabelle (ao3) Summary: Katniss needs comfort as she struggles with the aftermath of her parents’ divorce. Peeta always knows how to make her feel better.

Something Red-teetorini (ao3) Summary: "So how did you two meet?" Delly, their neighbor, asked. Katniss and Peeta glanced at each other. "Oh, um…" she faltered. Peeta turned toward Delly, giving her one of his charming smiles. "I'll let my wife tell this story. She's a great story-teller." He was doing this to tease her, and Katniss scowled at him. Katniss should have expected the onslaught of questions at their neighborhood block party, but when she's asked about how she and Peeta met, she clams up at the memory.

Son of A Preacher Man-endlessnightlock (ao3) Summary: Inspired by the 1968 Dusty Springfield classic Son of A Preacher Man, written for Everlark Birthday Gifts on Tumblr.

Spectrum-purple_cube (ao3) Summary: It begins with a spark, one that brings color and heat to her fingertips while the rest of her remains grey and cold.

Spellbound-katnissdoesnotfollowback (ao3) Summary: Katniss and Primrose Everdeen lead a simple life, sustained by a shop in a small town and a thriving online business that sells herbal remedies they concoct themselves. They share a lovely home in the woods, isolated from others, where they can be safe, only a cat and a cranky ghost living in the shed behind the abandoned house next door as company. Until a young man moves in next door, intending to restore it and live in it. Primrose just wants a friend and her sister’s happiness. Haymitch just wants to live his afterlife in peace. Katniss wants to get rid of the intruder and keep her sister and herself safe from anyone who might fear what they really are. Witches.

Spirits in the Material World-Gamemakers (ao3) Summary: On the personal side, the last few months have been fantastic for Peeta. On the professional side? Not so much. When a long-awaited opportunity comes up in New Mexico, he jumps at it. Katniss loves summers, really she does, and as a teacher, she gets the opportunity to savor (wallow in) every minute of it. By mid-July, she's about ready to go all Jack Nicholson in The Shining at any moment. If Peeta's heading out to New Mexico, she's going to tag along. Luckily, nothing has ever gone wrong on a cross country road trip.

Stay with me-angylinni (ao3) Summary: Katniss is involved in the rescue of Peeta from the Capitol. He was hers, and she was his. Written from the prompt: Katniss and Peeta join the Mile High Club.

Stricken-misshoneywell (ao3) Summary: Katniss struggles to fill a void in the wake of tragedy. Modern day one-shot. Angst, drugs and sex warning.

Surrender-lieselmemingers (ao3) Summary: “I thought you were good at this,” Katniss breathes against his mouth. (Smut warning). Written for Day Three of the Prompts in Panem challenge.

Sweet Dreams-everydayescapeartist (ao3) Summary: Katniss has an itch. Maybe she can scratch it with Peeta’s help. M/NSFW. Written for everlarkrecs’ Dirty December Challenge (Week 3: Masturbation/Mutual Masturbation)

#e #masterlist #everlark #everlark fanfiction #thg #thg fanfiction #e masterlist

[the-faceless-bride]

Nevermind the darkness

Louis sat on his bed making sure all his hair was protected before he went to bed, the last thing he needed was to wake up and have a horrible hair day, he already dealt with stupid zombies, and if he was gonna be going around surviving and risking his life he wasn't gonna look bad while doing it.

He finished giving himself one last look in the dusty old mirror running a finger along his jaw before he smiled to himself, "well Louis at least your not ugly." He said giving himself a wink and snickering at his own words, he was such an idiot sometimes.

Louis Turned off his lights before tossing himself into his bed with a soft sigh ready for his beauty rest...well he was ready... He couldn't sleep due to the sound of soft crying next to his room... Now Louis is the type of guy to need it completely dark and silent to even things out getting a wink of sleep and he has quite the sensitive hearing and crying is something he definitely couldn't sleep too.

For so long no one slept in the rooms next to Louis knowing his very particular sleeping conditions... And a cranky sleep deprived Louis was a Louis nobody liked.

He got grumpy and whiney and his survival skills dropped much lower than normal... Somehow.

Louis thinks to himself before remembering a new small group that just came to the school, after Clem and he took a look at them and brought them all back.

Louis got up from his bed still in his t-shirt and boxers pulling on his long coat before making his way to the room next door, the crying getting slightly louder.

He knocked a few times before coming in anyway, "hey uhh, you alright?" He asked, you lifted your head from under the pillow your eyes still read and your cheeks puffy.

Louis rushed over to you, Louis couldn't stand to see a frown on anyone's face. This world had gone to complete shit and having a frown is one thing you can change in this gloomy fucked world.

"I-i don't like the darkness, I hate being by myself..." You cowered a but closer to Louis, not clinging to him but had gotten much closer than laying there as he stood at the foot of your bed.

Louis understood not wanting to be alone, that was one of his worst fears.

Being left alone with nothing, no one to roll their eyes at his jokes or groan at his loud piano playing. Louis looked at you before looking to the side thinking for a moment.

"Would... Would you like to stay with me?"

"Thanks, Louis." You mumbled as you hurried yourself into his camo bedsheets, "it's no problem, really." Louis smiles at you before he sat on his bed atop the sheets, "uhh are you comfortable with me under the sheets with you?" It took him a moment before he flushed and tripped over himself to explain how he wasn't trying to insinuate anything or- but you cut off his ramblings with a small giggled and a soft smile and that made Louis smile.

You slightly scooched over and pulled the sheets over inviting him, and he dived into bed. Before slowly switching the lights off make sure to keep eye contact so you know he was there for you if you needed him.

Once the room went pitch black he buried himself in him warm bed, before closing his eyes.

They open again feeling arms wrap around him but not fully and not tightly at all.

"Is this okay?" You whisper to him, "yeah." Louis whispers back, and the arms around him fully close and tighten around him.

Louis smiled.

A/n: Just wanted to post some Louis stuff, also I think I just found out his last name is oui? So that's cool. (Well according to TikTok that's his last name so... It must be true!😀👍)

#twdg headcanon #twdg clementine #twdg lee #twdg imagine #twdg x reader #louis twdg #twdg louis x reader #louis x reader #louis twdg x reader #louis oui x reader

[wordynerdygurl]

Two Sizes Too Small

Author’s Note:  Well, lovelies, I pulled an all-nighter to finish this one.  I just really wanted to give Eddie Munson a wonderful Christmas.  That it involves love and my favorite holiday movie, How the Grinch Stole Christmas, well, how could I resist? Full disclosure- there’s a lot of holiday movie and music references!  Also, my taglist is open, so let me know if you’d like to be added!  Lastly, I hope everyone has a lovely and restful holiday season!! Pairing:  Plus Size Female Reader x Eddie Munson

Summary:  Eddie hates Christmas, the whole Christmas season, and maybe his heart is too small but it’s Christmas and miracles can happen at the holidays!

Warnings:  SMUT, a touch of dubcon in the beginning, and also some angsty pining!

If it weren’t for Wayne, Eddie would have given up on Christmas a long time ago. 

  Around the time when he realized that Santa was his uncle scraping up extra change to ensure that there was something for him to open under the tree, Eddie’s heart had hardened against the holiday.  Wayne already did so much: working double shifts, making sure that Eddie had food, clothes and a safe way to get to school each day.  Why add to that burden with a day set aside for the sole purpose of spending money on stuff that no one really needed? Oh, he’d heard the arguments about showing people how much you cared this time of year.  That the depth of someone’s feelings was greater than or equal to the quality of whatever sweater, baseball cap or new crock pot could be wrapped in pretty paper with a ribbon slapped on top.  In his opinion that was a shitty system for communicating how much you appreciate someone, not to mention it only happened once a year.

There was no question in Eddie Munson’s mind that Wayne loved him.  He didn’t need a stocking full of candy or a gift boxed t-shirt to show him what he already knew to be true.  So, why make a big deal about it?  It was just another day on the calendar.

Regrettably, his sentiments weren’t shared with, well, anyone else.  All of the people around Eddie, his uncle especially, seemed to go Christmas Crazy.  Shopping all the time, planning events and scheduling parties, worrying about what to buy everyone and where to get the best sale price.  It didn’t make sense to him.  The decorations, the lights, the ornaments, all of it was sentimental in a way that Eddie just couldn’t abide, “What’s the point?  You’re just gonna pull all this shit down in a week.” Not dissuaded, Wayne snorts indignantly, digging through a dusty box marked X-MAS, “The point is, I like it.  The point is, it reminds me of when you were an excited kid who liked the simple things in life.  Things like bikes and blocks and crayons, not girls and drinking and rock music.” “Ok, ok, you made your point.”  Eddie concedes, helping to tape a strand of red tinsel garland along the shelf of mugs which had all been gifts to uncle over the years. Wayne stoops low, child-like glee on his face, as he readies to plug in the light strand, “Ready for the tree?” It was like this every year and Eddie nods, ready to get this part over with, faking his way through Wayne’s Christmas crankiness.  With a snap of electricity, the three foot artificial tree lights up.  It’s filled with paper Santas scribbled in red marker, macaroni stars and once glitter covered foam gingerbread men.  It is an annual homage to Eddie as a kid and Wayne adores it.  Despite the grumbling from his nephew, Wayne refuses to give it up, at least, not without a serious fight. Unimpressed, Eddie drones, “Very nice.  I like how you managed to keep all the ugly ornaments facing the window.  The neighbors are gonna love ‘em.” Incredulous, Wayne scoffs at his semi-scowling nephew, “They should!  I’m damned proud to have them.”  A heavy wave of nostalgia falls over the old man, making his proud chin quiver with unspoken words of affection for the little boy turned man standing in front of him.  Eddie hears the dip in his uncle’s voice, recognizing his yearly Christmas melancholy from a mile away.  What was it about this time of year that made everyone go a little nuttier than usual?  Was it the weather?  The food?  Or just the expectations that the holiday season seemed to carry? Screw that.  Eddie wasn’t going to give into the commercialized crap that seems to sweep everyone else along in December.  Christmas was for suckers and Eddie Munson was nobody’s fool.  Well, almost nobody’s fool.

His hand lands on Wayne’s shoulder, going for fondness while ignoring the emotions playing out behind his uncle’s faded eyes.  Softening a bit, Eddie offers an olive branch, “Wanna get drunk and watch White Christmas?  I had Steve snag it for me.” Patting at his damp cheeks, Wayne nods happily, sappily, “That sounds great-” The phone trills shrilly, cutting through their conversation and Wayne lifts his eyebrows in Eddie’s direction.  But his nephew shakes his head.  “Ignore it.  I’m exactly where I want to be.”  Whoever was looking to score was gonna have to call back. Three rings later and Wayne is practically shoving Eddie towards the receiver, “Just answer the damn thing!” Grumpy and gruff, he gives in, whipping up the phone, “Yea?” —-------------- It was December 23rd and the party at Barry’s house was winding down, thankfully.  People had been peeling off in pairs and trios, leaving just a few of your boyfriend’s buddies drinking the night away and ignoring you.  At some point you looked around and realized that Barry was just gone.  The house he grew up in- still lived in, with his family, was, in a word, enormous.  There were dozens of rooms and thousands of doors which made your search all the harder.  It was just like him to vanish, leaving you to fend for yourself when he had assured you that this time it would all be different. Arms circle your thick waist from behind as he pulls you into the second floor bathroom, pressing you against the granite countertop while lifting your pretty green skirt, “I’m so hard right now, gotta fuck you.” You giggle uncomfortably, already feeling a little too full of bubbling champagne, “Barry!   Here?  Now?” But you don’t get an answer beyond a rough tear in your tights, Barry’s fingers shifting your panties to the side abruptly, “Yea, right fucking now.”  And then he was pushed inside of you, his thrusts sloppy and bordering on painful as he drunkenly rubs at your full breasts through your sweater. If he was concerned with your needs, it didn’t show in the fast sawing motion of his hips, and before you could even trace the beginning of your own ending, Barry was babbling through his own.  Curving over your back, he pants in your ear, “Hmm, that was great.” Pulling out of you quickly, Barry tucks himself back into his chinos and presses a tiny kiss to your cheek, “Make sure you clean up before coming out to say goodbye to everyone.”  And then he’s gone, leaving you frustrated with sticky thighs. You thank a god you don’t believe in for birth control pills and shuffle over to the toilet, eager to tidy up the mess Barry had left in his wake.  Swiftly removing your torn pantyhose, you toss them in the trash can, regretting the loss.  Money wasn’t exactly tight, but you were trying to save as much as you could, unlike your upperclass boyfriend. Flushing behind you, you replace your panties and wash your hands.  Wiping some water over your cheeks, you smile at yourself in the mirror, confident that no one would know what had happened in the bathroom between you and Barry. Carefully, you shut the bathroom door, surprised when you hear voices, low pitched, in the nearby hallway.  Whispers that carry the weight of the familiar voice of your boyfriend begging quietly, “Come on baby, it’s Christmas.” “So?  You told me you were done with that trash, Barry and then, then you bring her here.  Throwing her in my face?  Are you trying to hurt me?” “Dawn, please.  You know I only want you.” “Barry, I want you too, baby.  But I won’t share you, not with someone like her-”  And then the sounds of sloppy kisses gain strength, complete with moans and grunting.  It was bordering on pornographic, like something private that shouldn’t be witnessed by anyone but those involved and you wish that you weren’t having to hear it at all. A gross knot of nausea welled up inside of you at the realization of what was happening, and so soon after Barry had cornered you in his bathroom.  Disgusted now, you knew you had to leave.  The sooner the better. On quiet feet you tiptoe into the nearest bedroom and choking back tears, reach for the phone.  Dialing the only number you can think of, the only you have committed to memory, you pray to that same god that he’ll pick up.  Finger twisting in the beige cord as you wait through four long rings, nervousness and shame filling your belly as you wait for the call to connect. “Yea?” His voice is gruff, grumpy, which takes you by surprise.  It makes your own sound small as you ask timidly, “Eddie?” “What’s wrong?  Where are you?”  It’s immediate, that change in tone, his understanding of your need, and you drop into a whisper, “Would it be too much trouble for you to come and get me?  I- I don’t think Barry-” He breaks in, direct and guarded, “Meet me at the corner.  I’ll be there in ten.”  The line went dead in your ear, a sure sign that Eddie was already en route to you. Sneaking away was easy when your boyfriend was frenching someone else and no one else at the party cared about you.  Scooping up your fuzzy holiday sweater, you went right out the front door into the chilly night, without anyone noticing.  Sobbing openly, you scurry to the corner, suddenly overeager to get away from this whole night.  Eddie told you ten minutes, but he made it in seven, the van idling loudly when you rounded the corner.  Dashing away tears, you climb into the heavenly heat of his vehicle, smiling tightly, “Hey Eddie.  Thank you so much, I just- I really needed to get out of there.” He eyes you, a look full of questions, but wisely Eddie asks none of them.  Waiting for you to buckle up, he rests a broad palm on your thigh, patting it twice, “No problem, sweets.  Where we headed?” “Just home, if that’s alright.  I’m- I’m kinda tired.” Putting the van in drive, he appraises you from the corner of his eye.  Something about you was so small tonight it made Eddie’s heart hurt.  When he heard you on the phone that damaged sound in your voice was enough to make his Spidey sense tingle.  It was wrong, the way you had whispered, asking- no, pleading for him to come and get you.  Wayne completely understood why he had to leave, even if it was in the middle of putting the final touches on their Munson Christmas traditions.  Besides, nothing was going to stop Eddie, not when you sounded so shattered.    Clearly something had happened, something not great.  And it was something big enough for you to run away from Barry’s huge holiday party, something you had been talking about for weeks.  So, while Eddie appreciates you calling him in your hour of need, he absolutely wants to know how to make it better for you and make sure that you’re really alright. “That’s okie-dokie artichokie.  But, uh, can you just tell me-” turning to you now, his deep eyes searching yours, full of concern, “-you’re not hurt, right?”  He couldn't stand to think about what he might be capable of if you said that you were, or had been.  But still, Eddie needed to make sure that you were okay for his own sanity’s sake.

You nod shyly, appreciating the kind hearted way that Eddie handles your privacy, and tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.  Looking away, you hum lowly, “Yea, Ed.  I’m alright.”

“You sure?” “Uh huh.  Just got my heart hurt, so, ya know, nothing too serious.”  You try for lighthearted, breezy, but you don’t sell it because Eddie frowns, “Just your heart?  Oh, sweetheart.  I’m so sorry.” There’s a lot of things you find hard to bear, but Eddie’s pity is just too much.  It punches the air out of your lungs.  It crumples your bottom lip, setting your chin wobbling as you give into the burning tears of your heartbreak. Smoothly, Eddie pulls over although you’re not too far from home by now.  You can hear his seat belt unlock and then your own is set free so that Eddie can scoot you closer.  His chin rests on the top of your head as you cry into his neck, his voice soothing as he comforts you, “It’s ok.  It’s going to be alright, sweetheart.  You’re going to be ok.  Hush now.” You don’t know how long you let Eddie console you, his leather jacket warm under your damp cheek, but eventually the sobs become sniffles and the sniffles fade to hiccups.  Pulling out of the comfort of Eddie’s embrace, your eyes red and cheeks chapped, you lament thickly, “I got you all wet!  I’m so sorry, Ed!” “Hey, stop that.  I’m fine.”  Brushing wayward hair from your streaky and sticky face, Eddie tuts, “Are you sure you’re alright?” “Yea.”  It’s sad sounding, but you’re being honest.  You will be ok once you get home, have a shower, and start putting Barry behind you.  It helps to have a friend like Eddie Munson there to offer his shoulder to cry on. He fusses over you for another minute, wiping away the crystalline dew of your tears with his thumbs, “I’m here for you, whatever you need.” Eddie makes you stay in your seat until he can open the door for you, like a gentleman should, and walks you to your door.  His hand is loosely holding yours as you slide your key into the lock.  Almost embarrassed, you look his way, suddenly shy again, “Wanna come in?  I’ve got some beer and I think The Grinch is on tonight.” Laughing a little, Eddie shrugs, agreeing easily but still giving you the option for backing out, “Alright, if you don’t mind?” “Of course not.”  Once inside you slink out of your coat and motion for Eddie to do the same, “Have a seat.  I’ll be right back with something to drink.” Your place was very sweet, just like you, with a tinsel tree glowing with colored lights and other small holiday decorations set out just so.  It seems to Eddie like you’re also on the Christmas Crazy-Train.  There are two small boxes laying on the red plaid skirt beneath the tree and a single stocking tacked under the television stand.  He half expects you to leave out some cookies and milk, as if Santa was going to shimmy down your chimney tomorrow night and deliver you a Christmas miracle.  Eddie couldn’t help it.  He thought it was precious, sorta like you.  And if he’s being honest, he feels as though his own Christmas miracle is happening, right here, right now.  For two long years, you had been friendly, a close relationship beginning when you both reached for a recently returned copy of Evil Dead at Family Video.  In a moment of unprecedented cool guy maneuvering, Eddie’s suggestion that you come over to his place and watch it together.  When you agreed, offering him that sweet smile of yours, well, that had started everything.  He didn’t regret it, couldn’t even if he wanted to.  It wasn’t your fault that Eddie was using you as the standard against which all other ladies in his life would be judged.  And even though, in a bunch of unsuccessfully small ways, Eddie had tried to nudge your friendship in a more romantic direction, he was still as sprung on you as he had been from that very first moment. Now, he was here, with you, and so close to the big holiday.  It felt like his own Christmas miracle might be possible, if he believed in that kind of stuff- which he didn’t.  Because Christmas was a commercial product.  It was soulless, despite what people said to the contrary. But still, he rubbed his hands over his thighs nervously as he thought that maybe tonight was the night.  Tonight you would see him as the charming, romantic leading man that you deserved in your life and not just the guy who bailed you out when trouble came around.  Eddie’s seen enough of the fluffy, feel-good films that capitalize on the holiday season to recognize that he may be a part of one, with you. Because it couldn’t just be a coincidence that you called him on Christmas Eve, needing help and knowing exactly where to go to get it, right?  From the sound of things, Barry was quickly moving out of the boyfriend column and into the exes pile.  Another coincidence?  He sure as shit hoped not, but Eddie can’t get his hopes up, they’ve been dashed too many times.  With eyes that couldn’t seem to settle on anything in particular, Eddie’s mind strays to the countless other times where you had required rescuing and he had charged, nobly, into the fray.  Finding you crying on the nearest corner after running out on Barry’s insensitivity, pulling up in his ratty van outside of a party where you had clearly been unhappy, and once driving to the Indiana state border to fetch you from another one of your idiot boyfriend’s debacles.  Each time he promised himself that it was the last time- that he was going to protect himself, he was going to stop answering the phone, he was going to tell you how he felt.  But the calls, they just kept coming.  Happening way too frequently for his liking, the worn muscle of his heart tightening every time Eddie had to hear you sob, or listen to you talk about the belittling way Barry treated you.  Over and over again, you let the guy break your heart, only to take him back after some groveling and half meant apologies.  And over and over again, Eddie could feel his own aortic organ shriveling up from the knowledge that you refuse to see him as anything more than your second choice.  Tensing, he rubbed the back of his, wondering why he was here, waiting for you. Sometimes, it seemed to Eddie, like he was always just waiting around for your next phone call, your next emergency.  On hold until the phone rang, on the shelf, out of use.  Sure, he went out, hanging around other people; Steve and Robin, obviously, the Hellfire crew, his band.  Other than that, Eddie was at home, puttering around, on alert for the jingling ring that means you’re tagging him in for an assist.  And he hates it.  He truly does, because even though he hasn’t said it in exactly these words, Eddie needs you too.  Even more than that, he needs you to need him.  It gives him a purpose, a reason for sticking around this one horse town that isn’t connected to tragedy or trauma.  You were unavailable, sure, but always present, the living embodiment of his happiness and his sadness.  Eddie couldn’t help that the ache of wanting you for his own and always coming up short, time after time, was starting to splinter him into pieces. Snapping his head up at the scuffing steps you made, you pad back into the room wearing a cozy flannel nightgown, complete with elastic wrist cuffs and satin covered buttons at the throat.  In place of your make-up was a scrubbed clean face, glowing from the effort.  Your heels had been replaced by a pair of simple slippers.  Eddie swallows thickly, all of his other thoughts knocked out of his head.  Never had a woman been more covered up and still so alluring.  The old fashioned sleep shirt skimmed over the sweeping curve of your hips, but still managed to show off your shapely legs and graceful neck.  He isn’t sure why it affected him so much, this comfortable and easy version of you, but it did. “Do you still want a beer?”

He’s seen your mouth move, shaping the sounds of your question, but Eddie is dumbstruck by the innocent version of you hovering at the doorway.  Tossing his head, mostly to clear away the fog of his want, he croaked, “What?”

Giggling softly, you take a step closer, “I asked if you were thirsty.  Still want that drink?” “Oh, that?  Yea, yea sure.”  Knowing that he must seem mental, Eddie shifted on the couch, rolling his eyes at his own erratic behavior. From over your shoulder you ask him to turn on the tv, “The Grinch is on channel five, I think.” “Gotcha!”  The snap of the television coming to life fills the small space and you were practically running around the corner by the time Boris Karloff starts his narration.  Plopping down right next to Eddie, you gently hand him a bottle and drop a bag of chips onto the table, “Just in case we get hungry.” “Uh huh.  Since when do you like Doritos, huh?”  Flicking at the plastic bag, Eddie gives you a friendly side-eye look, full of teasing. Settling back into the cushions, you tug Eddie’s arm around your shoulders, “Since I’ve been forced to eat them with you.” An appreciative tone rang out from Eddie’s chest as you pressed your ear over the dip in his torso, right over his heart.  The gentle, even rhythm you found there was one of your favorite things and you took every available opportunity to listen to Eddie’s heartbeat.  You couldn’t say why it was important or what it was about his particular pulse that made you feel better, but it did, and Eddie, well, he never seems to mind. His fingers seemed to have a mind of their own, petting sweetly over the strands of your hair that trailed down towards your shoulders and he saw you shiver, “Here.”  Eddie tugged the knitted afghan from the back of the couch, tucking it in around you. Sighing, you snuggled into him, letting your eyes shut, feeling truly and completely at ease finally, “Hmm, thanks babe.”  Babe?  Oh shit.  That wasn’t good.  Not for his spiraling thoughts. Sipping his beer, he refocused on the green Grinch stomping on the screen.  He couldn’t bear to look at you.  Looking at you, right now, was dangerous.  You were too precious.  And the scene around him was too domestic.  It was exactly what life should look like if you weren’t the town scapegoat, raised by your uncle in the worst part of town and Eddie didn’t trust himself not to do something stupid in pursuit of that idealized image. Against his thigh, Eddie felt you shift as you drifted off.  You were practically in his lap with your head nuzzled into the center of his chest, eyes gently shut.  If he wasn’t careful, Eddie was going to enjoy holding you like this, so close and so easy, a little too much. The Grinch was complaining about noise and Eddie understood the sentiment a little too well because right now he was struggling to ignore the little kitten snores you were making with every exhale.  Your tiny huffed puffs blowing against his tummy, beer scented and sweet. He smiled down at you, full of affection and pulled you tighter to his side.  Unable to stop himself, Eddie brushed a peck to your upturned forehead, whispering a rueful “Fuck” into the night. When The Grinch ended and Charlie Brown’s Christmas started, Eddie sat still, his empty beer bottle in his hand, afraid that any movement would wake you up.  A news broadcast, filled with updates on the coming snow storm’s progress and holiday toy drive details wrapped up before the intro to Johnny Carson began.  Through it all, Eddie kept his arm around you, enjoying the worn in feel of your nightgown under his hand and the way you were burrowed into the crook of his shoulder. It was hard to be in your space so intimately and not touch you, even if his hands burned at the effort of keeping them to himself.  So, he didn’t trace the sweet sweep of your nose or tuck your hair behind your ears.  And somehow, Eddie managed to keep from pulling you into his lap fully, just to pet you, like he would a sleeping kitten.  Instead, he relished the trust you put in him, content to imagine happy kisses shared between the pair of you, while you dreamed next to him on the sofa. And you slept just like that, curled into Eddie Munson’s warmth until the strains of the National Anthem faded into staticy snow.  You sat up quickly, pulling back from the shared heat you and Eddie had created with a yawn.  Blinking his way sheepishly, your words full of drowsiness, “Sorry Ed- Did-” you rubbed your still sleepy eyes, “Did you- did you stay all this time just to let me sleep?” It was his turn to look bashful, and glancing out your window, Eddie nodded, “Yea.  What can I say?  You were too cute to move, sweetheart.” Snorting, you rolled your eyes at his kind words, “Oh, I bet I was!  All drooly and-” But he cut you off with a firm finger under your chin that yanked you near enough for his lips to press into your own.  A hungry sound, the kind a man makes when he’s digging into his favorite dinner, rolled through Eddie as you let your mouth part.  Thick and probing, Eddie licked over your bottom lip, letting the kiss deepen as your hands tangled into the second skin of his t-shirt. His forehead rested against your own, chest rising and falling rapidly, as Eddie’s dark eyes locked on yours, “Hey.” “Hey,” you echoed, keenly aware of Eddie’s presence in your sphere, breathing him in with short inhales as you tried to quiet your racing heart. Hands that you know as well as your own come down to cup your face, handling you as if you were porcelain- precious beyond measure and utterly breakable, “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.” Looking like a happy kid on Christmas morning, Eddie’s dimples show as he smiles your way, his fingers threading with yours.  Falling back into his original spot, he drags you with him, eager to have you in his arms, but you hold yourself back, teeth toying at your bottom lip as you blurt, “But Barry.  He’s-” Your words stick in your throat at the sight of Eddie’s crestfallen face, a new iciness filling each syllable, “What?  He’s what, sweetheart?”  When you don’t answer right away, a rage that he normally can keep in check threatens to overflow, as Eddie carried on in a rising voice, “I’ve seen- shit-” a fist slams into the meat of his thigh, his anger focused on that one spot as hurt filled eyes find yours in the silver light of the running television, “-I’ve seen what he’s done to you.  How he treats you.  How he hurts you over and over.”  Slender fingers reach for your cheek but Eddie doesn’t touch you.  Instead he lets his hand drop into his lap, his heart falling into the abyss as he manages to choke out, “And still, you’d rather be with him?” For a long second you didn’t answer, your brain too full of thoughts.  A lot had happened in the few minutes since you woke up, huddled around Eddie’s middle and you still weren’t thinking straight.  How could you after an incredible kiss like that? And Barry.  What about him?  Were you together?  You didn’t think so, not after what you had overheard, but that final conversation hadn’t happened yet.

Eddie’s words surround you though, the pain in them unmistakable.  Shaking your head slowly, you huskily counter, “I didn’t say that, Eddie.  It’s just-” But he pushed to his feet without giving you a chance to explain.  Swinging his jacket over his broad shoulders with furious flare, “Ya know, what?  Don’t.  I don’t wanna know.  Just uh-” in three long strides Eddie’s jerked open your front door.  His back is to you, the handsome face that you’ve come to associate with protection and honor haloed by the streetlights, Eddie chokes out over his shoulder, “Merry Christmas.”

Your door, red bowed wreath swinging, slammed shut and now, now your apartment feels really empty, cold.  The lights on your tree seem garish and glaring as this year’s holiday slowly but surely becomes the worst kind of memory.  Feelings that you’re too tired to process flow through you, but in the end you drag yourself to bed in the early hours of Christmas morning, wishing it all away as a bad dream. Flopping into bed, you clutched your pillow in your arms, disappointed that it didn’t have a pulse to share with you.  Already missing Eddie, you kicked yourself for being so indecisive, for ruining the precious seconds where only you and he existed in the twinkling glow of Christmas lights.  Pale sunlight was streaking the sky when you finally closed your eyes, hoping that you’d wake up to a world that was back in its proper alignment. Only, morning finds you, just the same, and unfortunately, there are no singing Whos to make you feel better about the night before.  There’s no one to kiss you awake and wish you a Merry Christmas Eve or tell you about the snow that is just starting to fall in fat, perfect flakes.  You don’t have anyone to cook for or watch open gifts.  It’s just you, all by yourself. It was always going to be a small Christmas, you knew that, truly.  You didn’t have much family and only a few friends, except for the people you met through your boyfriend or Eddie.  In fact, the gifts laying under the tree had been for them, of course.  Now they both were ghosts: Christmas Past and Christmas Present. At some point you throw yourself onto the couch, clicker in one hand, a can of Coke in the other even though it was still breakfast time.  It was around that time he’d called, much too early for your liking, so you let the machine get it.  With a self assured voice that proved how little he understood or cared about you, Barry had left a message asking you to bring a dessert when you came for dinner that night.  A last minute request for a last minute invitation.  He was so sorry, but you would do it, right? His call went unreturned.  Angry, you immediately erased the tape and took the phone off the hook.  After last night with Eddie, you were fairly certain that no one else was going to be calling.  Not on Christmas Eve when there were presents and parties and people to enjoy. Besides, all this silence gave you time to think, so while Danny Kaye and Bing Crosby tap danced across the twelve inch screen of your tv, you did just that.  And if your eyes got misty at Rosemary Clooney’s gift of a knight on a white horse, then that was just how good the movie was, right?  It didn’t have a single thing to do with a certain man willing to ride into battle on your behalf, over and over and over again. The more you thought, the more you realized that Eddie hadn’t been wrong about the ways in which Barry failed you as a boyfriend.  He had been treating you like garbage for a very long time, longer than anyone should tolerate, but when you had so little, even the scraps seemed significant.  Swallowing down your less than festive Swanson’s turkey dinner lunch, you realized that you didn’t want scraps- not anymore. Changing the channel, Jimmy Stewart’s drawl takes over the room, but you're not thinking about bells ringing.  You’re thinking about Eddie, again.  Still.  You’re thinking about how, even now, your nightie smells like tobacco and light beer and old leather.  You’re thinking about the sacred synth beating of his heart and how it always seems to settle you.  You’re thinking about that tender kiss he laid on you when your brain was still fuzzy but your body knew just how to respond.

You’re thinking about Eddie this Christmas Eve, but is he thinking about you?

— Eddie has never been more miserable in life.  Surrounded by all of his friends, gorging themselves on pie and turkey and ham and potatoes and cookies cut to look like snowmen, mittens or bells, Eddie is cursing the whole Christmas season.  All of the trappings are just red and green reminders of what he doesn’t have, what he can’t enjoy, what he had with you last night when you were tucked into him, safe and sound, while The Grinch stole Christmas.  “What’s eating you?”  Steve’s got a small paper plate in his hand, balancing a slice of lasagna along with a piece of cake that’s been stabbed through by a white plastic fork, as he dropped down beside Eddie. “Nothing.”  Leaning his chin into his hand, Eddie’s elbow dug into the meat of his thigh, a grouchy position for a grouchy guy. Licking frosting off his fork, Steve hummed, “No way.  Something’s got you all pissy.  Pissier than usual- and on Christmas too!  Come on, lay it on me.” Rolling his eyes Steve’s direction, Eddie sat back reluctantly, “I- I think I fucked up.” Steve’s bite of lasagna hovered in midair, between the plate and his open mouth, as he tossed his infamous locks, “Impossible.  It’s Christmas.” “What’s that got to do with it?”  Eddie grumbled, sitting up swiftly.  Really, was that any kind of explanation?  It was December 25th so your life couldn’t be totally screwed up?  Humbug. Chewing loudly, Steve nodded, holding up a finger as a silent indicator for Eddie to wait up until he swallowed.  With a sip of his egg nog, Steve twisted in Eddie’s direction, “Well, first, everyone loves Christmas.  Everyone but you, I mean.  It makes people feel better.  Want to be better, do better, ya know?” “So?”  “So, you’re more likely to be forgiven for fucking up.  I mean, shit.  Nance and I got back together over Christmas.  It’s magical, dude.” Blowing out a noise that was similar to a fart, Eddie shook his head in frustration, “It’s a day, Harrington.  One day out of 365.  Why does everyone make such a big deal-” “Are you kidding me?  Have you like, never seen A Christmas Carol or, or watched ‘Rudolph’?”  Confused, Eddie shrugs, “I have, but-” “But what?  All the songs, the movies, the stories, they’re all about loving each other- and, and being kind at Christmas time.” Throwing up his hands, Eddie stared at his friend, his smile sort of sad, “Well, what if you kiss someone who’s still hung up on their asshole boyfriend?” With rounding, wide eyes, Steve stuttered, “You- you kissed her?  It’s about damn time, man!” Flopping back, his long haired head resting against the tall cushion of the Wheeler’s couch, Eddie groused, “Naw, Harrington.  She-” sighing deeply, willing the pain out of his tone, “-she’d rather stay with Barry.” Steve tossed down the empty plate, standing quickly, “No.  Nope.  Nuh uh.” Looking around, shocked by Steve’s sudden movements, Eddie can’t help asking, “What’s happening, Steve?” Bending at the waist, his handsome forelock falling forward, Steve’s hands find his hips as he admonishes the depressed rocker in front of him, “I’ll tell you what’s happening.  You’re getting up and going over there.  You have to talk to her, man.” Glaring up at his friend from under his shaggy bangs, Eddie shook his head defiantly, “No way.  No fucking way.  She-” Leaning down further, dad stance activated, Steve snapped, “Do you like her?  Do you-” pausing to cock an eyebrow skyward, “-love her?” Gulping guiltily, Eddie’s head bounced in response as Steve added, “I thought so.  Well, the good thing for you is that this magical day isn’t over.  You never know what might happen if you go and talk to her.  I mean, it’s Christmas, man.  And maybe, just maybe, you’ll find out you didn’t fuck up everything after all.” “Is this some kinda motivational speech, Harrington?”  Tilting his head as that wicked grin spread over his face, Eddie isn’t laughing at Steve, but he can’t help mocking him just a little bit. Confusion filling his face, Steve faltered for a second, “Uh, is- is it working?” Genuinely this time, Eddie smiled genuinely, “Yea, I think it is.” Straightening his spine, resolute, Steve countered, “Then, yes.  I’m motivating you with my speech.  Now, uh, get lost, Munson.”  Offering his unlikely friend a hand, Steve pulled Eddie to his feet and was already ushering him towards the door. “Alright, but if this backfires, I’m coming back here and kicking your ass to the tune of Jingle Bells.” “Fair enough.”  Steve tapped him twice on the back as Eddie slid towards the van, his sneakers not offering much traction in the snow, “Go get her, Munson.” Eddie started the van and gave Steve a thumbs up before backing slowly out of the driveway.  For some reason, his heart felt lighter, buoyed by the pep talk from his buddy.  Maybe Steve was right.  Maybe there was a way to save this Christmas after all. Mind whirling, he was already planning out what to say to you- an apology to start.  And he was sorry.  Sorry for kissing you out of the blue.  Sorry for not telling you how he felt.   Sorry for talking about your boyfriend.

Ex-boyfriend?  Whatever the hell he was now.  But mostly, Eddie was sorry for walking away without telling you what was going on inside his head.  You deserved that much at least. Snow was falling faster now, dusting the whole town in powdered sugar whiteness, and he found himself hunching over the steering wheel to see better between the drifting flakes.  His defrost was working overtime, struggling to keep the fog off his windshield, as he cursed, “Jesus Christ!” As he got closer to your place his headlights illuminated a person, bundled up like a snowman, trudging along the barely plowed street.  Shaking his head as he slowly rolled past, Eddie couldn’t understand what would possess someone to do something like that, even if it was Christmas Eve.  What was so damned important that you went out in bad weather, a soggy sack of gifts melting under the swiftly shifting snow, he’d like to know. Pressing on the brake, Eddie stopped, disbelief flooding him.  “No.  No way-”

— Snow was dropping down in gentle swirls when you decided that you had to see Eddie, regardless of the fading sunlight, before Christmas Eve came to a close.  Too much had been said, too much left unsaid, for your mind to let it go.  Not to mention the way your heart ached dully when you thought about the wounded look on his face before he’d left you, stunned and speechless, after that tasty kiss. No.  It was Christmas, dammit.  And at Christmas, you told people how much they meant to you.  How much you needed them.  How much you relied on their strength, their warmth, their willingness to take teary phone calls at all hours of the night and then come rescue you from shitty situations time and again.  How much you, gulp, loved them. It was Christmas Eve and you were only just now realizing that there was one person who you needed to make the holiday happy and bright.  One dark hued, leather wearing metal head who just happens to be the white knight of your personal story.  You just hoped it wasn't too little, too late. Jamming his gift into a bag, you dressed as warmly as you could, layering up like a cake before lacing up your boots.  Pulling on a striped winter hat, complete with a fuzzy pom pom on top, you zipped up your heavy coat and stepped outside, shivering in the chill.  You didn’t have a car of your own, so you were going for a wintery walk to the trailer park, all in the name of love.

With a foggy exhale, you hummed to yourself, “Oh, the weather outside is frightful-” On a good day, the walk to Eddie’s place was about fifteen minutes.  Today, Christmas Eve, during a snowstorm, that quarter of an hour turns into forty five minutes easily.  Color rose up on your cheeks, across your nose, and the tips of your ears.  Anywhere you couldn’t cover with a scarf or coat was chapping in the cold air.  And you had long ago stopped your singing. Forced to walk on the road since most of the sidewalks were untreated, you didn’t mind, but you were incredibly cautious about oncoming traffic.  You wanted to talk to Eddie, not get turned into road pizza on the biggest holiday of the year, so you are walking into the wind and making yourself as visible as possible in the coming dusk.  Still, it required a lot of effort on your part, even if you had started to question the sanity of your idea.

Headlights catch your eye and you raise a hand to block the brightness.  The driver was going slow due to the snow and you move as far to the side as you can while also avoiding a slushy splash.  Tucking further into your scarf, you trudged on, rehearsing the speech you were going to give when Eddie opened his trailer door. And maybe that’s why you didn’t notice when the passing vehicle slid to a stop before reversing on the empty roadway.  All you know is that one second you were inside your head, white flakes flying past in swirling cyclones, and the next you hear a shout, “What the hell are you doing?” “Eddie?”  Stopping short, your head snapped up at a voice you know as well as your own. He was out of the van in a flash, his hands gripping onto your shoulders tightly, “It’s cold as fuck out here, not to mention snowing like crazy, and you’re just- just walking around?” Tipping your chin up, you eyed him from under the brim of your stocking cap, “I was going to your place.  I- I have a gift-” “A gift?  Sweet fucking Christ!  You coulda been killed!  A car could have- or, or, you could have slipped on ice and hit your head.  I mean, do you have any idea-”  Horrible scenario after horrible scenario filled Eddie’s mind.  Worrying about what could have happened to you and knowing that it hadn’t could not stop the flipped switch of his panic.  With a cracking voice, Eddie pulled you into his heart, his warmth, questioning you brokenly, “What if I hadn’t seen you?  What if- what if something happened to you and I wasn’t able to stop it.  To save you?” 

His grip tightens around you and your bulky coat, almost lifting you off the ground, “What would I do if-” A sweet half smile curls over your face as you put a mittened hand over his chest, cutting him off, “Eddie.” Your voice stills him, those wide burnt sugar eyes locking on yours, as he tips your head up, “Yea?” Pushing up onto the toes you could barely feel, you pressed a chaste kiss to Eddie’s warm mouth, lingering in his cinnamon gum scented sphere.  For a second, he froze, your cold nose rubbing against his as your eyes fluttered shut.  Then, his arms pulled you as close as your jacket allowed, those lips of his finding your chapped ones with a happy hum. Heat rushed through you, a welcome change from the dropping temperatures out on the snowy street.  Only this heat was spreading from the clenching muscles in your tummy, a fire ignited by the wanting way Eddie moaned into your mouth.  His nimble tongue danced alongside yours as the sky deepened into an inky indigo, dotted with picture perfect snowflakes.  Fingers, pinkening from the cold air, tug on the ends of your scarf ensuring that you can’t get away from Eddie this time. He didn’t need to worry.  You weren’t going anywhere, not without Eddie Munson, anyway.  Not anymore. Parting in a puff of heavy air that turned silver in the snowy night, Eddie’s forehead bumped against the cuff of your cap, a goofy grin making his dimples impossible to ignore, “Hey.” “Hey.”  Looking up at him through the curve of your lashes, expectant and excited, you were waiting to see what Eddie’s next move would be. You were rosy from cold, eyes shining bright in the fading light of day, and Eddie had never wanted you more.  Swallowing thickly, you watched his Adam’s Apple bob while his arms rubbed over your thick sleeves, “Can I- Will you let me take you home?” Biting into your bottom lip, you nod quickly, “Yea.  Yes, please.” Guiding you, Eddie ensured that you’re safely situated in the passenger seat before securing your buckle and shutting the door.  You giggled as he moved around the front of the van, slipping in the slush, his face illuminated in the headlights.  Catching your eye, he winks wickedly and then is seamlessly sliding behind the steering wheel with a wild toss of his snow-dampened hair, “Where to m’lady?” Sighing deeply, but happily, you pull off your winter hat, staticy strands sticking up at odd angles, “I’d normally say take me home, but-” “But?”  There’s caution in Eddie’s voice.  Like a skim of ice on the lake, things between you are still tentative- not solid, and he has a momentary lapse of confidence. Laying a hand on his denim clad thigh, leaning closer to reassure him, you shrugged, “But I don’t want to be alone.  Not tonight.  It’s Christmas Eve.” It gives Eddie an idea.  A wonderful idea.  A perfect, Hallmark Card, winter wonderland idea. “Ok, but just remember… You asked for it.”  His tone is playful when Eddie swings the van in a circle, turning from the direction of your place back the way he came. Oh, he’s nervous.  There weren’t a lot of people who had been to his trailer; just the closest, dearest of friends.  Steve had seen the inside of the clean and cozy space a time or two, Robin and Nancy for sure, but mostly, Eddie was the guy pulling up to your place, not the other way around. A small Christmas tree, loaded with lights and ornaments faced the gravelly road where Eddie’s uncle was already parked.  There’s strands of blinking lights criss-crossing the awning and a small sign that says, “Santa Stop Here” propped up on the porch.  It’s a sweet sight, a glowing, golden invitation on a cold and snowy Christmas night and you can’t help the dopey look of glee on your face at what you’re seeing. Pulling the van in smoothly, Eddie held up a hand, “Wait, k?  I haven’t been here to shovel.” Agreeing with a head bob, you sat patiently as he stomped around, snow high enough to cover his sneakers.  Snagging your bag, you are prepared to step into the snow, but Eddie doesn’t give you the chance.  One foot touched the ground and then he’s bear hugging you, walking you straight to the stairs as you laugh, “What are you doing?” “Keeping you from getting cold feet.  Obviously!”  Once he’s sure you’re on the firm ground of his steps, Eddie bounced back and kicked the van’s door closed. He brushed by you, his hand finding your elbow so that he could haul you inside, calling out warmly, “Hey, Uncle Wayne!  Hope you don’t mind-” An older, more worn in version of Eddie, minus the long locks, popped a head out from the kitchenette, “Wha?  Oh.  Oh, we’ve got company then?” Wiping his hands on a well used dish cloth, he moved closer, arms wide, “I’m Eddie’s uncle- Wayne, in case you didn’t get that part.”  The hug is crushing and so full of tenderness that you can’t help but wrap your arms around this new person, squeezing hard as he welcomes you.  Stepping back, Uncle Wayne kept a firm hand on you, but eyed Eddie steadily, “Your phone call, I take it?” Chuckling nervously, Eddie rubbed a palm across the back of his neck, ruffling his hair in the process.  He’s never been able to hide much from his uncle, this is no exception, and he can tell that he’s busted.  “Yea, Wayne.  She’s the one who called last night.” A look passed between them, approving and accepting, before Wayne clapped his hands, asking, “Are ya hungry, darling?  It’s not much, but it’s our tradition, so to speak.” “If you don’t mind?  I-” “Mind?”  Wayne says it as if he’s offended by the idea, “You’ll be doing me a favor.  Keep this one-” pointing at Eddie with an up turned thumb, “-on his best behavior.  Come on!” Your jacket disappeared into a closet somewhere and Eddie helped you shuck the soaking boots you’ve been wearing for much too long.  Excusing yourself, you duck into the bathroom, and when you come back, there’s a heartwarming scene unfolding in front of you.  Wayne and Eddie, setting an extra place at the table, grumbling about the “good china” which you can tell is paper plates.  Stopping, Wayne appraised his nephew for beat as Eddie centered a folded paper towel over your spot.  A small smile pulled at the corners of his uncle’s mouth before Wayne dragged Eddie into an unwilling hug that ended with a firm clap on the younger man’s back.  You swing back into the room at the sound, “This- this looks great, you guys!” A pot of macaroni and cheese, neon orange and buttery, sits in the center of the table.  There’s a plate of ham and cheese sandwiches, cut into triangles and piled high on a Miller High Life tin tray, next to a bowl of salad greens.  A big bottle of ranch dressing standing proudly at its side. “It’s not traditional, I guess-”  Eddie started but Uncle Wayne cut him off, “It’s our tradition!  All of Eddie’s favorite food is here.  Except the salad, of course.” “Except the salad.”  He echoed his uncle, offering you a sandwich from the tray while his teeth pinch the fat of his lip, desperate for your acceptance. He had no reason to worry.  It’s just so lovely to be with other people, especially guys like the Munson boys.  They pass around bottles of beer, telling stories, making you laugh so hard that your stomach muscles ache from it.  From deeper in the trailer you heard the sound of an alarm clock buzzing and Uncle Eddie exhaled hard, “Well children, I have to get going.” Looking up from your seat at their table, you questioned, “No!  You’re not leaving are you?” Taking one of your hands in his, Wayne pats it gently, “Double time at the plant is too good to pass up, even if the company is as excellent as yours, darling.” Pouting, you let your bottom lip stick out and Eddie is struck by an urge to kiss you stupid.  Instead of whipping you into his arms in front of his uncle, Eddie stood up and started clearing the table, “Ok, old man.  You can stop flirting with her now.” “Me?  I would never!”  And you could hear the same teasing tone in Uncle Wayne’s voice that Eddie has inherited.  It’s flattering and flustering at the same time and you just knew that they could feel the flush of heat radiating off of you from the attention they both give you. “Yea, yea.  Here-”  Eddie handed a small box to Wayne, “-Food, for tonight’s shift.”  “Thanks, son.”  Turning in your chair you watched Wayne shrug on his coat, popping the collar up high to block some of the snow that’s still falling.  At the doorway he nodded your direction, “Don’t be a stranger young lady.  Merry Christmas to you both!”

And then the trailer goes quiet.  Eddie pivoted fast, big eyes finding yours, and you both started laughing again. “Shit!  I mean, I knew Uncle Wayne had moves, I’ve just never seen them in action like that before.” Feigning innocence, you placed a hand over your heart, “Do you mean to tell me that he was flirting?  My, my, you Munson men must have a type!” Eddie’s chuckle petered out, his face growing serious, as he looked you over, “Yea.  We do.  Pretty ladies who uh, who walk through snow storms and love The Grinch.” You didn’t laugh because it wasn’t funny anymore.  Reaching out his hand, Eddie lifted you to your feet, spinning you in place before bringing his hands to your hips.  “Hey, hang on, k?” Nodding, you missed his presence when he stepped up to the record player hidden in the corner of the living room.  The speakers spring to life, and with a triumphant grunt, Eddie placed a 45 on the turntable before returning to you.  Nat King Cole started to croon about chestnuts and open fires, but you’re hardly listening. You’re caught up in the way Eddie’s eyes reflect the multi-colored lights of his cute Christmas tree, reds and greens and yellows and blues.  The feeling of his hands swaying you back and forth, moving you where he needed you to be, is intoxicating, heady.  Drawing your palms over his forearms, you slid them higher, higher, higher, until you could lace them behind Eddie’s neck. He stretched against your folded fingers, looking down at you, “I’m really glad that you came over tonight.  I don’t think Wayne will ever get over it.” Snickering sweetly, you wet your lips, “He loves you.” “He’s the only one.” Shaking your head, your hooded gaze never leaving his, you countered, “Uh uh.  That’s not true.” Eddie tilted his head, studying your expression, “You calling me a liar, sweetheart?” His tone was playful but the tenor was low, raspy, grating, and you matched it when you answered, “Yea, maybe I am.” “Are you saying that you love me?”  Whispering, just in case he was dreaming, just in case he had to deny that these words had ever been spoken, Eddie paused all movement. You nod, yes, but it’s not enough.  Not for Eddie.  Not tonight.  “Please, I need- I need you to say it.” A clock ticked away the seconds while you peered into the hot cocoa gaze of the only man you truly trusted, “I love you, Eddie.  I- I think I always have, really.” If you could capture an image to look over forever, it would be the face Eddie made at your husky confession.  The unadulterated joy that crowds his features made you think about New Year’s Eve fireworks, exploding and expanding as they brilliantly burst.  Eddie broke your hold on him, his fingers threaded between your own as he brought a hand up to press a little kiss to your knuckles. “I know.  It took you long enough to realize it, though, sweetheart.” Looking away from him, a stupid, giddy smile grew across your face.  You rolled your eyes, “Maybe I was waiting for the right moment?  ‘Tis the season, ya know?” Eddie didn’t reply, at least not with words.  He picked his moment and using your waist as leverage, snugged you tight to his lean body.  One arm braced along your spine as his other hand cupped your bountiful bottom, tipping you off center a bit so that he could wrap your leg over his hip. He’s so solid, so sturdy, that you melted into the embrace, letting Eddie support you entirely as you gripped at his firm biceps.  That curtain of ebony hair brushed against your cheek as your mouth searched for and found more of Eddie to taste.  Mewling against his lips, you could feel his growing excitement and your core pulsed with need at the idea of having all of Eddie, all for yourself. Pinching your bottom, Eddie straightened you both up, jerking his head towards the small room at the end of the hall, “Come on.” A little light headed, you followed where he led, landing in his personal domain.  It’s a space dominated by his love of music and all things D&D related, and it smelled so good, so right, that you launched yourself in his direction, needy lips already moving in on him.  Eddie met you there, in the middle, ready and wanting. Longing for him, you toyed with the hem of his t-shirt, desperate to feel Eddie under your hands.  Gliding higher, Eddie chuckled, catching your hands in one of his, “Your hands are freezing!” “Sorry!”  You rubbed them together, blowing on them, trying to warm them up as quickly as possible. “S’ok, I got you.”  He stepped away and crossed his hands at the bottom of his shirt before ripping it off in one fluid motion.  Eddie is stunning.  His compact and constant strength is evident in the smooth lines of his chest, his tattoos a road map to pleasure.  You didn’t know whether to touch him, or kiss him, or lick him- your thoughts derailed entirely when he tisked, “Um, see something you like?” Beneath your hands Eddie felt so substantial, so solid.  Tracing his ribs, you leaned in to kiss the places where black ink outlined the images associated with his rock and roll persona, keeping a hold on his trim waist.  When you reached the hollow of his chest, the place that hovered above his heart, you lingered long enough to purple the skin there as yours.  Home. It’s the sort of attention that Eddie isn’t accustomed to- someone showering him in affection.  The time its taken for your tongue to lick lines over his pecs, press kisses across his collar bone, nips at the cologne stained skin of his neck, feels like decades.  Eons.  Ages. But he let you take that time.  Breathing became a struggle, especially when you purse your lips and sucked little red splotches over the length of his core, your still chilly fingers dug into the muscles of his back as a reminder for him to keep still.  Tentatively, you played with his belt, not wanting to show just how eager you truly were in this moment. He doesn’t stop you, instead Eddie moves your hands to his handcuff shaped buckle, encouraging you, “Yea, go ahead, babe.  I- I want you to.” Jumping at the contact, Eddie’s stomach muscles contracted and he hissed.  Dropping to your knees, you pushed his jeans down, down, down, and tapped his calf.  It was a silent way of telling him to move his feet so you could get his pesky pants off of him. From this position, Eddie stood tall and straight like a mythological hero above you.  Other guys might have tried to hide their growing erections, crossing their hands over any visible sign of their desire, but that’s not Eddie’s style.  If anything, he parted his legs, widening his stance to showcase his masculine power.  And if the boxers he wore weren’t covered in Santa faces, then you were certain his manliness would have overpowered you. “Ah!  These are very cute.”  Flicking at the hem of his shorts, you had to tease him.  You have to lighten the mood otherwise, you were going to combust right to ash at his feet. “‘Tis the season- isn’t that what you said?”  Throwing your words back at you, Eddie let his fingers tangle in your hair, urging your head back as your dewey mouth parted. You were so close to him, to his aching stiffness, that all his willpower is being channeled into behaving.  It would be all too easy to dig his thumbs into the pudgy flesh of your cheeks, keeping your mouth open wide as he fed his hard cock between your lips until you were full up with Eddie.  A shadow of his thoughts crossed behind his eyes and you gulped audibly, pressing your thighs together at the idea of him using you for his own end. Only, that wasn’t who Eddie Munson was, at heart.  There was no forcing, no taking, not without talking first.  And that alone was so very different from whatever his name was that you were already feeling more excited, more aroused than you could ever remember being before. Nodding at his quip, you stretched  your fingers toward the gathered elastic band of his jockey shorts, but he stopped you, “Not yet, ok, pretty girl?  Wanna see you first, alright?” “Oh, yea, ok.  Sure.” You stood up on shaking legs, never breaking the heated stare between you and Eddie.  Slowly you started to peel off the layers of clothing that you had wrapped around yourself before heading out into the snow.  Fumbling, you toed off one thick sock when Eddie’s low laugh interrupted your eager undressing, “Lemme help you.  You helped me, it’s only fair.” Motioning to his thigh, you brought your socked foot up, inhaling sharply when Eddie rolled the soggy wool down your toes before chucking it towards the door.  Those calloused fingers massaged up your calf, the muscles there tense from your excursion, and you groaned gratefully at the softening his touch brings.  Too soon, in your opinion, Eddie lowered your leg back to the floor, but it’s only because he was raising the bottom band of your hoodie over your head. Stumbling a bit, he caught you, now in a t-shirt and leggings, “Did you put on everything you own?” “It’s cold out!  And I was walking here to tell the guy I love “Merry Christmas”!”  It’s your best defense and the base honesty of it makes Eddie weak. “Fair enough, sweetheart, but I need you naked.  Like, now.”  His eyebrows are raised expectantly making you chortle as his overeager attitude. You got a little bit fresh though, wanting to tease him, to draw out the night, so you sass, “What if I’m your gift, huh Munson?  And you’re just rushing through the unwrapping part-” He doesn't let you finish.  Instead, Eddie scooped you up with his hands on your soft bottom, pushing his nose into the crook of your neck, “Oh, I know how to take my time, babe.  Especially when it matters.” “Fuck, Eddie.”  It’s a broken exhale, wanton and laced with a desperation that he had never heard from you before.  He’s an addict already. Buttons part easily under Eddie’s knowing fingertips.  Your flannel shirt and faded tee are thrown across the room joining the growing pile of your clothes.  After your ribbed tank top comes off, the last barrier to your bountiful breasts is the emerald green bra you put in, hopeful that Eddie would have a chance to see it before the night ends. Now here he is, an owlish look on his wonder filled face, “Wow.” Heat climbed through you at the raw realness on display in Eddie’s features.  That’s when you decided that you can’t wait any longer and took his wrists in your hands, placing them on your waist as you stepped into his arms, “Eddie, baby, please?  Please touch me.” He doesn’t respond with words.  Gripping you tight enough to bruise, your head is tipped back to make room for Eddie’s roving mouth as he scorches a path down your neck.  At the swell of your breasts he slowed down, savoring the flavor of your skin, teasing you with his tongue.  Licking over the lace of your bra, Eddie sucked on your hardened nipple through the fabric, the foreign sensation making you jump under his ministrations.  You tangled a fist in his hair, pulling against the loose curls, and he let you direct his mouth back to your own bee stung lips as you mewl, “Need you, Eddie.  Need you now.” “Fuck, baby.”  Walking you backwards, Eddie lowered you onto his bed, following you down to the mattress.  His hands cupped your cheeks, brushing your hair back so he could really see you, those broad thighs pressing your own open.  You could feel the delicious weight of him on top of you, his hard cock unavoidable, and you rolled your hips into Eddie’s just to hear him groan. In a rush now, Eddie ripped your pants off in a flash, taking your panties with them.  Kneeling between your spread legs, he laid his hands over his heart, “I really love-” you angled up onto your elbows, anticipating how he’ll finish his sentence, “-my Christmas gift.  Thank you so much for bringing it over, even if you had to walk a mile in the snow.” “You shit!”  Giggling at his theatrics, you grabbed for him, only satisfied when he’s draped over your prone figure. There’s a kiss then, and another, and another until they blend together in your mind.  Some are sweet and slow.  Some tender and testing.  Others are sloppy, teeth clicking, tongue sucking kisses. Hands are everywhere.  They glide along hairy thighs and smooth arms.  They paused to fondle, to flick, to squeeze.  They never stopped moving. Fingers find ticklish spots to linger on, drawing out laughter, high and sweet.  Fingers press hard into soft skin.  They dig in, they hold on. When Eddie’s bold enough, he touches you at the dark, damp cavern of your core.  The un-rushed attention is overwhelming and it doubles in intensity when his calloused middle finger finds a home surrounded by your satin walls.  Clutching at his arms, you wailed thinly, “More, Eddie, more, please.” A second finger breached your wet cleft, the stretch delicious and somehow delicate because Eddie’s listening to you, to your body, and he’s not rushing.  His gaze had not left yours, the show you’re putting on is just too good to miss and he has a front row seat.  Kissing over your tummy, moving lower, you bucked into his grip just as his plush pout pressed against your straining clitoris. Fisting his pillow with one hand, the other curled possessively around the back of his neck, holding him steady.  Holding him close.  Holding out for the inevitable peak of your pleasure, brought on by the unceasing attention of your lover. Panting, your thighs quaked, the ecstatic energy gathering in your body ready to explode.  It’s been so long since you had someone take care of you, worry about pleasing you, think about getting you off first, that when your orgasm hits it is leveling.  The air huffs out of you in short bursts as your body goes rigid, all of your limbs seem to lock up, and every molecule of your form is concentrated on the overriding bliss created by Eddie and his feelings for you. Maybe you blacked out, you don’t really know what else to call the far away floating sensation that accompanied your little death.  What you do know is that Eddie has you gathered in his arms, your head cradled over that spot- your spot on his chest, his heartbeat the first sound that breaks through the fog of your climax.  Rocking you back and forth, soft kisses pressing into the crown of your head, as Eddie cooed, “I got you, pretty girl.  It’s alright.  You’re ok, honey.” Shivering as you come down from your intense high, stray tears cascaded down your cheeks, but these are not born of sadness.  Experiencing euphoria like this was overwhelming and you gratefully sunk into Eddie’s warmth, hiccuping, “I’m- I’m ok, Eddie.  I’m- thank you.  Thank you so much.” “Thank me?  Sweetheart, I didn’t do-” Swiveling in his arms, you peered up at him through wet eyes, “But you did!  You do.  You always take such great care of me and tonight, all this, it’s no exception.”  And you kissed him with everything you had in your heart, saying ‘I love you’ with your body over and over again.  When you pulled back this time, a small hand on Eddie’s stubbled cheek, you shook your head, not believing that you were here, now, with this loving man, “I think I must be dreaming.” “Then, please, for the love of Ozzy, do not wake up.” An undignified snort of laughter snuck out of you and Eddie takes advantage of the distraction to lay you back on the bed.  Floppy and boneless, you’re spread out and giggling, ready for whatever Eddie wanted to do.  You run your foot over his leg, landing on his hip before he wrapped a hand around your ankle, steadying his hold on you to ensure that you were open wide for him. You nibbled on your pinky finger, knowing what came next, but playing coy.  That sweetness, the innocent way you batted your eyelashes at him, it made Eddie throb.  Yearning to be inside of you, he smooched at the skin of your inner thigh, “God, you’re so fucking pretty.  Can I touch you, beautiful?  Can I make you feel good?” Why would you ever say no to that?  Letting your calves lock around his, you lifted your hips up so that you could hump against Eddie, “Please, Eddie, for fuck’s sake!” And then he was fisting himself, lining the hardest part of his body up with the softest part of your own, “Hey, hey, look at me.” Locked in on Eddie’s blown out stare, you licked over your bottom lip, which only made him groan.  Dropping his chin, he shook his head, “You- you can’t look at me like that, baby.  I’m going to cum before I ever get to feel you if you keep that up.” “But, I didn’t-” Running a hand through his hair so that it fell over his shoulder, he husked, “You can’t help it.  You’re just so damned adorable and-” the expansive head of his cock caught at the slick circle of your quim, “-And I fucking love you.” Inhaling sharply, your body arched off the bed and straight into Eddie’s chest at his first breaching thrust.  Hands tensing, your nails clawed at his forearms as he stilled, giving you time to adjust to his shattering length and stretching width.  Distracting you, Eddie’s mouth dotted kisses along the base of your throat and over your jaw, before huskily growling into your ear, “I’m gonna move now, ok?” Noiseless, you nodded as Eddie kept his word.  Withdrawing slowly, Eddie was exercising all the control he possessed to ensure that you got the best of him.  And even with his concentration focused on the long, smooth strokes of his thrusts, he still managed to touch you, kiss you, mumble out sounds like yes and fuck and your name. “Eddie, more, please?”  You hadn’t meant to whine but he felt so good that you wanted all you could get. It was as if you had cut him free by asking that question.  Eddie let his body reply, rolling his hips, no longer pulling free from your velvet vice.  Instead he surged forward, deeper and deeper with every press of his pelvis against your own.

Your sweaty skin had gone over goosebumps, a shivering, shining sensation spiraling from your core.  You found your voice but could only manage to whimper as Eddie let a free hand rake over your thigh before his fingers landed on your clit, rubbing in light circles.  The contact made your muscles clench and through gritted teeth, Eddie cursed, “Fucking hell, sweetheart!” His reaction made you giggle breathlessly, “I’m so close Eddie.  Are you?  Are you gonna cum?” “Yea.  Yea I am, honey.  Can you hold on?  Cum with me?” Hugging him, your back off the mattress, you peppered him with kisses, agreeing with a happy hum.  Eddie kept his rhythm, the even movement of his fingers, and when he felt his own eminent ending, took a beat to encourage you, “Sweetheart, please?  Let go for me, yea?  Wanna- shit- wanna feel you cum around my cock.” Language like that would have made you embarrassed before but coming from Eddie’s sweet, sweet mouth it set you aflame, “Eddie!  Yes!  Yes, baby!” Your ruinous release arrived with a shout of his name.  Going rigid under Eddie as he rocked into you, his palm pressed to the center of your chest, right over your heart, and then he shuddered above you, his forehead coming to rest against your own as you both fought to catch your breath. 

But then Eddie pushed away, abruptly, the overflowing spend of his ecstasy wetting your thighs.  It left a cold and empty gap between you when he turned his back to you, his shoulders hunched.  Sitting up, you moved to Eddie’s side, “Eddie?  Are you- are you ok?” There was no answer, so you crawled to his side, but he avoided looking at you, so you draped a hand on his meaty quad, squeezing slightly, as you asked, “Babe, what’s going on?” Kneeling on the bed in front of the man who just gave you two delicious orgasms, you were utterly shocked at the sight that met you; Eddie, skin shiny from sweat, sitting cross legged, was biting into his knuckle.  It was the reason which broke you. He was crying.  Tough, beautiful, Eddie Munson was crying.  Sobbing really, and to stifle the sound, his teeth were gouging into the flesh of his finger.  Once more he tried to avoid you, but you were quick to pull his arm down, “Eddie, what happened?” “I-” his voice was thick, embarrassed and full of emotion, “-I’ve never- What we just did, I-”  When you realized that he couldn’t get the words out, you took his hands in yours, kissing over the pulse point of each wrist, “Imma need you to take a deep breath, babe.  There ya go!”  And you praised him when he inhaled brokenly. Puffing out his cheeks on the exhale, he allowed your clever fingers to wipe away his tears, apologizing, “I’m so sorry.  So sorry, sweetheart.” “For what?  Where’s this coming from?” “For being a big baby, now, after we just-” damp and wet cheeked, his pretty brown eyes found yours in the dim, “-after we made love.”

“Oh, Eddie.”  Your hand cupped his cheek and he leaned into the warmth he found there, sighing. For the first time in your relationship, you were able to offer Eddie the sort of comfort and care that he had shown you so many times.  Wasting no time, you straddled his lap, wrapping him in a hug.  He hooked his chin over your shoulder, “I just- I’ve never had anyone love me.  Not like this and-” You silenced him with your lips, your tongue prying into his mouth, drinking the sadness from the source.  All of your want, all of your love, all of it went into the kiss you laid on Eddie.  When you leaned back far enough to stare at your man, you were met with his earnest expression, still raw and real.  

Your forehead nudged into his, a half-smile playing on your lips, “Hey.” “Hey.”  Still sounding sad, Eddie let a chuckle burst out of him, but you found it endearing, encouraging. Eddie let his hands find a place on the thick meat of your tush, keeping you close as you nuzzled into his neck, “I love you, Eddie.  All of you.  And for so many reasons.” “Yea?”  He sounded like he still couldn’t believe it.  That this was all too good to be true. Pulling back on his hair, he hissed but didn’t try to stop you.  “Yea, Eddie.  Yea, I do.  I fucking love you.” Then he was laughing.  A joyful, open, happy sound that brightened the room and made you smile wide.  Eddie lightly slapped your ass, his fingers digging into the flesh of your hips as he licked open mouth kisses along the top of your chest, leaving red marks along the way.  Laughing too, you basked in the bubble of love that the two of you were creating. Dragging you to his side, your head rested against his chest, over your special spot.  His heart was thumping, steady and strong, already lulling you to sleep, when you tipped your head up, “Merry Christmas, Eddie.” “Uh, Merry Christmas.” And what happened next, well in Hawkins, they say, that Eddie Munson’s small heart grew three sizes that day. On Christmas morning, Eddie cooked you breakfast, and made sure there was plenty of fresh coffee for Uncle Wayne to come home to.  After the dishes were washed, you pulled his gift out of your snow stained bag, “This is for you.” “Aw, baby!  You didn’t have to do this.” Shifting your weight, you nervously danced, “I know!  But, well… OPEN IT!” The paper tore away quickly, revealing a framed photo of the two of you sitting on lounge chairs at Steve’s house, happiness visible on both of your faces.  When he looked at the picture it was painfully obvious; you were in love even then.  It was clear from the way you leaned into each other, your head resting right over his heart, exactly where it belonged. All you needed to make that love a reality was a Christmas miracle, but those only come around once a year. A lump rose in Eddie’s throat.  Maybe there was something to this holiday after all.  Something about love and caring and showing people how much they meant to you.  Maybe it wasn’t about the cost of gifts or the wrapping paper; the ornaments or the parties. Maybe Christmas wasn’t so bad.  Not if it brought you two together, once and for all. Shit.  Steve had been right.  Eddie was going to have to thank his friend for the motivational speech. When he saw your expectant look, Eddie cleared his throat, declaring, “I love it.  Thank you, so so much.” Extending his hand, you took it, letting him settle you in his lap, humming, “And I love you, so so much.” When Wayne came home, you were curled in Eddie’s lap, his arm holding you close.  Both of you were sleeping peacefully, the tv playing a repeat of the holiday parade.  He shook his head, happy in his heart. Merry Christmas, indeed. —------FIN—-----

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[acourtofthought]

I could have sworn I already created this post but I can't seem to find it so apologies if it's a repeat.

Before she even realized they'd be mates:

In book 1, Elain and Lucien were already well liked by many and a little bit chatty 😂 (they're going to be the couple that talks to one another all day long about anything and everything, true best friends and partners). That was before SJM realized they'd end up being something to one another.

And once their bond surprised her, SJM drove home their similarities:

He added to Lucien, who did not balk from those writhing shadows,

But Elain did not balk from him

Though the tunic isn’t as pretty as a dress.”

her rose-pink gown / her dusty-pink gown / clad in a lilac gown / replaced by a gown of amethyst velvet / - I could keep going with this but the main point is so far, Elain has disliked wearing pants and has chosen to wear only dresses.

“This isn’t very Solstice-like talk.”

Elain had blushed, muttering about the impropriety of such things.

Rhys said at last, “I can stomach being around him.” “I’m sure he’d love to hear that thrilling endorsement.”

While I might never run to Elain first with problems or advice, we had a peaceful, amicable understanding. I found her to be a pleasant companion. I wonder if she'd resent that judgement, I certainly would.

More than eager—he seemed to be itching to head into the city on his own.

As if my sister, too, had merely been looking for an excuse to get out of the house today.

Like the Fae male had settled similar arguments between them before.

Elain murmured a soft plea to Nesta, which earned her a hiss in response.

“So there will be no meeting here,” Nesta said, shoulders stiff. “There will be no Fae in this house.” “Do you include me in that declaration?” I said quietly. Nesta’s silence was answer enough. But Elain said, “Nesta.” Slowly, my eldest sister looked at her. “Nesta,” Elain said again,/ “Feyre gave and gave—for years. Let us now help her. Help … others.”

And yet there she was, acting more like a cranky old aunt than anything.”

“The new Amren is even crankier than the old one,” Elain said softly.

Like Rhys, he usually opted for words to win his battles

he’d run into Elain’s former betrothed. And managed to leave the human lord breathing.

And he knew the cruelty of the Hewn City troubled her.

There are even more examples of this but it's really amazing to see how beautifully matched SJM has set these two characters up to be.

#elucien #pro elucien #elain archeron #lucien vanserra #elain x lucien #lucien and elain #elain and lucien #pro lucien vanserra #pro elain archeron #elucien supremacy

[winters-mistress]

Moonblood

Let it be known that Geralt and his brothers are, all in all, good men. Yeah, they can be dicks -like that time Eskel and Geralt had dressed up as Wyverns and leaped upon their brother while he slept, or that time Lambert had spiked a bottle of white gull with a certain medicinal herb that made the thief more than obvious- but they are good men. Stupid, granted -Geralt had thrown Lambert off a snowdrift when they were training, while Eskel had tried to balance the wall after drinking two entire tankards of brandy- but they are good men.

Geralt had tried to make it clear on the trip up to Kaer Morhen with his new ward. All in all, she seemed to believe him, until Lambert had started hissing at her, about the way the pretty little princess did her pretty little hair and wore her pretty little dress and stuck her pinky up when she drank water. Ciri had thrown a horse shoe at him, and all deemed to have been well after that. Lambert was less of a knob, Eskel tried his best to push past his pain of yet another blonde daughter of Kaer Morhen running around the hallways, Coen was thrilled to have another lover of the arts amongst the cranky wolves, and Vesemir slipped into the old master role with ease.

Things had been going well -albeit with Cirilla's still wild powers popping up at the most inconvenient of times- with his girl eager to learn anything they would teach her. Swordplay, hand to hand combat, star throwing, sword making and even the mundane things like hunting, skinning, cooking, harvesting and laundry she took to with eagerness. It had probably been those weeks of confusion and helplessness that spurned her onwards in all things they taught her, eager never to be how she had been ever again.

And it was because of her determination and her willingness to get down and scrap with the witchers, sampling the alcohol they had let her have and twirling a cheese knife when she was taught how, with her messily tied braid and dusty cheeks as Lambert taught her all the fun curse words Eist hadnt gotten around to yet as he went theiught he basics of bombs, that they almost forgot the most obvious thing of all.

Ciri was a girl.

And that was why it was so startling to Geralt when Lambert had started snipping at the girl because of her washed hair and face -was it about that? Geralt hadn't been paying attention, he was so shocked at her reaction that the context didn't seem important anymore- that ciri simply dropped her spoon into her bowl of porridge, and promptly burst into tears.

All of the witchers took a deep breath, rearing back as if the girl would suddenly leap out and strike. She didn't do that, simply sat there on the bench and cried into her hands.

Geralt reaches over to her, having stayed close when her scent had changed a couple days ago. He didn't know why, and with all the Kings and Mages hunting the girl, any changes was concerning. That and the sudden metallic scent of blood he had noted when the girl had walked into the room that morning, he was very unnerved by this reaction.

Not knowing what else to do, and with his mind spinning as he tried to come up with a reason of why his girl was acting so differently, the witcher reaches out and brings her into his arms. She goes willingly, clinging to him as she continues to cry.

"I-I-I- uh-" Lamb stutters, looking at his brother, eyes wide. He's befuddled, and obviously concerned that his brother will be the one to leap at him and pummel him.

Geralt cuddles his girl as best he can, shushing her, and taking in the scent once more. It's different than her usual honey and lemon and rose petals, more salty and bitter, as well as the metallic scent of blood.

Changes of scent, blood, crankiness- oh.

"Ah." The penny finally drops, running his hands over her back as she sniffles. "I get it now."

And it seems that his brothers and father attain the same knowledge at the same time. They relax and tense in the same moment, obviously unsure of what to say.

"Get what? I disnt-" Lmabert speaks fast.

"Can you not smell the blood?" Eskel huffs quietly, cuffing his brother. "She's a girl. They bleed."

"What? I-oh. Oh. Yeah, I get it. Fuck. I-fuck." Lambert rambles. "Umm, I'm very sorry, Ciri. Didn't mean to upset ya." He drawls awkwardly, fiddling with his blackened fingers.

She finally starts to compose herself, but doesn't seem willing to let go of Geralt just yet.

"Shit-uh-" Vesemir mutters. "Girl, if you don't feel up to training or lessons, you can have a few days away from it. Don't want to pressure you." He scratches the back of his neck awkwardly. "And, if you want to head back to bed, that's fine too. Or train as normal, whatever works for you."

Ciri sniffles, and stops crying, but doesn't let go of the white haired witcher, nor look at his kin.

"Uh, you want a tonic? For the pain? I'm sure we can find something that'll work to take the discomfort. Does it hurt, lovers have mentioned that it does." Vesemir starts to ramble.

Geralt, Eskel and Lambert grunt in disgust. Eskel groans in agony, while Lambert gags.

"Melitele's tits, old man. Last thing any of us want to picture is you sticking your dick in a woman."

Geralt gags at that, and Ciri manages a giggle.

Coën shares a grin with the old wolf, both of them knowing why he had added the last part.

"In all seriousness, you need anything, girl? We could rip up some of the old bedsheets for cloth, figure out what tonic would make ya feel better. Can look in some of the old textbooks for that tea recipe the matrons used to swear by." Coën says, looking at the girl as she finally pulls from Geralt a little. He slings an arm around her shoulders as she burrows in.

"Yes, thank you." She whispers, wiping her blotchy face.

"Come on-" Geralt pulls at her wrists as he stands. "let's get you laying down, that'll make you feel better? Can get a waterskin, fill that up with some hot water, does that help."

"It-it does." She nods, standing up. She looks at the other witchers. "Thanks, for being nice, I guess. I know it's not something you deal with usually."

"Nonsence, girl. Get restin', feelin' better. You're no use to us all teary and bloody." Lambert smirks, sincerely hoping the girl wouldn't cry again.

And by the way she huffs and flips him off, he's amused and jovial once again.

Now, where are those bedsheets?

#the witcher netflix #geralt and ciri #geralt of rivia #ciri is his baby #cirilla of cintra #dadralt #fanfiction #geralt is the best dad #witcherfanfiction #cirilla fiona elen riannon #princess cirilla #witcher uncles #uncle lambert #uncle eskel #uncle coen #grandpa vesemir #eskel #coen #lambert #vesemir #geralt #menstruation

[tallulah477]

waaa thinking of loak and the princess sneaking out of the castle to visit neteyam after a year or smth since he (and neteyam personal butler who stayed behind in the castle to give info and the mail man know his location)

princess who basicslly forced loak to bring her with him otherwise she would snitch but later regrets it when she realizes she wont be in a carriage and has to sleep in dingy barns because theyre undercover and she has to be super close to loak because its cold as fuck and she doesnt have her expensive custom made fur blanket but after being so close to him and hearing his heartbeat and how arm just perfectly fits around her shes contemplating just freezing if it means not dealing with her feelings

— 🤍

Catch up on the story:

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five

Extra: One

CW:// None, I think

Awwww! I imagine this would happen just a little while after Neteyam and his maid have their baby. Lo'ak would want to meet his niece or nephew so badly and would come up with some kind of excuse to be able to get out of the castle/duties for a few days to go visit them.

Naturally Princess is suspicious about where he's going, and when she overhears him telling Kiri that he's going to visit Neteyam, she blackmails him into taking her with him. She wants to confront Neteyam, see exactly the kind of life he's living that he's sooooo happy with that he left her all high and dry by herself. Well . . . with his brother, but same thing.

Maybe they frame it as a "to get to know one another better" retreat? It's usually not accepted for unmarried couples to go off on their own for overnight trips, but Jake thinks it might be wise for them to get to know each other without the added pressure of being at the castle so he okays it on the condition that Lo'ak's butler and Princess's maid go with them "to keep them out of trouble."

So the four of them travel to a nice inn about a days ride from the castle. The butler and maid stay at the inn to hold down appearances, but when night falls, Lo'ak and Princess travel on foot and Lo'ak is immediately annoyed when Princess whines about not taking the carriage.

"We can't take the carriage. We are supposed to be undercover, remember?"

"So you want me to walk the entire way? In these shoes?"

"No, we'll find horses when we get to the next town,"

"You want me to ride on horseback?"

They have sleep in barns, up in the rafters while their horses are put up on the main floor. It stinks, it's dusty, and it's waayyy too fucking cold out and Princess feels like she's dying. All she's got is a single blanket (that smells like horse) to keep her warm and she can feel Lo'ak's body heat radiating from him from where their backs are nearly touching.

She tries to ignore it, but it's so cold and she's shivering and he feels like he would be so warm, so she subtly scoots back further, inching closer and closer until her back is pressed up directly against his. She nearly gets the crap scared out of her when he suddenly groans and turns over, muscular arm encircling her waist and pulling her against his front. She thinks at first he must be awake, but the even rhythm of his breathing and steadiness of his heartbeat on her back say otherwise.

She doesn't know what to do and doesn't know what she's feeling. The weight of his arm feels so nice against her side, she feels safe - but her heart is pounding like she's in danger. She has half a mind to push him off of her and scoot to the far corner of the rafter just so she can feel like she can breathe. But . . . she's warm now, so she doesn't.

Also, I definitely think that when they reach Neteyam and Maid's cottage, Princess is cranky (and pissed off about her confused emotions) enough to fight with Neteyam, but the second she lays eyes on that adorable baby, all her anger and malice towards him goes out the window.

#talie talks ♡ #🤍 anon #royalty au

[greenconverses]

love that the dusty old fandom hags are all so cranky about this, good for us frankly

#we are all exhausted ben afflecks on this day #surrounding by excited spongebob memes #new pjo book nonsense

[doll-collector-by-day]

Took Kavi and Claudie to Tiny Town today for a bit, along with my daughter's doll, Rosebud.

Tiny Town is a 1/6th scale "town" filled with tiny houses, many of which have tiny scenes set up inside. It's located in Morrison, CO, which is about 30 minutes outside of Denver. It's only open in the summer, and it's completely outside, so some of the houses are dusty and many of the scenes could use some upkeep. However, it's a great size if you want to take pictures of Barbies, or if you wanted to have dolls take photos with "doll houses".

You can see the little scene inside the shop behind Kavi here!

We didn't end up staying too long due to the crowds and a cranky kiddo, but Claudie, Kavi, and Rosebud did appreciate the chance to peer in a few buildings.

Claudie posed with one of the windmills.

Rosebud got to explore the firehouse with my daughter.

Kavi checked out the dinosaur exhibit in the museum.

And Claudie caught a Charlie Chaplin show at the movie theater, thought he screen was a little crooked.

We'll probably go back another day with Claudie, as 3 dolls was a bit much to carry around and take photos, especially with the number of small kids running around.

#american girl claudie #american girl #ag dolls #american girl dolls #american girl kavi #kavi sharma #tiny towns

[joshithekitsune]

Cacktasma expecting headcanons!

@itsavee4117 and @aliencatwafers, you're in for a treat! I hope y'all like it!

Note: there is going to have some of @itsavee4117 and @peaches2217 's Beanbean Kingdom headcanons but with a small twist. And let's not forget @aliencatwafers 's, too.

• Just like humans, beanfolk strike menopause by the time they're around 45-55. Cackletta on the other hand... is immortal. (Meaning that she's a vampire). So no menopause for her, probably. (Which would lead to passing down her immortality to her kid on the way).

• They weren't planning on having kids. Cackletta thought she was too old to have any. But she was mistakenly wrong... morning sickness~! Symptoms were definitely showing~! 🌺

• Feeling like utter shit, something wasn't right. She looked through her old dusty medical book on magic. Her magic confirmed it... she was pregnant.

• Fawful was shocked when he found this out... he was baffled. There was no way. He wanted to kill Antasma for what he's done.

• Antasma was apathetic about raising a pup at first, (a very normal male bat perspective), he thought he didn't have to raise the child but Cackletta and Fawful threatened him to stay.

• When they got their first ultrasound picture from their assistant. Antasma was tearing up. Literally! He kinda changed his mind about raising the kid.

• Throughout her pregnancy, she became more moodier than ever. For a minute she'd be laughing her ass off to brawling her eyes out the next. Some days she wants to strangle her husband to get the tension off. (Hormones am I right)?

• She'll sometimes forget that she's pregnant. (Momesia but in an opposite direction). She'll go wonder off into doing dangerously villainous stunts like blowing up buildings with dynamite and riding her rocking chair rocket. Which scares the living shit out of Fawful and Antasma. Poor lads...

• Her pregnancy cravings consist of foods that she once despised, along with a bat diet, fruits and bugs. (She will consume a lot of water and blood than her fair share). When Fawful caught her eating pickles it drove him nuts!

• In her late stage, she has a hard time bending down. With a skinny body like that she's prune to falling over and hurting herself if not careful.

• Her baby is rather... nocturnal to say the least. It'll start dancing around by the time it's midnight. Poor Cackles can't get a shuteye.

• Cackletta will demand belly rubs from her husband whenever she feels cranky. Afterwards she purrs with delight. This helps conciliate her and the baby. (Better solution than strangling her husband).

• Antasma chuckles whenever she does her pregnancy waddle in full term. She scolds him after that.

• A beanish gestation period is proximately 5-6 months. However... Cackletta grew concerned on how big her belly has gotten. Is something wrong? She has passed 6 months already. Antasma is pretty chill about it. Mother bats in nature can bear pups half their size. So this is pretty normal. (Since their kid is going to be a hybrid), one more month for poor ol' Cackles... wouldn't hurt, right?? -sweats-

• She's gotten so big that she can barely lift herself up with just her debilitated skinny body alone. (No muscle whatsoever, all except her thighs). Antasma does lend her a hand whenever she needs to get up.

• Since beanish gestations tend to grow faster than a human's. An average beanish would've been 7-8 months in a human gestation after they give birth. For her, it would've been 9-10 months in a human gestation.

• Cackletta's favorite thing to do while pregnant is picking mushrooms and berries in the forest while talking about her adventures to her kid. Sometimes she'll sing a gentle melody to her little pup. ❤

• Her second favorite thing to do? Yoga, obviously. LABOR.

• Where they live there's no hospital nearby. Instead, Fawful is in charge of Cackletta's progression. I mean, he is a genius, he can build stuff like an ultrasound. Besides, since the three villains are declared dead, they'd rather stay put than be caught red-handed. So yes, getting herself in the hospital while in public is a VERY bad idea...

• She'll normally wear her iconic cloak as a maternity outfit. Sometimes she steals one of her husband's big T-shirts that hang over her gravid beanpole body.

• Antasma is protective of his wife. Whenever she does something he'll keep an eye on her time to time.

There will be a part two, where she finally hits labor and all that jazz. Stay tuned!

#m&l rpgs #cacktasma #callia #mario oc #cackletta #antasma #fawful #headcanons #superstar saga #dream team

[maxwell-mtv]

Headcanons on how I think Morris and Pierre cope with the stresses of life because they both have so much on their shoulders and I HAVE IDEAS!!! [All these are based off my own gameplay with the SD Expanded mod and Marry Morris mod too]

(Just a little TW for alcohol and drug mentions.)

[Morris]

He totally drinks on the job in the privacy of his office when it's inventory day (or when the higher ups are visiting)

Won't drink enough to get drunk (he's a heavy weight) but enough to calm his nerves

When he can, he goes to the beach

The waves and calm breeze soothes him

Willy will sometimes have conversations with him on the docks

When they talk, Morris will often confide in Willy only for Willy to give either some solid advice or some odd story that is wayyyy off base but still helps to distract Morris momentarily

Because of Morris's secret love of the ocean, he keeps a seashell or two on his desk as a reminder of better days to come

Doesn't go to the resort because he's ALWAYS WORKING

[Pierre]

Secret Stash

I'd like to think he will do yoga with his wife on the occasion

He'll feel really great after yoga and then quickly remember he's not really in shape any more

Then for the next week or two he'll be completely sore and cranky lol

Which is great because Caroline will just be trotting about the house like she's still young and free and not at all the same age as Pierre lol

Also, duh, he practices boxing when he can

He will take out his dusty old gear and GO HAM, DUDE

Oh you wouldn't believe how much he imagines the punching bag being Morris

He has issues... :(

He'll also visit the Saloon Tuesday nights

Also the resort... he'll visit the resort and just have an absolute blast baking in the sun (in more ways than one)

BONUS! [Dobson]

This man... oh boy

He goes above and beyond

He's extra

He gets his own special complicated af order from Stardrop Coffee (as he does every morning)

He'll go to the salon

He'll get that mani-pedi

You bet your booty he has regular visits to the top masseuse in Zuzu city!!

Mud masks? YES

Seaweed wraps?? Oh HECK yeah

Detox teas and hot tub soaking?

Yes.

And after all that?? SHOPPING THERAPY AND DINNER AT THE BEST STEAKHOUSE IN THE CITY!!!

This man has the vaca days I think we all may want...

#Drawing? NO! #Headcanons? YESS!! #Because my brain is weird yet full of ideas #Stardew Headcanons #sdv hcs #sdv #Stardew Valley #Morris sdv #Pierre sdv #Dobson sdv #Stardew Valley Headcanons #Morris Stardew Valley #Pierre Stardew Valley #Dobson Stardew Valley #Morris #Pierre #Dobson #hcs #Maxwell_MTV #(sorry for all the tags)

[fanfic-scribbles]

Dinner Date Chapter 27

Masterlist

Previous Chapter Next Chapter

Overall Story Facts:

Fandom: MCU Captain America/Avengers

Story Summary: Steve Rogers has a girlfriend. A prickly, generally asocial girlfriend, but they make it work. They have more in common than some people might think.

Quick Facts: Romance – Steve Rogers/Reader – Female Reader

Story Warnings: Reader-insert that verges on OFC, written in 1st person past tense

Chapter 27: Steve Rogers and the Terrible, No Good…Sort of Okay Day

Chapter Summary: Steve has a Bad Day. It’s nice to have a partner who’s willing to make it better.

Chapter Word Count: 2158

A/N: I really wanted to get this out last week, but I kept…getting fucking stuck. But it’s done now. Next chapter I think is going to be a bigger one, unless I manage to pare it down or split it. /fingers crossed. For now, please enjoy an indulgence of comfort.

~

Steve: So Steve: I hate to ask this but Steve: I’ve had a really bad day Steve: Can you come over to my place tonight instead?

My eyebrows went all the way up. Steve had already not been having a stellar first week back at work after his extended vacation, so this was…concerning.

Me: Are you okay? Steve: Yes Steve: Just…I see your point about being “too cranky to deal with people”

I smiled.

Me: I believe the actual quote is “too fucking cranky to deal with assholes” ;P Steve: :)

Oh no. That was the most insincere smiley ever. If he was hurt he would have told me, so he must have been really upset about something.

Me: Do you need me to bring anything? Steve: No. I’ll order in. Steve: Or bring clothes if you need to? Steve: But you have a couple sets of clothes here still I think Steve: I can go check Me: Don’t Me: It’s fine, I’ll see you tonight

I then added a little kissy face.

Steve: Oh no Steve: You’re being nice Steve: Do I sound that bad?

I rolled my eyes. It really must not have been that bad if he could sass me like that.

Me: Oh fuck you

I then sent a line of hearts. Since he was having a bad day and all.

~

I made it to his place without catching whatever bad luck streak he’d gotten, and as soon as I stepped in I got wrapped up in large arms and ensconced by an equally ridiculous body as Steve tried-not-tried to suffocate me.

“Are you okay?” I asked and wrapped my arms around him, trying to squeeze in return.

“Just…one of those days,” he said, voice wavering on the last two words so they ended up oddly stressed.

“Everything going wrong?” I asked, sympathetic, because those days sucked.

He huffed. “I think you said it best once…it was one of those days where everything goes wrong but you can’t complain because it all sounds petty and stupid.”

“Oh, I hate those,” I said, emphatic in my honesty, and tried to squeeze tighter. He sighed and slumped and made no move to leave, but I had to start thinking. Steve always took care of my bad days, so it was time to step up. I patted his back and pulled, but he let out a little…not quite a whimper, but it was a sad sound that pulled on my dusty, otherwise-immovable heartstrings. He did let go though, and I only pulled back just enough to look at him. “Okay then.” I held his face. “For tonight, I’m the boss.”

He cracked a small smile. “You mean you’re not usually?”

Hmm…he sort of had a point. “Well I’m not delegating tonight.” I patted my chest. “Gonna do all the work myself.”

His smile faded. “You don’t have t-”

“Shush,” I said and put my finger to his lips. His lips moved and I pushed harder. “I’m the boss and I say shush.”

He rolled his eyes and saluted. “Less sassing, more shushing,” I said and thought about the things that Steve found most comforting. I could have made a list (probably should, someday) but the very basics were: warmth, a full belly, and close contact. “Mmkay. First: go run a hot shower for us.”

“‘Us?’” he repeated hopefully. Then– “Oops; sorry ‘Commander,’” and he mimed locking his lips.

I rolled my eyes. At both comments. He wasn’t getting anything up in his state, being as he looked like he was holding himself upright by a single thread of stubbornness, but I could let him be delusional for a little bit. “S’okay. I know you too well to think you’d shut your mouth for long.” I ran my hand up over his cheek, and tried not to melt when he leaned into it. He was going to be ridiculously cuddly tonight, I could already feel it. “Get the water going. I’ll pick some clothes and lay them out for after.”

His eyes lit up and he went to his assigned task with determination. I scooted over to the bedroom and rifled through his drawers for one of his more worn tank tops, and some sweatpants. The super-soft and ultra-worn ones were askew on the side of the laundry basket, but one thing about Steve was that if he decided he liked a particular set of clothes, he got multiples, so I was able to put together an acceptable outfit for him, and also one for me.

I then went to join him in the bathroom where he looked almost half-asleep just standing outside by the spray. I rolled my eyes– apparently I would need to cut the time I’d planned to spend in there with him, if I was going to get him out safely. But when I nudged him he smiled at me, already looking a little less tweaked at the corners, and I kissed his cheek.

“Good job,” I said and felt the temperature. “And it’s not going to melt us.”

“Tempting,” he said. “But I want you to stay in there with me. Delicate skin and all.”

“Because you’re having a bad day I will not turn the handle to cold and shove you in,” I said. ��But only just because. Now strip.”

He smirked, but didn’t say anything. Exhibit B for why he wasn’t up for getting any tonight, but again, I let it go, and we both stripped down and got into his nicely sized shower. There wasn’t much more room than could just about fit us, but there was enough that I didn’t feel claustrophobic. I let him get rinsed down first and watched some of the tension in his body practically wash right down the drain. He was still a little stiff though, and he only just got his body wet before turning to the side and sliding his hand along my lower back to allow the warm water to hit me too.

“Get your hair wet, then sit on the bench,” I said and grabbed his shampoo bottle.

His eyes opened a little wider, but he did as he was told as I poured some of the shampoo into my hand. I then started lathering his hair and his eyes honest-to-god fluttered shut. I started out rubbing gently, slowing adding more and more pressure, and then lightening up when I started with my nails.

He moaned, and I smiled to myself and kept at it. His shoulders drooped and I even dipped my hands down to rub them a little. It was a weird angle though, and between that and the soap I couldn’t dig in, so I stowed that idea for later and went back to massaging his scalp. He seemed content enough with that, though, if the absolutely lovelorn glance he sucker-punched me with was any indication.

However, because I was too…wide, he wasn’t getting any of the water that was supposed to be keeping him warm. I shifted to the side. Not too far– there really wasn’t that much room– but he put his hand on my side to stop me. He quirked an eyebrow, but the water was hitting part of him now, so I shrugged.

“Don’t want you to dry out,” I said.

“I’m not a fish,” he said with a smile to one side.

I considered him…and then made a faux-hawk in his hair, trying to mimic a fin. “Da nuh…da nuh…”

He snorted– then grinned, and dove in to nip at my tummy. I laughed and smushed his hair, and spent just a little more time scratching his scalp before I turned to rinse my hands and grab the showerhead from its perch. As much as I ever hated to leave my apartment, Steve’s had enough creature comforts to make up for it.

“Lean your head back,” I said and he obeyed, shutting his eyes and showing me his relaxed, tired, entirely open and trusting expression.

I put the nozzle to the crown of his head, moving it slowly as I used my other hand to work out the soap with one last, good, quick scalp massage. He was so content already, and that was before dinner even, which was going to be great. Pricey, but great, and I was already making the order in my head.

So I maybe yelped when he suddenly wrapped his arms around me and pulled me closer. He pushed his face into my stomach which…honestly made me feel a little weird that it didn’t make me feel weirder. I was naked in the shower with the most handsome and well-built man I’d ever seen, but the way he rested against me was…like it– like I was a comfort, and so I found it hard to be upset by it.

I put my hand on his head and he kissed the patch of skin closest to his mouth. “What’s on your mind?” he asked and sat back.

“I’m planning out dinner,” I said. “We’ll do that pasta place you’ve been hooked on lately. Extra extra garlic bread.”

His eyes widened and he looked at me with so much adoration it almost made me itch. “I love you,” he said.

I smirked. “I know.”

~

We finished up in the shower and got dressed and made it all the way to the couch before Steve continued to indulge in his super-clingy instincts. Honestly, sometimes it was like he saw me as a teddy bear or something. …Not that I was ever going to complain. Nor would I ever admit out loud that it was fine; that I, maybe, kind of liked it. My reputation was in tatters enough, and he already knew what a damned softie I was.

Case in point– I got through ordering everything for dinner and was on the payment screen when a card slid into my view. I almost thanked Steve for being so proactive when I realized that it was not my card. I rolled my eyes. This again. However I had the upper hand of not having had a terrible day, so I turned my head to try and glare him down only to see…the saddest eyes he could make.

I crumbled almost immediately. “I’m supposed to be taking care of you,” I said and just barely managed to keep from grabbing his card. “Cheering you up after a bad day, all that crap.”

“This will make me very happy,” he said and held it closer to me.

I rolled my eyes and, after a few seconds and requisite heavy sigh, snatched it. “You are such a fucking weirdo,” I said as I started entering the payment. Steve had never made me feel unequal, like I was freeloading, but it still felt…weird. To receive so much and have him act like it was natural and fine that I hardly paid for anything, and not even because he was ‘the guy’ but just because…because he had money now and was happy to provide.

But those feelings were mine to deal with and now was not the time, so I stowed them and went back to snuggling with my boyfriend while we waited for the food to arrive.

“This is…a good day,” Steve decided, somehow wrapped around and hiding in me both.

“I’m glad.” I kissed his head and went back to stroking his hair. “You can ask me to come over whenever you want. Or need. Whatever.”

“Even if it means you have to leave your apartment?”

“I will, in fact, put on pants and brave the subway for you,” I said, gravely dramatic, but still meaning every word. I lost the exaggerated effect and curled around him. “Also, your shower is much better than mine.”

“I don’t think we could both fit in yours. I’m surprised you can fit in yours,” he said, voice fading a little. “Though I am jealous of your in-unit laundry.”

“Yeah, I didn’t get to give you nice warm clothes this time,” I said. “Though since you were having the ‘every little thing goes wrong’ day, you would have banged your head on the doorway. Or hit your shin on the coffee table. Or hit monster traffic. So staying home was probably the right idea.”

“Mm hm,” was his very sleep-addled reply.

Oh no. I sighed. “Steve,” I said and nudged him, but his body was already heavy on mine. “The food’s on its way.”

“Mm…hm.”

I rolled my eyes, and he was out within the next few moments. I glanced at the clock. Well…the food was going to take a while, given the amount we ordered and the fact that it was peak dinnertime. So maybe he could have a little snooze. I situated us just a little more comfortably, set my phone on the cushion with an alarm just in case, and leaned back to let him have some peace at the end of a long day.

~

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#steve rogers x reader #captain america fanfic #avengers fanfic #captain america reader insert #avengers reader insert #dinner date #fluff