#it genuinely makes my heart ache in the sweetest of ways | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sunkissed-zegras · 7 months

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✮ 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐢 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐠𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐡, jack hughes

♡ ─ word count | 10.7k (WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK. UM?? MB?? got a bit carried away with this one sorry y'all)

♡ ─ summary | y/n had always been in love with jack since she was a kid, but he had always chosen everyone else but her.

♡ ─ warnings | kind of mark estapa x reader as well but guess who she chooses in the end??? unedited (i'll edit in the morning y'all i just wanna get this out ASAP) SOOO MUCH ANGST OML, childhood best friends trope, unrequited love (for the most part), description of sex (like two sentences u could blink and it's gone), lots of cursing, fighting (sm of it), asshole!jack, idk they may be more but i'm lazy (promise they're not bad if i'm not mentioning them rn)

♡ ─ taglist | @valluvsu (check link in navigation for taglist form if you are interested!)

♡ ─ ev's notes | WHOOOHOOO! it's finally done yayyaa, i got this done in like two days bc i was so excited. jack hughes is very much gold rush coded, pls argue with the wall if you disagree. but anyway! this is a long one, so strap in!!! so much feelings in one fic lol i'm done, but i'm actually very proud of myself. as always, i'm open to respectful critics as i love to improve my writing for you all!! anyways, pls enjoy this fucking novel LMAOO, and let me know your thoughts!!!

Jack Hughes had always been the most beautiful person you'd ever seen.

Not just physically, he'd always been one of the sweetest people you'd ever met. He genuinely cared about how you were feeling and listened attentively when you spoke. His kindness and compassion were qualities that drew you to him from the very beginning.

But it wasn't just his sweet personality that captivated you; it was the way he looked at you with those mesmerizing eyes, filled with warmth and kindness. Whenever he gazed into your eyes, it felt like he was seeing straight into your soul, understanding you in a way that no one else ever had. But never in the way that you wanted.

Every time he smiled, it lit up the room any room he was in, and your heart simultaneously. His laughter was infectious, and being around him brought a sense of joy and happiness that was unparalleled.

He'd always been the special one in the room, with his skills on the ice or his undeniable beauty. It wasn't Jack's fault that he had such an effect on people; it was simply a consequence of his charm and charisma. What sometimes made you feel inadequate was the way other girls looked at him, with admiration and longing in their eyes.

Every time you saw him with those adoring eyes gazing at another girl, it was like a dagger to your heart. What hurt most though, was the way he looked back at them. His gaze held a attraction and desire that you craved, but it was a warmth he reserved for them, not ever for you.

You couldn't fault him for it; he couldn't control where his heart led him. You watched him from a distance, silently cheering him on in his pursuits of happiness, even when it meant seeing him with someone else.

Yet, despite the pain it caused you, you couldn't help but be there for him when he needed it. Whenever he faced heartbreak or disappointment, you were the one he turned to for comfort and understanding. It was bittersweet, being the person he leaned on while secretly thinking how you could never ever hurt him the way those other girls did. Your heart ached every time he told you about his the girls, and you would listen attentively, offering advice and consolation. You wanted to be the one to mend his broken heart, to make him see that you were right there, loving him in a way no one else ever could. But you kept those feelings locked away, hidden beneath the guise of friendship.

And you knew he loved you, he truly did. He would just never love you the way you'd always wanted. You felt selfish for wanting more. He was already yours in some regard, others would dream of being that close to the Jack Hughes. You were already an important part of his life, someone he trusted and cared about. Being close to Jack Hughes in any capacity was a dream come true for most, and you felt incredibly fortunate to have him as a friend.

But deep down, you couldn't help the longing that tugged at your heartstrings. You couldn't help the desire for something more, something that went beyond friendship. It was a complex mix of emotions, and you grappled with the guilt of wanting something that might change the dynamic between you two.

It was hard seeing him repeating those mistakes over and over again, and him running back to you wishing he had someone to love him fully and truly, for who he was. You often found yourself on the verge of screaming, wanting to shout, "What about me? Don't you see what's right in front of you?!" But you remained silent, as you always did, playing the role of the understanding friend who listened without judgment.

And each time he came to you with a broken heart, you wished he could recognize the depth of your love, the unwavering support you offered, and the fact that you were right there, ready to love him fully and unconditionally. But it seemed that he was blind to your feelings, or perhaps he was simply too caught up in his own search for love to notice what was right in front of him.

It seemed everyone else saw how much you loved him, Quinn giving you sympathetic smiles and Luke giving you advice. They saw the way you looked at Jack when he wasn't watching, the way your eyes held a mixture of adoration and hurt. They noticed how you were always there for him, ready to offer a comforting word or a reassuring hug when he needed it the most. It wasn't just your words or actions that revealed your love; it was the unwavering presence you provided in his life.

And so, you continued to sit still and listen, even when every fiber of your being screamed for him to see you, to love you, and to choose you. Your love for him remained a silent, unspoken truth, buried deep within your heart as you watched him repeat his relationship mistakes, hoping that one day, he would finally realize the love that had always been right beside him.

He was always grateful for your presence and care until he wasn't. Until he started taking you for granted, choosing his shiny new friends over you.

The pain of unrequited love was compounded by the feeling of being cast aside, as if your friendship and support no longer held the same value they once did. You couldn't help but wonder if he had forgotten all the times you had been there for him, the countless moments you had shared.

It was a painful realization that the person you loved so deeply was no longer the same person who had once cherished you. And yet, you couldn't bring yourself to walk away, holding onto the hope that one day he would remember the bond you had shared and the love that had always been there, waiting for him to see.

──

"Where have you been?!" Ellen, Jack's mom, exclaimed as you walked into the Hughes' lake house. She immediately walked over to you, embracing you tightly.

Over the past couple months, you had declined numerous invitations to Hughes family events over the past couple of months. You had told them that school was taking up most of your time, which was partly true. In reality, you just didn't want to see Jack.

"Just busy with school," you replied, returning her embrace warmly. Ellen Hughes had always been like a second mother to you, and her genuine concern warmed your heart.

Ellen held you at arm's length, her kind eyes studying your face. "You know, you don't have to disappear just because of school, sweetheart. You're always welcome here, no matter what."

Her words tugged at your heartstrings. You knew the Hughes family cared about you deeply, and it pained you to distance yourself from them as well. "I appreciate that, Ellen. It's just been a hectic semester, but I promise I'll make more time for you guys."

The bond between you and the Hughes family ran deep. You had known Jack and his brothers since childhood, and your connection had only grown stronger over the years. You were there for them through thick and thin, and they, in turn, had become an integral part of your life. You'd been close with the family since you were young, you'd been there for the brothers since day one.

From building sandcastles at the beach during summer vacations to sharing secrets by the campfire during family camping trips, your memories with the Hughes brothers were countless. Ellen and Jim Hughes had always treated you like one of their own, and you felt a sense of belonging that was unmatched anywhere else.

As the years passed and feelings grew more complex, you found yourself at a crossroads. You had always been there for Jack, offering your support and friendship without reservation. However, as your feelings for him had deepened, it had become increasingly challenging to hide your true feelings. You couldn't risk damaging the close-knit relationship you had with the Hughes family, especially when you knew Jack didn't share the same romantic feelings.

So, you made the difficult decision to take a step back, to create some distance in the hope that you could regain control over your heart. It wasn't an easy choice, and it meant missing out on moments with the family that had become a second home to you.

Ellen smiled, her eyes twinkling with understanding. "We've missed you, sweetheart. And I know someone else who's been missing you too."

Your heart skipped a beat at her words, and you couldn't help but wonder if Jack had noticed your absence more than you had expected.

"Luke! Sweetheart, look who's decided to show up!''

Oh, you've gotta be kidding me. Of course it wasn't Jack.

Your heart sank as Luke, Jack's younger brother, bounded into the room with excitement. You were confused, you loved Luke equally as Jack (you tried to convince yourself), but Luke wasn't exactly the most enthusiastic person when it came to you. Now, you knew something was up.

"Hey, you," Luke said with a warm smile, giving you a bear hug that nearly squeezed the air out of your lungs.

"Hey, Lukey," you replied, returning his hug with a raised eyebrow. Luke's behavior was unusual, and you couldn't help but wonder if something was going on.

As Luke pulled away, he scrutinized your expression. "You've been MIA for a while. School must really have you swamped."

You nodded, not trusting your voice to betray the mix of emotions you were feeling. Luke was perceptive, and you wondered if he had picked up on your recent distance.

Thankfully, Ellen chimed in, rescuing you from the awkward moment. "Well, we're just glad she's here now! Dinner will be ready soon, so you two catch up while I finish up in the kitchen."

With that, Ellen left you and Luke alone, and you couldn't shake the feeling that Luke's sudden warmth and attention meant that something was amiss in the Hughes household.

"What's up?" You cleared your throat, looking at Luke with a knowing expression.

"Well we all know why you've been really gone," Luke sighed as he glared at you. "You don't have to cut us all of just because Jack got a girlfriend."

"Jack got a girlfriend?" That felt like a dagger to the stomach. Luke's expression, once irritated, softened into one of sympathy as he nodded slowly.

"He didn't... tell you?"

You shook your head, struggling to find your voice. A whirlwind of emotions swirled within you – hurt, confusion, and the sting of betrayal. Jack hadn't confided in you about something as significant as this, and it hurt more than you cared to admit.

"Who is she?" you finally managed to ask, your voice a mere whisper.

Luke hesitated, as if debating how much to reveal. "Her name's Nicole," he began cautiously. "They've been dating for a few months now. It's been pretty serious, which is probably why he didn't want to... you know, complicate things."

You listened to Luke's explanation about Jack and Nicole while a storm of emotions raged within you. The pain of knowing Jack was in a serious relationship was difficult to bear, and the fact that he hadn't told you himself only added to your hurt. You felt like an outsider in his life, someone he had pushed aside.

But then, Luke's words took an unexpected turn, and your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "But that doesn't matter now, you have to move on and I have the perfect guy for you," he said, his tone surprisingly enthusiastic.

Oh, now everything made sense. It was clear that Luke had an ulterior motive, and you couldn't help but feel a little exasperated. "Luke, I appreciate your concern, but I don't think I'm ready for that kind of thing right now," you replied, trying to be polite even though you didn't appreciate the idea of being set up with one of his friends.

They were all fuck-boys from what you've heard. Luke would go into great detail every time you'd call him for an update. You had heard enough stories about Luke's friends to know that they were often more interested in casual relationships than anything serious.

"They were all fuck-boys from what you've told me," you said with a wry smile. Luke had a tendency to share his escapades in great detail, and you couldn't help but be amused by his candidness.

Luke chuckled nervously, scratching the back of his head. "Yeah, well, they can be a handful sometimes, but I promise this guy is different. He's actually a pretty decent guy, and I think you'd get along. Would I ever set you up for failure, Y/N?"

You raised an eyebrow, still skeptical. "And what's in it for you, Luke? Why are you so invested in setting me up with your friend?"

Luke's expression shifted, and for a moment, he looked genuinely serious. "Because I hate seeing you like this, distant from the family and hurting because of Jack. I just want you to be happy."

His words touched your heart, and you couldn't help but soften a bit. Luke may have had ulterior motives, but it seemed that his concern for your well-being was genuine.

"And um, well, I have a thing for his cousin." Luke cleared his throat and you couldn't help but playfully roll your eyes.

A playful smile tugged at your lips as Luke admitted his own motives. "Ah, I see how it is. A bit of matchmaking for both of us, then?"

Luke grinned, his boyish charm on full display. "Exactly! We help each other out, and everyone's happy."

You chuckled, feeling a sense of warmth and camaraderie with Luke. "Alright, fine Luke. Jeez, the things I do for you."

Luke laughed, appreciating your willingness to humor him. "You're the best, Y/N. You won't regret it, I promise."

──

Dinner had been ready and Ellen decided dinner would be fun outside. The sun was setting, casting a warm, golden glow over the lake, and the sound of crickets filled the air as the family gathered around a long, rustic wooden table set up on the deck, the same one they'd had a decade ago, when you were children.

You took a seat next in between Luke and Jim, Quinn across from you two and Jack nowhere to be found. Before you could ask, your question was answered.

"Where's Jack?" Ellen asked as she sat next to her husband.

"With Nicole," Luke and Quinn had mumbled in response as they both took knowing glances at you. You couldn't help but sigh, would you always be known the girl who's helplessly in love with Jack?

"Wow, you really outdid yourself, Ellen with this chicken. What did you do?" You tried to change the topic with a smile, as you ate dinner.

Ellen beamed at your compliment, clearly pleased that you appreciated her cooking. "Oh, I found it on the TikTok, it was amazing and so easy! You should start making it, it's so easy for school."

The conversation shifted towards discussing recipes and school, and you found it easier to participate in the lighthearted chatter. As the evening went on, you made an effort to focus on the present moment, enjoying the warmth of the Hughes family and pushing aside thoughts of Jack and his new relationship.

After dinner, you and Quinn helped Ellen with the dishes and you found yourself in deep conversation with them. The warmth of their company, along with the shared memories and laughter, made you realize that distancing yourself from the Hughes family wasn't the right course of action. They had been a significant part of your life for so long, and you cherished the bond you shared with them.

You were so engaged in conversation that you didn't hear footsteps that entered the kitchen.

"Hey,"

The sound of the familiar voice calling out "Hey" made your heart skip a beat. You turned around to find Jack standing there, a somewhat sheepish expression on his face. It had been a while since you'd seen him, and the mix of emotions stirred within you once more. And next to him, you assumed to be "Nicole." She looked sweet and you forced a smile at her.

"Hey," you replied, your voice friendly and polite as you acknowledged both Jack and Nicole. You couldn't help but notice the way they stood close to each other, the subtle intertwining of their fingers, and the affectionate glances they exchanged. It was a painful reminder of the gap that had grown between you and Jack.

"Hi, I'm Nicole," she introduced herself with a warm smile.

"Nice to meet you, Nicole. I'm Y/N," you replied, extending a hand for a friendly shake.

"Yeah, I know. These two don't ever stop talking about you." She laughed playfully and you felt heart start beating faster at the prospect of Jack talking about you to his girlfriend.

"Well it was mostly me─" Quinn tried to intervene before you laughed along with her, he was trying to soften the blow.

"Really? Well that's sweet," you replied with a warm smile, even though a small part of you wished Jack would stop talking about you to his girlfriend. It was a complex blend of emotions, wanting to be close to him but also wanting to distance yourself from the heartache.

Ellen smiled, "Well now that you're here, you all can finish the dishes and catch up,"

You nodded, "Okay, sure. Go relax, Ellen."

"Yep, and me." Before you could protest, Quinn left. He certainly didn't want to be there once you started "catching up." You cursed at Quinn in your head as he left the kitchen, alone with Jack and his girlfriend.

The clinking of dishes filled the kitchen as you, Jack, and Nicole worked together on the task at hand. You decided to break the silence with some light conversation.

"So, Nicole, how did you and Jack meet?" you asked, genuinely curious about their relationship.

Nicole smiled, her eyes lighting up. "We actually met at one of his hockey games. My friend had an extra ticket, and I've always been a fan of hockey, so I decided to go. I didn't know I'd end up meeting Jack Hughes in person but now, here we are!"

Jack nodded in agreement. "Yeah, it was a lucky coincidence. We hit it off right away."

"That's so sweet, right out of a book." You laughed and she nodded, blushing. You couldn't help but smile at their story, even though it felt like a bittersweet reminder of what could never be. You were genuinely happy for Jack, and yet, a part of you couldn't help but wish for a different outcome.

Nicole blushed at your comment, clearly smitten with Jack. "Yeah, it does feel a bit like a fairy tale sometimes," she admitted.

"So, Y/N, what have you been up to lately?" Jack cleared his throat, breaking the conversation away from their relationship. You both gazed at one another and you suddenly felt empty. It had never been like this between you two, he never asked what you'd been up to because he always known.

You forced a smile, your chest feeling heavy as you replied, "Oh, you know, just keeping busy with school and spending time with family." It was a vague response, deliberately leaving out the part about missing him. You didn't want to make things awkward, and you certainly didn't want to burden him with your own emotions.

Jack nodded, seemingly accepting your answer. "That's good to hear. School can be pretty demanding, I bet."

"Yeah, it keeps me on my toes," you replied, trying to keep the conversation light. It was becoming increasingly clear that the dynamic between you and Jack had changed, and it was going to take some time to adjust to this new reality.

Before he could respond, Luke came into the kitchen and he immediately looked like he regretted it. He forced a smile, "Um, is there any ice cream in the... fridge?"

You couldn't help but chuckle at Luke's somewhat awkward entrance. It was clear he was trying to give you and Jack some space, even though the tension in the room was palpable.

"Luke, you know where the ice cream is," you replied with a knowing look, amusement dancing in your eyes.

"Yeah, yeah, I just... thought I'd ask," Luke stammered before quickly retreating from the kitchen, leaving you, Jack, and Nicole alone once more.

As the last dish was placed in the drying rack, you couldn't help but glance at Jack, his profile highlighted by the soft kitchen light. He turned to you with a smile.

"Anyways, Trevor and Alex are coming tomorrow, you excited to see them?" Jack added with a friendly tone, trying to bridge the awkward gap that had formed during your conversation.

You nodded, appreciating the effort he was making to include you despite the new circumstances. "Yeah, it'd be nice to catch up with them. I haven't talked to 'em in a while."

All three of you exited the kitchen and you went to go find Quinn to give him a lecture. That was until you felt your phone buzz with a text message,

luke my friends are here they wanna meet u

Before you could type your answer, Luke gave you another text.

lukejack and his gf aren't here. just come 😑

You rolled your eyes at his attitude and quickly went to go find him and his friends. You quickly found them by the pool and you opened the sliding door, his friends whipped their heads to take a look at you.

"Hey, Luke," you greeted him with a smile, momentarily ignoring the curious glances. "You wanted me to meet your friends?"

"Well you said yourself you wanted to meet 'em earlier," Luke nodded and you got the memo.

You nodded and smiled, deciding to go along with Luke's plan. After all, it was a chance to distract yourself from the complicated situation with Jack and his new girlfriend. Luke's friends seemed friendly enough, and you were always open to making new acquaintances.

"I'm pretty sure you've met Ethan and Dylan before,"

You nodded politely. You had met them when you had helped him move in a few months ago and they were nice enough. "Yeah, nice to see you guys again."

"Yeah, you too." They replied in union, making you laugh.

"And this is Mark," Luke glanced knowingly at you and you instantly knew that this was the guy who had developed a crush on you.

When Luke introduced Mark, you couldn't help but notice the subtle shift in his friends' expressions. It was clear that Mark's crush on you wasn't a well-kept secret among their group. You offered Mark a friendly smile, wanting to make him feel comfortable despite the awkwardness of the situation.

"Nice to meet you, Mark," you said, extending a hand for a handshake. "Luke's told me a lot about you guys."

Mark's cheeks turned a faint shade of pink as he shook your hand. "Yeah, he's talked about you too."

Luke sat back down and you took a seat next to him, right across from Mark. "Oh does he?" You teased him.

Luke, attempting to play it cool, shrugged nonchalantly. "Just mentioned how nice you are, no big deal."

Ethan and Dylan exchanged knowing glances, trying to suppress their laughter. It was evident to everyone at the table that there was more to Luke's mention than he let on.

"Nice?" You couldn't help but laugh and exchange glances with Mark, a grin on his face. He was cute, you had to admit that. He was exactly your type, he looked sweet and had a cute smile. Maybe Luke was a pretty good matchmaker, so far.

"Yeah, he told us how cool you were. And then he showed us your instagram and all of us fell in love," Ethan mentioned, quickly pausing and glancing at Mark before continuing. "Well not in love but we all thought you were pretty. Well, I mean you are but like-"

"I get it," You laughed at his nervous rambling. You took another glance at Mark and gave him a smile, his cheeks turning even redder (somehow).

The table erupted in laughter, and it was clear that everyone was having a good time. Even Mark seemed to have settled into the friendly atmosphere, and you couldn't deny the chemistry you felt with him. It was lighthearted and fun, a welcome distraction from the complicated feelings you had for Jack.

As the night wore on, you noticed that Ethan, Luke, and Dylan began to exchange glances and sharing quiet conversations. It was clear that they had some sort of plan in mind, and you couldn't help but wonder what they were up to. You decided to play along, knowing that whatever they had in store was likely meant to bring you and Mark closer and anything would help to make you forget about Jack.

"Hey, Mark, do you want to check out the lake?" you suggested, giving him a sweet smile. The lake house had always been a place of fond memories for you, and it would be a great opportunity to spend some time alone with Mark.

Mark's face lit up. "Sure, that sounds like a great idea, let's go."

You excused yourselves from the table, and as you walked towards the sliding glass door that led to the lake, you couldn't help but notice the mischievous smiles on Ethan, Luke, and Dylan's faces. They were clearly up to something, you tried to ignore their expressions.

Once outside, the two of you made your way down to the edge of the lake. The moon reflected on the calm water, casting a romantic glow.

"So, Y/N, tell me more about yourself," Mark began, his voice soft and inviting.

You smiled, feeling a sense of warmth in the cool summer night air. "Well, there's not much to tell, really." You chuckled before continuing, "Just trying to finish up school and move to Europe."

Mark's eyes widened with curiosity. "Europe? That sounds amazing. What's drawing you there?"

You gazed at the shimmering reflection of the moon on the lake, lost in thought for a moment. "I don't know, these past months have been hard. And I never thought about moving out of the states but recently, I just wanna let go and start fresh, you know?"

Mark nodded, understanding what you meant. "I get that, a change of scenery can help with that feeling."

You sighed, feeling a sense of relief in opening up to Mark. "Exactly. I just want to explore new horizons, experience different cultures, and maybe find a new perspective on life."

"I've always wanted to go to France, I know it's basic but I heard they had good hot chocolate and had to try it." Mark smiled down at you and you couldn't help but let out a soft laugh.

"That doesn't sound basic at all," you replied with a grin. "I would love to visit France, even if it is every person's dream."

Mark chuckled, his eyes locked onto yours. "Maybe we can both make our way to Europe someday. Who knows, our paths might cross in a cozy café in Paris."

The idea painted a vivid picture in your mind, and for a moment, you allowed yourself to indulge in the possibility. "That sounds like a dream."

A sudden breeze began to pick up and you felt yourself shiver and Mark noticed. Without saying another word, he took off his jacket and quickly wrapped it around your shoulder.

It was a cliche, you know that. But as you looked at Mark, you felt a sense of warmth that had nothing to do with the jacket. His kindness and consideration made your heart skip a beat, something you hadn't experienced in a while. You smiled at him gratefully, the cool breeze forgotten as you were wrapped in his warmth.

"Thank you, Mark," you said softly, your eyes meeting his. In that moment, under the moonlight by the lake, you felt a connection that was unlike anything you had experienced in a long time.

Mark smiled back at you, his eyes holding a glint of something more. "Anytime, Y/N."

As the night wore on, your conversation with Mark flowed effortlessly, you found yourself drawn further into Mark's world, and the thought of Jack and his complicated situation faded into the background even if only for that night. In Mark's company, you were starting to feel a glimmer of hope for the fresh start you had been yearning for.

──

You awoke with the sound of laughter. Your eyes opened groggily and you felt your back scream in pain and it took a minute to realize exactly where you were.

You laid on Mark's chest, a blanket laid out on the both of you. You were on the couch and the memories of last night quickly flooded back into your head.

"Aww, Marky, you got yourself a girlfriend finally!" Ethan exclaimed as Mark tried to cover your face with the blanket, an (failed) attempt to not to wake you. They hadn't noticed you were awake.

"Ha ha ha, so funny." Mark mumbled in false amusement as he yawned.

You decided to remain quiet, pretending to still be asleep, curious to hear how Mark would handle the situation. A smile stretched your lips as you continued to eavesdrop.

"Seriously though, Mark, she's pretty," Dylan chimed in. "You two looked really cozy last night."

"Yeah, yeah," Mark replied, his tone still somewhat defensive. "We were just talking. You guys are reading too much into it."

"Sure, Mark, whatever you say," Ethan teased, and you could practically hear the grin in his voice. "Just talking, my ass."

"My clothes are still on, right?" Mark groaned quietly. "Could you guys be quiet, she's sleeping."

"Awww, Marky!" Ethan let out a booming laugh and you took that as your cue to 'wake up.'

You let out a yawn and pushed down the blanket from your face and they all quieted down. "Good... morning?"

"You have a good sleep last night?" Ethan teased and you tried to ignore the warm feeling in your cheeks as you got up from the couch. Mark frowned as you got up, feeling his body get cool.

You stretched your arms and stifled another yawn before responding to Ethan's teasing. "Yeah, it was quite comfortable here, actually."

"I bet," Ethan replied as he wiggled his eyebrows and you rolled your eyes.

"Okay, well, I'm going to brush my teeth."

"Wait, let's go eat first." Mark quickly replied, making Dylan and Ethan exchange glances.

"Before... brushing my teeth?" You smiled at that. He was cute, for sure.

"Yeah, Mark, let her go brush her teeth. Knowing what you two did-"

"Shut up," Mark groaned as you let out a chuckle. "Yeah, go brush your teeth."

You nodded and walked away from the living room, quickly ascending up the stairs and into the bathroom. The smile hadn't left your face and you felt like absolutely nothing could ruin your mood.

Well, you were wrong.

As you brushed your teeth happily, you heard the familiar noise in the next room other. The rhythmic banging, the moaning─

Oh no, you thought to yourself. You felt your stomach twist in disgust as let out an audible gag. The room next to the bathroom was Jack's and the only couple in the entire house was Jack and Nicole. You connected the dots and you suddenly felt nauseous.

You spit your paste and quickly rinsed your mouth. You needed to get out of there immediately. As you walked out of the bathroom, you bumped into one person you did not want to see.

"Oh shoot, sorry."

You looked up to see Nicole. She looked tired, her red hair messy and her neck filled with marks. They were obviously busy last night and you tried to push the visual of them having sex out of your mind as you forced a smile. "No, you're totally good."

She smiled and gave your shoulder a pat before walking to the bathroom. You let out a breath you didn't know you were holding and let your shoulders fall as you walked down the stairs.

You smelled hash browns in the air, your favorite, but somehow you still felt sick to your stomach. The imagery was still stuck in your head, you felt disgusting.

You made your way to the dining table and took a seat next to Quinn, crossing your arms and he immediately knew what was wrong. Your disgusted facial expression, your annoyed attitude, everything.

"They're like fucking bunnies," Quinn mumbled to you and you looked back at him with a nod. He looked tired, too. It looked like they kept him up and you were suddenly grateful you slept downstairs, even with the ache in your lower back. He put a hand on your shoulder in comfort. "Hey, if it makes you better, he lasts about a few minutes. You wouldn't want that."

His unusual teasing tone still didn't make you better, you knew Quinn was trying his best to make you feel better. You forced a smile and nodded, "Yeah. That's gross."

"What's gross?"

You turned your head to see Jack; his disheveled appearance making you gag internally, knowing what you know. You made eye contact for a few seconds before averting your gaze to the table.

"Nothing, buddy." Quinn responded with a smirk and they both exchanged a laugh. Jack then, took a seat right across from you. Now you literally couldn't move your gaze anywhere else without making it obvious.

Quinn seemed determined to keep the mood light, though, and he continued with the banter. "I heard you and Mark spent the night together last night."

There was a pause and a few awkward glances before he continued, "Um, not like that."

Jack looked directly at you and he had unreadable expression on his face. Confusion? Annoyance? Jealousy? Maybe a mix of all three.

"Well, we just-"

Before you continue you heard Ethan and Dylan's booming laughter as they entered the dining room, plates in their hands. They immediately exchanged glances as they realized who was in the room before putting sitting down with their plates.

"Your mom has food in the kitchen, if you guys... want any." Ethan tried to diffuse the tension as he smiled and looked at Dylan. "Mark's in there, Y/N."

As you got up to find Mark, you couldn't help but exchange a glance with Jack. His expression was hard to decipher – there was a mix of emotions, but it was clear that the mention of you spending the night with Mark had affected him in some way. You couldn't dwell on it for too long, though, as you headed to the kitchen to find Mark.

In the kitchen, you found Mark helping himself to some breakfast. He looked up and gave you a warm smile as you entered. "Hey, good morning."

He quickly noticed your expression and he turned to you with confusion, "Everything okay?"

You nodded, trying to shake off the lingering discomfort from the dining room. "Yeah, just... things got a bit awkward in there. Thanks for last night, by the way."

Mark chuckled, handing you a plate of food. "No problem at all. It was fun."

As you both made your way back to the dining room, you couldn't help but wonder what the day had in store for you, especially with the lingering tension between you and Jack.

You sat down next to Quinn as Mark quickly made his way to the empty seat next to you. Finally, everyone started piling into the dining room and everyone started eating.

The atmosphere in the dining room remained tense as everyone continued eating. Nicole was sitting next to Jack and noticed the slight change in him, he seemed more... moody. You tried your best to focus on your plate and engage in conversation with those around you, but it was hard with Jack's presence so close.

As the meal progressed, you felt Jack's gaze on you, a burning sensation that you couldn't ignore. Finally, after a while, Jack spoke up, his tone casual as he said, "So, Y/N, Mark seemed like a nice guy. How long have you known him?"

Mark exchanged a glance between the two of you, choosing peace and continued to eat.

His seemingly innocent question struck a nerve. You knew he was deliberately bringing up Mark to gauge your reaction, and it irritated you. Trying to maintain your composure, you replied, "Just met last night."

Jack's eyebrows raised slightly, a hint of surprise in his expression as he processed your response. It seemed your terse reply had caught him off guard. Mark continued to eat quietly, not wanting to get caught up in the tension.

After a moment of silence, Jack cleared his throat, attempting to sound nonchalant but failing to hide a hint of sarcasm. "Well, you two certainly seemed close for people who just met." Before you could respond, he continued under his breath, "Didn't know you were that easy."

Quinn kicked Jack's leg under the table and Nicole seemed distressed, too.

You bit your tongue. You clenched your fork tightly, your frustration mounting. "We were just having a conversation, Jack. Is that not allowed?"

Jack's gaze didn't waver as he replied, "Of course it is, Y/N. Just making conversation here because apparently I don't know anything about you anymore."

That really struck a move. He didn't know anything about you anymore? Jack's words hit you like a dagger to the heart. The pain and frustration were evident in his tone, and you could sense the turmoil in his emotions. It was clear that your distancing had affected him more than you had realized.

The tension at the table was palpable as everyone watched the exchange between you and Jack. Quinn cleared his throat, trying to mediate. "Guys, can we not do this right now?"

You felt yourself get more heated as you heard Ellen say something but you couldn't even comprehend it, that's how angry you were. Without thinking, you pushed your chair back and got up from the table. Your voice was strained with anger as you addressed Jack.

"Do you have no idea what it's been like for me, Jack?" You couldn't help but raise your voice, your pent-up emotions pouring out. "You just assume things and make stupid comments, but you don't know the half of it. This distance isn't just about you, it's about me trying to protect myself too."

The room was now filled with an uncomfortable silence, and it was clear that your outburst had taken everyone by surprise. Nicole placed a comforting hand on Jack's arm, silently pleading for him to let it go. Mark, too, looked uncomfortable, not wanting to be caught in the middle of this argument.

Jack's expression had shifted from surprise to a mix of anger and hurt as he absorbed your words. He clenched his jaw, clearly struggling to find the right response. Nicole's gentle touch on his arm seemed to be a calming influence, and he took a deep breath before speaking, his voice more controlled.

Ellen, sensing that the situation had become too tense, interjected again, her voice gentle but firm.

"Let's all take a step back, please? Y/N, sweetheart, maybe you could use a little breather, and we can all reconvene when things have calmed down."

You felt embarrassed as you looked around the room, all eyes seemingly on you and Jack. Feeling the weight of everyone's eyes on you, you nodded, your initial anger having dissipated into a mix of regret and awkwardness. You understood that your outburst had been uncharacteristic and uncomfortable with everyone there. With a forced smile, you mumbled an apology.

"Yeah, maybe I do need a little breather. Sorry about that, everyone." You turned away from the table and quickly exited the dining room. Outside, the fresh air greeted you, and you took a moment to collect your thoughts.

As you stood there, lost in thought, you couldn't help but wonder if there was any way to mend the growing rift between you and Jack, or if it was time to accept that things might never be the same again.

You stayed outside and spent the most of the day alone, outside in the pool trying to get a tan. The boys had all been playing pool inside and you were glad alone.

The sun beat down on you as you lounged by the pool, trying to soak in the warmth and forget about the tension from earlier. The sound of laughter from inside the house was a stark contrast to the solitude you sought outside.

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, trying to clear your mind. The cool water of the pool offered a refreshing escape from the heat, and you decided to take a dip to cool off and clear your thoughts.

As you swam in the crystal-clear water, you couldn't help but replay the argument with Jack in your mind. It weighed heavily on your heart, and you wondered if there was a way to make amends and rebuild the bond you had once shared.

"Hey,"

You let out a yelp as you heard Mark's voice and he let out a soft laugh as he walked over to the pool, dipping his legs into the pool.

"Hey," you laughed, pushing a wet strand of hair out of your face. "Sorry, you scared me there."

Mark chuckled, the sound light and soothing. "No worries, didn't mean to sneak up on you. Just thought you could use some company."

You appreciated his gesture and nodded. "Thanks, Mark. It's been definitely been a... day."

He nodded in understanding, his gaze sympathetic. "I could tell. The argument with Jack didn't look fun."

You sighed, the weight of it all still pressing on you. "Yeah, it wasn't. Sorry about him throwing you in the middle of it, I don't know what's going on with him."

He stayed quiet as he listened and nodded. You looked at him, waiting for some kind of response. He looked like he was weighing something in his head. "Well... it seems like he's jealous."

Jealous? You blinked in surprise, not expecting Mark to say that. "Jealous? Why would he be jealous?" You knew why, but it hadn't even seemed like a possibility in your mind.

Mark had a thin-lipped smile as he continued, "I mean why else would be an absolute dick about me spending the night with you?"

You stayed quiet, you had no idea how to deal with this. Of course this would happen to you on what was supposed to be a peaceful lake-house trip.

"Can I ask you a question, Y/N? But you have to be 100% honest with me." Mark's tone seemed serious as he spoke and you felt your heart drop. "Have you and Jack ever hooked up? Or like, dated?"

"No," that was the true answer but it looked like Mark hadn't bought it. "Well, I've always liked him." It felt weird to admit that and Mark's expression looked hurt as you continued. "That's why I stopped talking to him. I realized it would never go anywhere and I was still living in my head, it would've never worked out with me and Jack."

Admitting it out loud hurt more than you expected. You would never work out with Jack, no matter how hard you wanted it to.

"You still like him?"

You weighed your options but as you looked at Mark and everything that could happen, you knew the right answer. "No."

──

"Y/N!"

You heard Trevor's excited shout and you turned around, you felt Trevor embrace you tightly. You let out a laugh as he continued hugging you tightly, it had been a couple months since you'd last seen him.

He was always just as close to you as Jack, he was your true best friend. He had been there for you when Jack wasn't.

"Trevor!" You returned his hug with equal enthusiasm, feeling a surge of warmth and happiness at the sight of your close friend.

He pulled away with a big smile on his face, "Wow, why do you actually look good?" He said with a playful flirty undertone, making you laugh.

"Don't know, maybe it's the lack of Jack." As you turned to look behind him, you locked eyes with another close friend, Alex. He smiled and walked up to you; he was definitely the calm one in the friend-group. He gave you a hug before Trevor continued.

He rolled his eyes, "You still on that? Come on, Y/N."

You chuckled at Trevor's playful teasing, realizing that his presence had indeed lifted your spirits. "I can't help it, Trev. It's like a curse or something."

Alex joined in with a gentle laugh. "Well, we're here now, so you don't have to think about Jack for a while."

With your friends around, the atmosphere lightened even further, and you felt grateful for their presence. It was a chance to forget about the tension with Jack and simply enjoy the reunion with your closest friends.

"Oh shit." Alex mumbled, "I forgot my phone in the car,"

"Oh no worries, I'll come with you," you offered, eager to catch up with Alex and have a moment away from the group.

As you both headed to the car, Alex spoke in a hushed tone, "How have you been, Y/N? I know things have been tough."

You appreciated his concern and gave him a small smile. "I've had my ups and downs, but I'm good now. I'm glad you decided to come to the lake house, I've missed you two."

Alex nodded, his expression thoughtful. "We've missed you too. And I know things have changed with Jack, but we're here to support you no matter what."

As you arrived in the hallway, you had no time to respond as you heard yelling in the garage. You and Alex exchanged confused glances as you tried to listen in.

"What, Jack?! What's the excuse now, she literally said she's liked you forever!" You heard Nicole's voice and you felt your heart drop. She heard you in the pool?

You and Alex exchanged concerned glances as you strained to hear the conversation in the garage. Nicole's voice had a tone of frustration, and it was evident that she was upset about something. The mention of your feelings for Jack made your heart race.

Jack's voice responded, his tone defensive. "Nicole, it's not that simple. Y/N and I have a complicated history, okay?"

Nicole sounded exasperated as she retorted, "Complicated history? Jack, she's moved on. Why can't you?"

Their voices grew louder, and you could feel the strain in their relationship even from a distance. It was clear that your presence had stirred up emotions and issues between them, and you couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt.

As you leaned in closer to the door, it suddenly opened and you and Alex jumped.

The sudden opening of the door startled both you and Alex, and you found yourself face to face with a frustrated-looking Nicole. Her eyes widened in surprise at seeing you eavesdropping on their argument.

"Y/N..." Nicole began, her voice trailing off as he seemed at a loss for words.

You quickly glanced at Alex, who was equally taken aback by the unexpected confrontation.

"I'm so sorry, Nicole, I didn't know that you heard me and I promise you I would never, ever try anything while you were with Jack-"

She cut you off with a forced smile, "I get it. It's not your fault." She sneered at Jack before continuing. "It's not your fault Jack can't get over his childhood crush."

"Nicole, let's not do this here," Jack said, his voice tinged with frustration. He glanced at you and Alex before turning back to her. "We'll talk later, okay?"

"There is no later! I'm done." She yelled back at him, her eyebrows furrowing in utter anger. "You already made your decision, it was either me or her and we all know your choice. I won't be a second choice, Jack. I've been second to her our entire relationship and I just met her, can you imagine how I've felt?"

The raw pain in Nicole's eyes was impossible to ignore, and it was clear that she had reached her breaking point. Her outburst had laid bare the insecurities and frustrations that had been festering beneath the surface, and it left everyone in the room with a heavy sense of unease. You could see the hurt in her eyes, and it was clear that their relationship had reached a breaking point. You couldn't help but feel guilty, was it your fault?

While you knew you weren't responsible for the choices Jack had made in his relationship, it was impossible not to wonder if your presence had somehow worsened the situation. You had never intended to come between them or cause any harm.

You exchanged a glance with Alex, who looked equally uncomfortable with the situation. The unease in the room was palpable, and there were no easy answers to the complex emotions and dynamics at play.

Jack's shoulders slumped, and he looked defeated. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but no words came out. It was a painful silence, and you could feel the weight of the history and emotions between Jack and Nicole.

Finally, he managed to speak, his voice soft and filled with regret. "I'm so sorry, Nicole. I never meant for any of this to happen-"

Nicole didn't respond. She simply turned and walked away, leaving Jack standing there, his face etched with a complex mix of emotions.

Jack ran a hand through his hair before he quickly pushed past you and Alex to run after Nicole. "Fuck, baby please listen!"

You and Alex exchanged looks before he sighed heavily, "Wow. What the hell did me and Trev miss."

"You have no idea," you sighed as you began walking to his car for the thing you had came in there for.

──

You sat next to Mark as you both dangled your feet in the water, everyone was outside and it finally felt like relaxing trip. It finally felt like the lake house; no drama (for the most part), cool summer air, and all your close friends in one place.

Sitting by the water with Mark, you felt a sense of calm wash over you. The drama from earlier had dissipated, and you were grateful for the opportunity to unwind with your friends. The cool breeze, the soothing sounds of the lake, and the laughter of your friends created a serene atmosphere that allowed you to momentarily forget about the complexities of your relationships.

You turned to Mark and offered a genuine smile. "Thanks for being here today, Mark. It means a lot."

He returned your smile warmly. "Of course, Y/N. I'm here whenever you need someone to talk to or just hang out with."

As the stars began to twinkle in the night sky, you found yourself leaning in closer to Mark. His presence felt comforting and reassuring. You locked eyes with him, and there was a shared understanding between you.

In that moment, you realized that Mark had become more than just a friend. He was someone who had been there for you, who had listened, and who had shown you support when you needed it, something you hadn't experienced from any partner. And perhaps, in the midst of all the chaos, you had found something unexpected: the possibility of a new beginning.

As your faces drew nearer, the world around you seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you in that quiet, starlit moment. It was a moment of choice, a moment where you could let go of the past and embrace the future.

With a gentle, lingering touch, your lips met Mark's, and for that brief, stolen moment, it felt like the world was right where it should be.

Then it felt wrong. You pulled away and you turned your head almost instinctively and there he was. Jack, standing there, watching the scene unfold.

The shock on Jack's face was undeniable, and it was as if time had frozen in that moment. His presence shattered the tranquility that had enveloped you and Mark, leaving an awkward and tense silence in its wake.

Mark pulled away from you slowly, his expression a mix of surprise and uncertainty. You could feel your heart racing, caught between the past and the present, between the familiarity of Jack and the newfound connection with Mark.

Jack scoffed and walked away, leaving your heart shattered; like he always did. As you began to get up, Mark gripped your arm. You looked down at him and found yourself at crossroads.

Mark or Jack? Mark or Jack? Mark: the sweetest boy with the sweetest smile, or Jack: the person you'd loved your entire life.

You knew the answer. Everyone knew the answer. You moved your arm from his grip and got up, leaving him seated in the pool. You ran after Jack and it suddenly hit you. He'll always have this power over you, his beautiful smile always had this effect on you.

It made you nauseous as you tried to find where he was, like you always did. He would always pick someone else and you always had to pick him, that was just how it worked.

You ran after Jack, your heart pounding in your chest. The familiar ache of chasing after someone who always seemed just out of reach gnawed at you. It was a pattern you had repeated countless of times, a dance of longing and rejection that you couldn't seem to break free from no matter how hard you tried.

As you searched for him, you couldn't help but feel a sense of desperation. You knew that choosing Jack meant choosing the same cycle of heartache, but it was a choice you had made so many times before. His smile, his presence, his history with you—it all had a hold on you that was impossible to shake.

Finally, you spotted him by the edge of the lake, his silhouette illuminated by the moonlight. He turned to look at you, his expression a mix of surprise and uncertainty, as if he couldn't believe you had chosen him once again.

You didn't say anything as you approached him. Words felt meaningless in that moment. Instead, you simply reached out and took his hand, intertwining your fingers with his, and with that simple gesture, you made your choice.

It might have been the same old pattern, the same old dance, but it was your choice to make, and for now, it was the one that felt right.

As you looked into his eyes, the same ones you'd adored since day one, you felt deja vu. You felt angry; how could one person have such control over you? In the depths of his eyes, you saw a reflection of your own emotions, a turbulent mix of desire, frustration, and longing. It was a maddening feeling, to be so deeply ensnared by someone who seemed to hold all the power in your relationship.

The moonlight cast a soft glow on both of you as you stood by the lake, hand in hand, the weight of your choice settling in. It was a choice that defied reason and logic, a choice that defied the very patterns you had tried to break free from. But for now, it was your choice, and you would face the consequences, whatever they may be, with Jack by your side.

You felt an unexpected sob ripple from your chest and you ripped your hand from his, covering your mouth with your hand. You closed your eyes and you felt Jack pull you closer, into his chest.

As the sobs wracked your body, you felt Jack's arms around you, offering a comforting embrace. It was a mixture of relief and hurt, the weight of your choice bearing down on you. You had chosen to follow your heart, even if it meant stepping into the same cycle of uncertainty and longing.

Jack held you tightly, his own emotions undoubtedly conflicted, but in that moment, it was a silent understanding between the two of you. The night was still, and the moon illuminated the path you had chosen, as well as the challenges that lay ahead.

"It's okay, shh. I'm... here now, I'm sorry." He mumbled as he planted a kiss on your head.

You felt such anger in your stomach as he said those words so easily. Was it okay? Was he really here, with you? Was he truly sorry. You pushed him away and you saw him fumble back, hurt in his eyes as you fell on to your knees, taking a seat on the cold sand of the lake.

The anger, the hurt, the confusion, it all swirled within you as you sat there on the cold sand, tears streaming down your face. You couldn't make sense of your emotions, and Jack's words, well-intentioned as they might have been, didn't provide the solace you needed.

Jack remained a few steps away, watching you with a pained expression, unsure of how to bridge the gap between you. The silence between you was heavy, filled with unspoken words and unresolved feelings.

"Do you know..." You sniffled, looking up at him with tears in your eyes. You didn't even know where to begin. "I've spent my entire fucking life pining after you. Every single moment has been dedicated to the great Jack fucking Hughes, did you know that?"

Your bitter words felt like a dagger to the heart to the both of you. You continued, "I always choose you. I always fucking choose you!" You screamed out angrily, as Jack flinched. He'd never seen you this angry in his entire life.

"Why do I always choose you? You're like every other guy in the world." Your tears streamed down your face. "But you're special to me," you mumbled as Jack's breathing became heavy with emotion. "You always choose everyone else but me. I never knew why." You were just rambling at this point but you would be lying if you said it didn't feel good.

You looked up at Jack. "I watched you fall for people who didn't see you the way I did, who didn't know you the way I did, and I stood there, invisible, as you gave your heart to them."

Your words cut deep, each one a painful reminder of the years of unrequited love and longing.

"And then," you whispered, your voice barely audible, "when I finally thought it might be my turn to finally be with someone who actually liked me, who wanted me, I choose you again." Your voice cracked as you mentioned Mark.

You wiped away fresh tears, and the pain in your eyes was palpable. "It hurts, Jack. It hurt more than I can put into words. But I still chose you, again."

A sob caught in your throat, and you continued, your words heavy with emotion. "I've cried myself to sleep, wondering why I wasn't good enough for you, why you never saw me the way I saw you. And every time you got hurt, I was right there with you, helping and being there." You paused. "And when I was hurt, where the fuck were you? Probably with some girl who never knew you like I did. Who will never know you like I do."

Jack's eyes were filled with remorse, and you could see the pain in his expression, but you couldn't stop now. You had to let it all out.

"I convinced myself that if I just kept waiting, if I just kept choosing you, someday you'd see me for who I was, you'd choose me. But it never happened, Jack. It never happened, and it broke my heart a little more every day."

Your voice broke again as you sniffled, "I've missed out on so much because of you," you continued, your voice trembling with emotion. "I've given up on amazing opportunities, on people who genuinely cared about me, all because I thought someday you'd choose me too."

Jack took a seat beside you, the weight of your words sinking in. You didn't fight it, you were too tired.

The lake's gentle waves lapped against the shore, providing a soothing backdrop to the turmoil of emotions swirling around both of you. He didn't say anything for a while, the silence between you heavy with unspoken regret.

Finally, he broke the silence, his voice soft and filled with remorse. "I didn't know. I didn't mean to... hurt you."

You turned to look at him, your eyes meeting his. You saw the sincerity in his gaze, but it was accompanied by a sense of helplessness. It was as if he had finally realized the depth of the pain he had caused you.

"I couldn't like you, Y/N." It sounded harsher than it actually was as he continued. "I just couldn't. You were too good, Y/N, you are a sweetheart. I was scared to taint you, and I would've never forgiven myself if I did..."

"Taint me?" You scoffed, pain in your tone. "You tainted me the moment you met me, Jack."

Those words hung in the air as he swallowed, taking your words into consideration. "I'm so sorry, Y/N," he whispered, his voice filled with remorse. "I never meant to hurt you. I never wanted any of this."

You sighed, the anger and frustration slowly giving way to a sense of resignation. It was a complicated situation, and both of you had made mistakes along the way. "I know, Jack. I know you didn't."

In that moment, you both shared a painful understanding of the past and the choices that had brought you to this point. You would always choose him, and he'd always choose them. But as he put his hand on top of yours, your body entire body felt like it was on fire.

As you looked into Jack's eyes, you saw a mixture of emotions - regret, longing, and a hint of hope. It was as if he, too, was wrestling with the undeniable connection that had always existed between you.

"I'm not saying it'll be easy, Y/N," he murmured, his thumb gently tracing circles on the back of your hand. "But maybe... just maybe, we can find a way to make this work."

His words hung in the air, and for the first time in a long time, you allowed yourself to entertain the possibility of a future with Jack, a future where you didn't have to choose between him and anyone else.

Maybe all of that pining wasn't for nothing. Maybe in the end, he would have chosen you. But would you choose him? Could you finally resist him?

As you sat there, the gentle breeze ruffling your hair and the quiet waters of the lake before you, you contemplated Jack's words. The years of pining and longing, the heartaches and frustrations, all seemed to converge in this one moment.

Maybe, just maybe, this was the moment where the tides would turn, and you could choose a different path, one that didn't revolve around Jack. But the choice was yours to make, and it wouldn't be easy. You knew the allure of Jack, the history you shared, and the magnetic pull between you two would always be there.

For now, you decided to savor the night, knowing that the future held uncertainties and challenges, but also the potential for something beautiful. As you gazed at the moonlit lake, you couldn't help but wonder what lay ahead and what choices you would make when the time came.

-> make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated! <-

thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

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lovebugism · 1 year

Note

i am so sorry but reader talking about robin right before making out with eddie is like absolutely the best thing i’ve ever read i’m obsessed i genuinely can’t wait for anything else in that universe that you do

THE CUSTOMER'S ALWAYS RIGHT | god help the girl

summary: in which you come to terms with the fact that you're hopelessly in love with eddie munson. pairing: virgin!eddie munson x reader word count: 13k warning: phone sex, more discussions of shitty boyfriends, j*son c*rver name drop, talks of unhealthy eating practices, smut 18+ mdni! a/n: this ask has been sitting in my inbox for ages now, but i wanted to save it until robin made an appearance in the series! thank you, anon, for being so sweet! and for the few of you who've been waiting on me to finally post <3 hope you enjoy! xoxo

( PREVIOUSLY ) | ( SERIES MASTERLIST ) | ( NEXT )

They only met once, but it changed their lives forever.

That’s what the movie cover reads at least, but the words have long blurred into a jumbled mess at your tunnel vision. John Bender stares you in the face, but all you see is Eddie — boyish and brazen and scowling because he thinks it makes him look intimidating, but nowhere near as cruel as he seems.

He’s certainly got the hair for it, much longer and curls far wilder than Judd Nelson’s measly set of brushed-back locks. He’s got the terribly animated personality down pat, too; the one that either makes you laugh uncontrollably or squirm in discomfort when it’s pointed your way. And the style’s a pretty fine match also, though you’d argue that no one sports a leather jacket quite like Eddie Munson does.

Wallowing in your boredom at the empty Family Video store on Main Street — where your best friends slave over mundane work with aching backs and a lingering sense of gratefulness that no customer has been in in well over an hour — you find yourself analyzing each character pictured on the front cover of The Breakfast Club.

Robin would surely be Allison, you conclude rather quickly, because their deadpanned glowers are eerily identical. They’ve also got this sort of atypical aura to them, too, like a dark storm cloud or the promise of a long night. But strangely it sparkles — strikes of lightning or a sky full of stars. It draws everyone’s attention to them; even when they’re desperately trying to hide in the very back of a room.

And Steve would be Andrew, not particularly because of his affections for this Allison-Reynolds-Robin-Buckley hybrid you’ve concocted, but because "popular guy with daddy issues" is a trope that fits him far too well. He’s way more likely to get detention for trying to look cool in front of his assholes friends than for anything actually malicious of heart. But that would’ve been years ago now. He’s not that kind of guy anymore.

He’s soft and sweet — a Brian Johnson sort of soft and sweet, if you will. If Brian wasn’t the brains, but the sweetest dumbass anyone’s ever met.

You realize then, that Jim Hopper would make a mean Richard Vernon. He’s impatient to a fault, almost too stern at times, but never enough to make you genuinely fearful of him. You’ve found that it’s virtually impossible for you to take him seriously when he’s so cartoonishly angry. It’s a match made in heaven, you find, though Jim might take offense to the comparison.

And if Eddie is Bender, then that’d make you the Claire Standish of the bunch.

She’s dreadfully stylish, a bit stuck-up at times, and perhaps a little bit more spoiled than the average person; but it’s not like she ever claimed to be perfect. And you wouldn’t either.

You’ll take more pride in your wardrobe filled with pretty pleated skirts and flouncy dresses than your somewhat glacial disposition. And you might not be drowning in daddy’s money, but you’re certainly spoiled in other ways — if only in the employee discount at Enzo’s that got you wine for cheap and your connections at Family Video that meant free movie nights whenever you wanted.

The bad boy and the princess was a tale as old as time itself. It’s a fairytale you wouldn’t mind living in if it ended how it did in the movies — with a kiss on the cheek and an exchanged diamond earring in the calloused palm of another. A soft pink smile and a celebratory fist in the air.

But you’ve met your fair share of John Bender’s and none of them had been particularly kind to you, let alone had fallen in love with you.

Maybe that’s because you were no Claire Standish. Never pretty enough, never mousy enough, never pure enough. You try and dissect why you’ve never been successfully loved, and all the signs point to you, you, you.

You hope Eddie’s different. You need Eddie to be different.

“Something’s wrong with me,” you blurt out of nowhere.

Well, it’s not totally out of the blue for you. You’d been stewing over that thought since you got there — since you left the woods with damp underwear and the scent of you on Eddie’s fingers.

But to Steve and Robin, who’d stayed relatively silent and locked eyes only once after they noticed how abnormally hushed you’d gone, it catches them quite off guard.

Steve lifts his heavy head from where he mans the counter. His tired eyes leave the computerized catalog for the first time in forty minutes, and he has to rub at them with the bottom of his palms to see you properly. Meanwhile, Robin crouches at your side, taking returned tapes from the bin sitting next to her and placing them back upon the shelf you lean against.

She blinks up at you, deep ocean eyes swimming with apprehension, like she can sense the spiral you’ve just about twisted yourself into.

“What do you mean?” she wonders, ever the supportive best friend, as she plucks Heather’s, Pretty in Pink, and Weird Science from the bin and sets them onto their assigned rows in the Teen Drama section.

“Eddie won’t fuck me.”

Neither of them is particularly stunned by the unabashed nature of your admission.

Not only have they both fucked you at one point or another, but they’re your best friends — no one’s ever going to know you quite the way they do. It leaves little left unsaid between the three of you, with secrets you’ve all sworn to take to your graves. Steve once stuck a finger in his ass to see if he liked it (he did) and Robin sometimes gets off on her childhood teddy bear (rather ironically named Mr. Snuggles).

So this? This was nothing. Especially in comparison to all the other shit you’ve confessed to them because god knows the whore of Hawkins has a plethora of stories to tell.

Steve is more shocked by the name that leaves your mouth than anything else. “Eddie Munson?” he repeats with furrowed brows, like he had to have heard you wrong.

You bring your chin to your right shoulder to look at him, then nod.

“Eddie… The Freak… Munson?”

You nod again, slower for him this time.

“You wanna fuck… Eddie Munson?” Steve reiterates once more, as though the idea was too appalling to be true. “Eddie Munson — The Freak?”

“Yes, Steve,” you huff in irritation.

His face contorts into a puppy-like confusion. A frown settles between his bushy brows and he cocks his head to the side, nose scrunching and his lip quirking slightly. He couldn’t look more disgusted if he tried.

“…Why?”

You groan and tilt your head back dramatically. “That’s not what’s important here, Steve. The better question is why won’t he fuck me?”

The boy’s lack of any actual assistance doesn’t surprise Robin in the slightest — his dumbfounded gaze and innate confusion are actually pretty on brand. It just puts all the burden on her, to help you wriggle out of the mess you’d tangled yourself into.

It’s not like she isn’t used to it, though, nor does she mind doing it for you. She walks you through your emotions like a professional, squashing out all the burning orange embers for you before they have the chance to burst into flames.

“Well, what do you mean he won’t fuck you? Like… did he actually say that or does he just wanna, you know, take things slow?”

The latter would’ve been way too easy. Eddie’s always been nice enough to you. It’d make sense for him to want to stay unhurried and gentle with you, but those words weren’t exactly in your vocabulary.

The first time you were alone with him, you were getting yourself off on his thigh after making him come in his jeans. The next time you saw him, after four days of him clinging to your consciousness, there wasn’t as much small talk so much as there were two of his fingers stuffed knuckle-deep inside of you.

You don’t know Eddie’s birthday, but you know how he likes to be touched — squeezed and not rubbed. You don’t know his middle name or how he likes his eggs in the morning or what his relationship with his mother is like, but he’s already made you come. Twice.

You are completely, utterly, and totally incapable of taking things slow. So it wasn’t that. It couldn’t be. So it had to be the other thing. The very scary, terrifying, boogeyman of a thing.

“I mean, I offered to give him a blowjob and he completely turned me down,” you lament in reply.

Robin and Steve wince. Like, physically wince. Their faces scrunch and their heads flinch from something invisible. Audible ooh’s fall from their mouths without them even realizing it, because you don’t get rejected. Ever. Especially not after offering to pleasure someone without much of anything in return.

They don’t mean to react the way they do. The visible shock that coats their features is involuntary more than it is anything, and it only adds to your fears.

“Exactly!” you exclaim.

“I hate to say it, but I think hell might be freezing over as we speak,” Steve half-jokes.

“Well, he was working, right?” Robin asks with raised brows. “Maybe he was just busy.”

“Sorry, Rob, but no guy’s too busy for a blowjob.”

“Real charming, Stevie.”

“Maybe he just has a small dick,” the boy concludes with a shrug.

“I felt his dick,” you shake your head almost immediately. The feeling of Eddie’s hard cock through his denim jeans, all rough and warm against your palm, hasn’t yet left you. “It’s not small.”

“Well, maybe he can’t get it up—”

“Yeah, that’s not a problem either.”

Eddie was rock hard when you left him, throbbing and aching and obviously needing some kind of relief. That’s partly why you’d been so ardent to return the favor, though the other half of it was purely selfish — you haven’t seen a more beautiful sight than Eddie Munson getting off. To deprive yourself of that masterpiece made you feel like you were starving.

You have a hard time imagining the raging hard-on just… dissipating after you’d left him. That means he probably jerked off in the back of his van and you missed it. And if he came, right after he promised everything was okay, that means he just didn’t want you to do it… right?

Steve seems to be caught in the same inner turmoil you’re currently stuck in; and for good reason. In all the years he’s known you, he can count on one hand how many times he’s had to turn you down. And every time, it was because he’d gotten back together with Nancy. It was never because of you. Not once. And sometimes he felt like it hurt him as much as it did you.

As far as Steve’s concerned, you’re so out of Eddie Munson’s league that you’re not even in his fucking orbit — so the freak show, turning you down, doesn’t make whole lot of sense to him.

“Huh…”

“It’s me. It’s definitely me,” you conclude with the shake of your head. A bitter, almost hysterical laugh spills from your lips. “He thinks I’m fucking ugly or disgusting or something. It’s totally fucking me—”

Robin completely abandons her basket of tapes then. She rises to stand in front of you, looking timid as she does so. Her raised brows form wrinkles on her freckled forehead and her blue eyes widen to reveal more of the whites of them. She looks like she’s approaching a wild animal. A bomb that’s about to explode.

“Okay… You’re starting to spiral, alright? So let’s just try and take a few deep breaths—”

You don’t listen to her.

Actually, you do quite the opposite, as you begin to blurt every fleeting thought that crosses your mind.

“I’ve made out with nearly everyone in this stupid town— I’m pretty sure I’ve fucked almost half— and you’d think Eddie would wanna take advantage of that, the way everyone makes him out to be some sort of freak, right? But he hasn’t and at this rate, he won’t, and I just don’t understand why,” you ramble without taking in a single breath. “Usually being a slut is a huge turn-on for guys, you know? But what if Eddie thinks it’s gross? I mean, it is gross— I’m gross—”

You only stop for air when Robin takes your shoulders in both hands. She looks less apprehensive and more stern, as she forces you to look at her.

“Look. I love you, but you need to get a hold of yourself, alright? I know you’re not used to being told no, and I know how much it sucks, but shit happens. I’m willing to bet all the money I’ve ever seen that whatever is going on with Eddie has nothing to do with you, okay? And if it’s making you this upset, maybe you should just talk to him.”

“But I don’t wanna seem like I’m too eager, that’s gross—”

“Then find someone else to fuck,” she offers with her signature Robin Buckley half-smile. “I’m sure it would take you less than five minutes to find a willing participant.”

“Yeah, right here,” Steve jokes from the counter with the pathetic wave of his hand and a dumb grin on his lips.

You don’t hear him over the voices in your head — half calling you crazy for letting a boy drive you this mad over nothing, and the other half bitterly affirming each of your deep-rooted insecurities.

Your face screws up, like the thought of being with anyone other than Eddie upsets you — it does upset you.

“I don’t want anyone else.”

“Then what do you want?” Robin yells in your face, shaking you by your shoulders.

“I want Eddie!” you shout back without thinking. The words seem to spill out of nowhere. It takes you of all people by surprise. No one in this rat trap town would ever expect the whore of Hawkins to want to settle down, least of all the harlot herself. It’s strange; it’s riveting; it’s really fucking scary. “…Fuck.”

The brunette smirks, proud of herself. “Well. There’s your answer.”

“I hate when you’re right,” you mumble to yourself, pouting as she crouches back down again.

“I know.”

It was a terrifying thought, to know that you were head over heels for someone else. You try to come to terms with what that means.

Sometimes you think you fall in love with a new person every day. A cute guy holds the door open for you, a pretty girl compliments your outfit — they never think about you again, but they’re on your mind for days. It was so easy to develop such meaningless infatuations, especially when you were bored.

But Eddie was different.

He was a nice guy. A nice guy that was sweet to you just for the sake of being sweet to you; not because he secretly wanted something in return. That made you fall for him at first, but then you just… kept on falling. Eddie Munson was an infinite void you couldn’t crawl your way out of even if you wanted to, even if you tried.

And that’s what frightened you the most.

Because if you really thought about it, you’ve only truly been in love a handful of times. And, sure, it didn’t work out — that was normal — but some of them fucking ruined you.

You’re still trying to figure out who you are without all of the people that have broken your heart. You’re still fighting like hell every day to recognize the person you see in the mirror, while Billy Hargrove fucks off with a new girl every other week like he didn’t totally destroy you.

But, even still, Eddie was completely different. No one’s ever made you feel the way he makes you feel. And it’s more than the stupid heavy petting — it’s more than anything. It’s never been like this before; not even with the blonde mulleted asshole who ripped your heart to shreds.

And you’re scared that if you get hurt again, you’ll never be able to come back from it.

“Steve, do you have another copy of Fast Times in the back?” you suddenly ask the boy, tossing him a look over your shoulder.

It’s your last ditch effort to rid yourself of the ponderous, gray doom and gloom surrounding you like some storm cloud. Your comfort movie solves all of your problems — or, at the very least, Phoebe Cates does — but it seems everyone else in town has developed a similar fondness for minute fifty-three of the film and got all the tapes off the shelf before you could get your hands on one.

“You know I keep on in stock for you,” he answers quietly.

He reaches below the counter to pull out a spare copy for you, and your heart swells with the rays of a thousand rising suns and the songs of every morning bird.

Steve told you some time ago that he could change. And back then, all it did was piss you off, because he didn’t want to change for the town slut — for the girl he put through the goddamn ringer. He wanted to change for Nancy. The princess bruised his brittle ego a little, and then he realized what an asshole he’d been to everyone, to you.

But as angry as it made you, you never believed him. “Once the King of Hawkins High, always the King of Hawkins High,” you remarked bitterly.

You wouldn’t say it to his face, for the sake of keeping his ego from inflating all over again, but you could tell he was really changing.

He was kinder, he was softer. He stopped caring about what everyone thought about him, about what not caring would do to his reputation, and started giving a fuck about the people worth giving a fuck about.

Apparently, you were one of them.

“…Really?”

He nods with a subtle shrug. Like it was no big deal. Like it wasn’t one of the sweetest things he’d ever done for you — keeping your favorite movie on hand so you’ll always have a spare, knowing that it’s the only thing that gets you out of a deep, dark funk sometimes.

“Stevie… You’re gonna make me blush,” you lilt with a grin as you saunter over to him, hands innocently laced behind your back. “You need to be careful, Harrington. I’m gonna start to think you actually like me.”

He scoffs. “I do like you.”

“Yeah, when it’s convenient.”

It’s obvious your joke hits him where it hurts. It serves as a bitter reminder of the asshole he used to be, the douchebag he’s trying like hell to grow out of. He looks up at you with a sheepish, honey-tinted gaze before ducking away again.

A year or more ago it would’ve made you feel good, to know that you hurt him just a fraction of the way he hurt you. But you know that that isn’t the same man standing in front of you now, that he’d rather die than make hurt your feelings, and it makes you feel like shit for saying it in the first place.

“Sorry,” you apologize with a scrunched nose. The palms of your hands dig into the edges of the counter as you lean against it. Your shrug. “It just kinda came out…”

The barcode scanner in his hand beeps as he passes the thing over the back of the tape — never charging you, just getting the movie out of the database.

“So, uh…” he starts before clearing his throat. He focuses his gaze on the computer and types on the bulky keyboard with the tip of his pointer finger. “You really like this Eddie guy, huh?”

“Maybe. I think so.”

“And he’s not, like… a total freak or anything?”

You can’t tell if he’s trying to look out for you or if he just wants intel on what it’s like trying (and failing) to bang the local weirdo. Either way, it makes a smile tug slow at your lips as you joke: “Not in the way everyone thinks.”

“Jesus,” he winces at the obscenity of your words.

“Sorry,” you apologize again, though the laugh that bubbles from your lips after cancels out any hint of actual sincerity. “You don’t need to give me the talk or anything, Steve. I can take care of myself.”

“…Can you?” he half-jokes.

It makes you falter. “Well… With you and Robin and Hopper constantly on my ass, then yeah.”

“Just don’t want you to get hurt,” Steve finally admits, soft and suddenly shy as he hands the VHS over to you.

“That’s rich coming from you—”

He jerks back the tape before you can take it from him, leaving your hand reaching for thin air. His cinnamon eyes glimmer with a foreign seriousness, not completely unkind, but lacking their usual blithe. “That’s why I’m saying it. I just… I want you to be okay.”

Steve is one of the rare ones, you conclude right then in there — in the liminal emptiness of Family Video, beneath fluorescent lights that cast sharp shadows upon his already chiseled features. He was a mythical creature of a man, one who breaks your heart and does everything in his power to mend it again.

He hasn’t forgotten about what he did to you, not like Billy did, and he won’t. Not ever. He saw what he did to you and he never moved on from it, just matured enough to make sure it never happened again. And he won’t let another unworthy douchebag hurt you like he did. Not if he can help it, at least.

And he did try to warn you about Hargrove, to be fair. You were just the dumbass that didn’t listen.

“Well, me and my Phoebe Cates wet dream are golden, Pony Boy,” you promise. He hands you the tape again and lets you snatch it from his grip this time. “Don’t worry your pretty little head, Stevie.”

Steve Harrington was right.

The fleeting thought flashes across your mind for half a second, and you quickly realize that those words have never been uttered in the same sentence before now. But he wasn’t wrong in what he’d said about you, just before you left — you were completely, totally, absolutely, and implicitly unable to take care of yourself.

You nearly passed out in the bathroom after taking the hottest shower of your life, feeling too woozy to slap on anything other than moisturizer because you failed to remember to actually eat something that day. It wasn’t totally your fault, though; if anything, it was because of Eddie and all the butterflies he’d given you that made food the very last thing on your mind.

You half-heartedly dry yourself off, keeping your hair in a towel, while you slip on a cotton set of underwear you’ve had for way longer than what's likely acceptable. Damp and half-naked, you prance into the kitchen to fix Bowie her bowl of dinner before you feed yourself.

You fork a can of wet food onto a flower-shaped plate and let her eat on the counter — because you’re an adult now, and you can do that sort of thing.

The calico purrs while she feasts, but your stomach thunders with negligence. You peek into your mostly bare refrigerator and make a mental note to go grocery shopping when you get paid next week.

With a lack of food and an even lesser will to cook something, you settle for the half-eaten chocolate bar you keep stashed in the very back of the fridge; kept only for the most special of occasions — when you’re reveling in your loneliness and trying to convince yourself that you can make it on your own.

It was practically the size of your forearm when you first bought the thing at some too expensive candy store in the city. Now it’s no bigger than your hand.

You eat the thing in bed, even though you know you’ll get crumbs everywhere and that it’ll make sleep agonizing for you — if you get any, that is. You’re bound to feel like a total zombie by the time the sun rises and the late-night sweet will likely make its appearance on your skin by then, in a red and raging blemish of a consequence.

You’ll feel empty and starved and surly, a snapping grouch instead of an actual person, until you get some actual food in your system.

And you’re more than aware of all of these things, but you don’t do a single damn thing about them.

You’re nothing but a sulking lump upon an unmade bed, lying in a pitch-black darkness that’s evaded only by the static-y television across your room, trying your best to pretend like you aren’t waiting for Eddie’s phone call. It’s hard to remember to forget him, though, when the movie you’re watching is practically a feature film of him and all the ways he makes you feel.

Spicoli and his terribly inebriated friends slur as they chorus “No shoes, no shirt, no diiiice” and you swear you can feel Eddie’s shoulder bump softly against yours as he laughs, hear every sound of his melodic chuckle in your ear that made you giggle right along with him. The low bass of Moving in Stereo plays in the otherwise empty silence of your bedroom, and every beat feels like the rhythm of your thrusts against his thigh.

Eddie Munson is all-consuming.

Even the thought of him feels physical.

Phoebe Cates all but undresses herself in front of you, but you’re stuck thinking about some guy who lives in a trailer park across town, deals drugs for a living, and can’t graduate high school. You’re a total fucking goner.

Your eyes flutter shut, and instead of the backs of your eyelids, you see Eddie’s trailer. Your lips start to tingle as they kiss his for the first time — hungry, yearning, needing. His thigh is pressed snugly into your cunt, denim jeans rough against your soft cotton panties, and you have to bite back a moan when he tenses every time you squeeze his hard, covered cock.

You can feel it, all of him, like he were here with you now.

You wish that he were.

His fingers would feel far better, leave far more sparks of electricity in your belly, than the ones as you sneak through the hem of your underwear.

You try and take things slow with yourself, to be as gentle as he had been with you earlier in the woods, but it feels strange to treat yourself with so much tenderness. To touch your pussy like it’s the first time it’s ever been touched. Like it’s a beautiful thing you need to be sweet to.

Maybe you find it so foreign to be careful with yourself because no one has ever been careful with you.

No one, except for Eddie.

Your touch doesn’t rival his. It doesn’t even come close.

No matter how tightly you squeeze your eyes shut or how hard you try to pretend that they’re his fingers inside of you, you can’t make yourself feel as good as he did.

Your fingers aren’t as rough as his guitar-string-scarred ones and they don’t caress your clit with the same methodical care. They don’t fill you quite the same either, nowhere near as satisfying as his much thicker ones.

And you’re no stranger to masturbation, not by any means. Sometimes it’s the only way you can guarantee an orgasm for yourself when you’ve got a partner who cares so little about your own pleasure. But Eddie was different. Eddie cared — so much so, that he’s gotten more orgasms out of you than you’ve gotten from him, which is something you’ve never said about anyone else you’ve been with.

It’s rare and unfamiliar, a bouquet of all things refreshing and terrifying and strange, tied together with a pretty little ribbon.

You know that you can make yourself come. It’ll just take way too long to actually be worthwhile and won’t be nearly as mind-blowing as you need it to be. You won’t be left with trembling thighs and nearly numb legs — just a pitiful excuse for an orgasm that you could get from any one of your exes with half as much work.

What you need is Eddie.

And you hate that. You hate how much you need him and you’re terrified of what that means.

As far as precedent goes, right when you start needing someone is usually when they start to leave. It’s like fucking clockwork most of the time — like everyone knows that you’re a ticking time bomb and eventually it gets too risky to stand too close to you.

You’ll just have to keep Eddie at arm's distance. So he won’t see the grenade that you are.

You pull your fingers out of your wanting cunt, still slick and throbbing with a need that you can’t give it, when the phone rings.

The high-pitched shrill in the quiet makes you tense like it’s the first time you’ve ever heard the damn thing. Your breath catches in your throat, first out of fright and then at the inclination of who waits for you on the other line.

Suddenly, you’re scrambling to collect yourself. As though there was any possibility that Eddie might be able to see you through the phone line.

You wipe your wet fingers haphazardly on the cotton of your underwear and sit up straighter from your ungracefully lazed position. Then you count to five — one mississippi… two mississippi… three — so Eddie won’t think you’re some kind of crazy person who doesn’t have anything better to do than wait for his call.

So he won’t know that’s exactly what you are.

You lift the ruby red rotary from its hook at your bedside table and stretch the corkscrew cord to press it to your ear. “…Hello?”

“Yeah, hi. I’d like to order a pizza. Half pepperoni, half hawaiian.”

You roll your eyes at his dumb joke, even though the familiarity of his voice makes you smile. It warms you like a home-cooked meal, like you were high-pitched and starving before and now you’re on the soothing comedown of finally being satiated.

“Yeah, sorry, we’re closed.”

“Then why’d you pick up the phone, huh?” he teases back. You swear you can hear the grin in his voice. You didn’t know a smile could be so audible. It makes you wonder if he can hear yours — if you’re doing a real shit job at pretending. You anxiously twirl the cord with the pointer finger of your free hand.

“Because I’ve been waiting for you to call me all night, dummy.”

Your answer is more honest than either of you were expecting.

Eddie’s sigh crackles through the shoddy reception. “Yeah. Sorry ‘bout that, sweetheart. I’ve been working all night. I only got home, like, five minutes ago.”

You can hear the heavy exhaustion in his voice. “Rough day?”

“Kinda,” he answers with a shrug. You can hear the grating squeak of his mattress as he plops down onto his bed. “I dealt to one of Jason’s goons today… They always give me a hard time.”

“I’m sorry,” is all you can think to answer.

Eddie’s been the brunt of every joke since seventh grade — people made fun of too big clothes, his too wild hair, his too loud music. But he took it all in stride, laughing with everyone else before volleying a harsher joke back in response. You almost started to think that he liked it. That, somewhere deep down, he was fond of all the attention he got from people who supposedly couldn’t stand him.

But it hurts to know that it hurts him.

“Don’t apologize. It’s not like you did anything,” he assures with a soft laugh. He makes the bold decision to be honest then, too. “You, uh… You made my day a whole lot better, actually.”

You don’t know if he’s talking about the brief fling in the woods or the phone call you’re sharing now or if you particularly care either way. Your heart flutters like it’s been kissed by the wings of a butterfly.

“Really?”

“Yeah. I mean… I don’t know— I couldn’t stop thinking about you, you know. And, knowing that I was gonna get to talk to you again kinda got me through the day, I guess… And, yes, I am fully aware of how lame that sounds, but—”

You don’t get to hear the rest of his excuse, of why what he just told you totally isn’t lame, because you’re covering the receiver with your palm and turning to squeal into your pillow. A far more pathetic sight, in your humble opinion.

There hasn’t been a more fulfilling feeling than this one, to know that he’s been feeling the same way you’ve been feeling about him this whole time. It’s better than all the orgasms he could give you combined, to be loved so wholly.

“…You okay?” you hear his muffled voice ask after you’ve gone suddenly AWOL.

You press the phone back to your ear and nod like he can see you. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m good. The phone… fell— you said you just got home?”

“Uh, yeah. I met with Hellfire for a bit at school. We’re almost at the end of the Cult of Vecna, so they’re kinda on my ass about it. The little shits are obsessed.”

“Well, they should be. It’s a really good campaign, Eds.”

“Thanks to you,” he mutters. You can almost picture the glimmer in his button eyes and the shaky half-smirk he always looks at you with when he gets all shy.

“That was all you, Eddie Spaghetti,” you retort. “I still have no idea how you did it.”

“Did what?” he wonders, chuckling a bit at the nickname.

“Make something so beautiful out of thin air.”

Lying in the depths of his bedroom, blanketed by the darkness and bathing in streams of moonlight, Eddie feels his breath catch in his throat.

For the first time in his life, he doesn’t have a joke to spew out on the spot. He’s speechless, just for a moment, a quick blink of a second, with nothing to say. Because, if he really thinks about it, that’s sort of what happened with you.

You were just his customer and he was just your dealer.

You were a loyal client and then a girl way out of his league that he developed a too big a crush on. Then you made him come in his underwear and washed the sticky stains out of the denim for him. Now you’re on the phone with him. You let him tell you all about his shitty day and apologize like you weren’t the only good thing about it — like you aren’t the only good thing, period.

It’s not the most cliche love story, nor is it the most beautiful, but it has his cynical little heart beating like the wings of a hummingbird.

Then, when all the mushy mess fades like fog, he finally thinks of something to say.

“It’s the witchcraft, sweetheart,” he shrugs to himself. “Didn’t you hear? I’m a devil-worshipping freak.”

“You know that’s not it, Eds,” you retort with the roll of your eyes.

You know that it’s hard, to be a metalhead from the wrong side of the tracks in the eighties — at the height of the Satanic Panic and all the delusional craze. That shit’s followed him since freshman year. Even still, it nips at his ankles like rabid dogs.

Maybe you were never naive or bored enough to believe all the rumors, but Eddie Munson was always more than that to you.

“No?”

“You can blame it on being a freak show all you want, but I know it’s because you’re one of the funniest, smartest, most creative guys I’ve ever met—”

“You must not know a ton of guys then, sweetheart,” he interjects playfully, like he couldn’t stand to hear you compliment him any longer. You’d give anything to see his blushing cheeks just now.

“…You’re kidding right?” you giggle in response.

“Sorry— that’s— I didn’t mean it like— It was— I was joking,” he stammers, frightened that he might’ve offended you in some way.

It only makes you laugh harder. Both of you know you lost count of all the guys you ‘know’ a long, long time ago. You do imagine it’s somewhere near ‘a ton’, though.

“I know, Eds,” you assure with a contented sigh. “I was just teasing.”

“Oh.”

“The slut and the freak… Who would’ve thought?” you wonder all dreamily, like it’s a fairytale as old as time itself. That’s what it feels like, sometimes.

Eddie isn’t sure what you mean — who would’ve thought you’d be friends? Two people caught in that in-between stage of platonic and romance that’s complete agony and total, total bliss? A couple of kids falling in love—

“It’s sort of kismet, huh?” he answers.

“I think so.”

“So, uh… What are you up to?” Eddie wonders then, equal parts curious and eager to keep the discussion going. He’s frightened any lapse in conversation is going to lead to saying goodbye.

He wants to stay on for hours, until both of you are fighting to stay awake, and then listen to the sound of your heavy breathing when you inevitably lose — like that isn’t the creepiest thing anyone’s ever wanted. He’ll fight Wayne about the bill if it comes to that, he doesn’t care, he just never wants to stop being this close to you.

“Do you want the real answer or the fake one?”

“Uh… Both?”

“Well, I’d say I was doing something super productive with my night, you know, catching up on all the boring adult shit, but then I’d be lying. And I don’t wanna lie to you, Eds,” you tell him with a teasing lilt playing at the edge of your voice.

Eddie swallows thickly, fearing he’d somehow been caught in his own lie — or rather, his half-truth. He moves on quickly, though not exactly full of grace. “Right. Yeah. Totally.”

“Honest answer is, that the only productive thing I’ve done tonight is shower, and now I’m in bed watching Fast Times and eating all the chocolate in my house, because I can’t cook for shit and I have nothing else better to do with my night,” you admit to him, picking at the thread of your comforter.

“Oh, don’t tell me I missed the ‘Moving in Stereo’ bit,” he agonizes.

“Just.”

“Well, correct me if I’m wrong, sweetheart, but it sounds like you’re having loads of fun tonight.”

“I’m having a lot more fun now,” you assure him.

“Glad I can be around to make you laugh,” he retorts like he’s not all too happy to do it.

“You’re a total comedian, Eddie Spaghetti.”

“If I’m the jester, you’re the queen, sweetheart,” he promises, a grin evident in his voice.

Your breath catches in your throat something fierce; you’re almost worried that he’s heard it. His words pierce your heart, a stroke of lightning or a blade of steel. He’s joking, but it’s so strangely profound, the kindest thing anyone’s ever said to you and it’s dripping in sarcasm.

It’s sort of Eddie’s love language, you’ve come to understand, to say something so sweet but coated in venom to make it sour again. It makes you feel special, loved, almost.

A fire builds behind your rib cage, sharp and distant and all-consuming.

“Are you alone, Eds?” you ask him suddenly.

The sudden curve ball in the conversation takes him by surprise. “Uh, yeah, Wayne’s at work right now… Why?”

“Because I want you to talk to me…”

“Oh?” is all he can say because isn’t that what he’s been doing this whole time?

“And I want you to say things that… maybe other people shouldn’t hear,” you explain slowly to him.

“…Oh.”

He’s heard about this only once before, the whole phone sex thing.

It was from Andy in the back of Ms. O’Donnell’s class a year or more ago, though Eddie never called him by that name. Andy, in all actuality, was Jason Carver’s right-hand man, and he meant that in every sense of the phrase. Eddie was more than convinced that the guy was so obsessed with the blonde haired, blue eyed douchebag that he was giving him handjobs on the regular.

But it seemed the dick brigade couldn’t function properly without their leader and Eddie had the misfortune of hearing all the mindless bullshit they were spewing behind him — basketball, parties, girls; in true white bread fashion.

His friends gathered around him like he was telling some sort of secret, though it was loud enough for anyone in a three foot radius to hear. Eddie, caught directly in the line of fire, heard all about Chrissy’s older sister, Wendy, who was two years older and off at college.

He’d gotten her number from some party he’d crashed. At least that’s how he told it, right before telling everyone that she swore like a sailor when she came and that she told him all the dirty things she wanted to do to him while she did.

“It was like her hand was on my dick, dude, I’m serious. That shit was crazy, bro,” he’d laughed after retelling the whole conversation in excruciating detail.

Eddie rolled his eyes to himself then, inwardly jealous that he’d never get to meet Wendy — or any other girl that would be willing to have phone sex with him, for that matter. His phone only ever rang for telemarketers or a rogue Dustin Henderson calling to annoy him.

But, here you are now, the most wanted girl in Hawkins, offering it to him on a silver platter. He wonders if you’ve done this before, surely you have — oh god, he thinks to himself, what if you’ve done this with Andy?

“We don’t have to if you don’t want to,” you assure him after his unusually long silence. “I know you’re probably busy and tired and everything—”

“No! No, yeah, I— I want to. I totally want to.”

“Okay,” you nod. Petals of a flower begin to bloom in your chest as you lie back in bed, settling further into the mattress. The movie, already long forgotten, serves only as light and background noise. “So… What are you wearing, Eds?”

“I feel like I should be asking you that,” he laughs.

On the other side of Hawkins, in a trailer in the middle of nowhere, Eddie rises from where he’d originally flopped back onto his bed with the notion that it was going to be a semi-normal night. He props himself against his headboard. His fingers twitch at his thigh.

“Beat ya to it, Munson.”

“Well, I’ll have you know that it is very sexy, sweetheart. I’m wearing the same Hellfire shirt you saw me in, I don’t know, five hours ago — except now it’s got a rip in it because I totally ate ass on the way back to the van.”

He tells you this to make you laugh — it works — but he prays you don’t ask any questions. Because he got it while hurrying back to his van mere minutes after you’d left him, so hard he thought he was going to burst, with no more than seven minutes until his next client arrived.

Thankfully, he only needed three.

“I love that shirt,” you respond in place of saying what you really want to — ‘I love how that shirt looks on you’ — how it clings to his lean torso and reveals his midriff whenever he stretches his arms over his head.

“She’s a lit-tle worse for wear now, sweetheart,” he lilts.

“I’ll stitch it up for you.”

“And I’ve got on a pair of boxers that are so old they’re practically see through because I’m pretty sure they used to be Wayne’s back in… I don’t know… the eighteen-hundreds.”

Eddie was right. It was sexy, though, for the exact reason they weren’t supposed to be.

There was something so domestic about it all. You can picture him lying in his bed, in the most comfortable clothes he owns, in the one place he can feel at peace. Like a renaissance painting, something familiar and comforting and beautiful — fuck, you’d give anything to be next to him.

“…I think that means it’s your turn now, sweetheart,” he teases.

“Is it?” you mock in return.

“C’mon. Don’t leave me hangin’ over here.”

“It’s nothing, special,” you assure. Your eye flits down to peer at your own body — nothing special, indeed, you think to yourself. The lilac cotton set came from the grocery store downtown on the clearance rack you so often frequent. “I just have my underwear on. It’s very boring, I’m afraid.”

It’s not boring. Not to Eddie — the boy who prides himself on his insanely active imagination. He might not be able to pass english with his brain, but he can certainly create worlds with it, and it’s too easy for him to picture you. He imagines you, freshly showered, and smelling of the warm lavender-vanilla scent you always smell like, mostly bare and lazing upon a fluffy comforter.

He swallows thickly. “Oh, that’s— that’s really, uh— that’s really sexy.”

His thankful that you don’t seem to mind his poor excuse for dirty talk.

“It’s only because I was too lazy to get into actual pajamas.”

“I’m glad you didn’t.”

“Yeah?” you press, smiling to yourself and caging your bottom lip between your teeth.

“Yeah.”

“Can I tell you a secret, Eds?” you wonder, made brave enough by his own admission.

“‘Course you can.”

“Before you called…”

“…Uh-huh?” he eggs on, intrigued at the way you trailed off, sounding suddenly shy.

“I was…” The thought of telling him what you were doing mere seconds before he called makes you nervous. It wasn’t like you were ashamed of touching yourself or anything, nor is the art of dirty talking lost on you, but something about Eddie makes you timid.

“You were… what, sweetheart?” he wonders gently, with a too audible grin.

“I was touching myself.”

That’s all you tell him. The words linger and hang in the air of your separate bedrooms and you cling to the silence — almost mortified and anticipating his reply. Eddie, meanwhile, feels like his tongue has swelled in his mouth and all the air has been punched out of his lungs.

“Oh...” he tries to respond without the breath to accurately do so. “…Yeah?”

“You know what Phoebe Cates does to me,” you try to joke.

His laughter crackles through the receiver. “Yeah. I kinda have her to thank for the other night, don’t I?”

“Give yourself some credit, Eds. The hottest guy in Hawkins was sitting right next to me, what was I supposed to do?”

“No way you think I’m the hottest guy in town,” he scoffs. “Everyone knows you’ve got a thing for pretty boys.”

“Pretty boys?” you echo with a giggle.

“Uh-huh. The Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington type, you know?”

“Well, I think you’re a hundred times prettier than he is.”

“Really?” he scoffs cynically, obviously not believing you.

“He wasn’t the one I was thinking about with my hand shoved down my panties,” you admit, immediately quelling his self-doubt. “That’s gotta count for something, right?”

Eddie clears his throat and then stammers, “I— I guess so— yeah.”

“Are you hard, Eds?” you ask in a breathy whisper.

And he just nods to himself at first, too stupid to answer audibly. He can feel himself stiffening in his boxers, only halfway hard now, but getting firmer by the second. Soon, he’ll be aching.

“Yeah…”

“Can you touch yourself for me?”

Eddie would rather take a bullet to the chest than say no to you — at least, he figures that’d probably hurt less — so he slips his fidgeting fingers through the band of his boxers and takes his warm, stiffening cock in his hand. He squeezes himself just enough to make his stomach tighten.

“Want you to touch yourself, too,” he admits, neither asking or demanding it, just telling you.

“Yeah?” you tease.

“Well, I think it’s only fair, sweetheart.”

You can’t help but notice how breathy he’s gotten — how it shakes on the inhale and hitches on the out. He’s got his hand shoved down his underwear and you’re jealous of the fingers that get to wrap themselves around his cock. You wish they were yours. Both of you will have to settle, it seems.

“Whatever you want, Eds,” you answer playfully.

You obediently slide your hand back into the warmth of your panties. Your fingers slot between your lips and collect the slick that had gathered there since before you’d even answered the phone. You bring it up to your clit, circling the pads of your fingers there until you twitch, then dragging them down to press into your opening. They slip in with ease.

Both of you have turned into lovesick idiots, separated by so many miles, and missing the other most ardently. Lying in the depths of your bedrooms, basking in a velvet loneliness, building with a mutual pleasure with nothing but yearning hands and longing sighs.

Eddie’s eyes flutter shut at the sounds of your low moans and fragile whimpers that crackle through the static — beautiful still, but certainly no match to the ones you were breathing in his ear just hours ago.

His lashes dance across his cheeks as he tries to remember how you’d felt against his fingers, soft like velvet and delicate like silk, weeping and pulsating with need.

He drags his hand from his boxers and lets the band snap against his pelvis. He spits into his palm and wets his cock with it, sighing as he tugs at himself without much friction.

“Are you wet, sweetheart?” he asks, though the words threaten to get stuck in his throat.

“Yeah,” you whisper back like it’s some kind of secret.

You work yourself open with your middle finger and slip your pointer in next to it without much trouble. Your walls flutter around them while you fight to find the spot the makes you keen. You’re only able to tease it, fingers not quite long enough to caress it completely. Your thumb keeps working at your clit, though, to make up for the lost pleasure.

“I’ve been wet since I left you,” you admit through labored breaths. “Haven’t been able to… to stop thinking about you, Eds.”

“Glad I’m not the only one whipped over here, sweetheart,” he manages a laugh.

“No one’s ever made me come that hard before. Not just with their fingers,” you tell him mindlessly, dumb on pleasure, as you feel yourself climbing that peak.

“Really?”

“Never,” you promise, then whine. “Doesn’t even feel as good now… Can’t get as deep as you can—”

Eddie hangs on your every word as he works his palm up and down his stiff cock, squeezing at the base and swiping his thumb over the head with an expert hand. His face scrunches as his stomach starts to tighten, he’s close to coming — too close for his liking. He doesn’t want this to be over so quickly.

“You’ve ruined every other guy for me, Eddie Munson,” you confess, more than pleased to hear how it makes him whine. It sounds like it comes from the depths of his chest, the way it crackles low and needy through the receiver.

“Good,” he grumbles through his pants after he’s gathered himself all over again. “Don’t want anyone else to have you, sweetheart.”

This time you’re the one letting out the most pathetic of whines. It makes a smile flicker at the corners of his lips.

“You like that?”

It sounds so dirty, but you can tell by the sincerity of his tone that it’s genuine. So you answer with a longing truthfulness, a delicate “yes”entwined with a yearning moan.

“You just wanna belong to me, don’t ya?”

Now, this is dirty talk. The teasing lilt of his tone — it’s almost degrading — and makes you clench around your fingers. “Yes, please,” you whine, all but pleading for him now.

Eddie’s close, so dreadfully close, with a pleasure so tangible he could taste it. Your words make his cock twitch in his hold as the fire builds in his belly.

Through your whole-hearted promises and wanting moans, he can hear the sound of your slick through the receiver. The static reception doesn’t do it justice, but the wet click of your fingers working you open was unmistakable.

A moan grumbles in his throat as he digs the crown of his head back into his pillow. “Holy fuck— I can hear you, baby.”

“I’m so wet for you, Eds,” you tell him through fragile slurs, like it wasn’t inherently obvious.

You were wrong before, about wanting to hide from him. You couldn’t conceal your need for Eddie if you tried. The honey you drip, all sweet and just for him, wouldn’t let you keep it a secret.

“I know, baby, I know,” he nearly coos. “Are you— fuck, please tell me you’re close?”

“Yes,” you promise in a whine. Your thumb presses harder into your clit. It makes your thighs tense until they’re shaking.

“You rubbing your clit for me, sweetheart?” he asks like he knows. “I know that’s what you like.”

You whimper, working at the spongy spot within you as your hips buck off the bed. “Yeah.”

“Keep rubbing yourself like that for me, okay? Want you to keep going until you come for me.”

If he keeps talking to you like that, it’ll come a lot quicker than he’s prepared for.

It’s too soft to be much of a demand, but you listen obediently anyway, rubbing at yourself though your sensitivity keeps building. It grows like a morning tide, rising and flowing like white waves on an ocean, stirring something fierce in the depths of your stomach.

“Eddie,” you sigh out his name, broken through staggered pants.

You hear his stuttering breaths, too. “Y—Yeah?”

“I’m about to come,” you promise through a whine when the familiar crescendo sends a shock through your body.

“O… Okay,” he responds, pathetically, then whines, even more so.

“Want you to come with me… Please…”

“Fuck— okay. Shit, sweetheart, I’m almost there.”

“What are you thinking about?” you ask him.

“Your pussy,” he answers without thinking — he’s not doing a whole lot of that anymore. “Wish I’d gotten to taste you earlier. Wanna feel you… fuck… Wanna feel you come on my tongue.”

“Holy shit, Eds,” you moan at his words, at the vivid picture they paint in your head.

“And you get so… God, you get so fucking wet. Just want you to drench me, baby.”

It feels good, to be complimented for something boys used to make fun of you for, to realize for the first time that’s it’s sexy — that you’re sexy — and that Eddie is more than happy to drown in you. The feeling almost rivals the impending orgasm that’s bound to hit you like a tidal wave.

“I’m thinking about how I coulda took you on that bench… Just, fucking, get on my knees for you. Shove my head between your legs. Hold your— shit, baby— hold your thighs open, keep you exactly where I want you,” he rambles but then cuts himself off to moan at his own words. “Goddamn, sweetheart. Wanna taste you so fucking bad.”

The moan you let out is pitiful. It leaves your mouth in the most delicate cry.

No picture has ever been clearer than the one of Eddie between your thighs, your hands knotted in his hair to move him to exactly where you need him most and forcing him there. You can feel his fingers digging into your hips, his rings pressed against your burning skin, and the way your legs tremble on either side of his head.

“Yeah. Keep— Keep doing that. Keep moaning for me,” Eddie tells you. “I’m about to… holy fuck, I’m about to come.”

“Wanna feel your tongue in me so bad, Eds,” you whimper, egged on by the moan he lets out. “Want your cock even more.”

That’s what does him in, the assurance — the promise — that you want him just as bad as he wants you.

He tightens his fist around his cock, achingly hard and raging a crimson at the tip, trying to imitate the way you’d feel around him. It’s not all that close, not nearly as wet as the honey you’d be dripping for him, but his imagination does the rest of the work for him.

All at once, you’re on top of him, riding him for all he’s worth, your pussy threatening to swallow him whole. You’ve drenched him, just like he’d begged for, and that wet schlick noise still echoing from the receiver is the evidence of each of your assured thrusts over top of him.

You’re still pleading for him anyway — for more, for his tongue, for his cock — and he wants so desperately to give everything to you.

“Oh god, baby—” he sputters. He grips the phone in a white-knuckled, fist trembling. “Oh, fuck, I’m coming, baby.”

“Please, Eddie. Please come for me,” you plead over the low sounds of the forgotten film playing across the room and all the dirty wet sounds your pussy makes against your fingers. You sound like you need it, like you want his orgasm more than your own.

“Want you to come with me… Can you— Can you do that for me, sweetheart? Please?” It’s not dirty talk anymore. He’s actually fucking begging you and doesn’t feel the least bit ashamed to do so.

He wants to hear all the pretty noises you make when you come — that initial cry that stems from the depths of your soul, the high-pitched whimpers that come when the sensitivity builds, and the whines that leave you when it ebbs.

He wants to hear it over and over and over again, like a worn cassette, and play it until the tape spins out.

“Yes…” you promise through a set of stuttering breaths.

There’s no talking when either of you come. Eddie’s long forgotten to talk you through it, but you would barely hear him if he had. The phone slips out of your hand when your grip slackens and it falls to the pillow beside your head.

You chase your orgasm full throttle, working through the crescendo and the strikes of lightning, focusing only on his muffled moaning and the pretty sounds he makes as he comes.

The breath of your name whimpered through a tight throat is what does it for you. Your body has hardly any time to warn you before you’re gushing all over your fingers, twitching every time the pad of your thumb rubs over clit.

That cry, the one you always let out as you come — all wet and full of need — makes Eddie orgasm right alongside you.

He swipes his thumb over his head again, collecting the pearls of precum gathering there and sliding them down the base to squeeze himself there like he’d been doing this whole time. He clutches harder this time, imagines it's your cunt locking him in a vice-like grip, and whines in his throat when he comes.

Several loads of it spill onto his cotton boxers, most of it gathering along the side of his hand and dripping down his knuckles. His breath staggers as he works himself through his high, praising you through the phone like you’re the one who brought him to it.

“Fuck, baby… You’re so good… So fucking good.”

You’ve long settled from your own orgasm, still tingly and numb in some places, but not as gone as you had been just moments before. You still float on a cloud, getting lost as you stare through your window at the half-hidden stars sprinkling the night sky and feeling as though you could reach out and touch them.

You can feel the satin moonlight bathing you, and the jittery static of the neon of the television screen. You can feel everything and somehow nothing at all.

“I don’t know how you do it, Eds,” you confess, hardly thinking about the words spilling from your mouth when you lazily bring the phone to your ear again.

“Do what, sweetheart?”

“I don’t know… You always make me feel good. Even when you’re not here… Even when we’re not getting each other off.”

“I feel the same way,” he promises you, all mushy, even though he feels like a slob for wiping his hand off on his discarded jeans on his bed. “Just… wish you were here.”

“I wish I was there, too… Wish I could clean you up.”

Eddie’s eyes shut tight as his head tilts back to his pillow at the thought. “Fuck… You’re gonna make me hard again, sweetheart.”

You perk up suddenly as an idea sprouts like a flower in your head. A smile blooms on your lips, and you rise up onto your elbows, glowing with an unanticipated excitement. “How long would it take you to get ready?”

“…Get ready?” he echoes.

“Yeah,” is all you say.

“I mean, I— I don’t know. I figure if I put on some new underwear and a fresh pair of pants, I’ll be good as new... Why?”

“You wanna do something?”

“Yeah. Sure. Anything,” he answers clumsily in place of saying, ‘Anything to not have to be without you.’

“I wanna go to Skull Rock.”

“Skull Rock?” he repeats.

Legend has it, you and Steve made that place a local landmark. People have always said that Hopper caught the both of you one too many times up at Lover’s Lake and the Quarry, that you needed a more hidden place to fuck. So you’d stumbled around in the middle of the woods until you found a place the chief wouldn’t think to look for you.

You’d certainly found it. Then every other horny high schooler did too.

It’s the place you go to fuck, the most private place in all of Hawkins — hell, maybe even Indiana entirely for teenagers who can’t get the house to themselves. And as appealing as it sounds, to take you beneath a sky of twinkling stars, Eddie doesn’t want his first time with you to be on dirt or in the middle of the woods. That’s how all the horror movies start, don’t they?

So, needless to say, your answer takes him by surprise.

“Yeah! You can see all the stars really good from there. It’s too hard to see them so close to town.”

Eddie’s heart swells all at once at how sweet you are, like sugar poured directly onto his tongue. You’re not eager to be without him either, it seems, and that thought is as gratifying as it is thrilling.

You’re an adventure he’s about to go on, without a map or a way out, a journey he’s happy to go into blind as long as you’re holding his hand the entire way through it.

It breaks his heart to hang up the phone. He practically begs you to do it for him, and it makes you laugh — a kind giggle entwined with a tease ‘you’re such a baby.’ It rings in his ears long after the receiver clicks.

Most of all, he hates all the stoplights that separate your place from his. He hadn’t known where you lived before now, not until you uttered it over the phone. He makes a mental note to figure out a quicker way, somewhere through the winding back roads that his old van can speed through to make the distance less daunting.

He pulls into your apartment complex, a quaint two-story thing on the quieter side of town, where the woods are plentiful and the street lamps far fewer. He turns his radio down out of respect for all your neighbors that he’s sure he’ll never meet and spies you through the neon orange porch lights. You shut and lock your door in quick succession, then scurry across the way to meet him.

Eddie leans over to unlock the passenger side door for you, already beaming, and finds you’re smiling too when you climb in next to him. The grin you shoot his way outshines the night sky and makes a bright yellow sun of the girl sitting in his passenger seat.

“Hi,” you’d greeted him, all shy like you didn’t just make him come all over his hand thirty minutes ago.

“Hi, sweetheart,” he volleys back like he always does, with that big ol’ smirk and teasing lilt as he cock his head to the side — using his playfulness to cover up the bashful mess you so easily reduce him too.

Neither of you had gotten particularly dressed up to see each other. All he did was put on fresh under and pajama pants. You succumbed to a smilier laziness it seems, haphazardly brushing through your half-damp hair, throwing on a too big t-shirt, and calling it a day.

The cotton hangs low at your chest, stretched out and obviously well-loved. It falls well past your thigh, though you spend much of the drive anxiously tugging it down.

It makes him wonder what you’re wearing beneath it. If you’ve tugged on a pair of shorts or if you’re in the bra and (undoubtedly wet) underwear you’d told him you were wearing over the phone.

Eddie winds himself up all over again while you sift through the flimsy case of endless cassettes he keeps tucked in the glove compartment that never quite shuts all the way.

“How do you now have any ABBA tapes?” you wonder like it’s baffling, with an Iron Maiden tape in one hand and Cinderella in the other. Metallica plays lowly, nearly inaudibly, from the stereo.

Eddie laughs and darts his eyes from the darkened back roads to look at you, all smiley and bathed in moonlight, before turning back to the road again. “Uh, because I’m not a thirty-year-old woman. That’s the shit moms listen to.”

“Moms and hot girls,” you retort jokingly.

“Right, moms and hot girls listen to ABBA — of which, I am neither, sweetheart. Sorry to be the one to break it to you… Besides, it’s not like you walk around listening to, fucking, I don’t know— Van Halen or whatever.”

“Hey. I listen to Van Halen,” you shoot back.

He scoffs. “Yeah, right.”

“It’s got what it takes!” you sing suddenly, not quite catching the rhythm of the song, but smiling anyway as you reach for his forearm resting on the center console. “So tell me why can’t this be love!”

“Oh, my god— that’s literally their worst song,” Eddie chuckles through the widest grin you’ve ever seen from him.

It makes you smile big too, looking like an idiot who’s totally head over heels for the boy next to her. And of that, you’re happily guilty of.

“Not true,” you shake your head defiantly. “I love that song.”

“So that means it has to be good, right?” he retorts playfully, shooting you a teasing look, though his beam is more than sincere.

“Obviously,” you answer with a scoff that makes Eddie roll his eyes.

He knows he’s going to start to love it, though, if only because it’s the only Van Halen song you halfway know.

He’s going to hear that song on the radio and he’s going to want to turn it, but he’s going to remember this moment now — the one with you reaching for him while you sing the lyrics to a song he can’t stand, sitting pretty in his passenger seat, while the moonlight blanches your smile and the bare skin of your thighs.

Eddie Munson is going to love that goddamn song for the rest of his life.

He parks as close as he can to Skull Rock, knowing his van can’t work its way that far into the woods. The two of you are forced to walk the rest of the way, not exactly minding it, though Eddie’s incessantly worried you’re going to get cold.

He’s already forced his jacket upon you, which you took with little fight. It warmed you almost immediately — with his cozy heat and musky cologne.

You make mindless conversation the entire way there, about music and then about his band and then what animal you’d want to be in your band if that were the least bit possible. Eddie chooses a sheep without any hesitation, though you’re confident that a penguin would be far cooler.

You keep a careful distance between you, at first, like both of you are too scared to initiate the first move. That is, until you trip over a raised branch and nearly eat ass on the forest floor. Then Eddie’s holding your hand the entire way, keeping you close.

“If you wanted me to hold your hand, you coulda just said so, you know?” he jokes. “Didn’t have to go through all the dramatics, sweetheart.”

You try and yank your hand out of his grip in protest then, but he doesn’t let you. In fact, he pulls you closer and twirls you into a bear hug that you happily relax into.

He feels your sigh fan against his collarbone as you rest your head at the nape of his neck, his arms wrap around your shoulders as yours settle at his waist. He rocks you back in forth, in a moment that’s too almost sweet to make fun of.

Eddie finds a way, of course, “See?” he singsongs. “I’ll hug you like this all the time, if you want. You don’t have to almost kill yourself to get my attention, babe.”

“All I did was trip,” you laugh at his theatrics.

“Death by tree root… What a gnarly way to go.”

He holds your hand the entire way to Skull Rock.

He doesn’t let you go once, not until you’re ascending the large boulders to plant yourselves at the very peak of them. He’s grabbing you again once you settle, though, and the two of you just sit there, for several long moments, just gaping at the stars that dance with life above you. They sprinkle an infinite void with enough light that manages to touch you, trillions of miles away.

There’s a subtle beauty in that Eddie never would’ve appreciated before now.

“Shit, babe,” he breathes through a whimsical existential dread. “You were right. The stars are really fucking pretty out here.”

You love how much he loves this, to come to Skull Rock with you and count the stars. Any other guy would’ve had their tongue down your throat by now, stuffing your hand down their unbuttoned jeans.

But not Eddie.

He just holds your hand because he likes the feeling of his fingers entwined with yours, grasping tightly onto you while he gazes at an infinite universe — like you might float off right along with it.

His neck is stretched to gape at the night sky. You catch his adam’s apple bobbing every time he swallows. You want so desperately to kiss his milky white skin and sprinkle blotchy red bruises there.

His curly locks fall over his shoulders. He shakes his head to get his bangs out of his eyes while the chocolate buttons of them dart around the endless void.

He’s more beautiful than every star in the sky combined. You can’t be sure of how many that is, of course, but it’s a whole bunch if you had to guess. It makes sense, though, for the prettiest boy in the whole damn galaxy.

“Told ya,” you answer with a smile, leaning over to nudge his shoulder with yours. “You come out here often?”

You’re asking if he takes girls here and he knows it, but it’s not like you’re being inconspicuous about the whole thing. Eddie gauges it almost immediately, the subtle jealousy hinting at your tone — something no one else would’ve caught — and he squeezes your hand in reassurance.

He shakes his head. “No… Never.”

“Never?” you press with raised brows, like his answer shocks you.

“Ever. It’s not really my scene, I guess… But what about you, sweetheart? Never seen you around these parts before.”

You knock his shoulder again, harder this time. “Shut up. You already know the answer to that.”

“Yeah…” he nods to himself, eyes darting back and forth as he reminisces on something. “You and Harrington, you and Hargrove. Hell, I think I heard about you and Jason one time—”

“That was a long time ago,” you argue. “Before I even knew you, okay?”

“I’m just saying,” he shrugs in defense. “You totally have a thing for pretty boys, sweetheart.”

“I never said I didn’t, Eds. Just that you were pretty, too.”

“Whatever,” he scoffs and rolls his eyes like he isn’t glowing red beneath the moonlight.

“You’re better than all three of them, Eds,” you confess with a sudden softness that catches his attention almost immediately. He turns his attention from the sky to look at you properly again. His breath catches at you sad you look — all beautiful and coated in shades of blue.

“…Yeah?”

You nod and drag his hand into your lap to fidget with his fingers. You trace the skeleton heart on his middle finger, subverting all your attention there because it’s easier than having to look at him now. “Better than all of them combined— not even just them, you know? Out of everyone. No one’s ever been this nice to be before.”

“Me neither, sweetheart,” he confesses with a morose grin. “The freak of Hawkins High attracts a lot of assholes, believe it or not.”

“Is it bad?” you wonder cautiously, like you’re scared to hear the answer. In some ways, you are.

You hadn’t known him in high school, not really. For obvious reasons, you ran in very different circles. You never even had classes together. There was never any excuse to be close to each other before now, never a reason to become friends. So you didn’t.

You grew to know him as a freak, and he knew you as the town slut. Then somewhere down the line, he became your dealer and now… here you were.

But you’ve graduated now and he’s still army crawling towards a diploma. You couldn’t save him from the hell of Hawkins High even if you wanted to.

“Nothing I can’t handle,” he shrugs. “Jason and the dick brigade just wanna make my life hell, that’s all.”

“I hope they aren’t,” you respond shyly.

Eddie scoffs then shoots you a smile. “Oh, of course not. Look at me. I’m at Skull Rock with the most wanted girl in Hawkins. I’m living the dream, sweetheart.”

“So you don’t care?” you wonder, peering at him through your lashes, as you twist the silver cross around his finger.

“Care about what?”

“That I’m a slut,” you laugh like it’s obvious.

Eddie doesn’t think it’s all that funny. “Don’t say that.”

“It’s not like it isn’t true, Eds,” you retort with a trembling smile. “I mean, that’s literally what people call me — most people don’t even care to call me by my real name anymore.”

“I don’t care,” Eddie shakes his head. “I don’t care about that. I don’t give a shit about what people say about you. If everyone cared about what everyone said about everyone, neither of us would be here right now… Because you’d think I was some devil-worshipping freak and I’d think you were too busy getting it on with Chief Hopper.”

You screw your face up immediately at the thought. The mere idea was repulsive. The asshole was practically your father these days. Jim Hopper was in that small bunch of available people you would never fuck, and happily so.

“I’d never stoop that low,” you joke.

“I like you, how you are, right now,” Eddie promises. “Don’t want you to change a damn thing.”

His brown eyes twinkle with a sincerity that rivals the stars above you. All of a sudden, you don’t care about a bunch of heavenly bodies light years away from you — you care about this man, the one sitting beside you now, holding your hand even though your palms have gone all sweaty.

It’s too good to be true — the way you looks at you, the way he talks to you, the way he treats you. You’re scared that it’s a dream, that you’ll wake up and find that none of this was ever real. Or worse, that he was, and that he just didn’t care about you the way you cared about him.

It’s almost irrational. Almost.

But it’s happened before.

And it’s left you a scarred and mangled mess.

You shake your head to yourself and scrunch your face as you turn to look him. “Have you ever done this before, Eddie?”

“Don’t what?” he wonders with furrowed brows.

“I don’t know…” you shrug. “Any of this? With anyone else?”

He’s grateful he doesn’t have to lie. Or tell some clumsy half-truth for the sake of saving his own skin. He realizes tonight is perhaps the most honest he’s ever been with you, baring his pale soul beneath a silver moonlight.

“Never,” he answers, unwavering, with a firm shake of his head.

“Really?”

“Really,” he nods, then swallows thickly at a gut-wrenching realization. “I’ve never felt his way about anyone else before.’

“Me neither,” you promise.

It’s a tad more meaningful coming from you than from a boy who’s never had someone to love and to love him back.

You’re experienced, you’ve found what you like and what you don’t like. You’ve been with guys who have given you the world and guys that have ended yours altogether. And out of all of them — all of the assholes in Hawkins you could’ve picked — you’ve chosen the freak.

You want him.

You want Eddie.

The revelation makes him grin. “Promise?”

“Cross my heart, Eddie Spaghetti.”

#published by bug #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #stranger things x reader #stranger things imagine #eddie munson imagine #virgin!eddie munson x reader #virgin!eddie munson

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quinns-shadowy-arts · 3 months

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No More Running

Day 7 of @steddielovemonth‘s Steddie Love Month Event! Rating: General CW: None Tags: Fluff, Getting Together, Eddie Munson is a Sweetheart, Eddie Munson is a romantic WC: 1,122 Prompt: “Love is what makes you brave” submitted by @sidekick-hero

Note: Guess who came down with a cold. Me. Guess who ignored their many deadlines to write this. Also me. Sorry if this isn’t the best (and is also very late), but I’m pretty sick and can’t breathe out of my nose. I wanted something soft to make me feel better, so I wrote this. Enjoy!

He wasn’t going to run anymore. That’s what Eddie promised himself when he woke up from surgery after being dragged out of the Upside Down. He wasn’t going to run, and he hasn’t. He hadn’t run from Wayne, he hadn’t run from the somehow alive Jim Hopper, he hadn’t run away from the aftermath of Vecna, and he wasn’t going to run from this.

Eddie’s been developing feelings for Steve since he made that promise. Waking up to learn that the Steve Harrington bridal carried his half dead body out of hell really does something to a guy. Not only that, but Steve is one of the sweetest guys Eddie has ever met. Long gone is the King Steve of Hawkins High; replaced by a loving, caring, and smart man.

Steve had been there for Eddie through the whole recovery process. He helped with proving that Eddie was innocent, he helped Eddie with bathing, and he helped Eddie with cleaning and wrapping his wounds.

Steve also helped Eddie with processing the trauma of Spring Break. He held Eddie’s hand and talked him through panic attacks. He stayed awake with Eddie when sleep seemed like a monstrous task; the fear of what he’d dream fraying Eddie’s nerves and keeping him awake.

Steve was also just an amazing person overall. He had an amazing sense of humor; making Eddie’s ribs ache with the laughter he tugged out of him. Steve was smart, he could read people’s emotions like no other. He knew exactly what Eddie was feeling by looking at him for only a couple of seconds. Steve could pull the real reasons as to why Eddie was quiet out of him when no one else could.

He was easy on the eyes, too. His chestnut hair looked glorious, styled or not. His eyes were kind and genuine; but could turn bitchy in a way that sent heat down Eddie’s spine. Steve’s hands were big and spotted with freckles and moles, like the rest of his body. His skin was sun kissed and hairy. Everything about him made Eddie want to pounce on him.

Everything about Steve had made Eddie fall head over heels in love with him. Eddie knew about Steve’s woeful dating history; knew about Steve’s failed loves. How people have used Steve for a quick fling or bragging rights before tossing him to the side.

Eddie wanted to give Steve the world. Eddie wanted to worship Steve the way he deserved; to kneel at his feet and kiss up his body, to whisper praises into his ear, to pump Steve full of love and want, and maybe some other things besides love, too. Eddie wanted to make sure Steve knew that he deserved better than those past flings could have ever provided.

That’s why Eddie is stood outside of Steve’s font door, holding a bouquet of deep, ruby roses. Eddie had put on a black button up and black jeans. His wallet chain still dangled on his hip, complementing the silver of his rings. He had tied his hair up into a bun, leaving some framing pieces around his face. He spent a while on doing himself up, had wanted to look good for Steve.

He leaned forward and knocked at the door. Steve always teased him about not using the doorbell, but Eddie liked knowing that Steve knew it was him at the door based on his knock alone.

Eddie heard shuffling from behind the door before the sounds of the lock being opened filled his ears. His heart picked up its pace, knowing how close Steve was. Eddie sends out one last prayer, despite not believing in any type of greater being, that Steve felt the same way he did. And if he didn’t, to at least keep Steve in his life for as long as possible.

The door swung open, Steve stood in the doorway in grey sweatpants and a Hall and Oates T-shirt. He looked absolutely gorgeous like this, soft and relaxed. He had obviously been lounging around before Eddie had come knocking on his door.

“Hey, Eds!” Steve said, a smile stretched across his face. Eddie’s gut filled with warmth. His heart stuttered with the overwhelming love he felt for this man.

“Hey, Stevie. I hope I’m not bothering you?” Eddie said. Steve shook his head,

“Nah, man. You’re not bothering me.” Steve looked down,

“What’re those for?” Steve looked back up and made eye contact with Eddie.

“They’re uh, they’re for you, actually.” Eddie turned his head away. He could feel his face warming up. He held the roses out for Steve to take, hopefully he’d take them.

Steve grabbed the bouquet, pulling Eddie’s attention back up. Steve’s own cheeks and ears flushed.

“Why? Is there an event or something that I’m missing?” Steve sounded shy and a bit nervous. Eddie shook his head and smiled at Steve.

“No, I just wanted to get you flowers. Could I talk to you, actually?” Eddie asked, he shuffled his weight from foot-to-foot as he spoke. He was nervous and scared about confessing his feelings to Steve. He really hoped that this wouldn’t destroy their friendship.

“Sure, yeah, come inside.” Steve said, stepping away to make space for Eddie. Eddie stepped inside and shut the door behind him. He turned to Steve, straightened his back and gathered all of the courage he could muster.

“Steve, you’re my best friend. You mean so much to me. You’re so kind and amazing.” Steve’s blush deepened at Eddie’s words,

“You’re the bravest person I’ve ever met. You’re strong, not just physically, but in every aspect of the word. You are so observant, you can always tell when I’m upset. You can read me like a goddamn book,” Steve chuckled and looked down at the roses in his hand, he was never really good with accepting praise.

“You are my everything, Stevie. And I’ve developed a lot of feelings for you, So, would you like to go out with me?” Eddie finished. Steve’s eyebrows had raised with surprise, his mouth forming an “o” shape. Steve blinked, then his mouth fell back into a smile.

Steve walked up to Eddie, dropping the hand holding his flowers to the side. He placed his free hand onto Eddie’s face. His thumb swiped over Eddie’s cheek before pulling him in.

Their lips smooshed together and a fire lit up in Eddie’s chest. Steve’s lips moved against Eddie’s, their lips forming a rhythmic push and pull. After a minute, Steve pulled back. He smiled at Eddie, both their faces still red and warm to the touch.

“I would love to go out with you, Eddie” Steve whispered against Eddie’s lips.

Eddie’s so glad he didn’t run from this.

#steddie ficlet #steddielovemonth #steddie #fluff #getting together

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black-dhalias · 1 year

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I’d Burn it all For You

Namor X F!Reader

Warning: SPOILERS FOR BLACK PANTHER 2, Angst, death, child loss, mentions of loss and grief, blood.

!!SPOILERS!!

¡FINAL SPOILER WARNING!

A spray of mist and fury burn your cheeks as the waves crest onto the beach. Your toes touching the water in the briefest of ways, body stolen by the drowning grief. The loss of your only family has taken you completely.

“My love?” His voice used to bring you great comfort, but now it is only a reminder of what he knowingly sacrificed. Only to bend the knee to the Wakandans. “You must come home to Talocan, you must find it in yourself to rest.” In our bed, the thought is painful and rigid—your life is grossly intertwined with him. All of him.

“K’uk’ulkan, do not speak as if you did not let my brother and sister die…” An unearthly rage has mounted in your chest at the very image of their bodies amongst the fallen, the emptiness of their eyes. “Do not pretend that our daughter… Our child, was not amongst the casualties.” Your chest heaves, a deep aggressively broken part of you has completely snapped in two.

You note the way that his hands twitch, but he does not touch you—and even if he had, you fear you would snap his wrist. He seems to be reaching out for you

You find it in yourself to meet his eye, and for the first time, he does not recognize you. Your gaze is harsh, hardened with grief—you mirror his own, but you have someone to blame. Someone to pass the hate onto. Him.

The way your fingers ghost over his cheek, he leans into the touch—knowing it was probably the last time. If you ever found it in yourself to forgive him, he doubts anything would be the same.

“K’uk’ulkan… You have never been Namor to me, always my greatest love. My truest friend and trusted ally. I followed you. Believed in you. Trusted you to protect my family, our child, me… Until today, you were never not loved. Today, you earned the name Namor.” Your hand drops off his cheek and instantly, he wishes it would return. Wishes he could wipe away every incursion, for no one knew him the way that you did. Understood his values and believed in the cause. “And I hope that name chokes the very soul from your body, a chain to drag you to the pits of the Mariana Trench.”

You turn to the ocean, the taste of salt, tears pouring down your cheeks. You had not cried like this before now, felt the pain until it was certain. Mourn your losses, that’s what he said to the Wakandan Princess—had he forgotten so quickly the losses incurred on them, how they stole his only daughter and child.

“Adora… That is what we named our daughter, carry her name on that same chain. Let it be the anchor… I wish grief would drown you, consume you, as it has me.” You gasp, choking on air and wishing it would silence you completely. “Don’t forget to mourn her.” Her sweet face echoes in the shadows, you see her smile and doe eyes—the brightness she echoes reminiscent of the sun itself.

“I do… I feel your pain, your same pain.” To lose a child is unlike any ache, it hollows out your chest and turns the bitter edge of sword onto your neck. Makes you wish that it would all end, knowing that it won’t. If you did know him, you’d believe him.

“If you felt anything, you would have burned them all. I’d burn them all for her. I’d burn them all for you. Now I will do nothing, just as you did nothing.”

K’uk’ulkan watches you from afar, the sweetest of smiles intoxicates and enchants—you were perfect. You did not plead or beg, but you asked and bartered. You were kind before you were angry, and warm before you were cold.

Genuine love came from every moment spent together, the people sang the song of your story. How you were born months after K’uk’ulkan—the gentle wave to match his storm. You were not weak by any means, but you chose to wear your heart proudly.

He remembered it all so clearly, beautiful and loyal, with eyes that read him. Knew him. He never felt more seen than when he was in your gaze.

It moves quickly now—to dance with you after becoming husband and wife. To hold you, as your carried their child. Their first. After a century of love and dedication to the people of Talocan, a royal child was to be born. He sees your smile, a warmth and light that is reminiscent of the sun itself.

When the sky turned dark, the sun no longer burning your skin—you find it in yourself to rise to your feet. To watch as the waves turn black under the nighttime moon.

“I love you, K’uk’ulkan. I swear I do, but loving you is not enough anymore.” You swallow, the anger has drifted out to sea and in its place is only sadness. Anguish. “If I had my way, I’d drown before I reach Talocan—but the sea refuses to consume me as I wish.”

Before long, you are gone from his view. Leaving him alone on that beach. Completely, and overwhelmingly consumed by his own grief. Aware of every sensation and whim, and the urge to burn the world echoes once more.

You were right. He did not want you to be right, but you were.

“Wait—” His voice is more hoarse than he expected, weathered and aged in the last week more than before. The weight of his people on one shoulder, a burden of duty — while the weight of his family grows heavier by the second. His duty to them. To his wife. You stop, looking back at him briefly—if it were anyone else, you wouldn’t have looked at all. “I love you. Please believe that much.”

“Love is not enough, Namor.” That name never sounded so foreign, but so true—it never hurt or bothered him, except when it came to you.

AN: I promise I have a happy Namor fic in the works (and like two or three more after that), but this one was just in my head. Ya know when you can’t write anything except a singular piece, that was this. However, now I feel as though I have satisfied the itch and am ready to finish everything else.

#imagines #imagine #requests are open #fandom request #imagine requests #x reader #love #requests #mcu namor #namor x y/n #namor x reader #namor imagine #K’uk’ulkan imagine #black panther 2 #wakanda forever imagine #mcu imagine #marvel imagine #mcu x reader

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creamsickle-writes · 1 year

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Words Like Honey: Vinsmoke Sanji x F!Reader

Tags: nsfw, manipulative!Sanji (please don't overlook this tag), virgin!reader, oral sex, penetrative sex, creampies, and established relationship

“My darling dear!” Sanji sing-songed, “Our special dinner is ready!”

You perked up at your boyfriend’s words as he entered the hotel room the two of you were sharing for the night. Sanji had made it a big deal to rent a room for Valentine’s Day, something you insisted that he not do in order to save money (“but darling!” He protested, “No cost is too great to show my love for you!”).

So, he rented the room anyway, and it was nice, too: the bed was large and plush, the bathroom had a spacious tub (that seemed like it was made for two), and there was a mirror on the ceiling…?

Okay, you were starting to question just what kind of hotel this was.

But you don’t bother asking. Instead, you focus on the dinner he had packed from the ship in a cute little picnic basket.

“Cooked all your favorites, so don’t be shy, darling.” Sanji smiles warmly, sitting on the bed as he places the picnic basket before you. You notice he has a bottle of wine in his hand, and you raise a brow.

“What’s that?”

“Just the finest for a lovely night with a lovely girl.”

You giggle a bit at his compliment. He was always so sweet with you, but something about this setting, combined with the delicious-smelling food, made it all seem real to you. Like, this wasn’t just one of his flirtatious moments; he had genuinely cared for you.

With his sweet words dripping over you like honey, you decide to dig in.

Some time passes, and soon the meal is polished off, with no crumb wasted.

“Thank you again, Sanji.” You smile, “I really have no idea how to repay you…”

The corners of his lips turn upwards into a grin, and he leans in, his sweet scent hitting your nose, “I can think of a few ways…”

You gasp when he presses his lips to your neck, gently nibbling at the skin. His hands find your hips, his thumbs rubbing small circles into them. You two had never gone very far, a testament to Sanji’s gentlemanly nature, so you could tell that something about this encounter was different. With the glasses of wine, the nature of the hotel, and the way he was desperately sucking at your neck- you could tell he had something planned.

“Sanji,” you weakly start, “What are you doing?”

He pulls away for a moment, “Well, we’ve been together for some time now, and… I’ve been thinking, maybe, we should try going a bit farther tonight. To celebrate.”

He looks up at you with hopeful eyes, and your heart aches. Sanji was the sweetest man you knew, and he took great care of you. Some part of you felt terrible for withholding sex from him for so long. But you were a virgin, and, well, if you were honest: you were nervous about having sex.

“Mm, I-I don’t know…” you trail off, picking at the hem of your dress.

Sanji places a hand over your own, “Come on, you always say no… just this once, please say yes…”

You bite your lip when he’s back on your neck, pressing delicate kisses and gentle love bites on your skin. Your thighs clamp together because, god, his mouth feels good, but again, you weren’t sure if you were ready.

“I’ve been waiting so long for this- for you….” He moans needily, “Made you the perfect dinner, made sure we would have a place where we wouldn’t be interrupted, where you could really let go and relax…”

“Sanji-“

“Come on, darling.” He says, his voice desperate, “I can only wait so long…”

You swallow, looking at his sad puppy dog eyes. Your chest tightens; you loved him so much and didn’t want to make him sad. You bit your lip.

“Well… I guess we can go a little bit farther…”

Sanji’s smile makes you feel like the decision was worth it. After all, seeing him so happy filled your heart with joy.

“I promise I’ll make it feel so good for you.”

He kisses your neck once more before making his way to your shoulders, kissing the bare skin. As he does so, his fingers find their way to the zipper on the back of your dress, gently pulling it along the track until it reaches the bottom.

He shrugs the dress from your shoulders, exposing your bare chest to him for the first time. His eyes rake up your body, and he licks his lips, immediately reaching to grab your breast.

You gasp out for him, and he smiles softly, “Oh, they’re so beautiful…”

“Sanji…” you sigh, tilting your head back as you allow him to explore your body.

He leans forward and takes a nipple into his mouth. You moan quietly but quickly ghost a hand over your mouth to suppress the sounds. He felt so good, so amazing, as his tongue swirled around your hardening nub. Your other nipple was being treated with similar care, his fingers gently twisting and pulling.

It was absolutely delightful.

He pops off your nipple and soon switches, his mouth now encapsulating the other. His mouth is delicate and gentle with you, and you feel as though you’re floating on cloud nine.

When he pulls away, he looks up at you, his eyes full of want.

“Lay down.” He says it softly, and you obey, laying your head on the soft pillows that decorate the bed.

He slides the dress off your hips, leaving you in only your panties.

“You’re still clothed…” you trail off, and he looks down at himself, a smile tugging at his lips.

“Would me being naked make you feel more comfortable?”

You nod timidly, and he immediately gets to work, removing his suit jacket. Next comes his button down, which he is teasingly slow about removing, each button feeling like torture for you.

He then removes his slacks and, once those are off, his underwear too.

Your eyes widen as you look him over. He was bigger than you expected; maybe you should back out.

As if reading your mind, he shushes you, “It’s okay. We’ll stretch you out first, and I’ll be gentle with you…”

You bite your lip. You never agreed to go that far, but… as you were kissed on the lips, his tongue raking over your bottom lip, it started to become more appealing.

His hands find your thighs as he moans against your lips, your tongues dancing together. You two had kissed like this many times before, so you were at least familiar with this part. But, when his fingers brush over your clit, you jump at the foreign feeling. He chuckles a bit against your lips.

“You’re so sensitive…” he smiles, pressing a kiss to your nose, “And so wet too…”

You blush when he mentions it, fingers swiping over your slit repeatedly, causing wet sounds to fill the air.

“Hear that?” Sanji laughs, “We might not even need to stretch you out.”

With a curious finger, he prods at your hole before slipping in slowly. You had fingered yourself before, so it wasn’t an unknown feeling; it just felt different when he did it.

Sanji experimentally slips a single digit in and out, testing the waters. Your pussy seemed to suck him in easily, and you grew embarrassed that your body was taking him with little resistance.

“Let’s try another, okay?” He says soothingly, “Can you do that? For me?”

You nod slowly, looking into his eyes, “I-I think so…”

“Good girl.” He praises you and slides in a second finger, this time with some resistance.

You wince as he pushes in, his two digits feeling much thicker than yours. He notices your pain and kisses your cheeks, soothing you quietly.

When he curls his fingers upwards, your body jolts, the feeling of pleasure hitting you hard. He hits your g-spot dead on and begins to stroke it, steadily coaxing an orgasm from you.

“Hn, Sanji-!”

“That’s it, darling,” He coos, “Just let go…”

You cry out for him as he continues his calculated assault on that special spot inside you. The pads of his fingers are persistent, sweeping over that patch within you with tremendous pressure.

Your eyes roll back as the pressure builds within you; it’s too much, too overwhelming, but Sanji never lets up, pleasuring you despite how you squirm.

“Oh, you sound so messy.” He groans, “Want to eat you out- can I do that, darling?”

You don’t get to answer before adjusting, so he’s over your mound, swiping a wet tongue over his lips. He dives in, flicking his tongue over your clit rapidly. Your eyes flutter shut as you’re overwhelmed by this immense pleasure. Fuck, it felt so good. Why had you held back all this time?

Sanji’s fingers pick up their pace, rubbing your g-spot even faster as his mouth wraps around your clit. You sharply gasp as he begins sucking on it, driving you mad.

“Sanji, I-I think it’s coming-!” You moan, throwing your head back and thrusting your hips into his mouth. Sanji doesn’t stop; he simply looks up at you as he continues to work, his dark eyes staring into you.

When your orgasm hits, it’s unlike any orgasm you’d ever had before. It’s all-consuming, your extremities going numb as your core finally snaps. Drool comes from the corners of your lips as your head grows fuzzy, your brain in a daze.

You almost don’t register when Sanji slides his fingers out of you and lines himself up with your hole, his cock twitching over you.

“W-Wait-“You interject, “I still don’t think I’m ready for sex…”

Sanji doesn’t pull away, though. He just slides his cock head over your clit, causing shocks of pleasure to go through you.

“Darling…” He hums, “Don’t you think it’d be unfair if you got to cum and I didn’t?”

“Yeah, but-“

“Relax,” He says, smiling, “I’ll only put in the tip, okay?”

You chew at your lip, “What about a condom?”

“I’ll pull out, promise.”

Your eyes flickered back from his shaft to his face. His warm smile comforts you, and you decide, well, it’ll be okay… after all, it’s just the tip.

“Okay…” you say, and his smile grows even wider.

Sanji positions himself at your entrance and slowly slides in, putting in just the blunt head of his cock, as promised. You bite your lip as it stretches the opening of your hole; you can’t deny that it feels good, and it feels even better when Sanji begins to shallowly rock his hips.

You reach for his back, digging your nails in to ground yourself as he thrusts in and out of you. He presses soft kisses along your cheeks and neck.

But as time goes on, you feel like you’re being stretched out even more. But you don’t say anything, enjoying how Sanji moved within you. Your toes curl as, without your knowledge, Sanji was steadily working more of himself into you, his cock now halfway inside. You only realize once it’s too late, his balls pressed flush against your ass.

“S-Sanji…” you whimper, “It’s all the way in- “

“I’m sorry, my love,” He says, “You just felt so good, I couldn’t help myself. Forgive me, please?”

Curse your boyfriend for being so charming and persuasive.

You bite your lip, your head swimming with lust, “I-I forgive you-“

He smiles softly and presses a kiss to your forehead before snapping his hips forward, drawing out a moan from you.

“See? Doesn’t this feel good, darling?” He purrs, groaning as your walls flutter around him, “We’re perfect for each other.”

Your eyes roll back as he begins thrusting in and out of you, his hips working quickly. Drool slides down from your mouth as your body rocks due to the force of his thrusts. He feels heavenly, the way he’s ramming against your g-spot. Why hadn’t you let him fuck you before?

“Sanji-“ you call out.

“Yes, darling?”

“Feels so good…” you whimper, “Wanna feel like this forever…”

He lets out a light chuckle at that, “I’ll give this to you whenever you want, darling. I belong to you.”

With that, his hips begin to pick up speed, his balls slapping against your ass as he fucks you harshly. Your eyes shut tight as you really feel him, his cock stretching you out in all the right ways.

His swollen, leaking head grinds against your walls, the tip brushing past your g-spot before hitting your deepest depths with each thrust. Your eyes flutter as you open them back up to watch your boyfriend pound you, your hips connecting repeatedly.

“Oh darling,” he moans wantonly, “Your pussy keeps pulling me back in! It’s like it doesn’t want me to pull out-!”

Against your better judgment, you cry, “Don’t pull out! Cum in me!”

He growls at that and pushes your legs back, fucking you in a tight mating press.

“Oh, S-Sanji!” You purr, your toes curling as he thrusts deeper into you, “More, more!”

Sanji’s hips stutter at your begging, his cock leaking precum into your dripping wet hole.

“O-Oh, princess-!” His moans cause your pussy to clench tight, “I know I shouldn’t cum in you, but you feel too good-!”

“Just do it-!”

With that, he lets out a strained moan, and you feel his seed fill you up, the sticky and hot substance overflowing within you.

But he isn’t done; he keeps thrusting through his orgasm, causing you to reach your bursting point.

Your nails dig into his back as your walls flutter, his cock feeling perfectly at home within you.

After a few moments, he pulls out, and you feel the cum seeping out of your hole. You pant as you look up at your boyfriend, who admires how his fluids leaked out of you.

“Oh,” your legs are still shaking from your orgasm., “That was… really good…”

“Mm, I told you it would be.” Sanji smiles softly, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

You reach out for Sanji, and he leans in, allowing you to wrap your arms around his neck. You draw him close, his body hovering over yours as you lay your back against the soft bed. You two lay like that for some time before you speak up.

“Can we… do it again?”

And Sanji grins.

#vinsmoke sanji x reader #sanji x reader #vinsmoke sanji #black leg sanji #sanji #x reader #cream's fics #one piece #one piece smut #fanfiction

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wheretheharekissesthefox · 6 months

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Why do you make me feel this way? - Chapter 4: Gift

Astarion knew why everyone had fallen head over heels for Tav. She was sweet and caring, and he'd been a fool to believe that she'd fall for his shameless attempts of seduction.

Gale made goo-goo eyes at her and stumbled over his grandiose words whenever he talked to her.

Halsin looked at her like a cleric at a statue of their deity and told her the sweetest things in the most genuine way.

Karlach was just her joyful self and wrapped Tav into a hug anytime she could since her mechanical heart was stabilised.

Lae'zel showed her affection by making less biting comments and by stopping to look down on Tav.

Shadowheart teased Tav flirtatiously and told her repeatedly how much she values her support and trust.

Wyll acted like an old-fashioned gentleman and thought that shielding Tav from danger was the right way to win her heart.

And Astarion? Astarion had held a dagger against her throat when they'd first met, fed from her every night to be even strong enough to fight at her side, and still struggled with nightmares about Cazador.

Astarion was broken and nobody wanted broken things. Tav would never choose to be his lover, everyone else was much better suited, and Astarion knew it.

Wistfully, the vampire spawn observed how the human bard praised Gale's stew, cooed at Halsin's carved wooden duck, gave Karlach a quick but heartfelt smacking kiss on the cheek, complimented Lae'zel's weapon-sharpening technique, encouraged Shadowheart regarding Shar's trials, commented on Wyll's footwork as he went through his daily training routine, and petted Scratch and the owlbear cup. Astarion's heart ached. Now, Tav walked over to him. The vampire spawn put on a cheerful smile and lilted: "Hello, what can I do for you?"

"Actually, I think I can do something for you for once," Tav replied, looking sincere. "While wandering through the ruins of Shar's temple, I found a couple of interesting books."

"Mh, yes, darling. We all know you love collecting souvenirs."

"You got me there," she chuckled, "but this is for you."

Tav thrusted a dusty tome into his hands.

"The book's about dealing with trauma and pain. I've read the first couple of chapters to see if it could be helpful to you and I think it could be. There are detailed instructions on how to work through unpleasant memories and how to 'digest' them instead of shoving them into the far back of your mind to try to forget them. You should read it and try out the techniques."

Astarion blinked at her dumbly.

"You want me to read a self-help book to 'get over' the torture that I endured for two hundred years?"

"Uhm, if you put it that way, it sounds tactless," Tav muttered and averted her gaze.

Astarion felt like a jerk, thus, he spoke his next words more softly: "I understand that you're trying to help, so, thank you. I can use a new, stimulating bedtime reading."

His undead heart skipped a beat when Tav beamed at him.

"Good. That's good."

Her hand lingered on his forearm for a bit longer than necessary before she turned around with flushed cheek. Astarion watched the bard go, holding her gift close to his chest. He desperately wished for the book to work like magic.

"Hm, your presence makes her blush like a peach that turns pink in the sunlight," mused Halsin.

Astarion jumped when the druid suddenly stood behind him and could barely hold back a startled squeak. The wood elf chuckled amused.

"No need to be alarmed, Astarion. It wasn't my intention to sneak up on you."

"But you did," replied the addressed huffily.

Halsin chuckled again, a rich, warm rumble from deep in his broad chest. Astarion imagined how cosy Tav would look spread out on that hairy torso. Next to the druid, she almost seemed dainty. The polar opposite of how she looked next to Astarion. The latter found the thought of being picked up by her alluring though – and rather hot.

Halsin cleared his throat und Astarion realised his mind had drifted away while his eyes were still staring at the druid's chest. Why was the wood elf so much taller, broader, and bigger than him? Astarion pursed his lips, slightly peeved.

"I do feel flattered by your attention, but it's a bit unnerving that you're so quiet," Halsin told him. His tone was warm, his eyes soft, and his smile genuine.

"Apologies, I was in thoughts," Astarion replied, truthfully. "Now, excuse me, druid, I have a book to read."

When he made his way past Halsin, the latter murmured: "Tav likes you."

"Obviously. Everyone likes me," the vampire spawn spoke with a wink.

The other man sighed.

"That's not what I meant. She... She has a big heart and you take up a lot of space in it. Cherish such a gift, Astarion."

The vampire spawn gaped after Halsin who walked deeper into the temple ruins to collect flammable objects to fuel their campfire.

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #fanfic #astarion #astarion ancunin #gale #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #halsin #karlach #karlach cliffgate #lae'zel #shadowheart #tav #wyll #wyll ravengard #scratch #owlbear cup

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ghosttownwherenoonegoes · 1 year

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Wayne Munson thoughts because I was thinking about him so much last night that I made myself sad.

Encouraged by @sparks363 @niceboyeds @pleasantlycrazyworld aaaand @stevesmunsons😭🙏🫂💕

This is MOSTLY Eddie & Wayne interactions, some Eddie x Reader, mentions of canon events (Eddie's death very very vaguely referenced because we all know I haven't seen episode nine), Hawkins gang talked about, there is me gushing over Uncle Wayne, Eddie thoughts, Uncle Wayne thoughts.... I just have a lot of words about Uncle Wayne right now and I'm letting everything spill out in a conscious stream; no editing or planning, just me going ham on my keyboard while wearing my Munson Motivation Outfit during a prolonged study break because I gotta get all this out before it drives me insane!!!!! Used every tag I could think of because I spoke of lots of different things here and wanted to cover all my bases.

Word count: 2, 911

Eddie tags: @eddiebunson @hersweetrevenge @sweetpeapod @sabbathsworld @hawkinsroyaloutcast @seidenbros @bakerstreethound @eddiemunsonshoney @potatos-library @gemstone-roses @hellfire1986baby @jslittlebirdie @comfortcharactercraze @heydreamchild @mywinterivy @corrodedcoffeen @m00nlight101 @3ddi3-daydreamer @pleasantlycrazyworld @samlealea @indouloureux @basicallybats @niceboyeds @manyfandomsfanvergent @becca-alexa @singularattitudeofasafetypin @knifeskiss @loving-and-dreaming @hiscrimsonangel @esme-viridian

Eddie & Wayne @hellfirebabe @eddiemunsonshoney @potatos-library @bakerstreethound @gemstone-roses @sweetpeapod @authorlovers @jslittlebirdie @heydreamchild @comfortcharactercraze @mywinterivy @corrodedcoffeen @ourstaturestouchtheskies @m00nlight101 @3ddi3-daydreamer @pleasantlycrazyworld @samlealea @manyfandomsfanvergent @indouloureux @basicallybats @niceboyeds @becca-alexa @singularattitudeofasafetypin @knifeskiss @loving-and-dreaming @hiscrimsonangel @esme-viridian

Wayne Munson.

I'm gonna get into my actual thoughts on him in a minute but first, I gotta gush because this man is the bestest, sweetest, most wonderful dad in all of Hawkins, nay, in all of Indiana. He raised Eddie so beautifully and he instantly knew Eddie didn't do it and he didn't even question it and just defended Eddie time and time again. I just love Wayne Munson so much hhhhhh I wanna approach him all slow and careful and sort of awkwardly stand there because I'm not very good at verbalising my wants, and then edge a bit closer. Maybe he'd raise an arm, already knowing what I want, and I would let myself step in to the hug I would've been thinking about for hours before asking for it in my own way, or maybe I'd get swept up into a great big bear hug which would have me in tears in seconds or maybe he'd pat me on the top of the head and let his hand rest there on my crown for a few seconds and then hug me hhhhh I wouldn't care. I am very awkward in real life and i find it hard to verbalise or even admit when I want something, but I feel like Uncle Wayne would know me and give me the hugs when I try to ask for them.

Or maybe I wouldn't have to ask for them because he would just know. My Munson Motivation Outfit came out in the wash yesterday and I nearly cried hhhhh I gotta smash out that assignment today - and it's a big one - and I'm wearing it and still thinking of Uncle Wayne and Eddie and my heart is aching for the Munsons hhhhh I love Uncle Wayne and he's the bestest dad and he and his boy deserved so, so much better. Wearing 'their' clothes makes me feel so soft and warm and safe and cosy and genuinely helps me focus when I gotta study because it's like they're with me.🥺

Okay so, gushing isn't done but you get the gist and now, thoughts!!!!

I have no doubt that in time, Uncle Wayne would have adopted the rest of the Hawkins gang; he warmed up to Nancy relatively quickly once he realised that she was there to talk to him and offer him some comfort and he was the one who told her about Victor Creel (the way he instantly knew his boy didn't do it😭) so that she and Robin got the ball rolling on solving the issue at hand. They wouldn't have been able to do anything if Uncle Wayne hadn't been the one to mention Victor Creel. He's literally the reason they found the Upside Down like they did (without El to guide them, of course; if they had had El and her powers when they needed her, then season four likely would have gone very differently as far as Hawkins' events are concerned).

Based on the way he let his walls down just a little with Nancy within just five minutes, (don't ask me about That Scene with Dustin because I still haven't watched episode nine so while I'm aware of it. it's not gonna be discussed here but yeah, Dustin would be adopted too after Nancy) and it'd snowball into the whole gang being adopted by Uncle Wayne, whether they have family or not.

Everyone needs and deserves an Uncle Wayne; if you can't find one, be one. That's what he taught Eddie; he is to Eddie what Eddie became to Hellfire Club and Corroded Coffin. All those lost little sheepies out there need a sheperd to tend to the flock, and no two people understand that better than the Munsons do. Honouring them by taking inspiration from the lessons they taught us is something which they would truly appreciate and adore, and you'd score yourself a bear hug from the both of them.

If you're kind to people, if you're genuine and you're you, then Wayne Munson would have respect turned fondness turned love for you and you would be someone he'd be happy to have around, especially if you love Eddie. They're a package deal; you can't get one Munson without the other (and why would you want just one of them?) and if one loves you, then the other does, too. (I also feel like if Uncle Wayne doesn't like you - you'd have to be a Grade A Asshole for that, though, then it would make Eddie question everything about his friendship or relationship with you. Uncle Wayne's gut instinct is never wrong.)

They mean so much to each other that Uncle Wayne wants to love you almost immediately when he finds out that Eddie loves you (and the same concept with Eddie's friends, too) because you must be a good one if his boy loves you! He would watch you carefully at first but then the first time he sees you laughing with Eddie (not at him - Uncle Wayne knows the difference, he sees it every day), the first time he catches you smiling at Eddie with your feelings for him written all over your face when Eddie's not even looking at you, he's up to his elbows in soapy dish water as he does the chores he promised he would do, the first time Uncle Wayne sees you cry because you miss Eddie but he's literally just in the bedroom and you're outside on the benches with Uncle Wayne, he realises what's going on and Uncle Wayne melts to realise that now, Eddie has people who love him for him - he has you, the Hawkins gang, he has his dad... Uncle Wayne melts when he finds out people love his boy.

His melting shows itself in quiet ways - he'll make extra coffee because he knows you tend to want one when he does, he'll leave the heater on when he leaves for work because you'll be cold when you come in and he wants you to have a warm place to come back to, he'll leave his flannel around for you and Eddie to wear - he knows the both of you take turns wearing it or even sleeping with it when he's working long and lonely nights at the plant. He'll be there for you at three AM when there's no one left to call but your sorrow is trying to murder you, he'll be there for you at ten AM when your dishwasher doesn't work and you can't figure out why, he'll be there for you when you go grocery shopping together and you haven't quite figured out how to meal plan on a budget yet... Uncle Wayne will be there for you, through it all. You cannot disappoint or anger him, even if you try, and if you do try, then he'll just raise his shoulders in that weary way he has and ask you what you're trying to achieve here. The fact that he doesn't shout or raise his voice makes you feel worse somehow.

So, yeah, if you manage to crack through Wayne Munson's gruff exterior, which is doable but it'll take patience and persistence. He's seen too much of the bad things in the world, he's Eddie's shield, his guardian and protector, and he's more cynical than even Eddie claims to be, full of anger is he at all that he and Eddie have endured thus far in your lives, but keep going, keep persisting and be honest in yourself. You'll find that Uncle Wayne is just as gooey as Eddie is. He melts often, but for no one more so than Eddie. His boy. His son.

Uncle Wayne gave Eddie a home. He gave him the only bedroom in the trailer. I think Uncle Wayne has had Eddie since Eddie was maybe six or seven years old; he's raised his boy. I think his 'dad' is in prison and his mum is dead (based off things Joe has said in interviews), and because Joel (Wayne Munson's actor) said that Uncle Wayne saw what Eddie went through with his 'parents' and wanted to protect him, I took all that to mean that he's had Eddie since he was younger than ten. Which means, Uncle Wayne has voluntarily slept on a fold-out bed in his own living room for at least a decade. He immediately defended Eddie, he spent all those six days Eddie was missing looking for him, replacing vandalised missing posters tirelessly and undoubtedly, defending him against what people were saying, too. The amount of love Uncle Wayne has for Eddie is incredible, and the way Eddie says "my Uncle, he, uh, he works at the plant. Bringing home the big bucks" was casual, and maybe I'm projecting or looking for things which aren't there, but he sounded so proud, too. I hope that, if anything, the Munsons at least knew how loved they were by each other. Canon gave them nothing but I hope that they had the knowledge that they loved each other, at least. At least.

Eddie and Uncle Wayne are like ships in the night. When Eddie is at school, Uncle Wayne is asleep. When Eddie comes home from school or all the extracurriculars he does - drama club, Hellfire Club, spending time in the library looking for the latest fantasy releases, maybe even spending time in the music rooms so he can get tips from the teacher on how to more effectively teach himself by heart and ear Metallica's latest album, Uncle Wayne is out his way to go to work. They exchange smiles, nods, a clap on the shoulder each instead of a hug because there's no real time for that. Or maybe Eddie will go inside and then dart back outside, black curls flying everywhere as a blur of denim and black throws itself at Uncle Wayne just as he's opening his truck door, and gets caught in a hug because damn it, boy, stop throwin' yourself like that, and then Eddie lets him go with a tight smile and Uncle Wayne sighs wearily because I miss you too, son.

Before Eddie goes to school every morning, he gets the trailer ready for his dad to come home. He pulls out the fold-out bed or if he knows Uncle Wayne's back has been especially troubling, he'll haphazardly strip the sheets on his bed and remake them so that Uncle Wayne can sleep there instead of on the fold-out, he gets towels warmed up on the radiators so that his dad has towels there after his shower, he puts the products in the shower itself and gets out the dinner he cooked in advance last night so that all Uncle Wayne has to do when he comes home is kick his shoes off, shower, reheat dinner, and sleep. And any spare cash he has left over after buying the stuff he needs to make D&D props (or begging the art department for any leftovers or things the Head won't noticed missing - Eddie is well liked by the teachers in the Arts and Humanities departments of Hawkins High) or filling up his van or buying school supplies, is given to his Uncle. Not formally, it's just left laying around with a note which says, "in case you need", but it helps. It really helps. And that's why Eddie does what he does. He does the best with what he has and wants to do everything possible to thank his dad for taking him in and always looking after him.

Eddie feels like he owes Uncle Wayne his literal life, but Uncle Wayne feels like Eddie made his life.

They never really say it, but they both know.

Uncle Wayne always thanks him by having a cup of coffee brewing for Eddie, waiting for when he comes home. Sometimes the timing is off so that the coffee is almost cold by the time Eddie gets it, but he nukes it in the microwave or just drinks it as it is. He loves it because his dad made it.

Likewise, Uncle Wayne always makes sure that he doesn't notice where the drugs are stashed around the trailer (he doesn't approve, necessarily, but as long as Eddie doesn't get caught, he'll let his son do what he's gotta do to get by), he makes sure that Eddie always has food and water and a roof over his head, he makes sure that Eddie's room is liveable and helps Eddie to keep it tidy, sometimes he'll rent something from Family Video for Eddie to come home to, fill up the van with gas if he can afford it...

The Munsons are ships in the night but they love each other as loud as they can.

There are times, rare though they are, when the Munsons get to be home together. Maybe Eddie is sick or it's one of Uncle Wayne's days off, or maybe it just worked out that way and Eddie's practically vibrating where he stands because he's just so excited to get to be home uninterrupted with his dad! They spend the day together watching television or spending time together separately. Eddie on the floor of the living room, playing guitar, writing down notes for his next campaign or doing some homework (he really wants to graduate, why else would he put himself through senior year three times? Eddie isn't the problem, it's the school!), maybe he'll ask Uncle Wayne for an answer to one of the questions every now and then and just like always, Uncle Wayne will encourage Eddie to try on his own and if he can't do it after the third time, then he'll help Eddie, getting down on the floor beside him until the two of then are puzzling it out together and before they know it, it's been three hours and Eddie still hasn't finished his physics homework but he's made his dad laugh so much he's pretty sure they've each busting a lung, and that's more important!

In any case, day bleeds into night and they go to bed, Eddie to his room and Uncle Wayne on the sofa, and maybe Eddie has a nightmare or he wakes up and can't go back to sleep, but whatever the reason, he sneaks past a sleeping Uncle Wayne and goes to have a smoke outside, and when he comes back in, Uncle Wayne is sat with his elbows on his knees, his flannel on but open, rubbing at his hand with a tired hand.

"You okay, son?"

"Yeah, I just - " Eddie sighs, ruffles his own hair, "Can't sleep, man."

"Why?" That upward lilt in his dad's voice always makes Eddie smile and right now is no different.

"Nightmare, I guess."

Just like with always, Uncle Wayne melts and he lays back, getting comfortable in his bed again. Eddie is twenty years old, but he's always crawled into his dad's bed after a nightmare, and he will always do that, because that's who the Munsons are. Whatever Eddie wants in terms of affection or love, Uncle Wayne will give it to him because everything is tight in their household except love, and so Eddie receives it in abundance.

"C'mere, Eddie,"

Eddie is twenty years old but he feels no shame in shuffling across the trailer and climbing into his Uncle's bed. There's no awkwardness, they've known each other too damn long, and Eddie brings his knees to his chest and rolls so that his face is buried in the soace just above his dad's heart, so that he can hear and feel that his dad is alive and that he, Eddie, is totally safe.

"S'okay, son," Uncle Wayne roughly pets Eddie's hair, his other arm around Eddie's shoulders, and he manages to lull Eddie's heartbeat to a more relaxed pace, "you know you're safe here."

Eddie makes a sleepily noise and Uncle Wayne chuckles. "Never been any different, Eddie, have you?" Stroking Eddie's hair always puts him out like a light and it never fails to turn Uncle Wayne to mush.

"Love you, dad." It's a sleepy mumble, barely audible, but whether he's painfully silent or shouting at the very top of his lungs, Uncle Wayne will always hear his Eddie, his boy.

"Love you too, son."

And Eddie sleeps.

Uncle Wayne stays awake, like all those nights before, watching his son sleeping, watching over him like the guardian and protector he swore he would always be from the moment he found out that Eddie was to be his boy. He doesn't even want to think about what their lives would be like if he hadn't received that phone call offering him legal parental rights over Edward Munson. So, yes, Uncle Wayne melts for Eddie, but Eddie melts for Uncle Wayne, too, the man who gave him a home and more love than he's ever gonna know what to do with. Everything Eddie does is his attempt to say thank you, though Uncle Wayne would do it all over again and again and again for his boy.

Calling each other 'dad' and 'son' was never something either really thought about, it was a natural progression over months and years of living together, and neither Munson would have it or each other any other way.

The Munsons were the best thing that ever happened to each other.

(I probably have more thoughts in my head somewhere but it's been two hours and I gotta get back to this assignment hhhh I love and miss the Munsons so, so much. They both deserved better and every day I try to honour them and what they taught me by being the best me I can in all things. Shit's exhausting but they get me through.🙏💗)

#eddie munson #wayne munson #eddie and wayne munson #the munsons #eddie munson x reader #stranger things 4 #munson family

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abandonedbun · 1 year

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Oh and!! Can you please write general hcs with Violetta? I really love my spider queen she deserves sm love and attention kds;asldk;slk (≧◡≦) ♡

Bunny finally writes?! (REAL‼️ NOT CLICKBAIT‼️) SORRY BUN TOOK A WHILEEE

But now… she is back… AND WITH WOMEN

Bun doesn’t know if anything she wrote could be wrong so sorry >_<

Oh and she added hcs with and without a s/o!

Violetta

Violetta is DEFINITELY one of the sweetest hunters, she’s tied with Michiko!

She actually doesn’t like hitting the survivors because she feels really bad

And she gets sorta sad when they’re scared and running away from her, she truly is sweet! But she has to do her job as a hunter :(

She does go friendly sometimes! She can really enjoy the company of others, especially if they’re hullabaloo members, she loves every one of them!

She gets along the most with Mike he always tells her jokes that makes her laugh, and he’s genuinely a nice person to talk to

For Margaretha she likes sharing beauty stuff with Violetta, she even likes to wear matching costumes with her sometimes! Pretty girls! :3

With a s/o

She’s the best lover you could ever have, she does so much for you

Honestly goes friendly just for you or lets your team have a tie. But if she already eliminated 3 of your teammates she talks with you a bit and let’s you have the dungeon/get out of the exit gate

She really really likes dolls, she likes showing you her dolls and making you some

She made dolls of you two once and they’re the cutest!!! >w<

She puts her heart into them because they’re truly her passion!

If she ever gets sad she usually goes to you for comfort if you’re available, she sits and talks about what went wrong and it usually helps, especially if you re-assure and comfort her about it

CUDDLE HER AND LET HER BE THE SMALL SPOON OKAY? SHE NEEDS TO BE HELD! SHE NEEDS THE LOVING WARMTH SHE DESERVES!

Baking!! She enjoys baking dates with you! She knows how to make the icing designs extra pretty so you get pretty sweets + pretty designs!

One time she made you a heart Web in a match and omg that was so sweet your heart ached (in a good way ofc)

Violetta would do pretty much anything for you, she loves you and you love her <33 (who doesn’t tbh?)

#idv x Reader #identity v x reader #identity v #idv #Idv soul weaver x reader #idv soul weaver #identity v soul weaver x reader #identity v soul weaver #soul weaver #idv Violetta x reader #identity v Violetta x Reader #idv Violetta #identity v Violetta

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strawberrystepmom · 4 days

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I just read your recent Mirio piece and my heart aches in the sweetest way now.

You have a way of capturing the fragility and emotion of being a human being that is genuinely deeply moving. I had a nice carthetic cry after reading it and feel a bit lighter. You have a beautiful talent, thank you so much for sharing it.

Hi please come over I’m making you a six course dinner seasoned with my tears I hope that’s okay 😭

this is the nicest thing anyone has ever said about my writing and my heart is about to sing. Thank you for loving something I put my heart into, it loves you right back!!!!!!

#answered #to keep #i wrestled a lot with this fic so this truly means so much to me #I didn’t want reader to seem too closed off but not too open too grief stricken or too happy so I’m grateful it resonates

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pedroshotwifey · 2 months

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WIP Wednesday Game

Thank you, @kewwrites for tagging me!

Step one: Post snippets of the fics you're working on (can be a summary if there's no snippet)

Step two: put them in a poll and let people vote on which one you should work on, then prioritize the one with the most votes.

Step three: Ask me about my WIPs! I've got lots of lore to share + more snippets, etc.

Alright, I have a few loaded up for y'all, but I mostly just cleaned out my WIPs. Most of them were requests, which you will also be seeing a bit more of here soon!

First off, we have a lil snippet of TTF 9:

You push against him, trying to pry his arms away, and this, combined with the seriousness ebbing into your tone, finally catches his attention. He looks up at you, a slight pout on his full lips. “I just need to let her know,” you say, waiting for him to loosen his grip, but he only sighs. “Honestly, I don’t think that’s a good idea, sweetheart,” he admits, looking at you with genuine concern. You frown, a bit taken aback. “What do you mean?” He sighs again and looks down past you, almost like he’s getting ready to explain something to a small child. You don’t like the way it makes you feel like such. You’ve noticed recently that he has a tendency to make you feel like a kid, though you don’t think it’s intentional. The age gap definitely doesn’t help either. It makes you worry sometimes that you’re too immature for him, even though you know you’re not in the slightest. “I don’t think you should tell anyone you’re leaving,” he explains.

Next up, FB 7:

What’s worse, though, is the way your brain plays tricks on you. You see memories from your childhood, your mom and dad standing vividly in front of you. Sometimes, you’ll wake and find Mando hovering above you, adjusting your pillow, cleaning your wounds. It seems so real, as real as the tears in your eyes and the ache in your chest, but you know it can’t be. It feels real, sounds real, looks real, but you know it's a figment of your cruel imagination. A fever dream trying to trick you into thinking that everything is okay. It doesn’t work though; you know better than that. So you close your eyes again, as you do every time, willing your body to get the rest it needs and your brain to stop fighting with your heart. There are a couple times where you close them fully expecting not to open them again, and you find that the thought doesn't scare you. Being exhausted is exhausting, you decide after the first few times.

Lastly, I got that Marcus Moreno fic I was talking about a while back:

He looks fucking gorgeous as always. He’s wearing a light blue button-up with black slacks and shiny black shoes. And, of course, those thick-rimmed glasses that have proven themselves to be your ultimate weakness. He smiles back at you and it’s like your blood turns to lava coursing through your veins. “Hey, sweetheart,” he says way too casually as he sets his coat down on the chair beside him. “How was your day? Missy didn’t give you too much trouble?” It takes you a moment to register that what he said required an answer. You were too busy picking his outfit apart and damn-near tearing his clothes off with your eyes. “No, she was an angel as always!,” you say completely truthfully. Missy is the sweetest, most calm child you’ve ever babysat. At six years old, she is perfectly well behaved. “Did a bit of swimming and played a board game before dinner. She’s out cold now.” Marcus beams as he walks to the kitchen. “I’m glad to hear,” he calls out to you as he starts rifling through cabinets. “C’mere, I got something for you.” Your stomach flips, but your brows furrow. Why would he have something for you?

Feel free to send in some asks! I'd love to see what y'all are thinking!

NPT: @callachloe @nerdieforpedro @wannab-urs @beskarandblasters @chaotic-iguana @morallyinept @romanarose and anyone else who wants to play!

#sorry for the long ass snippets 😭#fan fiction #ao3 #pedro pascal #pedro pascal smut #smut #pedro pascal characters #marcus moreno fanfiction #javier pena fic #javier peña x reader #javier peña #the mandalorian fic #din djarin fanfiction #wip wednesday #wip tag game #tag game

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my-johnlockficrecs · 2 years

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because of course, the end of june is the best time for a may wrap up 🥴 LMAO i absolutely lost track of time and procrastinated my may reading list a whole entire month. ahem. however! i seem to have read an awful lot during may, so there will be two parts to the list. hopefully that makes up for the tardiness. i hope y’all had a fun, relaxing may. times are weird and stressful and scary as of right now, especially for our friends in america. i’m thinking of all of you who are having a tough time, america and beyond 💖 all i can offer you is an open inbox and an empathetic ear. and, of course, fic recs. it’s not much, but maybe something on here could provide an escape, even if for a moment.

key: blue: reread • 💌 majorly or in part epistolary • 📚 unilock

spotlight rec

✰ Let's Make a Bed Out in the Rain by Anonymous (17k, M)

John is devastated after his long-term girlfriend leaves him. Sherlock helps him through it.

this fic takes an approach to the john/mary relationship and how it came about in a way that was absolutely novel to me. instead of the dramatics of canon, this fic boils the john-mary-sherlock situation down to its basics. john enters a long term relationship with mary while sherlock pines in silence. Let’s Make a Bed starts out with john and mary’s breakup, and tells us the heartwarming, utterly sweet story of how sherlock takes care of john in the aftermath of it all. one of the things that i sincerely appreciated about this fic is how sherlock’s care towards john was never wholly motivated by his own romantic attachment to john, but also because of the friendship they shared. sherlock loves john here immensely, but he’s also his best friend. there are some moments of hilarity that will make you laugh in delight (the way sherlock got his back on mary!😂) and heart-touching moments of tenderness too. the moment of realisation is just the sweetest thing ever and absolutely made me melt. the angst and pining here is the kind that makes your heart ache, but not in an entirely bad way.

✰ Mathematical Proof series by Bitenomnom (108k, 50 works, complete)

i’m also going to spotlight Bitenomnom’s delightfully diverse series, Mathematical Proof. (haven’t added a link here because i can’t add more links to this post and i absolutely refuse to reformat the whole thing. Bitenomnom has been linked in the list below, right next to the fics i’ve read from the Mathematical Proof series). it mostly consists of one-shots, although some are connected to each other, and every story is based on some mathematical principle or the other that the author found intriguing at the time. i just thought that the idea of applying mathematical theories to johnlock was (a) incredibly inventive and unique and (b) very impressive. also, just generally, it’s clear from the stories and the author’s notes that the author has a genuine passion for math and i love to see how they use johnlock as an interpretive medium. for anyone who (like me) is not a mathematician of any order; worry not! you don’t actually need to have a thorough understanding of advanced math to enjoy these fics. and for those who are curious to learn more, the author explains the mathematical principle being used in great detail before the start of every fic.

bite sized (5k and less)

nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands by miss_frankenstein (3k, teen)

“Will you need fresh socks?”

Sherlock’s voice immediately brings John back to the present. “What?”

Sherlock gestures irritably to the wet socks clutched in John’s hand. “Socks,” he says again sharply because he hates repeating himself, “Will you need fresh socks?”

A post-S3 piece in which John and Sherlock finally confront their feelings for each other - as only they would do - in the pouring rain.

softly, softly by threadoflife (1k, G)

They were back to grinning at each other, embarrassingly enough: a whole five seconds of terrifying delight. John wanted to reach out and smooth his thumb over the screen, behind which Sherlock’s face was locked. It was a bit pixelled, now, the connection likely slowing down. Christ, John wanted to be there with him; or he wanted Sherlock here; it didn’t really matter. He just wanted Sherlock, location be damned.

Fuck. Fuck, he had it bad.

Don’t Cry Sweet Honeybee by Musings_o (4k, unrated)

Sherlock Holmes and John Watson go through years of love, separation, and heartache.

Though the pain is worth it, worth being reunited once more.

EMERGENCY CONTACT: Sherlock Holmes, RELATIONSHIP: n/a by @blueink3 (5k,M)

The first time John Watson’s emergency contact is called is the first time Sherlock Holmes finds out that he has the job.

and as the seasons change, i love you more by teatrolley (3k, unrated)

“I love you,” John murmurs when he pulls back, panting and with pink cheeks.

“Mm,” Sherlock says, because after four years of being together they can joke about it. “Why?”

“Don’t fish for compliments,” John says, but he kisses Sherlock again, softly this time.

Later, when Sherlock goes to the bathroom, he finds a sticky note on the mirror saying “Because you make my chest feel like it’s on fire, but in the good way.”

_________________

A year in the lives of John and Sherlock, essentially

Let Go by thisisforyou (2k, G)

In the end, separating John's things from Sherlock's in the chaos of their sitting room is like pulling a limpet from a wet rock. Especially when the rock is clinging on for dear life, because Sherlock doesn't want to let go. Short, fluffy h/c Johnlock oneshot.

Improbable Remains by tamed_untranslatable (3k, teen)

“So we, um.” His left hand clenched at his side underneath the table. "We probably shouldn’t bring this back to London, then."

"No, quite right.” Sherlock nodded.

“I mean, I don’t want to ruin…” The uncertainty had returned to John’s eyes as he looked back at Sherlock.

“No, absolutely not,” Sherlock agreed, and now he was beginning to feel some of that relief, too. Wherever he may have imagined this would lead, he knew that he couldn’t bear to lose John’s friendship. “It can just be something for Dartmoor, then."

"Right, yeah. Just a Dartmoor thing.” John nodded.

Two Words by stopthat (1k, teen)

I reach out and let my palm fall to his shoulder. I think, finally, the time for this has come.

Of Velvet and Silk, Cotton and Cashmere by cwb (2k, E)

Vignettes of Sherlock at different ages, what he loved, what he lost, and how John gave it back.

Still, With Hearts Beating by @finamour (2k, E)

John already knows the sound of Sherlock’s heartbeat. He’s become familiar with his breathing patterns, the way they grow quicker and more shallow as the two of them run through the streets of London. He has, in a passing manner, come to know Sherlock’s scent; the colour of his skin in the dim light of the alleyway; the way his hair grows matted and sweaty against the nape of his neck on a warm July night.

But he has never been pressed up against Sherlock like this, the rise and fall of his breath pushing into his own body through their thin summer clothes. Until now, he has never been fully immersed in his scent, felt his hair softly brushing his face, the thrumming of Sherlock’s heart against his own chest.

Too Much by belovedmuerto (567, teen)

Sometimes, it's too much for John.

Tangential by Bitenomnom (2k, unrated)

“You know, for being married, you and your Work seem to have a pretty on-again, off-again relationship."

"Yes. I’d say it’s grounds for divorce, wouldn’t you?”

“If it’d mean less collateral damage to the flat, I’m all for it.” He pulled up the newspaper and had a glance over it. “But you do strike me as a bit of a kept man. Hope you’ve got a secret lover ready to snatch you up and take care of you.”

Sherlock could have said, “I might, if you’d like to keep me.” But instead, he asked, “Do you have any opinions on bees?”

...In which John stitches up Sherlock's head (but not really), Sherlock comes into John's room at night to take his laptop (but not really), Sherlock is married to his Work (but not really), and John is more than proficient at keeping Sherlock (really, definitely).

Latent Variable by Bitenomnom (3k, unrated)

“John,” he pulled himself into a sitting position to face John. “How many times have you seen me eat outside this flat?”

John leaned back thoughtfully. “Well, I…” He tilted his head. “Huh.” John scooted forward in his chair, leaning over his knees to look Sherlock in the eye. “Why?”

“It’s more comfortable.”

“Is that it? You starved yourself of a nice hot dinner at Angelo’s so that you could sit on the sofa while you eat?”

“That’s not it.”

Sherlock never eats at restaurants when he and John go out -- not even when he's not on a case.

Nested Dichotomy by Bitenomnom (2k, unrated)

Water dripped from the ceiling.

Water dripped from the ceiling insofar as that water dripped from the ceiling tiles, which were located in pieces on the floor.

Sherlock stood, brushing dust from himself, brushing the ceiling from himself, and looked beneath him and saw his own unconscious—no, dead—body, on the ceiling.

Rewind.

The ceiling gathered back together, coagulated thirty feet above him, spat water back out into the pool as it gathered up tendrils of itself back into the depths.

John supposed this wasn’t a surprising night for Sherlock’s mind to conjure up something horrific. John hadn’t gone to sleep, for similar reasons—had just laid in bed, reading, until Sherlock barged in.

Remodeling by Bitenomnom (2k, unrated)

“There’s no way you tapped my arm.” “Why wouldn’t there be?” “Because you’ve never touched me.” Sherlock studied him for a moment more before gasping in an, “Oh.” “What?” “While you were deleting some contents of your brain, you were also deleting any sensory input associated with the process.” “Meaning…” “Meaning that according to your brain, we have never made physical contact.”

Paired Comparison Experiment Notes, Trials 1-24 by Bitenomnom (1k, unrated)

Trial 4: Subject extremely confused by sudden commencement of dirty talk after innocent game of footsie at breakfast, splashes tea on experimenter, refuses to specify preference.

Trial 14: Subject prefers handshake to pinching of arse, does not applaud experimenter’s creativity in utilizing organic situations to their fullest potential by coordinating handshaking procedure for magazine photograph with opportunity to test against buttocks-pinching variable. Quote, “Stop pinching my arse, Sherlock!” followed by, quote, “Please don’t print that in the interview.”

The Paired Comparison Model by Bitenomnom (2k, unrated)

Today, a mysterious chart appeared on the refrigerator of 221B. John is reasonably certain that Sherlock is not planning on calling for volunteers to come knocking at 221B for some variety of sexual experimentation, although that is very much what the chart on the refrigerator seems to suggest. He is also reasonably certain, however, that whatever it is, it must not involve Sherlock, because the chart on the refrigerator lists quite a few things that John doesn’t imagine Sherlock would ever do of his own free will. The real question, then—which John poses to Sherlock after several moments’ silence—is, “When’s the orgy?”

Successive Over-Relaxation by Bitenomnom (1k, unrated)

“Oh, give them here, you git,” is what John says to Sherlock as Sherlock rubs at his feet in the most histrionic fashion possible. Sherlock quirks an eyebrow at John. “Yes, right, you heard me, put your feet up here and let me rub them; you’re doing a bloody awful job of it.”

Visual Verification by Bitenomnom (2k, E)

John pulled Sherlock’s face down and leaned heavier against him to whisper in his ear. “I said scientific rigor,” John told him. “I meant a demonstration, not a discussion over whether bloody Scotland Yard was going to figure out the meaning of your convoluted description.”

The Postal Problem by Bitenomnom (2k, unrated) 💌

On Sherlock's nineteenth consecutive day of temporarily being a postman, John finally sends his letter to his girlfriend. Well, not quite the letter he originally intended to send.

The Cost of Decreased Variance by Bitenomnom (2k, unrated)

Sherlock had awoken wondering whose things were in 221B; clearly, they were John Watson’s. Clearly, John Watson was his flatmate. And clearly, for some reason, every single night, Sherlock deleted him.

The Genetic Algorithm by Bitenomnom (3k, unrated)

Some problems defy the usage of cold, clean-cut linear logic. It is impossible to devise a way to take steps that ultimately lead exactly to an optimal answer. Sherlock believes John Watson is one of those problems.

Fuzzy Measures by Bitenomnom (2k, unrated)

“Honestly, John? ‘The Navel Treatment'?” “You can call it whatever you want on your blog,” John glanced up from his laptop to Sherlock, who was watching him type about the case over his shoulder. “I didn’t think you were really going to give it that title.” “You knew I was going to, Sherlock. You know how I run my blog.” “Yes: stupidly.” “And,” John pointedly ignored this comment, “it’s not my fault you found the crucial evidence in the victim’s belly button. It was lint, Sherlock. I don’t exactly have a lot to work with.” “You could try not titling your entries with terrible puns.”

The Transposable Choquet Integral by Bitenomnom (1k, unrated)

“Oh,” Sherlock said, tracing his fingers over John’s stomach. “Nothing at all like the data I had been testing.” John rolled his eyes. “You know, Sherlock, I seriously doubt my body hair is terribly different from any other bloke’s.” “Wouldn’t know,” Sherlock said.

Fixed Points by Bitenomnom (532, unrated)

The Fixed Point Method of estimating roots involves employing an algorithm until the input is roughly equal to the output. Sherlock and John's arguments work in much the same way.

A Penalty for Profusion by Bitenomnom (1k, unrated)

"Did you really think I was born knowing how to identify a zoologist by her fingernails and cutlery?" "No, of course not." John considered turning away for the imminent lecture. "I practiced," Sherlock reiterated instead. "Of course I didn’t always immediately know what to look for."

Variance by Bitenomnom (797, unrated)

“It’s actually two point nine.” “What?” “Meters. That you stay from me, all the time. Well—since you punched me, anyway.” “Oh. I hadn’t really put that much thought into it.” “How very homoscedastic of you.”

Type III by Bitenomnom (1k, unrated)

It had been, by Sherlock’s estimate (he could not tell precisely—shades drawn, so amount of light outside and therefore time of day unknown, extended amounts of sleep disorienting) sixteen days since John had returned. Seventeen was also a distinct possibility. His mobile was nowhere to be found. John was asleep beside him: that was exactly where John was supposed to be. John had returned and everything was right again.

Parallel by Bitenomnom (3k, unrated)

While John and Sherlock were apart (apart for years, this time, years and years and years even with both in London, apart but for the occasional visits, ever less personal) they were not so different. Sherlock still solved crimes. He pretended to shoot holes in the wall. It was better this way. \\ John pretended to shoot holes in the wall. Things hadn’t changed so much. He still solved cases with Sherlock, sometimes. He pretended to shoot holes in the wall. It was better this way.

Interaction by Bitenomnom (4k, unrated)

The last time he had seen Sherlock was three years ago—completely by accident. Sherlock hadn’t come to Mary’s funeral, but that was no surprise; John had seen him a few days afterward, but not since then, not until this time. John, fourteen years after leaving Baker Street, looks back on his relationship with Sherlock, on his marriage, and on his unshakable loneliness. Goes with Touching.

Touching by Bitenomnom (3k, unrated)

He and John fell in love eighteen years ago. It fell apart quickly. It fell apart suddenly. It fell apart sixteen years ago. But they were still flatmates, and they still solved crimes, and nothing changed. Nothing changed sixteen years ago, just the details, just the important little details. Sherlock was no longer allowed to sleep in bed with John, or run his fingers through John’s hair or breathe on his collarbone or nip at his nose or sleep with his face buried in a discarded jumper or lay his head in John’s lap while they watched John’s action and sci-fi movies. Everything changed fourteen years ago, though. Everything.

Fifteen Years by Bitenomnom (1k, unrated)

A lot changes in fifteen years -- and a lot doesn't. Fifteen years before Baskerville, John wanted a dog. Fifteen years before Sherlock was in court, Sherlock was in court. Fifteen years before John met Sherlock, John wasn't interested in the violin. Fifteen years before he met Irene Adler, someone asked Sherlock out for dinner. Fifteen years before Sherlock kissed John, Sherlock kissed John.

Five Times Sherlock gave John a Pebble and One Time John Returned the Gesture by grimmfairy (1k, unrated)

Written for a prompt by navydream on tumblr: So penguins bring rocks to their mates and Sherlock somehow fond out about this… and suddenly, John starts finding all sorts of pebbles, starting from the ordinary to a rare moon stone. Sherlock isn't good with words, so he decides to tell John his feelings the way penguins do, by bringing him pebbles with different meanings. John catches on.

God's Own Country by halloa_what_is_this (4k, teen)

Road trip through nowhere, everywhere, anywhere.

Bitter Nights Turned Sweet by Hyliare (4k, teen)

“Christ, Sherlock, what’s happened?” The detective’s eyes are red-rimmed, blown wide to combat the urge to squint (a measure to preserve Sherlock’s dignity, John is certain—at least what dignity is left). His hair is more than messy, it’s littered with tiny knots all along the lines of his temples. He’s clean, at least, so he must have showered, but the hem on the bottom of his vest is partially unravelled. “Sherlock—” “Nothing’s happened. I’m just tired.” Sherlock has always had trouble sleeping; he hasn't always had someone in his life willing to help.

Two To Tango (The Cold Hands, Warm Heart Remix) by igrockspock (1k, teen)

When John is wounded while pursuing a suspect, Sherlock refuses to leave his side.

When Your Belly's in the Trench by Morgan_Stuart (4k, teen)

The next time that door opens, John Watson will kill the person on the other side.

short fics (5k-15k)

holding steady by @watsonshoneybee (12k, E)

Sitting on a thick wool blanket at the end of a rickety dock side-by-side, legs dangling over the edge, a styrofoam container of wet, dark dirt between them, they’re fishing.

John knows what this is about. This is about finally figuring it out.

EMERGENCY CONTACT: John Watson, RELATIONSHIP: Saint by @blueink3 (6k, M)

The first time Sherlock Holmes realizes he needs an emergency contact is the first time he mentally appoints John Watson with the job.

John, of course, does not know this and neither does the local hospital.

Their Great Reward by @the-pen-pot (10k, teen)

Boxing day, in John's opinions, is the worst day of the year. Christmas is over, the tree is wilting and stripped of gifts, and there's a week of dead-time until the clean slate of the new year. However the combination of a blizzard, a power-cut and Sherlock might just make it a day to remember. (John and Sherlock pre-slash to slash fluff)

The Newlywed Game: Johnlock Edition by patternofdefiance (9k, E)

What it says on the tin: John and Sherlock pretend to be married in order to be contestants in a Newlywed Game.

Of course it's for a case.

Of course it doesn't stay that way.

The Fundamental Things Apply by @raina-at (6k, M)

"Kisses that are easily obtained are easily forgotten." - Proverb

Nestled between head and heart by @blogstandbygo (8k, teen)

A series of vignettes about Sherlock Holmes's lifelong relationship with his violin.

Strong at the Broken Places by @blueink3 (10k, M)

They dated for ten months during Sherlock's first year of uni and John's last before the latter went off to fight someone else's war. When they meet again two-and-a-half years later, John's gained a scar in his shoulder and a limp he can't seem to shake. Sherlock's gained a new boyfriend and bruises he can't seem to explain away.

I Need You To See Me by Mssmithlove (12k, E)

After going back to war, John is yet again invalided home, this time with a broken ankle and a chunk of his memory missing, unable to recall the last five years he's spent being Sherlock Holmes' partner and husband.

The Deepest Secret Nobody Knows by @raina-at (7k, E)

Sherlock is back from the dead. Now all he has to do is get back his Blogger.

A Bump in the Road by BakerTumblings (10k, teen)

Now and again, something will happen that rocks their collective world. Sometimes it concerns about healthy living, a wise behaviour choice, their London community, body parts in the fridge, a career path, an event in the life of one of their friends.

And sometimes it's more personal, and the bump in the road can be not only a surprise, but possibly serious.

I'm Pretty Sure This Changes Shit by cwb (7k, E)

Back at the flat Sherlock threw himself down on the couch, limbs akimbo, throat bared, one wrist placed strategically over his furrowed brow. He moaned, but not too loudly, just under the threshold of noticeably dramatic. He unbuttoned the top three buttons of his shirt with his other hand, making sure that John had plenty of chest to explore. Exploration was good. Exploration was highly encouraged.

mid length (16k-50k)

The Way to a Man’s Heart by @swissmissing (21k, teen)

When Greg asks Sherlock to be his best man, the past returns in an unexpected way, confronting Sherlock and John with the need to define what they are to each other. Set about a year after series 3.

Letters From Sussex by @sussexbound (32k, E) 💌

In the wake of the Mary/Moriarty affair, John and Sherlock have fallen out, and are living apart. But Sherlock isn't content with this state of affairs--not one bit. He's tired of dancing around the obvious. The wooing of John Watson starts now!

Hitting the Water at Sixty Miles an Hour by what_alchemy (30k, E)

“You love your mother, Sherlock?”

John watched the muscles in Sherlock’s jaw jump. He nodded in one sharp jerk.

“Then we’re going to her party and making her happy.” John let out a resigned sigh. “As a ruddy couple, you bastard.”

The Wisteria Tree by @silentauroriamthereal (29k, E)

Sherlock wakes up from a month-long coma only to discover that he has no memory of the previous six years to his own shock as well as John's...

Just a Touch of Lips by Salambo06 (21k, E) 📚

Two weeks ago, Sherlock kissed a blindfolded John Watson, captain of the Rugby Team, during an university event and left before he could see his face. Neither have been able to think about anything else since. When Mike mentions a certain student in his Chemistry class who could help John find his mysterious kisser, they both find themselves in a situation they hadn't expected.

Maintaining A Personal Life by Gingerhermit (24k, E)

Sherlock and John discover some interesting revelations about each other’s sexuality, which lead them both to question the assumptions they've made about one another for years. In the midst of their mutual discoveries, a dangerous psychopath looms on the side-lines who threatens to destroy their new beginning. ---- Sherlock’s head snapped to the right, where he fixed his gaze upon the rather unexpected development that was a man standing in their kitchen wearing nothing but his pants and a t-shirt. …Unexpected…was this unexpected? Shortly after meeting him, Sherlock had easily deduced that John was not uninterested in men sexually. This was something that John was at least mildly conflicted about and overcompensated for constantly. It was likely that he’d experimented with this interest at least once in the not too distant past, although this was one point on which Sherlock was chronically uncertain. And Sherlock hated being uncertain.

long fics (50k and above)

The Thing Is by TSylvestris (56k, E)

The problem with living with Sherlock, John thought, was that you never, never, ever knew the significance of anything. Like your flatmate's nose buried in your hair. Whilst you're in bed.

#whew #faced many technical difficulties AGAIN #it’s like the more i do this the more technical difficulties arise #shouldn’t it be the other way around??#tumblr smh #anyway #my johnlock fic recs #johnlock #johnlock fics #johnlock fic recs #my johnlock fic recs: may 2022 part 1

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