#she’s so young at the start of the story. it’s hard to believe she was in too much danger of becoming a cynic

[pippin-pippout]

Thoughts on the side stories with the other characters:

I can't believe it was such an ordeal to get to sky island and get off sky island and this weather man that Nami's with just fucking took an elevator and a boat down and up.

I also can't believe the posh-ified Franky. He has tea in his system instead of coca cola. This isn't right. Also apparently tea = pacifist and coke = hentai??? WHAT? And this is where we first meet Vegapunk? Or maybe it's just his lab.

OH THIS IS WHERE THE SANJI IS TRANS HCs COME FROM. Also watching the second episode of Sanji's side story makes more sense after watching impel down and meeting Ivankov. Can't believe Sanji is so overconfident about this fight when he doesn't even know Okama kenpo... I mean he barely beat bon clay.

OF COURSE Chopper who ends up in like subjectively the worst circumstances stranded on an island with giant birds and humans that want to eat him, and winds up helping a baby bird out of the goodness of his little Chopper heart.

I just want Robin to kill these people so hard. She turned herself in to protect these people. Now the revolutionaries are coming and this little girl just wants to give her chocolate even at the cost of her life. And this old man who DOES NOT know that Robin is the nakama/crewmate of his commander's son is like 'yeah we're gonna free her. And then, as they are preparing for an arsenal of assholes firing at them, Robin just breaks all the bad guys' necks. I have further thoughts about how the narrative continues to place Robin with young girls (even tho one at least was anime-only) but I like it. I HOPE ROBIN MEETS SABO. I HOPE I MEET SABO. IT'LL BE SO GREAT WHEN ACE SABO AND LUFFY ALL MEET AGAIN.

Oh wait sorry Chopper maybe Usopp has subjectively the worst he's being eaten by a sunflower as nightmares go that's not great.

Although Zoro has to deal with Perona...

Hmm. Nvm. Perona has to deal with Zoro. She told him where his sword was and has given him a bunch of hints and baby boy still can't find it. Girls just wanna have fun I can't fault that and my love of my life is simply too directionally incompetent. "UP THE STAIRS AND ALL HALLS LEAD TO THE SAME PLACE" and he just doesn't understanddddd. Peak sibling behavior from these two. "Just follow me" *continues in straight line*. Zoro *starts walking diagonally for no reason.*

If Brook were less of a pervert this wouldn't be happening to him...

#one piece #one piece nami #cat burglar nami #cyborg franky #black leg sanji #tony tony chopper #nico robin #one piece usopp #roronoa zoro #soul king brook

[thebibliosphere]

There are a lot of things I'm sad about in my life. You don't get to go through the kind of medical trauma I've been through and come out unscathed on the other side.

But one thing I'm really bitter about is that I can't remember my wedding anymore. The pernicious anemia took it from me and wiped my brain clean. Except it's not clean, not really. I remember it in patches. Like red wine stains on a white rug that have never quite lifted out no matter how hard you try.

I look at the pictures on my bookcase, and they feel like remembering a story someone else has told me. There's a young woman in a white dress wearing my face, and she looks happy. I'm happy for her. But you can see the strain around her eyes, too. The pain she's hiding because no one with authority believes her when she says her body doesn't feel right. That something is Wrong.

They won't believe her for another decade. They won't believe her until it's almost too late, and it's that lateness that will rob her of her memories and turn them into a wavering rainbow suspended in the fine haze of watery sunlight that occasionally surfaces through the blanks.

There's one memory that's real, though. Solid. It's not my vows. It's not my father walking me down the aisle. (Though those are there, just hazy and dream-like). It's our first dance.

It's the lights dimming around the room as the staff cleared the floor, causing the fishbowls full of white roses and LED lights on the tables to wobble like pools of moonlight against dark paneled walls.

It's the band inviting us out onto the floor and us giggling because we know what's coming next, and no one else does. It's the twang of a banjo reverberating around the room through the speakers, followed by the dulcet tones of Kermit the Frog wondering why there are so many songs about rainbows.

It's us waltzing around the enclosed circle of light, singing to each other out of tune and grinning like idiots as everyone around us starts to laugh.

It's everyone joining in on the song because it's the Muppets, and everyone knows the words. It's 100+ people singing the Rainbow Connection, some laughing, some a bit tearful, because it's bringing back memories. Because it's making a new one.

It's looking up at my new husband through the brain fog and all the pain in my body and thinking, "I want to remember this moment forever."

I don't know what entity was out there listening to me at that moment and chose to grant that wish. I don't know why this is the one memory that stuck while everything else in my brain got decimated into scattered, fragmented snapshots. But I'm so, so thankful it is.

Though, I could have done without it randomly coming on my YouTube music out of nowhere to hit me in the emotions like a brick to the back of the head. Jesus Christ.

#chronic health tag #trauma and recovery #memory loss #happy memories #note to self: do not forget

[ecoamerica]

Watch the 2024 American Climate Leadership Awards for High School Students now: https://youtu.be/5C-bb9PoRLc

The recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by student climate leaders! Join Aishah-Nyeta Brown & Jerome Foster II and be inspired by student climate leaders as we recognize the High School Student finalists. Watch now to find out which student received the $25,000 grand prize and top recognition!

#ACLA24 #ACLA24HighSchoolStudents #youtube #youtube video #climate leaders #climate solutions #climate action #climate and environment #climate #climate change #climate and health #climate blog #climate justice #climate news #weather and climate #environmental news #environment #environmental awareness #environment and health #environmental #environmental issues #environmental education #environmental justice #environmental protection #environmental health #high school students #high school #youth #youth of america #school

[aidaronan]

The years go by. The retail jobs that Steve thinks are temporary keep piling up, but he has no idea what else to do with his life so he just keeps on keeping on.

Until a large tree falls on the lawn of the little house he managed to buy and he gets the quote on removal and the number literally hurts his soul.

He buys a small chainsaw instead. Over the course of a few weeks, he gets most of the branches cut up. He collects some large rocks from down by the quarry and digs out a fire pit in his backyard. On his days off, his friends come over and they sit out back and have a few beers. The pile of wood dwindles. The giant trunk is another story though. His chainsaw isn't big enough for it. Burning it would take forever, and Steve's terrified he'd disappoint Smoky the Bear. He's at a loss.

Until he sees another giant trunk in someone's yard carved into a bear.

He knows what to do then. Not a bear, but something else. Through trial and error, the trunk becomes the rough shape of a woman, the remnants of the branches like a crown on her head. It's not as amazing as the bear he saw, but it's his. He finds he loves the smell of sawdust and the feeling of creating something.

Just like that, Steve realizes what he wants to do. It takes several months and a lot of yard sales, but he scrounges up the tools he needs to start woodworking. He learns to measure twice and cut once. He makes tables and chairs and carves them with art and designs that get better and better the more he learns. Shockingly, people actually buy his pieces.

Even more shocking comes the realization that he's making enough money to do it full time. He puts in his two weeks notice at Melvald's and hands in his assistant manager badge.

He's not sure he's happy, but he is content. It feels good to work hard and actually have things to show for it. It also feels good to work muscles he hasn't used since high school. He carries on for a few years like that, creating and learning and creating some more. Then Eddie Munson blows back into town. Invited back so Hawkins can have their most famous alumnus sing the national anthem at homecoming. Steve's honestly surprised he shows at all. "Can't believe you didn't tell them kiss your hairy ass," Steve says. Because of course Eddie ends up around his fire pit, sipping on Steve's cheap beer like he doesn't have three Grammy awards on his mantel. The years fall away with each drink, reminding Steve of just how much it had hurt when Eddie left. He'd wanted Eddie so bad back then, more than he'd ever wanted anyone. He can feel the echoes of that deep ache across time.

"Pfft. Don't you know all famous people wax our asses now? All the rage in LA." Eddie cuts a look at him and smirks when Steve rolls his eyes, grateful for the lighthearted moment to snap him out of his maudlin nostalgia. "Really though I thought about it, but then I thought it would be way funnier to donate a metric fuckton of money to Hawkins High with the stipulation that it go to the theater and band programs. Kind of bummed they couldn't honor my other request though."

"Which was?"

"My old Hellfire throne. I miss her, but apparently she's not around anymore. Something about water damage."

"Oh yeah. Water main busted a few years back and flooded the theater. I remember that." "Yeah. Had to settle for the promise they'd make a game lounge and stock it with all the supplies a budding young nerd needs."

"That's really nice, Eds."

Eddie shrugs. "I've been known to be nice on occasion. You'll come to homecoming, right? Moral support?"

Steve hasn't been to homecoming in years because he sees the other people who stayed in town all the time, and he has no interest in seeing the people who didn't. He can only answer the same questions so many times. Oh, I'm doing woodwork now. Yep, I still live right here. Nope, still not married, no kids.

He goes though, and he answers the uncomfortable questions. Because Eddie asked him to. Because no matter how long it's been, Steve can't deny that some part of him still...

He says goodbye after, and Eddie leaves again, and Steve tries not to think about that too much in the following days.

He's halfway into the project before he realizes what he's building. He'd seen Eddie's throne quite a few times back when. What he doesn't have memories of, he makes up. He adds his own touches too, making it a throne fit for a rock star, a nerd, a friend.

He carves ornate patterns, he creates scenes of dragons being beaten back by a man with a guitar, crowds of people that could be knights or concertgoers.

It's his favorite piece he's ever done, and his hands are shaking when he dials Eddie's number. He gets an answering machine and stumbles through a message.

"I made you something. I guess it's kind of silly, but it's here in Hawkins if you want it. Or I'm sure you can afford the shipping if you don't want to come. Just, I made you a chair. It's more of a... Well, you'll see. Unless you don't want to... It's Steve by the way." He hangs up before he can embarrass himself even more.

Eddie doesn't call him back. One day passes and then another. Steve tries not to let it get to him. He works on orders and new projects. He enjoys his little backyard oasis. He rents a few movies and thinks they're okay.

He's debarking some wood in his driveway when the rental car pulls up, Eddie stepping out in ripped jeans and an old Metallica tee. "Hi again, Stevie."

"Oh." Steve clears his throat. "The thing's in the garage. I'll..."

Eddie doesn't say anything for a long time, circling the throne, running his tattooed fingers over each little detail.

"You made this whole thing?"

"I did."

"For me?" Eddie looks at him then, one hand still touching the wood like he doesn't want to let go. Even under the harsh lights of the garage, his eyes are such a warm shade of brown that Steve forgets to breathe.

He nods. "For you."

"Why?"

There are a hundred answers Steve could give, but he spent so long not knowing who he was or who he wanted to be. Too long. "Because you'll always be the one that got away. Because some part of me will always want to make you smile no matter how long it's been."

Eddie falls into the throne like he just got the wind knocked out of him.

"You don't have to respond to that," Steve says. "You can just say thank you and take the chair."

"I can." Eddie blows out a breath. "But that would be incredibly stupid considering half my early ballads are about you."

"What?" Unfair. Steve doesn't have a chair to fall into.

"Oh sure, I changed the hes to shes for a while there because..." Eddie waves his hand. "But they're about you, Steve. God, I should've asked you out. I just thought..."

Hearing those words is a lot like seeing that carved bear all over again, something clicking into place that wasn't quite right before.

"Go out with me now then," Steve says. "Or stay in. I've got a frozen lasagna and I rented Contact."

"Steve Harrington? Asking Eddie 'the Freak' Munson on a date? Did hell freeze over?"

"Pfft." Steve takes a step closer toward what he wants most. "Hell froze over in 1986, Eddie. You were there."

Five months and a lot of long distance phone bills later, Steve opens Harrington Woodworking in Los Angeles. That same day, Eddie takes photos for Rolling Stone posing in an ornate throne in his living room. He tells the reporter exactly who made it and what he means. At concerts, he starts singing those ballads the way he always wanted to. More often than not, Steve stands in the wings singing along.

#steddie #fanfic #mine #woodworker steve #rock star eddie #i meant for this to be a drabble but 😂

[sundrop-writes]

Officially announcing my new series: Careful.

A limited multi-chapter series with Spencer Reid and Fem Reader, featuring angst, smut, and the trope of exes to lovers where Spencer finds out that he is a father four years after you have given birth to his child.

'When you and Spencer broke up, he tried to forget about you. He pushed all of those feelings for you down - until he sees your name on a list of potential victims being hunted by a man who kills single mothers.'

The series will be approximately 40k long in total (spread across six chapters) and will be posted every Friday, starting on March 8th, 2024, and continuing until ending on April 12th, 2024.

THE FIRST CHAPTER IS NOW POSTED!!!

(I am making a posting schedule, and I am gonna try really, really hard to stick to it this time guys.)

The series is already finished in my drafts - it just needs to be edited before posting. However, comments and encouragement are highly appreciated and welcomed throughout this process. The fic will not have a taglist (taglists are not something I do) - if you enjoy the concept or the preview below and you want to know when future chapters are coming out, then you will simply have to follow me here and turn on notifications for this blog, or you can find me on AO3 and subscribe to me there to get emails when this series and it's future chapters are posted.

Below is a short preview of the fic - so if you want to get a better sense of what the fic is about, click through and read it, and hopefully, you will enjoy.

Preview Word Count: 1,800

Warnings: typical Criminal Minds episode warnings; mentions of murder/killing; the reader character is being targeted by a killer and doesn't know it yet; the reader has a young child (a four year old son); the reader is a cis woman who uses she/her pronouns and a has a vagina; emotional angst between Spencer and the reader; the reader and Spencer had a romantic relationship around season 1/season 2 and this is meant to take place around season 6(ish) but you can picture any later version of Spencer you want; the reason that the reader and Spencer broke up is purposefully vague here but it will be fully revealed in the full story; the reader purposefully kept the pregnancy/Spencer's child away from him; Spencer didn't know he had a child out there in the world; there is some smut in this - unprotected penetration (a flashback to how the baby got here); possibly something that could be labelled as a breeding kink; making love/intense passionate sex; I believe that's in for this short part.

...

The team found themselves buried in paper, looking through the preschool applications for anyone who fit the UnSub’s victimology - praying that they would be able to pick out the next victim and get to her before the UnSub did. 

“We’re never gonna get through these fast enough, are we?” Prentiss sighed, continuing to sift through the papers. 

“We just have to go as fast as we can, and hope the UnSub sticks to his schedule.” Morgan replied. “He has to spend time stalking them, learning their routine. Even if he has chosen his victim by now, he won’t break into the home until he’s fully confident that he won’t be disrupted.” 

“And the stalking helps build up the fantasy.” Reid added on. “He romanticizes them from afar, sends them gifts. It adds to his delusions of grandeur and forbidden love. The idea that he’s swooping in to become the perfect father figure for these ‘broken’ families.” 

“Plus, most of these applications are from two-parent households.” JJ pointed out. “We can throw out anything with a second applicant on the form, because he’s only targeting single mothers.” 

The conversation was easily drowned out for Spencer when he saw it. 

It should have been just another page among the sea in his hands, but when he saw those words on the page - that name - it was like a punch to the gut that brought back a flood of memories he thought that he had locked away forever. 

It was you. 

What the hell were you doing applying for preschools? 

Spencer rushed to tear this paper out from the others in the stack in order to read it more carefully. 

You had a son. 

… 

When you answered the knock on your door, you were entirely lost for words, your mouth going numb from shock when you saw him. 

The last thing you were expecting was to find Spencer Reid on your doorstep. 

Your heart raced inside your chest, your body so overwhelmed so quickly that you couldn’t even decide on an emotion. 

Happiness. Joy. Lust. Longing. Sadness. Relief. 

Shock. 

You lingered on shock for a while as you stared at him, your eyes locked on the sight of him - wondering what the hell he was doing standing on your porch. How did he know where you lived? Why was he here? 

“Y/N,” 

He said your name in that honey-sweet way, and it brought you rocketing back to that awful night all those years ago. Your stomach dropped, and you felt like you were standing in that apartment all over again, tears in your eyes as you faced down the crashing reality that the best relationship you ever had in your life was over. 

This brought on a whole new wave of confusing emotions. 

Anger. Rage. Sadness. Bitterness. Regret. 

Like your brain was a spin-wheel, it whirled around for a few hectic moments, and then - you landed somewhere between anger and pure rage. 

And that was when you finally spoke. 

“Spencer Reid.” You hissed out his name like it was pure venom - immediately, Spencer’s features fell from looking at you with nostalgic fondness, and dropped out to fear. “What the hell are you doing here?” 

Spencer opened his mouth, seemingly to answer this question, and the rage pumped harder in your system. You found that you didn’t want to hear whatever it was that he had to say. 

You stepped through the door, easily stepping into his personal space as you came onto the porch, and you gave him a hard shove in the middle of his chest as you spoke your next words - much louder than you intended. 

“What the hell is wrong with you?” 

You screeched, your emotions carrying your actions before any sense of logic or common decency could kick in. It was emotion that you had locked away four years ago - and apparently, it had been aging like wine, only becoming more potent with time. 

“You think that you can just magically show up in my life again after I specifically told you not to contact me?” You added on with a howl. “Do you think that order has a fucking expiration date on it?” 

You gave him another hard shove - perhaps expecting to prompt an answer out of him, or wanting to shove him off the porch entirely and get him out of your life once again. Which of those it was, you weren’t even sure. 

“You better have a good fucking reason for showing up here!” You screeched, your voice becoming so loud that it wore out your throat. 

“Look, Y/N, I-” He stuttered out. 

“Don’t say my name.” You hissed, cutting him off. “Don’t say my name like we’re friends.” 

You glared at him, crossing your arms over your chest, and Spencer shoved his hands into his pockets, now finding himself utterly speechless. 

He definitely was not expecting this kind of reception. 

… 

You hadn’t taken the news that you were potentially being hunted by a serial killer very well. 

Although, strangely enough, that wasn’t even close to being the hot topic when JJ and Spencer got back in the car, watching you pull out of your driveway to attend to something you said was entirely urgent. 

“What the hell happened between the two of you?” JJ asked, the question finally unleashing from her lips. 

“It’s complicated.” Spencer huffed out in reply. 

…

Eventually - you did sit down and talk things out with Spencer, calmly. 

He had a lot of questions, and you tried your best to answer them. 

“Can I ask you one more thing?” Spencer asked when it came to the forefront of his mind. 

“Sure,” You sighed. “I think we have a few more minutes before you have to go.” 

“When did you find out that you were pregnant?” He asked. “Was it - was it before? Or after?” 

“After.” You told him. “It - it was about two weeks after. When I took one of those at home tests. And I had already made up my mind that I never wanted to see you again. So just - then and there, I decided that I was gonna raise the kid alone.” 

“So - so do you know when-?” Spencer began, and you cut him off. 

You already knew what he was going to say. 

‘Do you know when he was conceived?’ 

“No.” You rushed to say. 

But it was a lie. You knew. 

You felt like you couldn’t tell him the truth about this. If there was one thing you couldn’t afford to do right now, with Spencer Reid sitting at your kitchen table, staring at you with his big, inquisitive, glossy eyes, licking his lips, with his firm jaw set tight in contemplation - you couldn’t afford to go reminiscing with him about the night your son had been conceived. 

You had spent a lot of time during your pregnancy thinking. Doing the math. Trying to remember. 

And you knew exactly when. 

The night was so vivid in your mind. 

… 

He captured your lips in a smooth, knowing, passionate kiss - you didn’t hesitate to moan into his mouth, and Spencer echoed it right back. He had missed you so much during the day; even though he had seen you less than forty-eight hours before this, he felt decades of yearning in his heart. 

When he felt the bare head of his cock bump up against your entrance, smearing your wetness over him, he moaned even harder against your mouth. He pulled away from the kiss with a huff, moving his hand to your hip then as he asked a very important question. 

“Do you have a condom?” 

It broached the front of his mind, then, that he hadn’t brought one with him. 

“You don’t need one.” You breathed out in reply, combing your hand through his hair, raking your nails across his scalp in a way that made his hips unconsciously buck forward. 

When he felt more of that warm wetness smear across him, his cock just barely dipping into your heat - he didn’t entirely care to decipher the meaning behind your words. He simply trusted you. 

“Please, Spencer.” You begged quietly. “I need you. Just you.” 

(Later, when he was looking back on it, he would have guessed that you meant you were taking your oral birth control consistently. But looking back on it now - it was the only time within those last months of your relationship that the two of you didn’t use a condom. You were urging him on, and maybe, at the time - a baby truly was what you had in mind.) 

He wasn’t one to deny you anyway. And he certainly wasn’t going to deny himself of this. 

He reached down and used a hand around the base of his cock to help line himself up, and gently guided the length of his cock into you. 

This was always his favorite part. 

The gasp - the lilting moan you let out when his cock first slid into you, the way your thighs flexed around his hips - it was all so perfect. But it was even more perfect without the barrier of a condom in the way. 

It was perfect. It was so easy; it all came so naturally between the two of you. It was a perfect rhythm between your bodies that came from knowing each other so well, feeling so at ease with each other. 

It wasn’t just out of the visceral need to have him inside of you; it was the pure yearning to feel close to him, to have him as physically close as possible. 

With you, so tight and beautiful around him - he didn’t last. He couldn’t. 

“Y/N.” He warbled out your name, almost as a warning. 

“It’s okay.” You breathed back. “Cum for me. Come on, please.” 

Spencer couldn’t resist - not when you said ‘please’. 

The sound that came from his chest could only be described as a cry, and any fleeting thought he might have had about pulling out left his brain in a millisecond when he felt your tightness fluttering around him, his hips unconsciously fucking deep into you, his body loving the feeling of being held tightly there while your cunt milked him for all he was worth. 

He certainly didn’t miss the sweet moans you let out - the bright eyed awe you started up at him with as you felt his cum fill you up for the first time. 

… 

It was one of the last good memories you had with Spencer - one of the most perfect pictures you had of who he truly was before he came home from Georgia such a different person, and you had no clue why. 

Spencer could instantly see the lie in your body language - how closed off you became, how quickly you rushed to cut off his words. Along with the intense heat reflected in your eyes. You were thinking about that night. 

He thought he knew exactly which night you were thinking about, and he was going to call you out on it, make you admit in your own words how perfect that night was, even if the two of you were ruined now, a shadow of what you once were. 

But he was disrupted by the sound of his phone ringing.

#sundrop writes #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid #dad!spencer reid #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you

[yandere-writer-momo]

Yandere Short Stories: Love Me More

Yandere Supervillian x Afab Reader x Ex Superhero

In honor of spooky month, you’re all getting some of my old original thriller works. Enjoy

8.4 k words

Buy Me a Coffee, Please?

    Crescent shaped wounds formed on the palms of soft (skin color) hands while (eye color) eyes stared holes into the tv and the daily broadcast. Blood dripping from the young woman’s lips from the force of her biting them. 

     “Today’s broadcast starts off with the news of the blooming relationship between the superhero Hydro and Heroine Terra. The two started off as partners on missions before taking their relationship to the next level! Who knew such chemistry existed between the two?!” A reporter stated while showing videos of the blonde haired hero kissing a pink haired woman. The two did look good together but there was only one problem. Hydro, no… Reign, was (your name)’s boyfriend. 

     Reign had always told her not to use the tv remote but she was just so bored in the house. Ever since powers had started appearing seven years ago from a mysterious storm, Reign had been keeping her locked up in their shared house. The blonde had insisted it was for her utmost safety, but now (your name) felt like it was all just a rouse to keep her in the dark on his affair.

    A scream left (your name)’s throat as she began pressing all the tv buttons in frustration before throwing the tv remote away from the couch. A small thud echoing in the room while the tv screen turned black.

    The young woman began to shake as she tried to conceal her sobs while she patiently waited for her boyfriend to come home. Her form shaking as she gazed numbly at the blood dripping from her hands.

    She had waited an entire week for him to return from his latest mission. She had been worried sick about him since he hadn’t answered her calls or texts asking how he is or what he was doing. And now (your name) knew why. The true reason in why Reign never replied… was because he had another woman in his life.

    Seven years down the drain. She has always wondered why he hadn’t taken her on dates in the last two years since he had risen to stardom. Why he wasn’t as affectionate before or as talkative. Why he never held her or told her he loved her as much anymore.

   Perhaps some part of herself had deluded her into believing it was just a phase. Never in her life would she have thought she would be the phase. This was no Superman and Louis Lane love story. This was real life.

    Reign would never want to be associated with a girl who had a low grade power like hers. What good was a healing power if she couldn’t even heal a partner who was never injured anymore?

    (Your name) and him would never get married or have the happy ending she had always hoped to have since her rough childhood. It would only be Reign and Terra’s. The perfect super couple that took the nation by storm. 

    (Your name) sighed, a few tears falling down her face. She had thought his sudden avoidance of her was due to the high stress of his work. So she had given him space to organize his thoughts and feelings. The young woman had tried so hard to comfort him with his favorite foods, writing him notes everyday, and making sure their home was always clean. And for what? For him to cheat on her and lie about it? Did he even deserve a good bye?

    (Your name) thought for a moment before releasing a sad sigh. Reign truly didn’t deserve anymore than she could possibly offer him. He didn’t deserve a good bye. Especially not when he was the one who left first.

    (Your name) knew what she needed to do. It was time to let go before she became even more of a mess. But first, she should clean up her hands and lips. 

    The young woman walked to the bathroom and began rinsing her hands, the hot water stinging the self inflicted wounds lightly. Dull (eye color) orbs staring at her reflection as she released a sigh. She practically looked like a corpse with the bags under her eyes. When was the last time she smiled anyways? Has it truly been a year since she truly felt anything?

    A light green glow left her hands as she healed her broken skin. It was the least she could do so no one thought she was insane when she walked out of this house with a duffle bag.

   (Your name) shut off the water before heading into her separate room to pack her things. The couple hadn’t slept together in months and it really took a toll on her. It was pathetic just how far she had let herself wallow in self loathing and pity. 

    (Eye color) eyes frowned at the photo of a blonde male smiling as he held her younger self. A (skin color) hand reaching out and placing the picture face down. Her hands quickly facing all the photos of them face down so she didn’t have to see his face while she packed. She didn’t want to be reminded of the love they once shared.

    Such a shame the fame had gotten to him. Reign was her first love, her first for so many things. But it was time to put him away, just like he did to her. 

    (Your name) smiled sadly before packing up what few belongings she had, making sure to leave whatever Reign had gotten her behind. She didn’t want any reminders of him and his broken promises any longer.

   “Good bye, Reign.” (Your name) whispered as she left the empty house. “I wish you happiness.”

.

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     Bars were never really her scene and yet here she was lightly sipping on some Scotch. The bitter alcohol stinging her throat while her eyes scanned the crowd.

    The scent of sweat and liquor causing her nose to crinkle in disgust. Just what I’m earth was she thinking coming to a place like this?

    This was the nearest bar to the cheap hotel she was staying at for the time being before she found a job to make enough money to move to another city.

    A sigh escaping her throat. Her mind was still in shambles and a complete mess. Even this small glass of liquor couldn’t satisfy the lonely ache in her chest.

    The young woman raised her hand up to attract the bar tender. “I’d like to close my tab please.”

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   The walk to the hotel wasn’t too bad. Just pass by a few alleyways and she’d be right there in her tiny room. Hopefully there weren’t any roaches in her bed…

   A sudden groan reached her ears, causing the young woman to freeze in place. (Your name) turning her head left towards the alleyway in fright. The young woman trembling as her mind began to race.

   She was going to be stabbed wasn’t she? Young women always got abducted or stabbed… or raped at night. And what could she do to defend herself?! She didn’t even have a taser-

    “Please…” a deep voice barely whispered while another groan left the alleyway. “Please help me…”

    The young woman began to pace as she tried to sort her thoughts. Her mind was telling her no but her heart clenched at the thought of someone truly needing help.

  “Screw it.” (Your name) slowly made her was into the alleyway, her (eye color) eyes nervously scanning the alleyways.

     “Hello?” (Eye color) orbs widened as she stared at the male before her in shock. Deep gashed covering his body while ragged breaths left the male’s throat. The young woman quickly rushing over as she began trying to talk to the young man. “Oh lord, you need a hospital-“

   The male reached a hand out, blood now staining the white sleeves of her coat. Red eyes meeting (eye color) orbs for the first time.

   “N-no hospital…” the male rasped while his eyes gazed at here in desperation. “P-please… put me out of my misery-“

   “I-I can heal you!” The young woman quickly leaned forward while a green glow surrounded her hands while she tried to heal as many of his wounds as she could. “Please don’t die-“

   “It’s okay… I don’t have anything to live for.” There was so much blood. Whatever or whoever had wounded him, had truly wanted him dead. 

    Tears began to gather in her eyes while she tried to desperately heal the large gashes on the man before her. Just why did her powers have to be so weak? 

   “Please, whatever may be out there… I just want to save this one person. Please…” tears fell down her face as the male began to slump over ever so slightly. “I just want to save someone so I can have purpose again.”

   The male’s eyes widened as the green glow began to become brighter while his wounds quickly began closing. A warmth filling his body and soul while she worked her magic. The young woman beginning to slump as a wave of exhaustion hit her.

   “Hey-“ the male quickly caught her before she fell on the pavement. His heart drumming in his chest as he realized she had passed out.

    Healing abilities were so incredibly rare this day and age. They were usually killed off so they wouldn’t interfere with the hospitals since they could heal for free… so just how on earth did she come to find him? Wait a moment…

    The dark haired male smiled softly as he studied her pretty face, his face lighting up in recognition. It was (your name)… She was still so pretty and small… would she be willing to be his new purpose now that she was all alone?

    Did she still remember him from high school? She had always been such a sweet girl, such a shame she chose Reign Huston over him. He could’ve give her the world… but now he could! He truly could give her the world… or at least what would be left of it when he was done with it.

    It must be fate that had brought them together! The string of fate must be tied tightly to their fingers, uniting them in a time of hardship once again.

   The male slowly rose up. The dark haired man carry her out of the alleyway with a smile on his face. 

    “You’ll be my reason to live again and I’ll be yours.” The male waved his right hand, a Violet portal appearing before the two. “My true reason on why I want to burn this world to the ground. Nothing will ever hurt you or I ever again.”

    The poor girl has no idea that the man she just saved was a monster… a monster she had once unknowingly escaped from in the past…

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    Reign finally arrived home after not receiving any texts or calls from (your name). Which was strange for her since she always clung to him whenever he left for long periods of time.

    Maybe she realized what he had to do in order to crawl up the ranks of superheroes. Reign couldn’t afford for the public to know of their relationship. It was dangerous to be with someone who couldn’t protect themselves.

   It would be nerve racking to be seen with a girl who had no name or strong ability to protect herself since he was such a well known hero now. Reign was just lucky Terra was in the same boat as him. With the pink haired woman by his side on the media, he’d be able to have the perfect looking life. A life where (your name) would never be endangered or discovered.

    Reign had felt terrible distancing himself from her but he had felt so guilty for pretending to be with someone else. It was what his agency wanted for more media coverage. Yet he knew this was all for the best if he wanted enough money to move the two of them far from anyone and everything.

     “I’m home-“ silence greeted Reign when he walked into the empty house. His brow furrowing in confusion at the eerie silence. “Hello?”

    The blonde male began to walk around the house, his blue eyes narrowing in concern. Where was she? (Your name) always greeted him when he came home.

   “(Your name)?” Reign reached her bedroom door, the male reaching a hand up to knock on the smooth, white wood. “I’m home-“

    The door creaked open before he could even knock, the male’s blue eyes widening at the sight of a bare room with all of the pictures placed down. The room looked as if it was ransacked in a hurry.

    “(Your name)?!” Reign quickly entered the room as his blue eyes began to scan for any sign of his girlfriend. “(Your name)?!”

    Reign then began to run room to room as he called out for her.

    “(Your name)?! Please answer me!” Reign began to dash to the living room as tears began to gather in his eyes. She couldn’t have left right? Didn’t she know how dangerous it was out there?

   The male took a step near the tv, his foot landing on top of the remote, causing the tv screen to light up. A loop of the broadcast from the other day beginning to talk.

    ‘Today’s broadcast starts off with the news of the blooming relationship between the superhero Hydro and Heroine Terra. The two started off as partners on missions before taking their relationship to the next level! Who knew such chemistry existed between the two?!’

    Reign’s eyes widened in shock as he felt his chest tighten. He had forgotten to hide the remote… she wasn’t supposed to know.

   Reign choked back a sob as he realized what he had done. Oh god… she left him.

    Reign began to freak out. (Your name) had a healing power and that was considered illegal since the hospitals didn’t want any competition. What if she was killed or kidnapped for her powers?

    Reign took a deep breath before trying to calm himself. He was going to have to find her and explain everything.

    Maybe he’d have to use some of his old skills back when he first had gotten (your name) into his arms… it shouldn’t be hard to hack into the city’s traffic cameras. One of them had to have had caught something of her. He was sure of it.

    “Don’t worry, (your name). I’ll find you.”

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    Light trickled down from a window. It’s bright rays shining on (your name)’s face, the young woman groaning as she began to stir awake. Her brows furrowing at the unfamiliar room she resided in. Where in earth was she?

   (Eye color) orbs examined the modern gothic room. The young woman turning her head around to see that the king sized bed was in the center of the room behind the giant windows of a balcony. Green foliage of exotic plants hanging from the ceilings, the giants leaves covering some of the light from the full moon. Long black and red candles sat on shelves on the black walls, illuminating the room in a comforting manner.

    “Are you awake?” A deep voice asked, the young woman turning to gaze at the door frame. A tall male with long black hair stood in the doorframe. His red eyes staring at her in adoration. “You’ve been out like a light for almost two days now.”

    The male stalked forward slowly like a predator. His red eyes never leaving (your name)’s. A small smile slowly crawling on his plump lips while his eyes became half lidded. The male bending down to sit beside her in the bed.

    “You saved my life.” The male then gently grasped her hand in his much larger one, placing a gentle kiss on the back of it. “My name is Dante Hawkthorne. May I have the pleasure of knowing your name?”

    (Your name) blinked a few times in disbelief. The man she had saved was one of the most influential businessmen of the century. Just what on earth was he doing in an alleyway? Could he have been jumped? Or maybe he was doing something sleazy?

    (Your name) shook her head to clear her thoughts. It’s not like it was her place to judge him since she was also on the sleazier part of town.

    “My name is (your full name).” The young woman gave him a soft smile, causing Dante’s cheeks to blush.

    “That’s a beautiful name for a beautiful girl…” the young man then slowly pulled away from her as he stood up to his full height. “Would you care to have dinner with me?”

    (Your name) raised a brow at the arm he offered for her to grab. It wouldn’t hurt to indulge in his offer would it?

    “That sounds lovely, Dante.” The male’s breath hitched for a moment before he quickly composed himself.

    “How does (favorite meal) sound?” The two began making their way towards the dining hall. Each one exchanging small talk.

    Turns out Dante was only three years her senior and he owned a lot of morgues and graveyards in the city. She would’ve never thought he’d be the type involved with the dead so it was pretty interesting to see and hear about.

     Yet she couldn’t help but have a deep gut feeling that there was something off about him.

   Perhaps it was the way his eyes lingered on her a little too much for comfort or the way he couldn’t keep his hands to himself. His large hands constantly rubbing against hers as they made their way towards the dining hall in the long hallways.

    “Are you alright, Dante?” The male simply gave her a soft smile as he stared at her lips intently.

    “Yes. I cannot thank you enough for what you did for me back there. Perhaps it has made me enamored with you.”

    “Pardon?”

   “How do I put this?” Dante tapped a pale finger to his light pink lips before giving her a flirtatious smirk. “You enthrall me.”

    (Your name) blinked a few times at the oddly flirtatious male before giving him a nervous smile. She had never been the type of girl who had gotten the attention of men like this before. What on earth was she supposed to do?

    “Um… I’m flattered?” A deep chuckle broke her from her nervous thoughts.

   “You’re quite cute, miss (your name).” The young woman could only chuckle nervously while she turned her head towards the ground. Hopefully he would let her leave soon after this meal. She really needed to get out of this city as soon as possible.

    “Um… thank you.” The young woman perked up at the sight of the long table in the center of the grand, gothic dining hall. “Oh wow. Your home is so lovely.”

    (Eye color) orbs gazed intently at the various portraits on the walls. A shiver rolling down her spine when her eyes met one of a young woman that looked eerily similar to herself. And did that painting just blink?

     (Your name) nearly jumped out of her shoes at the sudden creak the chair made while Dante pulled it out of place. The brunette giving her a soft smile, as if to reassure her that he only had benevolent intentions towards her.

    “Thank you, Dante.” (Your name) gently took a seat. Dante quickly sliding her into her spot before taking a seat beside her. 

     A group of masked butlers quickly scurried into the room with various bottles of expensive looking liquor in their black gloved hands. Which seemed odd to the young woman that she couldn’t see their face or hands.

     “Would you care for some wine? I have all kinds of flavors and colors. Whatever you may like.” Dante smiled, gesturing his hand to all of the bottles the butlers held. 

    “Oh… I would like some (favorite wine).” 

     “Excellent choice, my dear.” Dante then snapped his fingers, one of the butlers gracefully walking forward. The red number one reflecting off the black wooden mask on his face. His feet moving in an uncomfortably stiff way that was almost unnatural. It was if the butler was a doll.

    With perfect poise, the butler’s posture never grew slack as he poured the (wine color) wine into the glass in front of her. The butler than quickly snapped to attention once the wine was poured, giving the two a low bow.

    “Thank you, Henry.” The butler then made his way back to the other line of butlers while another stepped forward to pour a deep red wine into Dante’s cup, the dark haired male giving her a smile. The red number seven was on this butlers head, but that wasn’t what made the hair stand up on the back of (your name)’s neck. It was the fact that she couldn’t see the butler’s eyes, almost as if he didn’t have any.

   “(Your name). Are you ready for the meal?” Dante asked the young woman, snapping her from her musings. The young woman giving Dante a nervous smile. 

   “That sounds lovely.” Dante snapped his fingers. The butlers stepping back to make room for the black masked cooks to make their way towards the couple. The numbers one, two, and three on their masks this time. Yet unlike the butlers, the numbers on their foreheads were a dull yellow rather than a deep red.

    The tallest one, three, pushed a golden cart that had two golden covers atop of the golden plates. The shortest one, number one, then perfectly placed the meals in front of the two. Just as stiffly as the butler who had poured their wine into their drinks.

    “Thank you.” (Your name) told the butler, who didn’t respond, causing Dante to narrow his eyes.

    “She told you thank you, Ayden.” Dante hissed, the cook hurriedly giving the young woman a bow. A smile now in place on Dante’s lips. “Thank you, Ayden.”

   The cook with the number two then stepped forward to hand (your name) and Dante a glass of water. The three cooks giving them a curt bow before pushing their golden cart away and back to the kitchen.

    (Your name) pulled the lid off, her eye brows furrowing at what lord under the cover… this was (favorite food)… how did Dante know her favorite meal?

    “What’s the matter, (your name)? Is the food not to your liking?” Dante asked with furrows brows, the male clenching his fists tightly. “I can ask the cooks to remake it. Is it not (hot/ cold) enough?”

    “Oh it’s not that, Dante.” (Your name) gave the dark haired male a reassuring smile, causing him to unclench his fist. “This is my favorite food… it was just interesting on how this is what they served me is all.”

    “Oh!” Dante removed the lid on his food to reveal the same meal. “It’s my favorite food as well!”

   (Your name) sighed in relief as she took a bite from the meal. This was probably the best she’s ever had of it. “This is delicious, Dante.”

    “I only have the best in my home.” Dante smiled, the male then grabbing his glass as he raised it. “A toast to you, my savior.”

    (Your name) nervously raised the glass before clinking it with Dante’s. The two taking a swig. The taste was a little off, which may be due to how expensive it looked. But other than that, the wine was excellent.

     “Is the wine also to you liking?”

    “It’s very good.” Dante smiled as he intently watched (your name) eat her food. 

    A sudden wave of tiredness swept over the young woman, which was odd.

    “Are you alright, (your name)?” Dante asked, his brows furrowing in worry as he rose from his seat.

    “Oh I am just a little tired is all.” (Your name) gave Dante a reassuring smile. “It feels terribly rude to be so tired when I’m sharing a meal with you.”

    “Nonsense. You can spend the night here.” Dante smiled, causing (your name) to grow goosebumps at the strange look in his eyes. (Your name) raised her hands up while she tried to think of an excuse to leave. Something felt off.

    “Oh but I don’t want to be a burden-“ Dante’s hands clasped her.

   “Oh what nonsense. You saved my life!” Dante flashed (your name) a charming smile, the young man then rose up from his seat. Dante held out a large, pale hand to her. “I can escort you to your room if you are not comfortable walking alone. Tomorrow I can also arrange a maid or two to prepare a bath for you until you feel better.”

    (Your name) hesitantly took Dante’s hand, the young man helping her up from her chair. His red eyes never leaving her form. 

    Dante snapped his fingers, nodding his head at cook one and two to gather up the plates.

   “Perhaps tomorrow, in the morning we could have a nice breakfast in the garden?” Dante smiled, which caused (your name) to nervously giggle. “It’d be like a date-“

    “Oh I just got out of a relationship so I’m not sure if I feel comfortable going so fast yet-“ (your name) shivered at the twisted smile that flashed on Dante’s lips for the briefest of moments. 

    “I’m a patient man, (your name). I can wait.” Dante led her towards her room, his eyes carefully observing her to make sure she didn’t pass out too early. Soon she would be completely in his grasp and assimilated in her new role.

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    Pale fingers traced circles on (your name)’s smooth skin, the fingers slowly working their way up to her (hair type) locks.

    “You’re still so beautiful even after all these years.” Dante smiled dreamily before grasping small section of her hair and brining it to his lips. Dante pressed his soft lips to the hair before taking in a deep inhale of her scent. The male moaning in ecstasy.

     How many years has it been since he’s last touched her? Seven? Eight?

     The male shivered to himself when (your name) released a soft breath while she slept. Her lips looked so soft… it would be okay if he snuck just a small kiss on her, right?

    Dante gulped while his palms began to sweat profusely in anticipation. His teenage self had always dreamed of touching her. Of being with her… of being inside of her. 

     Dante wanted to be inside her body, mind, and soul. He wanted to be the thought, no, the being that never left her mind. The one she would call out for at night as he pleasured her night after night, day after day. He wanted her to be all of his just like he was always all of hers.

    Dante slowly swung his body on top of hers. His form straddling hers while his body looked over hers. His red eyes almost glowing in the dark like a predator of the night.

    Dante interlaced his fingers with her hands as he held her hands above her head. His long black locks hanging over his face, the locks tickling her skin.

    “I have always loved you… it’s meant to be, (your name)…” Dante then leaned forward, his warm breath fanning her face. His eyes becoming heavy lidded with lust. “You were always so sweet to me… it was so hard to live without you for all these years…”

    “But it’s worth all the pain and suffering I had to go through now that we’ve crossed paths again…” Dante released a soft chuckle before leaning his face just an inch from hers. “I wonder if you’ll ever know who I am unless I show you a picture from the past… I wouldn’t mind either way because the face you have now is custom made just for you.”

    Dante’s lips then gently pressed against hers. His breathing becoming erratic when he immediately pulled away. His eyes now completely consumed with lust, his hips slowly grinding into hers. A low moan escaping his lips, the male biting them to prevent anymore sounds from leaving him.

    “The doctor said the drugs were pretty strong so I could kiss and touch you more… I could kiss and touch you all over.” Dante then pressed his lips to her lips again and again. The young man moving his lips all over her face and shoulder in a sort of worshipping manner. “You’re mine now. Mine. Mine. Mine.”

    “So won’t you love me more than him now?”

    Dante glanced at the clock before sighing at the time. It was almost midnight now. He should probably let her get some rest.

    Red eyes took a longing look at her pretty hairs, his eyes flashing with desire yet again. 

    “I’ll just take a small amount of hair… you won’t even notice.” Dante pulled a knife from his pocket with a smile on his face. “I’ll add it to my collection.”

     “Welcome home, (your name).”

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    “Shit!” Reign hissed as he slammed his fist into the wall of the seedy motel. (Your name) hasn’t returned to her motel room in a few days now. Could something have happened to her?

    Reign placed his head in his hands as he sighed in aggravation. It was highly unlikely anyone would have her. If anyone… no, no. It couldn’t possibly be that weirdo from high school… what was his name again?

     Dante Noxwell. He was always hovering around wherever (your name) was when they were in school, picking up items she dropped like some sort of pigeon hungry for scraps. He was never a very good looking fellow either with his hunched over back and scarred face. 

    Yet that never stopped (your name) from being kind to the freak. She always sent a smile his way or laughed at his stupid jokes… Reign knew Dante coveted her. Reign always watched Dante’s red eyes stare at (your name) longingly, almost as if he thought he was worthy of her.

    It disgusted Reign to no end. Dante’s eyes, Dante’s smiles, and most of all, his audacity to even breathe the same air as (your name), pissed him off to no end.

    No one deserved to be around her, no one but him. Nobody could protect (your name) as well as Reign did. It was Reign’s own fault for being careless and leaving the tv remote in a place she could find it. She just didn’t understand the lengths he had to go through to protect her. 

    Once he found her though, he would be sure to lock her up even better this time. He had gotten too comfortable with time but he’d have to improve where he failed. 

   Reign swore to himself he’d never fail (your name) ever again. She would never, ever escape from him again. Never.

    Reign stormed out of the room, his head deep in his thoughts. Perhaps he could try Dante’s address… it wouldn’t hurt to try would it?

    Reign placed his hand in his pockets. Completely unaware of the security camera focused on him…

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    (Your name) groaned, the dancing dreams flickering away when her eyes fluttered opened to see the bright sun light that lit up the room. Had she truly passed out?

    (Your name) glanced around the room in confusion. How I’m earth did she get back to her room and what was going on?

     “Hello-“

    The bedroom door creaked open revealing a tall feminine figure. The maid wore a white mask with the number seven on it in pink, entered the room with perfect posture. The door loudly shutting behind her.

    The maid gave (your name) a curtsy before grabbing an outfit from the closet beside the bed. Her white gloves were completely spotless and she had such a strange scent to her…

     “Oh, you don’t have to-“ (your name)’s eyes widened at all the clothes that were in her size. How on earth did they have her size? “How do you have my size-“

  The maid gently handed (your name) the clothes, the young woman grabbing her hand in haste.

    “Wait-“ the maid pulled her arm away, the glove slipping off her hand a bit to reveal greenish tinted skin. Alarm bells ringing in (your name)’s head at the sight. “What-“

    The maid quickly pulled up her glove before bowing. The maid quickly exited the room, (your name)’s mouth hanging open in surprise.

   What on earth was wrong with the maid’s skin?

   “Are you decent yet, (your name)?” Dante’s low voice from the other side of the door requested politely. “I’ll escort you to breakfast on the patio personally.”

      “Not yet!” (Your name) bit at her nails. The young woman didn’t really want to stay at Dante’s home any longer. Something felt completely off about the place and she did not want to spend a minute longer in here.

     (Your name) nervously fidgeted with her hands. She was going to have to sneak out at night in order to get away from him. And hopefully everyone would be asleep by then.

   Dante frowned at (your name). He could tell what the young woman was thinking and he didn’t like it one bit. Looks like he’d have to teach her a lesson earlier than expected.

    For now, he’s play along. He would treat her like a princess and make sure not to slip up in front of her. 

    A soft jingle came from Dante's phone, the male quickly looking at the device in annoyance. Yet his expression quickly changed to joy at what he saw.

    “Oh what is it, Dante?” (Your name) asked, a fake smile on her pretty lips.

    “Oh nothing too crazy…” Dante gave (your name) a bright jovial smile. “Just found out I finally caught the rat in my trap is all. That vermin has been plaguing me for quite some time.”

   (Your name) nodded, completely oblivious to what Dante had truly meant. But that was okay. Dante didn’t think she’d like that he had referred to Reign as a rat.

  Yet she didn’t know that Dante had purposely put out the wrong address for people to find him at if they looked hard enough. It was always funny to see his enemies in the graveyard they would soon be buried in.

    Dante cleared his throat before gleaming at the woman beside him. She had no idea how elated he truly was with this news. One more body to join his collection.

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      Dante smiled at all of the security footage on his computer screen. His face twisting into a grin as he spotted Reign entering the hotel where (your name) was last seen. 

    How silly of Reign to not think that Dante would finally have the upper hand this time. 

    A deep chuckle left Dante’s throat, his eyes turning to the other monitor to see all the angles of (your name)’s bedroom. A dreamy sigh leaving his throat.

   “Soon you’ll be all mine. And this time with no interruptions.” Dante leaned his cheek against the screen that showed (your name) sleeping in her bed. The dark haired man gently kissing the screen before releasing a dreamy sigh. “It’ll all go the way it was supposed to the first time.”

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     (Your name) wandered around the halls, being sure to duck into the corners to avoid being spotted by the workers of the estate. 

    She had to get out of here as quickly as she could. It just didn’t feel safe anymore. It has already been almost two weeks since she had been trapped in this estate. 

  Anything was better than being trapped like a bird in a cage again.

    (Eye color) eyes peered around the corners to make sure no one would spot her before she crossed over to the other hall. So far, no luck in finding an exit.

   Tap. Tap. Tap. (Your name) paused in her steps, her eyes widening at the sight of a masked worker with a blue number, eighteen, on their forehead that strolled adjacent to the hall she was on. The young woman gulping at the rifle strapped to their back. Why on earth would a worker need a rifle?

   (Eye color) orbs quickly scanned for a place to hid. A black door sat to her right. 

  As quiet as a mouse, the young woman tiptoed to the door. Her body shaking in fear of being discovered by the worker. 

   (Skin color) hands shook as she turned the handle. The woman rushed into the door, the door softly clicking shut behind her. A sigh of relief leaving her throat.

    (Your name) turned around and leaned her back against the door. Her (eye color) orbs widening at shock in what the room held. 

   The room stretched in a barely illuminated hall. A large portrait covered with a red drape sat on the end of the hall as well as a light switch. Each side of the wall appeared to be lined with a pattern of mirrors and portraits of some sort.

  What on earth could that possibly be? What were truly on those walls?

    Before (your name) could stop herself, her feet wandered forwards towards the covered up portrait. As if she were a piece of metal drawn to a powerful magnet.

    She needed to know what was behind that drape. Perhaps it was the truth of this entire situation. Her  limbs continued to move on their own. Her hands reaching out to lightly touch the drape that held the portrait.

    With a sharp tug, the drape fell to the ground, all the lights turning on in the room to reveal the entire hall. The grotesque face of a boy from her past staring back at her.  The scarred up face of her schoolmate stared back at her with his dull red eyes.

   “Oh my god…” (your name) took a step back before falling onto her bottom. It all made sense now on why she felt so uncomfortable.

   (Your name) then turned to gaze down the lit up hall. Bile riding in her throat at the various portraits of Dante’s face and body changing over the years. Yet it was one that stuck out to her the most…

    It was the small picture of Reign that sat in the corner of each portrait. Was Dante trying to be Reign?

    (Your name) quickly rose up to her feet. She had to leave. She had to get out of here. It wasn’t safe here. No… it was never safe here.

    (Your name) quickly dashed down the hall, only to see one of the guards standing in front of the doorway. A rotting stench coming from him.

   “Please move-“ the guard pushed his mask aside to reveal the green skin of a walking corpse. His eyes, nose, and tongue completely missing. 

     (Your name) screamed loudly as the guard came charging at her. An inhuman snarl leaving the guard’s throat. 

   But a swift kick came to the guard’s side. Dante standing over the guard with a disgusted look on his face.

    “What a useless puppet you are.” Dante then held out his hand, the corpse instantly turning to dust. “He didn’t scare you too much, did he darling?”

    (Your name) froze at the familiar nickname. Her whole body convulsing into shivers.

    “I’m glad you know who I am now!” Dante smiled brightly  as if he hadn’t just turned a corpse to dust a second ago. “We can finally continue where we left off!”

    “What are you talking about?” (Your name) whimpered, Dante chuckling. His red eyes shining brightly.

    “Well the answer to the letter I sent you all those years ago, darling!” Dante exclaimed, throwing his arms up in the air. “Unless you didn’t get to read it before that bastard ripped it out of your hands.”

    Oh (your name) knew exactly what Dante was talking about. He had written her many, many creepy love letters those years. The dead body of the kitten she used to feed was still fresh into her memory. Dante had claimed he saw Reign had poisoned the kitten due to jealousy and wanted her to give it a proper burial. Yet (your name) didn’t think her ex would do such a horrible thing… right?

 But the one he had personally delivered to her was the most simple of all. Dante had asked her to be his girlfriend on his knees in front of the entire school and Reign tore up the confession letter. The blonde then kicking Dante across the head repeatedly.

    “I don’t know if I can give you an answer-“

    “Darling. Baby! You’ve had seven years to think!” Dante’s expression changed to match his frustration with (your name)’s difficulty. “And I had seven years to adjust my appearance to your tastes. Do you know how busy I was over these years? How many diet plans and how much  exercise I pushed myself through just to become the perfect man for you?”

    Dante ripped the front of his shirt to show her his chisels physique. “This body was made specifically for you! I know you’ve always liked the pretty type-“

    “I-I am flattered, but we just met again-“

    “I’m sure you could love me now that I don’t look like what I used to.” Dante interrupted, his large hands holding hers tightly. “I had a hard time finding these parts to use over the years but I only got the best! Just for you! I almost gave up when I couldn’t find you again. My puppets weren’t efficient enough, I guess.“

   (Your name) furrowed her brows at his words, a shiver rolling down her line. What did he mean?

   “What-“

   “Oh you didn’t know did you?” Dante chuckles before holding out his hand, a large number of workers walking up to the door. “My ability is that I can control the dead.”

   (Your name) shuddered as she watched the workers removed their masks to reveal the green skinned monsters she had seen a little while ago. So everyone here was undead?

    “See? I think I can keep you safe better than Reign can! He locked you away so well for all these years. I couldn’t find you like I used to be able to!” (Your name) felt as if she went numb. Could Reign have been insane as well? Did her ex truly lock her away from the world. 

   “Don’t worry! I can do everything he can do but better!” Dante exclaimed with a bright smile. “I just love you so much!”

    “Dante-“ Dante’s hands quickly grasped hers. His red eyes staring intently into hers.

   “You saved me just like you always used to. Its destiny. Can’t you see?” Dante then pressed his lips to her forehead, his body shivering at the contact. “I can love you so much more than Reign can and I make so much more money than him. I could provide for you-“

    “Dante, it’s okay-“

   Dante suddenly pressed his lips against (your name)’s, his soft lips turning into a smile at the contact. The male slowly pulling away.

   “I could give you so much more than he can.” Dante then wrapped his arms around her waist to pull her onto his lap. His manhood slowly grinding into hers. “I could… I could please you… whatever you want. I’ll do-“

  “But I want to leave-“ Dante pulled (your name) in for another kiss. His tongue forcefully entering her mouth hole his hands began to grab every bit of flesh he could on her body. A strong of saliva connecting the two when he pulled away again.

   “You can’t. You can’t ever leave me again.” Dante buried his head into the crook of her neck. “I’ll go insane. I won’t be able to live again without you. Please just stay, just stay with me. I’ll make you happy.”

    “Dante I’d be happier outside-“ a sharp prick interrupted (your name)’s words. Her eyes widening at Dante’s twisted smile. 

    “No. You can’t leave again…no. I won’t let you.” (Your name) could feel her body going limp, Dante quickly pulling her into his arms. 

    “I promise to love you more than he ever could. I promise you. I’ll keep you safe.”

    (Your name) felt her vision going dark, her eyes fluttering in and out of consciousness. Fear consuming her entire being at the last words she heard from Dante before going into a dreamless sleep.

    “He’ll be taken care of shortly. No more interruptions this time.” 

   What on earth could he possibly mean by that?

.

.

.

    Reign stood in front of a grave yard in confusion. This couldn’t possibly be Dante’s address could it?

    Reign strolled forward. His brows furrowing in thought, unaware of the many eyes that followed his every movement.

   Reign sighed before walking up to the mausoleum in annoyance. Something felt off to him. Almost as if he was missing something. 

  Reign froze when he heard a crunch behind him. The blonde quickly spun around to come face to face with a dark haired man.

    “Who are you?” Reign asked, his brows furrowed in confusion and fear. Why was a man in the middle of a graveyard? 

    “You know who I am very well, Reign.” The male chuckled before slowly walking towards Reign. A twisted smile on his lips. “You used to make my life a living hell everyday after all.”

   “No… you can’t possibly be…” Reign couldn’t believe what he was hearing. There was no way the man in front of him was Dante. He was far too beautiful to be the hunched back boy he used to bully. “Dante?”

    “In the flesh, or at least what is left. I sort of killed that old Dante off years ago.” Dante chuckled, his red eyes meeting Reign’s shocked blue ones. “That boy was far too weak and too helpless to stop you back then. But now… ever since I got my powers. I can easily stop you.”

   Reign held out a hand to blast water at Dante, only for arms to shoot out from the ground and grab his arms and feet. Reign screamed at the sight of all the undead monsters below him. The blonde thrashing to escape but to no avail.

   “Why don’t we chat for a bit, Reign? We have lots of catching up to do after all.” Dante smiled before a chair made of bones rose up from the ground for him to sit on. “You are supposedly supposed to defeat me after all. Nox is a good villain name, don’t you think?”

    “You’re sick. How could you kill so many people-“ a twisted laugh interrupted Reign. Reign’s eyes widening in fear at the feral look on Dante’s face.

   “I’m sick? Then what are you? A saint?” Dante stood from  his chair, the tall male grabbing Reign’s jaw to stare him directly in the eye. “You killed too for her you know. And hurt. And bullied. I was merely searching for her is all. I even tried to find her in other people but to no avail…”

   Dante let go of Reign’s chin to reach into his coat pocket. His pale hand holding out a strand of (hair color) hair in front of the blonde. Reign’s breath hitching in fear and anger.

   “What did you do to her… what did you do to her?!”

   Dante laughed as he began to taunt the blonde with the locks of hair. “Oh nothing yet. I’m merely trying to have her warm her heart up to me. The Stockholm syndrome merely hasn’t set in yet. But she’ll be set for life if she gives into it.”

   Dante placed a hand to his cheek as he let out a lovesick sigh. “She’ll be such a beautiful bride. I did so much work trying to make everything perfect for her… the perfect looking husband, the perfect home, and… a lot of money. I could provide for her and maybe even a small family if she’d allow me the pleasure!” Dante gave Reign a mischievous smirk. “Something you could’ve easily have had if you hadn’t slipped up. Thank you for that by the way. Her and I have been reunited at last… I promise to take good care of her-“

    A glob of spit hit Dante’s cheek, causing Dante to sigh in annoyance. Dante wiped the spit off his cheek in distaste before glaring at Reign.

   “Tch. Seven years and you still haven’t learned proper manners. A shame.”

    “Go to hell.” Reign snarled, his blue eyes glowering at Dante in hatred. 

   “I’ll see you there in a few years then.”

   “I’m going to save her from you!” Reign snarled, the blonde thrashing in the undead’s cold grasp. “I will get her back-“

   Dante gave Reign a sadistic smile, causing the blonde to freeze up. 

    “Sorry. I don’t plan on giving you the same luxury you gave me all this years ago when you beat me to a pulp in front of the entire school.” Dante began to shush the blonde’s tears in a teasing manner. “Shhhh. You’ll be among the dead soon. And I will be the only victor from this.” 

   “But… heroes always-“

   “Oh but who ever said you were a hero?” Dante teased. “Heroes would never do the things you do. You could’ve moved on like a normal person but just like a rat, you’re always digging into places you shouldn’t be. A pity.”

    Dante snapped his fingers, a large army of the undead crawling out from their graves like grotesque puppets.

    “Kill him.” Dante then walked away, the sound of Reign’s screams filling the graveyard. A sound that came to a sudden halt, almost as if it had never even happened.

    “What a shame. I was really hoping for something more… climatic to our reunion.” Dante muttered to himself before turning back. “But I do truly think she’d come to love me more.”

    Dante snapped his finger, a reanimated Reign crawling towards him. A sinister smile crawling on his lips. “Don’t you think I’m more suited for (your name), Reign?”

#female reader #yandere fic #yandere imagine #yandere #yandere original character #Yandere of #yandere villain #yandere hero #yandere lovers #yandere stories #yandere male #yandere males #love triangle #yandere cheater #Yandere ex #original work #horror #thriller #yandere obsession #obsessive yandere #obsessive love #spooky month #enjoy some crumbs

[sytoran]

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝟎𝟎𝟑 — 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐇-𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆

kinktober day 003 | IW!wife!wanda x gn!reader

you've always loved writing stories since young, but the tale of you and your wife writes itself, and it ends with a sweet happy-ever-after.

cont. soft sex, established relationship, romance + fluff

word count. 1477

kinktober masterlist || main masterlist

You’ve always had a thing for writing stories.

From the most devastating tragedies of a sapphic couple in medieval times, to the spiciest of female homoerotic tension during a zombie apocalypse, there were no words beyond the coaxing grasp of your vivid intelligence.

Encompassing was what it was, how the words flowed from the edge of your mindwires to the tips of your fingers, spilling onto page after page of literary beauty. You could get lost in it for days on end, spinning that marionette with a poetic dexterity, making her dance to your stories until her legs could take no more.

It was no secret that writing had been an extraordinary talent of yours, that would later take shape in the path of your future career. 

So there you were, sitting at your study desk on a lazy Saturday morning, nimble fingers flying over your keyboard in an intricate dance, each pausable breath, each rush of words that woved into the fabric of your story.

It’s quite picturesque, if you’re being frank; what with freshly brewed coffee in a steaming hot mug that read ‘Pride not Prejudice’ (Yes, there was an overload of rainbows decorating its surface,) and a breathtakingly idyllic view of the morning sky.

Of course, the skyline would never quite compare to the sight of your lady stepping out of the bedroom. The only causation to cease your words.

“Y/N?”

It’s a beautiful calling, tainted with a sleep-dragged croak of the throat. Brown doe eyes slowly blink to meet your gaze, soft feet making tentative contact with smooth marble.

“Hi, sweetheart,” you respond softly, eyes savouring the sight that is your wife in one of your cream Oxford shirts. Wanda's beauty is underlying and unsaid, beyond the boundaries of conventional and beyond your dictionaried words.

Certainly, Wanda has the traits of what define beauty: your shirt on her is partially unbuttoned to tease at a tantalizing cleavage, the hem of the clothing is high enough to show off the expanse of her porcelain legs.

But it's also the way the sunlight falls on Wanda's skin, like she's a descendant of the Gods that crafted the essence of light, like she was made to dance and roam in the beauty of the day.

It's the way the morning glow accidentally highlights her Grecian-sculpted cheekbones, and the way her light-brown freckles casually pop in that light. It's her collarbone scattered with your marks of violet hues, and that fading scar on her right thigh you never fail to kiss.

A sleepy sigh escapes from Wanda’s lips, and she runs a hand through her perfectly dishevelled hair. You don’t have to say anything, only nod your head in the slightest. The rest is second nature: Wanda slides herself into your lap, arms hooking around the back of your neck, head tucked into the crook of your neck.

Perhaps it was second nature, truthfully, because Wanda didn’t need control when she was around you. You were her control, her steadfast pillar, her rising sun. You were a constant in her ever-changing world, always by her side regardless of whatever insurmountable task might be in her way.

You let an imperceptible sigh of content slip through your lips, but you never stop typing for a second. Emotion was difficult for you to convey, paradoxically, considering the amount of feeling you could put into words. In actuality, it was hard for you to laugh carelessly or have an outburst of fury. Your emotion was quiet and unspoken, much like in the present moment.

Wanda, however, seemed to have other plans in mind.

It started off innocent, because you truthfully believed she was just being affectionate and physically in need of human warmth. And maybe it was, as your girlfriend eased into your lap, nuzzling adorably into your comforting scent.

But when Wanda’s hips begin moving unsubtly, breath growing more delicate on to the curve of your neck, you’re sure without a doubt that this is another one of those times Wanda sought a different kind of fulfillment, the kind that lay adjacent to her pretty thighs.

Your hands dance a little faster on the keyboard. Your eyes are still gazing over the top of Wanda’s head, firmly determined to complete this part of the novel you were working on. 

“Y/N…” Wanda says, reverently softly, pressing up into the warmth of your bodily heat. “Mhm?” you hum absent-mindedly, tucking your forearms in a little closer to entrap Wanda in your embrace.

You replace a comma with a fullstop just as Wanda shifts uncomfortably in your lap. Your wife’s legs fall open and slides her centre around the muscle of your right thigh. Something rises in your chest at the sensation of bare centre meeting your warm skin. 

She cranes her pale neck like a swan, pressing her warm mouth against your neck. You shift imperceptibly, switching a three-letter phrase into a subject-verb concord. When Wanda’s tongue pokes out between her ruby lips, when her sharp teeth scrape over the pulse point of your neck, when her curled hair brushes your exposed skin, an uncontrollable shudder runs through your body.

Backspace. Backspace. Backspace. Your spelling is becoming sloppy, almost like there’s a distraction.

Almost in retaliation, you jerk your knee up, the one that had been situated between Wanda’s thighs, and the mewl that leaves her mouth breaks her porcelain-doll composure. Satisfaction pools in your hips.

Words don’t need to be said between the two of you, as a slight shift in the atmosphere of the dining room sets itself. Wanda’s pants become shallower and quicker, the undulation of her hips speeding up, her legs clenching tighter around your thigh.

Your hands are flying over the keyboard now, your fingers twitching with bridled electricity, having need of some alleviation to express your ever-increasing libido. It’s a wonder how your eyes aren’t yet completely glazed over; yet, they’re moving in mechanical function to type, like you’re clinging on to a fragment of sanity. 

Because honestly, remaining sane while your wife let out the most pitiful whines into your ear certainly wasn’t an easy task. 

“Y/N,” Wanda cries, finally, emitting a sound as she clutches onto the soft fabric of your collared shirt. You can see, in your peripheral vision, the way Wanda’s face morphs into an expression of pleasure, the lines in nose-bridge forming a scrunch. 

Wanda is, without a doubt, the most breathtaking woman you’d ever laid your eyes upon. Reverent devotion bleeds from your mindwires and on to the page, staining it a crimson red as she nears her high. 

Your right thigh is moving in sync with each of Wanda’s humps, and she’s chasing that pleasure for all it’s worth: The clenching of your thigh muscles, the harsh jerks of your thigh as she struggles to ride it properly. 

Leaning down, your lips caress the shell of your wife’s ear, and from your mouth flows the words that are the final seal of acquiescence.

“Come for me, sweetheart.”

Just like that, something snaps inside Wanda, and the edge of your brainwaves fray like an old rope. In that moment, you know your words can take a rest. 

The movement of your fingers come to a halt. There was an unfinished story before you, the plot unfolding but not quite complete. But with Wanda by your side, she writes your story for you, carves the path towards a bittersweet ending. 

She takes the words from the deepest depths of your heart and lets it pour out her mouth, unashamedly, unapologetically, indescribable emotion overflowing from those blossomed lips into her trembling figure, her flushed cheeks.

“Y/N,” Wanda moans, and her sounds raise in pitch when you buck your hips up in a moment of your fractured composure. Her hips grind shamelessly onto the muscle of your thigh, chasing that stimulation.

It’s far from the most intense orgasms you’d brought Wanda to, because she can’t ever reach that level of ecstasy without your prodding fingers or your devil-tongued mouth. Perhaps that’s half of its beauty, though, that the two of you were incomplete without the other.

Wanda curls in your lap as she recovers from her high, enclosed within your forearms and the desk, face buried into your chest to engulf her senses in your scent. There’s sacred solace in the way you tilt your head down to press a fluttering kiss on her neck.

Your word document remains open but unfinished, the coffee in your mug grows cold. Sweet nothings and promised everythings are exchanged between the two of you until the sun has fully risen, hues of amber and gold painting the room.

The only story that mattered was the one before you, the one waiting to be explored.

You’ve had a thing for writing stories since young, and this particular one ends with a happy-ever-after.

this fic is really special to me. i think it's probably some of the best writing i've put out there, so i'd be incredibly grateful if you could give it a reblog ♥

kinktober masterlist || main masterlist

#sytoran's kinktober 2023 #kinktober #kinktober 2023 #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x reader smut #x reader #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff smut #wanda x reader #wanda x reader smut #gxg smut #wlw smut #wanda x y/n #wanda maximoff x you #marvel smut #sub wanda maximoff #top reader #dom reader #bottom wanda maximoff

[ecoamerica]

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[adascore]

Hello! Not sure if you’re taking requests but would you consider doing an addition to TSS where young!arsenal reader was starting before Beth and Viv came back and has been benched majority of the time since (Kyra core☹️). Maybe during like the west ham game was one of the subs thrown on halfway through and after the loss made a snarky comment about “being thrown on to unfuck everything” type of thing to another teammate and Viv/beth overhear and think she’s talking about them (maybe they’re already a little insecure about losing such an “easy” game, self doubt post ACL) and things are super frosty and weird at home until one of them snaps and makes a comment about how they still wouldn’t have won even if R started. Hurt/comfort angst but with a happy ending!! Not sure if any of that strikes your fancy but I had the thought and you’re so talented:) no worries if not!!!

To Jump The Gun(ners)

pairings: arsenal x teen!reader / meadema x teen!reader / kyra cooney-cross x arsenal!reader

warnings: the west-ham match. swearing. angst. awkwardness.

author’s note: OMG LOVE THIS IDEA ! like this was right up my alley I felt like 😭 thank you so much, and I hope you enjoy the story!

masterlist

February 4, 2024 - Essex, England

It had become a routine, seeing her name and number on the bench. She took a glance at Kyra, a knowing look in her eyes.

The young Arsenal homegrown wondered where it all had gotten wrong. Well, she knew the answer, but it wasn't exactly something she could say out loud to anyone.

She was transported back to the 2022/23 season, where she would warm the bench until either Vivianne or Beth were too tired or they needed to be rested for the next match.

Their injuries had changed everything.

Y/N not only became a regular starter, but became a vital part of their game. Her absence would be noticed.

She scored the goals that got them to the semifinals of the Champions League, keeping them level with 2x champions Wolfsburg.

However, Beth and Vivianne were back now. Alessia's arrival also didn't help much, the former Manchester United player having cemented herself into the starting line-up.

It also didn't help that Jonas was not a fan of rotating. Only in specific Conti Cup matches or against what he deemed 'weaker' teams in the league would he make changes to the usual starting XI.

In other words, she was back to step 1.

That's why it was hard to watch her teammates falling 2-1 behind against West Ham, with no one seeming to find an answer or any will to turn the game around. It was a painful spectacle.

In the 63rd minute, Jonas decided to throw herself, Kyra and Cloé in the match, and take out Vivianne, Victoria and Beth. It was a desperate attempt, and the three Gunners found themselves on the pitch, tasked with the challenging mission of trying to fix everything that had gone wrong so far.

Y/N and Cloé quickly created some chances but the West Ham defense or the swift reflexes of Mackenzie Arnold saw them go in vain.

The teenager could see the expressions of her teammates on the bench, visibly frustrated with how the match had unfolded since Alessia's successful header.

Vivianne couldn't hide the discontent in her eyes as she sat with a subtle shake of her head. Her partner, sitting beside her, noticed and Beth patted her thigh, offering silent support as they continued to watch their team scramble for a late equalizer.

As the final whistle blew, the disappointment within the team was high. Y/N did her usual post-match routine, and congratulated all the West Ham players on their win, while giving and receiving solace from her own teammates.

The teen found Kyra again, someone who she had found a friendship in over the months the Australian had joined the Gunners.

''You alright?'' The midfielder asked her, a dejected tone in her voice.

Y/N nodded. ''Yeah, you?''

''Not too great, but there are worse things in life.'' Kyra responded, trying to put the loss in perspective.

''True,'' the striker agreed, ''I can't believe he keeps putting us in these positions.''

Kyra nodded. ''You think he would learn after Tottenham.'' She sighed.

''Apparently, we're not good enough to start, but when he needs us to unfuck everything that happened, then he knows who we are.'' Y/N said, her frustration evident. The unfair treatment of some players during the season lingered in the air, leaving a bitter taste after the defeat.

As the youngsters continued their conversation on their way to the locker room, Vivianne and Beth, unintentionally overhearing their discussion, exchanged puzzled glances.

''Did you hear that? 'Unfuck everything'?'' Beth repeated her housemate's words to her partner.

Vivianne's brow furrowed as she processed what was said. ''Yeah,'' the Dutchwoman breathed out, ''not very nice.'' A hint of sadness lingered in her voice. It stung that their efforts were being discussed in such terms, especially by the young girl they were living with.

They didn't say much else to one another as they strolled through the corridor.

The atmosphere in the locker room was subdued, void of any banter and entertaining chats. Most of the players were already there as the couple walked in.

Beth took a glimpse at Y/N and Kyra who still seemed in a discussion with one another, although they were whispering now.

''Girls, we're a lot better than this.'' Kim broke the ice, a neutral expression on her face.

Everyone nodded at the captain, the collective disappointment from the match was visible. ''Well, it's done, we can't change anything about it. So, everyone just do a reset, try to get some sleep or distract yourselves on the bus, and I expect everyone with fresh minds and legs at training.''

The team nodded and weakly applauded Kim's small speech.

As the team began to disperse, Y/N caught Beth's eye, offering a faint smile in greeting. However, the winger's response was noticeably strained, her usually warm demeanor replaced by a subtle tension.

"Everything okay?" The younger one ventured, her concern evident.

Beth's smile faltered slightly, her gaze flickering away before returning to meet Y/N's. "Yeah, everything's fine." She replied, though her words sounded hollow even to her own ears.

The striker's brow furrowed further, a flicker of uncertainty clouding her features. "Are you sure?" She pressed gently, not used to this awkwardness from her teammate.

"I... yeah, I'm sure." She retorted, her voice tinged with irritation.

"Okay..." Y/N trailed off, unsure of how to proceed. Sensing the dismissiveness between them, she offered a hesitant smile before turning back to where she had been talking with Lia.

As her housemate walked away, Beth's expression hardened, a pang of guilt gnawing at her conscience. She knew she shouldn't act like this towards her, but her words had really struck a nerve for some reason and it was hard to pretend it didn't.

The drive home on the bus wasn't that different, though the atmosphere was more subdued due to the loss. Y/N and Kyra were seated next to each other, Katie and Caitlin sitting on the other side of them.

''You alright, Y/N?'' Caitlin asked, noticing the youngster's quietness.

Y/N looked up, glancing away from her nails to the older Australian player. She hesitated answering, not knowing if it was appropriate to say anything about her interaction with Beth.

She sat up straight and motioned for the three of them to huddle together over the small table. They got her message and did just that.

''Did anything happen on the bench or something? Cause I had this weird exchange with Meado, and it's just stuck in my head.'' She explained, her voice hushed.

They all frowned at her words. ''No, she was just frustrated about the game, but so was everyone else.'' Caitlin responded.

''What happened?'' Katie chimed in, curious to know about this exchange.

''I don't know. She was looking at me in the locker room, and I smiled at her, but she, I don't know, just looked weird at me. I asked her if she was alright, but she was kinda distant with me? She responded a little irritated so I left her alone, but it was weird.'' Y/N gave a small summary of the interaction.

"That is strange." Kyra mused, breaking the silence that had settled over their huddle.

They nodded at her words, agreeing with the young Australian.

''I didn't notice anything.'' Caitlin said with a pout, feeling sorry she couldn't help her younger teammate out. ''Me neither, kiddo.'' Katie added, a similar expression on her face.

Y/N smiled sadly, disappointed she wasn't any wiser on Beth. Katie rubbed her arm once she noticed her dejected expression. ''Hey, I wouldn't worry about it. It's a tough loss.''

The youngster nodded at the Irishwoman's words. ''Yeah, you're right.''

Katie was not right.

As soon as she got in the car with the beloved couple it was clear that something had gone down for them to act in such a sour mood. Vivianne's knuckles were white against the steering wheel, while Beth stared out of the window, her expression unreadable.

Sensing the palpable tension, Y/N shifted uncomfortably in her seat. The youngster wanted to break the silence, but the words wouldn't come out. It felt like they were stuck in her throat.

The drive home felt like forever. Every minute made the atmosphere worse. Y/N tried to catch Vivianne or Beth's eye, hoping for some sign that things would get better, but there was nothing.

Car rides after losses were never filled with much conversation, but it had never been like this.

A wave of relief went through her as the car was parked in front of their apartment complex, longing for the comfort of her room where she could hide from whatever the situation was.

Y/N couldn't even come up with a guess on what had transpired. Did they have a fight? Did she do something? Did someone else do something?

She had absolutely no clue.

However, the tension seemed to follow them into their shared home. The silence had become even more deafening with each step they took.

Beth disappeared into her room without a word, while Vivianne headed straight for the kitchen, her movements stiff and mechanical. Y/N stood in the hallway, feeling like an outsider in her own home.

Their behaviors made her feel anxious, feeling that knot inside her stomach. What had happened during the game? What had caused them to retreat into themselves like this?

Unable to handle any of it longer, Y/N tentatively approached the Dutchwoman in the kitchen. "Um, Viv?" She began, her voice small.

Vivianne glanced up, her expression guarded. "Yeah?” She replied, accent heavy.

The younger girl hesitated, unsure of how to broach the subject. "I, uh, did, uh, something happen at the game?" She stammered, her words stumbling over each other in her haste to get everything out.

The striker's eyebrows furrowed. "What are you talking about?” She asked, her face neutral.

Her response only added to the youngest one's confusion. It seemed as though they were both dancing around a subject neither wanted to address.

"I-I just... noticed things were a bit off between everyone after the match," Y/N explained, her voice barely above a whisper, "and, well, the car ride home was... a bit weird, you know.”

Vivianne's expression softened slightly, though her guard remained up. ''Don't worry about it. Just… frustration from the game.''

But Y/N couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to it than just frustration. She wanted to press further, but the fear of causing further conflict held her back.

Instead, she offered a hesitant nod. ''Okay, good.'' She murmured to the floor, retreating back to her room with a heavy heart.

The Arsenal homegrown player pulled her phone out of her pocket, searching up Kyra's contact. It only took a few rings for the Australian to pick up, she was probably already on her phone as she was called.

''Hey.'' Her accent momentarily bringing a smile to Y/N's face.

''Hey, you're home?''

''Yeah, just arrived. What's up?''

There was a brief pause before Y/N continued. ''Things have gotten a bit weirder since, uh, on the bus.''

''Shit. What happened?'' She asked, her voice filled with genuine worry.

''It's just... the tension at home is almost suffocating," she explained, ''it was completely silent the entire time we were driving home, and when we got home, Beth immediately went to her room. I tried to ask Viv about, but she told me it was just frustrations, but it clearly is not just that.''

There was a moment of silence as Kyra processed Y/N's words. "That doesn't sound good," she finally replied, ''you really have no idea what might have happened? Maybe they had a fight or something?''

Y/N shook her head, even though her teammate couldn't see it. "No, that's the thing. I'm completely lost." She admitted, frustration lacing her words.

''Same. I wish I knew what to say to help.'' Kyra said softly.

''It's alright, Ky. Thanks for letting me ramble.'' Y/N chuckled, appreciating the opportunity to unload her worries onto her friend.

''It's fine, honestly. It must not be fun to be in this situation,'' the Matilda replied, feeling for her friend, ''if anything else happens you can always let me know, okay? I'm gonna have some dinner now.''

Y/N smiled gratefully. "Thanks, Ky. I really appreciate it.”

''Anytime. Take care, I'll see you at training.''

''You too. Bye, bye.'' They bid each other goodbye before hanging up the phone.

Y/N prepared to leave her room again, wanting to check if Vivianne had started dinner yet or not.

Just as she stepped into the hallway, she nearly collided with Beth, who was coming out of her room with a tight-lipped expression. The sudden encounter caught them both off guard.

''Shit, sorry.'' The younger one apologized first, giving her housemate an awkward glance.

''It's alright,'' Beth brushed off, ''uh, were you on the phone just now?" She asked, her brow furrowing slightly.

Y/N nodded. ''Uh, yeah, with Kyra.''

Beth's expression shifted, a flicker of something unreadable crossing her features. "Oh, Kyra." She murmured, her voice tight.

The younger girl simply stared at the winger, not knowing what to say to her words. "Is everything okay?" Y/N ventured, her voice hesitant as she searched Beth's face for any sign of what might be bothering her.

Beth's lips pressed into a thin line, and for a moment, she seemed lost in thought. When she finally spoke, her words were tinged with a hint of irritation. ''Everything's alright.''

Y/N offered a small, uneasy smile and nodded. "Oh, okay." She said, though her words felt hollow even to her own ears.

With a nod of acknowledgment, Beth turned to walk away. As she watched Beth disappear around the corner, she wondered if it had been something she had done. However, she couldn't recall saying or doing anything that day that would have provoked this kind of demeanor from the couple.

The young striker walked into the living room, noticing Vivianne bustling about in the kitchen. But what caught Y/N's attention was the hushed whispers exchanged between the couple, Beth and Vivianne not being subtle about their gossiping.

A sense of discomfort washed over the youngster as she hesitated in the doorway, unsure whether to interrupt or retreat unnoticed. But before she could make a decision, the Dutchwoman glanced up and caught her eye, her expression inscrutable.

''Hey, dinner is almost ready. Just some leftover pasta from yesterday.'' She informed Y/N, her tone somewhat forced as she attempted to maintain a facade of normalcy.

Y/N forced a smile. ''Nice, thanks, Viv.'' She answered, trying to ignore the awkwardness that hung in the air.

She retreated to the couch, feeling as if she wasn't welcome in the small space. Something was off, and she couldn't help but feel like she was on the outside looking in.

She scrolled on her phone for a few minutes before Vivianne called her to the table as the food was ready. As they gathered around the dinner table, the atmosphere remained strained, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife.

Vivianne served up the leftover pasta, her movements brisk as she avoided making eye contact with anyone. Beth sat across from Y/N, her expression unreadable as she picked at her food.

Y/N tried to focus on her food, but the uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach made it difficult to swallow.

For a few moments, the only sound was the clinking of forks against plates, the silence punctuated only by the occasional awkward cough or clearing of throat.

Finally, unable to bear the tension any longer, Y/N opened her mouth. "So, um, what did you guys think about the match?'' She asked the pair, her voice coming out more high than she had intended.

As if on cue, Vivianne and Beth glanced up from their plates at the same time.

''It was tough, but it shouldn't have been tough. We lacked a clear tactic.'' The experienced striker answered, filling up the silence.

Y/N nodded, relieved at least one of them responded to her attempt at conversation. She took a peek at Beth, who did not seem amused in the slightest to talk about the surprising defeat earlier that day.

''It was just another match of us fucking everything up, and you kids having to unfuck it all.'' Beth said, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

The youngest's eyes widened slightly at the cutting remark, not expecting those words to come out of the Brit's mouth.

Vivianne shifted uncomfortably in her seat, casting a quick glance at Y/N before fixing her gaze on her partner. "Beth, that's enough.'' Her voice was stern, warning Beth that this was not the way to go about this.

But Beth ignored her girlfriend, her eyes fixed on Y/N with an intensity that made her squirm. ''No, she needs to learn to not talk about teammates that way, especially the ones that have just gotten back from serious injuries, and need time to reintegrate into the group.''

Y/N felt a flush of embarrassment creeping up her neck, she cast a desperate look at Vivianne, silently pleading for her to intervene and diffuse the situation before it escalated any further.

''Beth, I wasn't-''

''You weren't what? You weren't talking shit to Kyra about us right after the match? You weren't talking shit about us to Kyra on the phone just now?'' The oldest continued in an accusing tone.

Vivianne let out a sigh, her frustration evident as she attempted to defuse the situation. ''Beth.'' She said firmly, her gaze shifting between the two other people at the table.

''I wasn't talking shit about you guys. I would never do that.'' Y/N managed to let out, offended at the mere idea of her not appreciating the two women who'd let her move in with them a 1,5 years ago.

''Y/N, we heard you. On the pitch after the match, with Kyra.'' Beth responded bluntly.

Y/N swallowed hard, slightly ashamed of being caught. ''We were just... we were just frustrated, okay? That comment wasn't directed at any of you guys, it was more at Jonas, to be fair.''

The couple grew silent at the admission, realizing they had greatly misunderstood the two young girls' conversation. ''About Jonas?'' Vivianne repeated, her voice carrying a note of embarrassment.

The young striker nodded. ''Yeah, me and Kyra have just been a bit upset with our game time, that's all. It felt like a repeat of the Tottenham game.''

Beth and Vivianne exchanged a glance, coming to a silent understanding. ''We're sorry for jumping the gun on that one, darling. We really thought we needed to teach you some manners.'' The Brit nervously apologized with a chuckle.

''It's alright, we probably should've been a bit more discreet.'' Y/N brushed her apology off with a hand gesture.

''No, you two are in your full right to complain.'' Vivianne retorted, agreeing on the playing time matter.

The teenager waited a few moments before elaborating. ''I don't mind sitting on the bench, it's great to get rest, you know? But it almost feels like he doesn't trust me to get the game starting or something. I like to think I did great last season, so this kind of sucks.'' She opened up, not having voiced these thoughts to anyone but Kyra.

''You did amazing last season, you stepped up when we needed someone and the team will never forget that.'' Beth smiled, squeezing the youngster' s hand.

''It seems that Jonas forgot.'' Y/N muttered bitterly, looking down at her empty plate.

The couple silenced themselves at her mumbled words, not knowing what the appropriate response would be to cheer her up about the situation. They were indirectly responsible for the young girl to not get as much game time anymore, so whatever they would tell her, she would most likely not feel much better afterwards.

''Just focus on what you're doing right now. Show up to training, recover well, maximize everything in the minutes you do get. Show him that he should trust you to start, and that you deserve to have that spot in the line-up.'' Vivianne chimed in, her voice soft but resolute.

Y/N nodded at the older woman's words, though her demeanor still seemed dejected. ''Yeah, I'll continue to do that.'' It came out somewhat passive aggressive.

''I know it doesn't fix the situation, but you're my personal star girl, regardless whether you play or not.'' Beth softly smiled at her.

The teen managed to crack a small smile back, appreciating the sentiment. ''Thanks, Beth.''

''You're mine too.'' Vivianne added.

''Hey, that's my compliment for her! Find another one if you want to be cute!'' Beth scolded her partner, dramatically feigning annoyance.

The Dutchwoman frowned. ''Everyone calls her ‘star girl'! You're not original either!'' She pouted back.

Y/N couldn't help but let out a chuckle at the banter between the couple, happily accepting the momentary distraction from her frustrations.

Beth playfully rolled her eyes. ''At least I'm complimenting her!''

''Sorry that I was just giving useful advice, Bethany.'' Vivianne retorted.

''Useful.'' The Brit repeated, her voice heavily tinged with sarcasm.

Vivianne's mouth gaped, pretending to be offended. ''It was useful! That's what I would have wanted to hear at 19 year-old.'' She defended herself.

''19 year-old's want to hear praise, Viv. They want to be called star girls, not receive a lecture.'' Beth quickly replied, with a smirk.

''Y/N, it was useful, right?'' The older striker turned towards the teenager.

''Yeah, Y/N, tell Miss Miedema how useful her advice was.'' Beth chorused her words, grinning from ear-to-ear.

The youngster simply glanced between the two of them, before picking up her empty plate and standing up from her seat. ''I'm taking this as my sign to leave.''

She ignored their pleas with a satisfied grin, making her way to the kitchen to dump her plate, and walking back to her room.

The couple watched her depart, sharing a knowing look, a hint of amusement dancing in their eyes. ''She's gonna call Kyra, isn't she?'' Vivianne chuckled.

''She so is.'' Beth agreed with a laugh.

requests are always welcome!

#woso x reader #woso fanfics #arsenal wfc x reader #arsenal x reader #woso imagine #woso fic #beth mead x reader #vivianne miedema x reader #kyra cooney cross x reader #meadema

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Judy Garland (Meet Me In St. Louis, A Star is Born, Summer Stock)— Judy is the GOAT when it comes to classic movie musicals. The voice of an angel who deserved so much better than she got. She can sing she can dance she can act she's a triple threat. Though she had a turbulent personal life (her treatment as a child star by the studio system makes me mad as hell like Louis b Mayer fight me ((she was made to believe that she was physically unattractive by the constant criticism of film executives who made her feel ugly and who manipulated her onscreen appearance by capping her teeth and using discs in her nose to change its shape and Mayer called her "my little hunchback" like imagine hearing that as a child and not having damage)) she always goddamn delivered on screen and in any performance she gave. She began in vaudeville performing with her sisters and was signed to MGM at 13. Starting out in supporting parts especially paired with mickey Rooney in a bunch of films (she's the best part tbh) she eventually transferred to the lead role. She is best known for her starring role in movie musicals like the iconic Wizard of Oz (somewhere over the rainbow still hits hard and is ranked the top film song of all time), meet me in St. Louis (Judy singing have your self a merry little Christmas brings tears to the eyes she is that powerful), the Harvey girls (she looks like a technicolor dream and sings a catchy af song about trains), Easter parade ( dancing and singing with Fred Astaire), for me and my gal, the pirate, and summer stock ( with pal Gene Kelly who she helped when he was starting out and he helped her when she was struggling). But she also does non- singing just as well like the clock ( her first movie where she sings no songs and is an underrated ww2 era romance), her Oscar nominated a star is born ( like the man that got away she put her whole soul in that and I have beef with the fact she lost to grace kelly ((whom I love but like still not even her best work)), and judgement at Nuremberg (a courtroom drama about the nazi war criminal trials). Outside of film she made concert appearances to record-breaking audiences, released 8 studio albums, and had her own Emmy-nominated tv series. She was the youngest (39) and first female recipient of the Cecil B DeMille award for lifetime achievement in the film industry. Girl was a lifelong democrat and was a financial and moral supporter of many causes including the civil rights movement (she was at the March on Washington and held a press conference to protest the 16th street Baptist church bombings). She was a friend of the Kennedy family and would call jfk weekly often ending the calls by singing the first few lines of somewhere over the rainbow (she thought of them as Gemini twins).She was a member of the committee for the first amendment which was formed in response to the HUAC investigations. Though she died far too young and tragically she remains an icon for her work and her life. As a girl who didn't feel like i was as pretty as everyone else I have always felt a connection to Judy and I just really love her.

Natalie Wood (West Side Story, The Great Race)—She went through so much shit which I know can be said for all these women but Natalie really was a star and her death often overshadows her career and life. She could make you cry, but she also had the capacity to be incredibly funny which I think is lost on people.

This is round 4 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Natalie Wood:

Judy Garland:

Judy's voice alone qualifies her for at least top ten hottest HOT VINTAGE MOVIE WOMEN. She was a truly incredible swing singer, with a stunning voice on top of her technique. Her short dark hair looked incredible in just about any style. Have I mentioned her swagger? I can’t do it justice with words. She had swagger. She was funny as hell, and clever too. Incredibly charming and cool. I adore her.

Her eyes, her voice have bewitched me

I mean how can you beat the one and only Judy? She's beautiful, her smile is contagious, the way she sings with her whole body. You can't help but love her.

Beautiful woman, love her singing voice. And she can do everything between happy or silly and angry or heartbroken

#natalie wood #judy garland #hotvintagepoll #fuck that old woman #ladies 4 #Youtube

[wroteclassicaly]

She’s Trouble

(Eddie Munson x Female Reader)

Summary: Tired of trailing behind, feeling like you don’t matter much, you decide that 86’ isn’t only going to be your bestfriend’s year.

Pairings: Eddie Munson x Female Reader

Word count: 16,185

Warnings: Language, violence, mentions of drug usage, blood, NSFW, smut, drinking, Eddie is angry and sad in this, masturbation, slight voyeurism, breeding kink, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, angry sex, creampie, angst, fighting, rough sex, Dom!Eddie, and MORE!

A/N: I started writing this based off the scene of Eddie smirking at the cheerleaders he lets by after his cafeteria speech. And, well… it’s spawned itself a new life and turned into a whole lot more than I planned. But so is the life of an author, am I right? ;) Eddie is a dick in this, Reader is a lot more vocal than I’ve written before. I wanted to do something a bit different and I hope this accomplishes my mission?

I wanna thank @littledemondani for helping me out of my brain fart on which direction to take this! Also, do check out her masterlist, which is pinned at the top of her blog (it won’t let me link it here). She’s an incredible author and a fellow Eddie Munson slut, and one of my longtime best-friends! ♥️

Side note: I’ve also shifted a few things in the timeline of the show, for obvious reasons. The whole Eddie/Chrissy thing doesn’t happen on the same night as in the series. Chrissy and the reader have a good interaction and Eddie is a dickhead, but his reasoning will be explained. Also, while the reader is wearing a bustier top, this is an all inclusive fic, where the reader can be anything you imagine! I believe anyone can wear anything that they choose to—regardless of their size, so don’t let that bit of the story deter your perception, as I’ve left it open-ended! ;)

Enjoy! I’ve got a lot coming up soon! Part twos of multiple fics, prompts, plus other goodies! <3 - Kristen

~*~

You watch the way that he tries to be cute and coy towards them, attempts to impress with a dramatic wave through of his hand. Short skirts, tight little tops, bouncing ponytails, and a shitload of generic gossip on their painted lips—they pass by, everything included but those damned pom poms. Apparently they are giddy at his little show of calling out every group but your own in the cafeteria. Your eyes roll so hard that you feel a protesting sting, ignoring it to stab your fork into whatever creation is wiggling on your lunch tray. All the guys—freshman to seniors, and you—the only girl since founding, and Hellfire Club’s treasurer/manager to Corroded Coffin—make up the outsider table.

This year, however, you’ve felt so fucking off base with this group and their antics that you’re getting exhausted pretending to care about their shit when they don’t respect you or yours. Dustin, Lucas, and Mike are always the sweetest to you, even with Lucas joining a sport, he’s still quick to always give you a smile and a nod whenever you pass him in the halls. They’re young, unlike Eddie and the older guys. You’re finally a senior this year, but still behind your bestfriend by a year in age. All this used to be okay, Eddie multiplying how much he repeats the grade, you trailing behind him like a lost puppy without any brain of her own, but now—it’s unbearably smothering.

And thus, it’s been building. You’re over bringing chips that are from your personal stash and using your gas to go buy smokes with your small work paycheck, or clean equipment for Eddie’s band, or stay up all night just to design campaign posters for Eddie, only for him to be so fucking stoned that he doesn’t even appreciate it, nor remember it.

“Fucking fake losers,” Jeff mutters.

“So fake,” Gareth agrees, both looking towards Eddie as he settles himself back down, wiggling his brows at you.

It’s an unsettling pressure that boils inside you, crackling, and as soon as you look into your best-friend’s brown doe eyes—it all comes apart. “You wanna talk about fake?” Your chest pumps a rush of adrenaline, helping careen the words off your tongue before you can stop them. Everyone’s attention snaps quicker than you’re prepared for, eyes wide and shocked. Sure, you’re vocal and sassy, but never outwardly angry. “The fact that all of you will condemn the basketball players, but would give up any of your seats at our table for one of the bitches in a skirt that they chase, if they popped their gum or batted an eyelash. You’d all be a bunch of drooling, little horndogs.” You can feel your heart racing with each pronunciation of a word, rising from your seat, knuckles white from gripping the edges of your yellow tray so hard.

You hear Dustin whisper a ‘whoa’, but your vocal vomit doesn’t stop.

“Frankly? I’m fucking sick of all this.” You pick the tray up and slam it down for good measure, unwrapping your messenger bag from around your seat, and you leave the table of gaping young men behind you, not even indulging yourself in Eddie’s bugged out, concerned stare.

You don’t even have time to throw your bag across your chest, when Jason Carver shouts out from behind you, “Damn, look at Munson’s slut go!”

It seems your group aren’t the only ones taking an interest in your outburst. Your breath is engorged in jagged pants of pitiful air, a fire coursing through you faster than you can handle, your skin singing, prickling with goosebumps. Your cheeks redden in humiliation, your feet swiveling and carrying you, fast and quick to their table, you throw your bag off, body like some damned slow motion track. Everyone notices Eddie’s antics, but you’ve never garnered any attention. It’s a surreal high.

Your combat boots click across the cement flooring, your hair like a dead weight across your back. Carver and his entire group are expectant, chairs scraping across to get out of your way. It’s all such a blur that you don’t even know your fist has collided with Jason’s face until you feel the pressure bite into your knuckles, a crunch beneath your force. He shrieks, his friends jumping to his aid, your stance shifting, ready to take anyone on. Your ears are bubbling with a murky static, applause in some direction, shouts in others.

Your name is being shouted from two different directions, the one you see stomping angrily towards you belonging to principal Higgins. He’s calling for help, shoving his finger in your face, motioning to your shirt. “This Hellfire Club does nothing but cause trouble!”

You snort, completely coming off your hinges, shaking the ends of your shirt, before stepping back and flinging it over your head, leaving you clad in your jeans and a leather bustier top no one could ever picture you owning. You’ve always kept your shit to a minimum to draw less attention, but you liked the support it provided your breasts with. You spin around, hands in the air, using the shirt as a lasso, tossing it at your old table. You begin to giggle, honestly wondering if you should visit the school nurse, but uncaring. Higgins is literally sputtering, making you snort, waving a hand. “I’m a slut, I’m trouble. Anyone have anything else to add? No? Yes?”

You bend back over to snatch your nap sack up, motioning to Higgins. “Lead the way to your office, Sir! Please fucking do.”

The pep in your step as your principal is angrily leading you from the masses is such a euphoric feeling, you’re sure you’ll never feel again in your life. You can taste the drama on your tongue’s tip. You don’t even spare your friends a glance, not wanting Eddie to have a morsel of satisfaction. This is your moment. Not as Eddie Munson’s best-friend, not as his groupie. As Y/N, Y/N Y/L/N.

~*~

Eddie Munson has been clutching your discarded Hellfire shirt, doused in your perfume that is brimming his nostrils full, damn near trembling for the past twenty minutes that finish up lunch. He can’t move, that swelling between his legs keeping him glued to his seat, all the images of your fist soaring into Jason Carver’s face, ripping off your clothing in front of Higgins and the entire damned school. He went from concerned, angry at how you acted, to so fucking turned on that his stomach knotted up, sucking him to where he’s seated, his cock throbbing in his jeans. He’s never seen you like this.

The guys are silent, unsure what to say, how to even go about comprehending the you they just saw, that even Eddie himself has never heard of. He knows one thing for sure—okay—two. He has to find out if you’re okay and what’s going on.

~*~

You roll your eyes at the lovely note, signature of a three day suspension secured by Higgins at the bottom. Crumbling it up, you slide it into your back pocket, rifling through your pin tattered bag for a cigarette. You already know where you’re gonna go, and it sure as hell isn’t home. No one is there and no one is gonna care about your minor indecency. You can forge your mom’s signature, much like you do every good grade you bring home that she’s never around to see, or every comment from a teacher about how your folks are missing out.

It’s quiet at your house, your space. You parents more or less sleep there when they’re not gone on business. Pinching the filter, you cup Eddie’s stolen Zippo, that ashy hiss helping beckon that sweet bitter taste in past your lips. You don’t desire that home front solace right now, craving different scenery.

Maybe I’ll get lost…

You feel like Hawkins is your oyster, and you’re eager to explore on your own terms, by yourself. You’ve got your smokes, your pocket knife, and a pen and paper. That’s enough for you to make a decision.

Skull Rock it is.

~*~

One thing about Indiana is the ever predictable bite of hot weather that March brings. Spring is automatically Summer in the Midwest, and this is no different. Your leather top had stuck to your skin in an uncomfortable crunching press, making you eventually discard it, leaving you topless, your only accessories a chain with your birthstone pendant and a thicker silver chain, with a cheesy little guitar charm (a present from Eddie) nestled between your breasts. Your form is shaped against the rock behind your bare shoulder blades, a cool sensation that has you tilting your head back, stretching your neck, treetops breezing above you—tall and luscious. You smile softly, undoing the flap on your bag and seeking out your Walkman and sunglasses.

In moments your eyelids are fluttering closed, shielded from sun rays, your Walkman clicking in place, readying Heart’s Barracuda to nick your ears, coasting in welcomed caresses. It’s not thick heavy metal, but it’s you. And in the serenity of these woods, another cigarette you allow yourself—you begin to drift off in a galactic solitude that is solely your own. You’d learnt how to count beats, read sheet music, even sing a few notes from Eddie, so getting into your song’s groove isn’t hard for you, your fingers wrapping around your chain, tapping underneath the swell of your breast along with the chorus. You’re off the precipice and gone, demolished to the point you don’t hear the familiar footsteps, the sound of your name, or leaves and dirt crunching beneath white Reeboks, nor do you hear a throat-deep groan at his discovery.

~*~

Eddie and you always share this in synch kinda shit, which creeps a lot of people in your circle out. Eddie, however, welcomes it today. When he couldn’t find you after abandoning his lunch, spent what was left of the day attempting, only for Henderson to tell him he’d heard you’d been suspended for a few days—he made it his personal goal to find you. Your parents are gone so he knows the times you do and don’t like to be at home by yourself. And with the way you lashed out at everyone, you won’t go anywhere he has easy access to.

That leaves one place. Skull Rock.

~*~

The drive feels shorter to Eddie this time, but the walk longer. He has to shed himself of his denim and leather, tossing it over his shoulder and clambering up the path towards finding you, keeping your club tee in his back pocket. The more he walks, the more he wishes he brought a drink or his smokes, which remain on his dash. If he’s wrong and you’re not here, he isn’t sure if this is reality anymore. This day has been one big mindfuck.

Thankfully, as he hears a loud tone droning over the clearing, a soft hum, his heart patters in his chest, nostrils inhaling sharply. He rounds the corner’s pathway, already calling your name, his eyes widening, jaw unhinged, fists clenching at his sides. You’re reclining against the boulder’s curve, black shades perched over your eyes, hair draped across your neck, your boot clad ankle crossed over the other, a cigarette perched into your puckering pair of lips, your layered chains swaying, slumbering against your skin, and fuck—your tits, Eddie winces, gripping himself to adjust—frozen.

He can’t not notice how your nipples are reacting to the air. He can’t not detail your shape, how your waist is formed, zeroing in on the baby bat you’d gotten to match his larger ones, inked into your ribcage, and he certainly isn’t forgetting your jeans that are settled over your hips. His eyes glaze over, heat prodding his flesh, shrouding him a veil of desire and raw ache. You don’t notice him, calls of your name falling on mainstream rock’s ears. He doesn’t think approaching you is smart, like a cat and mouse, your behavior for once—unpredictable.

Has Eddie just not been paying attention to you that much lately?

Suddenly, when he’s debating a cowardly retreat, baiting his internal monologue for an excuse, your audible gasp is heard, his name crushed between your gritted teeth.

Fuck.

~*~

In all of his glory—stands your best-friend. He’s balling and un-balling his fists, eyes darting rapidly, tongue sucking against his teeth, feet ready to carry him far away. And the more he avoids your stare, the angrier you get. So what, you’re not good enough to look at because your breasts are out? Modesty to a back burner, you take your crossed arms off your chest, scraping your smoke out on the rock, pushing your glasses into a perch upon your head, body facing Eddie as you stand.

I dare you.

Your eyes complicate a challenge—craving him in your proximity, and hating his grunge blanketed sight. Eddie’s neck is a really pretty thing when he tenses, his jugular agitated against a harsh gulp of air. He answers you by meeting you in the clearing, palms sweaty, scrubbing over his back pockets. It’s a cool damned drink of water, as if you’ve been without, making thee Eddie Munson squirm. But he’s still your best-friend, and you are half naked.

Covering yourself back up so he will look you in the eye, you tuck your arms into a push beneath your sternum, forearms shielding your nipples. It’ll have to do.

“Eddie, what the fuck are you doing here?” You snap before he can voice a concern or a question.

Tethered to deep breathing techniques, Eddie is insulted, and is biting back in his acidic response. “After your own personal talent show antics at school, I was worried about you. Excuse-the-fuck-outta-me, Y/N.”

A bitter laugh comes from you. “Oh, you’re focused enough on my shit to actually be worried about me? How kind of you, Edward Munson.”

“Why the fuck wouldn’t I be worried about you?” Eddie is raising his voice, sizzling in a cautious rage. He’s usually happy-go-lucky with you, but you’re pushing these fucking buttons he isn’t aware he’s been hiding.

“You really need a list of reasons? Wait,” you say, moving to circle him, pinching your thumb between your teeth, “you’re probably, completely oblivious, because I’m just Y/N. I’m not your club, not your band, not one of your groupies that flounce around for an ounce from you, then leave your ass for their jock boyfriends.”

“Whoa, whoa!” Eddie raises a hand, rings clattering together. “When the fuck did all this start, Y/N?”

Your arms fall back at your sides with a loud ‘thump’. The heating has settled, your high wearing off, truth remaining as to why you’ve been upset in the first place. A caverning hurt carves its place into your chest, igniting an anguish that drowns you. You’re defeated. “It started when my best-friend forgot that I’m my own person and not his servant. Or maybe it began when my person was so stoned that he barely acknowledged a test I fucking flunked to stay up and make his campaign posters—which, may I add—he also gave zero fucks about-“

“So all this is because I didn’t kiss the very ground you walk on for some posters that you practically begged me to make, and wow—your A+ average went to an A. Curse me into the deepest depths of hell, please.” His bracelet slides down his wrist as he palms his heart.

Maybe you’re not the only one who is changing. Eddie hasn’t ever disregarded you in such a crude manner. Your tongue is practically salivating in need to layer on biting and cruel words, things you won’t be able to come back from. You remain silent, mulling over what to say, glaring, docked, stinging prickles of tears. It’s an elating elevation when the words do come. “I’m your best-friend, Eddie. Not your little groupie. I’m tired of you preaching about conformity, when all I do is conform to you. You don’t ever let me pick music, you always take for granted I’ll give you and the guys rides when your van isn’t working, despite if I might have something to do that doesn’t involve an all male ensemble. I spend my money to buy you cigarettes and snacks for the meetings. I manage gigs, I clean your band’s equipment.”

Eddie sniffs, looking pointedly at you, doe eyes dark and growing increasingly fed up. “Didn’t know you were keeping a tally, Y/N.”

“That’s… That’s all you’re taking from everything I just said to you, Eddie?” You can’t keep that hurt out of your tone this time.

Eddie shrugs, crossing his arms, coldly spitting out, “Seems to me like you’re sick of me. And that’s not my problem, that’s yours.”

Your head is swimming in turmoil, all your acting out and emotions swirling into a mindfuck. He doesn’t care. You’re standing here finally pouring your entire soul out in heaps and your person is pouring gasoline on the pieces, dangling a match.

“I’ve never kept a tally, Eddie. I do these things because they make you happy, and that makes me happy, but it fucking sucks when you don’t appreciate them or care about anything in my life, either.”

“That’s what you really think, Y/N?” There’s a flatline in how he’s speaking to you.

“No,” you murmur, “it’s what I know.”

Eddie’s jaw clenches, teeth grinding. He kicks at the ground with the toe of his shoe, brows raising. “Breaking Jason Carver’s nose and my cold, dead heart.” He splays a hand across his chest. Those rings, which are always a comfort to you, reflecting off the sunlight, dripping in judgement.

Your trembling wavers, crackling sentence structure falling apart. “Eddie. Don’t.”

“No. Fuck you, Y/N. Seriously, fuck you!” He shouts, snapping a finger in your direction.

Your hands rub up and down your goosebump soaked skin, finalizing what you need to do. Heaving in a deep breath, a sentence escapes your lips. And you pray, pray Eddie will heed this warning and value what you have enough to understand, to work it out. “Maybe it’s time to fess up to the fact that 86’ needs to be a bigger year for us both.”

Mind reader. A power you’ve never wanted more than in this moment as you claw at the cusp of your best-friend’s reaction. Outwardly, Eddie shifts, Adam’s apple bobbing, thumb swiping underneath his nose. Your mouth waters, throat reflexes threatening a fountain of vomit. And Eddie takes your warning, slaying through it, every bit of ground beneath your boots threatening to cave in.

“You’re right. Hell, Carver is right. You do act like my slut. And you have every right to change it, because it’s only holding us both back. And it probably has been for a long time.”

Kicking you would’ve hurt less. You’re unable to see Eddie’s form longer, muddled to a watery silhouette, your brave bravado dissipating. You won’t beg him. You’re nothing to him anymore, he’s just confirmed. You try not to think about the first time he taught you how to dance before your first snowball, or how you both snuck Jim Hopper’s cigarettes when you’d get in trouble at school and be sent to see him for minor misdemeanors, or Eddie’s pride when he managed to get you on stage to sing one song with the band, rubbing circles on your back the whole time you both sang to a trio of drunks, or splitting beers on his van’s roof and nearly breaking limbs when it started raining and you had to climb down, how he taught you to drive in the fancy neighborhood and you knocked over the mayor’s mailbox, when you watched him buy his ‘sweetheart’, tears in his eyes at a possession so gorgeous and all his own, his hands gentle as they held you the nights you cried from one stupid thing that felt massive to you, when he was your person and you were his.

Your wet, quivering breaths are what you hear. Birds chirping, wind rustling, even Eddie’s heavy breathing drowned out. It takes what feels like eternity, before Eddie is slashing the quiet, guarded and stoic. “You need to put a fucking shirt on.”

Your jeans are covered in tear drops from a bowed head, fingers shaking hard enough that your knuckles roll into a crack at the motions. You wipe your tears in time to see Eddie hold out your Hellfire shirt—second edition—his being the first. His reverie breaks briefly, and you think… maybe. It’s gone in those brown eyes that you can no longer read or recognize. Filled with loathing and disgust at you, his last words imprinting on your psyche, a physical recoil.

“On second thought. You won’t be needing this anymore.” Eddie makes his way around you and finds his lighter atop your bag, flicking a flame to life and nudging it at the end of your shirt. It catches quick, burns fast, like every fiber of friendship with Eddie Munson.

Eddie tosses the tattered, charred remains to the forrest floor, pocketing his lighter, walking away from you and out of your life.

~*~

He can’t stay any longer and watch you fall apart, not when he’s running away from his cowardice. And he does, run. He moves and clambers, stumbles until he’s from you and the cries that he hears pour off your lips. His chest is thumping sporadically, pulse in his blurry vision. His five fingers catch a tree, slamming, splintering, a sob breaking free of his tear soaked lips.

Eddie Munson forces himself to remember how unsure you looked in your dress when he held you around your waist, never feeling more himself in his entire life than he did with you— at thirteen—during some cheesy school dance, how you entertained his tunes so he could teach you the counting method he uses for his music to move your feet to the beat, all your encouragement every time he hit a new note, or your midnight phone calls to ask what he’d like on his posters, your body trusting him to keep you safe on those nights when everything became too much for you in your life, but you had tried to hide it, or when you both snuck in to see Carrie when you were pre-teens and you couldn’t sleep without him, so he made a makeshift mattress next to your bed for a month, about that time you were so tired from an all nighter that he had walked into his room and found you curled up in his bed, using his vest as a makeshift pillow, your nagging him to study more, because he’s always capable of anything he sets his mind to, and those cookies—the only thing you can bake without having to call for Hawkins fire department—a container you’d brought for him and his Uncle, still sitting on his kitchen counter.

He was your person and you were his. And now? You’re gone. Eddie runs away. He keeps running, leaving you to your own miserable anguish, drowning in his own, getting himself in his rust bucket and going back to his trailer to get completely fucked outta his not-so-right mind.

~*~

By the time your suspension is over and you can no longer barricade yourself into your room and finish off another bottle from your dad’s liquor cabinet—it’s sheer dread. You’re not only the freak who broke Hawkins Highschool’s Prom King’s nose, but you’re the freak without anyone by your side—a true and thorough outsider. As you stand outside your school, nails pinching into already weakened threads dedicated to your bag’s strap, you’re really regretting those couple of drinks this morning and how you’d poured more vodka into a flask to take your Tylenol with. Hell, it’s not like you can get a fix from the school dealer anymore, is it?

Those damned double doors are louder, a jolt to your already throbbing headache, fluorescent lights sparkling in your retinas through your shades that cover a nursing hangover and distraught, red and puffy eyes from a three day sob fest. Each step your boots make sounds like you’re walking to your death, your outfit—sans any Hellfire related attire—is all yours. Your two chains limited to one, Eddie’s gift waiting in a cardboard box you’d half-assed assembled, and tossed in random shit he’d given you. The deeper you get into every hallway, making simple turns you know like the back of your hand, your nausea grows as to what might be awaiting around each corner. Or who. It’s a short lived relief upon arrival at your locker.

You pinch your shades off, raw eyes protesting the moment fresh tears staple your skin in brushes. In red letters, diagonally capitalized across your door contains what you haven’t wanted to face since it happened.

The freak got dumped

You choke on your salvia, throat wet and enduring a suffocation strong enough to have you gagging on the piece of toast and water you’d forced your famished form to consume this morning. You barely make it into the toilets before double over and expelling everything, diaphragm on fire, bones vibrating through tosses. Hair dangling in your face, plastered to your mouth, you sniffle and tremble, vision blurring. You ponder getting yourself fucking expelled, but you made this whole ordeal about it being your year. If you retreat now, what will that do? Mustering all your strength, your courage, you flush your bile, clean off your mouth and face, pop a mint, take a swig out of your flask, and make your way to your first class.

~*~

By the ever popular lunch time, you have managed to clean your locker and pinpoint the culprit (an ashamed that a girl broke his nose, Jason Carver), but neither of you speak on it. You keep your head down, you focus on your school work, you take your Tylenol, and you sip on your vodka. Enough to keep an edge off, but not enough to send you down a despairing hole filled with regret and torment. You know you’re being stared at as soon as you hit the line to get your tray. It’s fake smiles and refusal to acknowledge it that gets you in search of an aisle, and hopefully out of sight. You aren’t so lucky…

“Hey, Y/N! Over here!” You hear an all too cheery voice belonging to Dustin Henderson. It halts you in your tracks, a wince causing a physical recoil.

It’s not his fault you and Eddie no longer have anything resembling a relationship, and he apparently has not told them, and they’ve not seen Jason Carver’s masterpiece.

Good.

What isn’t good is that Eddie is very much at your old table and you know it’s unavoidable. You wished you had borrowed some concealer for your under eyes, but it’s too late. There’s a grand staircase cloaked in invisibility beneath your feet, your stomach knotting in crushing vices, your cheeks stained with red. You walk to your former friend group, trying like hell not to side eye Eddie Munson. Keeping a steady focal point without blinking against your scratchy lower lids is damn near impossible. And guys are going to be guys—much to your chagrin. Gareth is drawing further attention where nothing needs to be, popping off with a, “Damn, Y/N lookin’ like she went on a bender.”

“A week long bender,” Jeff chimes in.

Biting the inside of your cheek between your teeth, you shrug a shoulder. Better them having knowledge of your binge drinking celebration than knowing about how messed up you are.

Don’t look at Eddie. Is your mantra for today.

He, on the other two hands, is not prioritizing that same aspect.

“So what if I did? I know of about ten girls who can drink your asses under the table, myself included.” You smirk, gripping your tray’s edge.

“Been holding back on us?” Gareth is grinning from ear to ear. It eases your shouldered weight tremendously, breaking tension in your table’s ranks.

“You gonna have a seat or what?” Mike Wheeler interrupts, his hands flipping towards a desired target, one that you wish you could keep pretending you never knew.

Fuck it.

You really crave for some divine intervention to help you, because meeting those chocolate brown eyes that are distraught, angry, and rimmed red—your heart constricts to painful blows, windpipes crushed beyond speaking capabilities. Eddie’s been somewhere off planet earth with that kinda high, you remember seeing his demeanor that way only a handful of times, including this one. Maybe he does care? No, doesn’t matter, don’t go there. It’s over and done.

Still, that idiotic, massively moronic part that Eddie owns of you—it’s billowing hope. Eddie Munson dashes it in seconds flat.

“No.”

You glance away, jaw twitching to control an automatic quiver. Dustin is laughing it off as a joke, someone else asking why. Eddie reclines his legs in your empty chair, loud enough to get your attention back. He wants me to see.

“No traitors.” It’s a simplistic answer, aggressive, no room to argue.

Ever-the-curious-freshmen, Dustin and Mike peg their leader for questions. You halt it, tone breaking apart, fingers tucking into your shirtsleeve as you balance your lunch on one hand and wipe across raw flesh to clean fresh tears from your eyeline. That’s when Eddie does look away.

Coward.

“It’s okay, guys.” Is what you say.

“What’s going on?” Gareth asks.

“I won’t be around meetings or practices anymore, but I’m still here if anyone needs anything, okay? You know where my locker is, and where I live.” You pat yourself on the back for that robotic but truthful statement.

“Unless you’re sick of everyone else too…” His deep voice rumbles.

Like a deer in headlights— you’re frozen, a blinding rage of hurt and red hot anger pouring over you in a storm. You explode. Picking up the first thing in your sight, which happens to be on your plate—a glob of some chocolate goop (possibly a brownie)—it’s slung directly at your former best-friend’s crisp white Hellfire shirt. Your second cafeteria incident that, yet again, everyone notices. Eddie yelps, shouting out your name in brisk spits.

You further it, abandoning your food in a repeat of days ago, floating to his side and shoving him back two steps. Eddie stops his rapid shirt swipes and immediately presses his form into yours, chests smashed, food squishing through your top. His hair is frazzled from the humidity, his toffee colored irises slowly polishing into a thick black gloss of dilated pupils. He sucks his tongue against his teeth, swaying into you, not touching you with those hands, an air about him that is beginning to swarm your initial reaction and bend it over, fucking it into the next decade. He’s taller than you remember, but you latch onto your own, tasting that cigarette soaked breath, lips hovering over his, hot tears matting your lashes.

Whether it’s regarding his inability to respond to your reasoning for this whole situation, his lack of expression, your self-disappointment for something roused inside you at his huffing proximity, you crown him with a title off a jagged voice box, damp in her sorrows, just as Dustin steps between you two, gently prying. “You’re a fucking coward, Eddie Munson.”

Teachers are starting to flock in, and you shake your head, hand over your eyes briefly, before sprinting in strides from the room in search of a place to collapse.

~*~

If you had told yourself at the beginning of the school year that you’d be in a camaraderie with the girl’s bathroom—you would have laughed. And if your mind had convinced you otherwise, you’d have expected Eddie to be right beside you, arm around your shoulders, sharing his lunch, making stupid jokes, coming up with lame ideas to make you feel better, but in that endearing Eddie Munson kinda way. You let out a soft cry, giving up on that stinging beneath your lids. You’re a hot mess and the whole building probably knows how alone you really are now. When the outcasts cast you out, where else can you go?

Clenching onto the sides of the ceramic sink, bag slipping off your shoulder and onto the floor, you keep your head bowed between your shoulder blades, not noticing someone come in and approach you, a gentle set of fingers laying upon your shoulder. Through foggy vision you can make out the green colors of her uniform and her perfectly straight ponytail, her face seemingly concerned. Your laugh is exhaustion on steroids, expression bombarded with emotion. “Okay, what the fuck is next? A girl craves some independence and the whole school turns against her. Let me guess, your boyfriend sent you to get even? Why don’t I make it easy for you and you can call your friends in here, and… and—“

Great.

Your lungs start to burn, your ribcage pounding with an erratic heartbeat, throat feeling like it’s been dusted with a thick blanket of ash. You’re panicking in front of Chrissy Cunningham. That alone has you feeling more pathetic than ever before in your life, and it worsens your heaving sobs—broken and unguarded. Chrissy’s eyes are drinking you in, irises glossing over with tears of her own. She grasps your other shoulder and squeezes, not releasing her hold on you, her soft voice strong when she speaks, but gentle enough between the expanse of your shared airspace.

“One, two, three, four. Okay, now deep breath in, and release it for me, Y/N.” She’s actually calming you, keeping you steady on your feet, which feel as if they’re sinking into the flooring below like led weights.

“Chrissy…” You aren’t sure how to articulate, still alarmed and attempting to breathe with her.

“I’m right here. Just keep breathing and counting with me.” And you do. And that’s when it hits you.

She has experience with this mind numbing panic too. That otherworldly anxiety. You feel a connective pull towards the cheerleader—seeing—not this persona you’d imagined, but her calming features, her easy going manner towards you, how she lets you find your lifeline, but also lends you her own in case you need it. When your breathing slows, she gives you a look, a silent communication of question. You may be able to breathe a little easier now, but it doesn’t stop the weight of your situation from crashing down and demolishing what’s left of you.

“Can I… I’m gonna hug you, is that okay?” At this point, if she’s going to put a sign on your back you don’t care. You need the human connection, the comfort. You agree and your schoolmate takes you into a light grip, but folds her arms around you and lets you bury your cheek against her perfumed sweater.

You both stand in the embrace, no trace of awkwardness, a sense of kinship and knowing. It’s when you pull back that hint of a questionable concern with her, wiping your sore eyes with a hiss. She notices.

“Are you here because of Jason? I just need to know.”

“Jason was a dick, Y/N.” Her language shocks you, having only heard her be proper before.

You laugh, your first genuine giggle in days. It’s contagious, as she joins in, hip jutting against the sink. “No, I’m here on my own terms. I promise. I saw what happened with your friends…”

“Yeah, I can imagine how everyone must be amused right now.” You bite your lip, facing away.

Chrissy gives you a saddened smile, but attempts to reassure. “I know this is gonna sound incredibly lame coming from me, but you’re stronger than all this, Y/N. The way you’ve stood up for yourself these past several days… I admire it.”

You frown deeply, wondering if this is a trick, because no way is Chrissy Cunningham admiring someone like you.

“You admire a loser that can’t even manage her own newfound independence?”

“No,” she says with a pause, looking down at her French tip manicure, before facing your curious gaze once more. “I admire your ability to stand up for yourself, despite what everyone is saying or doing to you. It’s a good quality to have, one that many of us are afraid of, you know?”

There’s this hollow pain in her eyes and your continued recognition has you pulling her in for another hug—this time for her benefit, rather than yours.

“Looks like we’ve fallen into the cliché trap, Cunningham.” You grin, pulling back.

Chrissy tilts her head, curious. “What do you mean?”

“A freak and a cheerleader thinking the same as what their peers think, and getting each other totally wrong.”

Her sweet eyes light up, her head nodding. “That’s exactly it.”

You share a knowing smile, a newfound bond forming. Chrissy situates her small shoulder bag, pulling out a compact and tugging you by your sleeve. “C’mhere. Let me fix that.”

She takes a gentle hand, not rushing as she speckles your sore under eyes with her own stash of makeup. After she blends it with soft fingertips, she snaps the lid closed and places it back in her bag, turning you to the bathroom mirror, brushing some of your hair through, giving your back a rub. “Is that any better, Y/N?”

Your circles are mostly covered, puffiness disguised enough where you won’t be embarrassed. You look and feel much better, and you’re overwhelmed with gratitude for the blonde at your side. You incline yourself into a swivel, leaning in her direction. “Chrissy Cunningham, I think you’re one of the sweetest people I now kinda, sort of know.”

Her giggle is infectious, and she gives you another squeeze. You drop down to swoop your messenger bag into your arms, grabbing out a your notebook and a pen, scribbling your home phone on it, hesitating, before handing it over. “If you ever need to talk to someone about all the bullshit, whatever it is, consider me your new confidant.”

She holds the simple sheet paper as if it’s another lifeline and you’ve just given her a treasure. Going back into her own bag, she has a cute little pink embroidered stationary paper that she jots her number on, and uses a smiley face to dot the i in Chrissy. Seconds later, her friends and a group of other girls burst into the bathroom, gossip on their lips. You and Chrissy flash each other a secret smile, and you make another hasty retreat.

~*~

Eddie had to hear a bunch of shit from the guys, overly bearing questions sounded off by Henderson and Wheeler. The eventual revealing by a passerby group of cheerleaders about your specially decorated locker, had surprised him too. As if there’s not already a weighted dagger wedged into his ribcage, one interlocking into his heart muscle—he lost control with his bitter mouth again, and it fueled your temper. But deep down, deeper into those subconscious recesses, you both felt that ignition start, a kind of coercing heat that is waging an internal war in Eddie’s head. His sole reason for blocking you out and refusing to talk about anything with you in the woods.

Eddie Munson is in love with you. Eddie Munson needs to fuck you.

It’s something he’s always done—built walls, got high, stayed drunk, coped with humor, hid behind his guitar or his campaigns. And without his right hand woman, he feels naked, too vulnerable to all the bullshit he’s tried to keep out. And your absence has become a set course for his weakening concentration on anything that isn’t you. His ultimate warrior princess is also his Achilles heel. Your feelings in wanting to branch out, they scare Eddie.

His brain is flipping logic into thinking you are seeing what everyone else sees in him: freak, failure, piece of shit, a nobody, a criminal. He pushed you out before he could pull you back in—easy, abrupt. And it’s not just changing him—no—he could smell your vodka soaked breath across the table, see your eyes swollen and glazed—absent. For the first time in years you weren’t wearing your limited edition shirt (thanks to him), and Eddie isn’t sure why he expected you to still have his chain around your neck. It fucking hurts.

As the room slowly falls back into their daily routine, Eddie loses his appetite and leaves his herd behind, urgent to get the fuck outta this building, out of Hawkins. Hell, maybe even the country. Like you, however, Eddie Munson’s retreat isn’t one that is unscathed. In his urgency, he smacks straight into you, stumbling over his own clumsy ass feet, gripping your forearms to keep you both steady. He’s processed your scent before he even takes in your beautiful features.

Fuck…

You look less like you’ve been partying all weekend, but Eddie knows better. Your pupils are dilated to the bright overhead lights of the hallways, making your sclera more visible. It’s bloodshot red, lower lids swollen and tinged a rough crimson beneath the fresh makeup that Eddie now sees. He swallows and looks away, but he doesn’t let you go. His grip isn’t harsh, it’s simply what it’s always been with you two. Easy and sturdy, safe.

You’re the first to downcast your gaze, focusing more on your shoe wear than on Eddie. It kills him. Even through these notions, this fear, whatever anger you’re both harboring, it’s as if this whole damned school and everyone passing you two are mere bodies, Eddie Munson and Y/N Y/L/N floating, tethered. His stomach churns its lunch contents, teeth clenching tightly. You make a brisk dart off, but Eddie attempts to catch you, instead tugging too hard on your shoulder strap, causing your bag to dump and spread out its contents at his sneaker clad feet.

Eddie’s eyes are quick to see it before you realize. Shining underneath hallway lights, scattered amongst notebooks and pens, is a small flask. His brows perch, he crouches first, scooping it away from your jutting hands. Gareth’s words rewind and play on repeat in his head.

“Damn, Y/N lookin’ like she went on a bender.”

The way his heart rate spikes, hostilely spitting that acid all over his lungs, battering his throat muscles with a pummeling storm. He’s already sure what he’ll smell if he presses the lid to his nostrils, but Eddie has to feed his anxious curiosity, unscrewing the cap with nervous hands, sniffing, shrugging off your grabs. It burns his mouth from its strength, his distraction giving you enough leeway to wrap your hands over his fingers and pull. Eddie locks your digits within his own, second thoughts gone. Against everything inside him he is getting angrier by the second, the anger masking itself, easier than being petrified and scared in front of you.

And Eddie is scared. Is he really so fucking stupid to think you weren’t at all affected by any of this?

“What the fuck, Y/N?” Your fingers sliding through his own, flood him, prickling every vein running beneath his skin, cutting off his blood flow—scorching.

~*~

Having Eddie’s hands on you again, his body so close, despite your shame at his discovery, it’s a feeling that comes more natural than breathing. You avoid his question, feeble grasping docked.

“Why do you have a flask full of fucking vodka?”

“Will you keep your voice down!” You hiss the words, finally breaking off him and retrieving the rest of your items on the scuffed up floor, and securing them back into your bag, Eddie holding back your liquor.

“Did you drive to school drinking this crap? Tell me you didn’t, Y/N, cause’ I swear to god—“

You chortle, a humorless boom smacking across your chest.

“Eddie, this faux best-friend act is getting old. Your on and off switch is enough to drive anyone to drastic measures. But don’t flatter yourself into thinking I’d be an idiot and drive drunk. Not even for you.”

His irises that are glossy with concern, they cave to dilating pupils, an animalistic rage priming them. “Oh, you have got to be the most clueless bitch alive, Y/N.” He steps towards you, frame towering slightly. You’re not afraid, never fearing if he’ll do something, because that is not Eddie, no matter what. But, you are very much dripping with rage at his words.

He pockets your flask in his left back pocket, rings clinking against it as he pats it for good measure. You try to dive around him, beneath his arm, but he swoops in on his own, using that strength for his slender frame, literally scooping you into a half bring-away, only discarding you back onto your feet once you’re both outside. You try to shove at him, palms resting on his stained club shirt. The bell has rang to signal your free period, but you don’t give two fucks, giving up and being the one to leave.

“Who’s the coward now, huh? You’re gonna walk away from me when I call you on your shit, Y/N?”

You spin on your heel, dirt and gravel specks crunched beneath your step. “I thought I was a clueless bitch, Eddie? A traitor? Or, your slut.” You scoff, crossing your arms.

Guilt briefly flickers across his features, but he shuts it down tenfold. “Just because we’re fighting doesn’t mean I want you to destroy your fucking liver or your life. Jesus Christ, you really think I’m that big of an asshole?”

“I don’t know what to think anymore!” You fling your hands into the air. “One minute we’re at each other’s throats, the next you’re up my ass. I don’t know what to do here, Eddie.”

“Thought you craved some individuality and independence.” Though there’s meant to be flare behind the words, Eddie’s tone has splintered across each word, voice breaking apart. Your guts sink into your ass, as does a particularly pointed swallow that stabs at your jugular.

“Didn’t say I wanted to be completely independent from my best-friend.” Your own response is gentle, voice soaked with impending emotion.

Fuck. Stupid fucking tears burning again. Not right now.

Eddie’s attention snaps back on you, proximity closing in. His jaw clenches, he moves it from side to side with a closed mouth, sniffing, whistling air through a wet breath. “Feels like you’re leavin’ me and I can’t do anything to stop it…”

It makes sense suddenly. A catapult of truth slamming right into your chest, spreading throughout your body.

He thinks I’m leaving him. That I want to leave him.

As if the last seventy two hours haven’t happened, better yet, as if they haven’t mattered in the grand scheme of things—you’re the one that meets Eddie, reaching to push that curly hair from his eyes, his head downcast and posture sullen. His brown eyes are brimmed with tears that spill over his lash line, a permanent frown creased between his brows, mouth red and spit slick. Those freckles on his nose are suddenly very prominent to you. You’ve never seen Eddie Munson this vulnerable. Your heart shatters, the ache so physically strong that you have to remain close to him to hold on and find that strength again.

How could you have gotten this so monumentally wrong? Maybe if you’d have expressed what you meant more instead of feeding off Eddie’s anger. His communication and yours both need nurturing, but your sudden shift in mood must’ve made him feel like you wanted to abandon him, not just do things for yourself. He may not realize that yet, but you do. And it fucking sucks.

“Eddie. I’m sorry.” It’s all you can say in the seconds that your heart heaves into your throat.

He shakes that shaggy mane. “Don’t need anyone feeling sorry for me, especially you.” He backs away from you and you see his entire expression crumble, tears spilling onto his cheeks.

That pain drowns your throat, seeing him cry because of your lack of explanation and mutual avoidance. You chase after him, running around to block his view, unable to let him go, gripping onto his waist beneath his jacket to keep him planted. Another familiarity. He tenses beneath your touch before relaxing.

“Eddie, will you please listen to me? I think I know what’s going on now.”

“And look who is the one flipping her emotions this time.”

“Because, I… Eddie, I—“

“What lame ass line do you want me to buy, Y/N? You think I’m not used to worthless promises or idiotic reassurances? Yeah, good.” His sentence is fragmented, voice rough and breaking apart on each word. “You know I still care about you, but I don’t need you to lie to me, you don’t owe me a damn thing, I promise you—“

You press a finger to his quivering lips, halting him. There’s a shift in the atmosphere, a pause in the universe, your legs heavy, fingertip stroking along the plumpness of your best-friend’s full, lower lip. Eddie’s chest is moving up and down swiftly, tongue against his teeth, that warning look. You fail to heed it and Eddie’s hands tremble at his sides before he gives up and cups the sides of your face, bringing your foreheads together. His lips part to speak, your finger still on them. “Think we’re in trouble here.”

You can do nothing but nod as his declaring statement, inclining your head further, nose nudging his own. It doesn’t feel as if you’re standing any longer, every mean thing that Eddie has said, every disproportionate attempt of yours to communicate—obliterate, shrouding you both in the process. His breath is hot as his mouth opens and he sucks your finger inside, tongue licking its tip, biting the digit between those milky white teeth. It sends that throbbing nudge, snapping between your thighs, making you arch into your best-friend. You whisper his name and his fingers move along your jaw, across your ear, sliding through your hair and rubbing a pathway to your necks’ nape, sending an army of goosebumps across your flesh, the coolness of his rings stimulating your skin.

“Yeah, you feelin’ it too?” Your lids flutter closed, Eddie using his thumb pad to brush the corners of your lashes, signally for you to open them. “Didn’t say you could stop looking at me, did I, sweetheart?”

You grind against him, unable to stop. Your last several days, everything between you both is on hold, these buried urges able to finally win out. This dominant side of Eddie Munson has you an inward and outwardly quickening pile of mush and hormones, of fucking need. Eddie about loses his cool when you obey him, pupils blown, mouth looking parched and in need of his kisses. He leans, walls starting to slip, resolve crumbling, his pouting mood long gone.

Years of built up tension and confusion, being rightfully by one another’s sides, it all comes apart, the seams, begging to be repaired into what it has to be now.

You envelop his hold on you, hands sliding into slips beneath his jacket, around his waist, tracing over his back, before dipping under his armpits and grasping his shoulders, knuckles pushed down by his leather jacket. One more step and he’ll kiss you. He’s closing a gap, no more breaches, you tapping his shoulders right down to the blades in encouragement. It’s parted mouths hovering over one another, cigarettes and vodka, school lunch and weed, it’s—

“Hey, guys! Higgins is so pissed off right now… After that shit went down in the caf, he’s ready to expel you, Y/N! Pretty fuckin’ sure.” You hear Gareth approach, and just like, Eddie releases you.

You have to steady yourself, want simmering into a slumber in your belly, not yet gone, but still reminding you where it lives. Your glare is directed at your mutual friend. Eddie, feeling as if he’s been doused with ice cold water, and the moment is shattered, you see those walls rebuilding rapidly, and she shrugs off your hand, leaving you and Gareth, and that slickness that has collected in your panties.

~*~

You aren’t sure just exactly what Eddie is feeling, but you’re very aware of what you are. So driving to his place once you know Wayne has left for the night shift—it’s a no brainer. You’d debated bringing Eddie your box of treasures, even your necklace, but you can’t bring yourself to do it. Maybe, maybe your best-friend doesn’t want you to…?

Want.

A dynamic shift in your relationship, or what it used to be. You can barely sit still as you wrack your brain through all the levels of hazy blurs. So much has happened in three days, but… today, with Eddie nearly kissing you on the mouth, and you nearly grinding against him in the Hawkins High parking lot—yeah, you two have to talk about all of this. As you squirm in your seat, hands tightening around the wheel, that approaching trailer park sign signals your arrival to his residence. You can’t stop the way your heartbeat feels as if it’s ping ponging around in your throat, or that anxious twitch of your mouth’s corner—forget even attempting to deny your cascading memories of the way his chocolate irises wore an expression unlike anything you’ve ever seen on Eddie Munson.

His trailer comes into your sights, that tickle swooping your guts and holding them hostage. You swallow a thick ball of anxiety, parking next to his van, cutting your engine. The lights are all on and you’ve got no excuse to chicken out. It’s your year too, right? Fucking fuck it.

With your keys clutched in your palm, you make your way to Eddie’s trailer, rasping on his door lightly. You don’t hear his music blaring, so he might be reading, planning a campaign, writing some music he’d mentioned wanting to practice with the guys soon, get a feel for its sound—just last week. You have given about three octaves of knocks and are about to give up, head pressed the door, thinking he was just lost in lust earlier, and maybe you’d fucked up on your end beyond repair. Exhausted by the stampeding pain that brings your insides, you flip the Munson’s spare key off your key ring and unlock the door. A bold move—albeit—a very stupid one.

That familiar scent of Eddie and Wayne’s shared carton of cigarettes hits your nose, along with the leftovers from dinner you see sitting out on the stove. Your cookies, which have been devoured, are missing their note. You panic, briefly thinking Eddie probably trashed it, only to come back from that brink seconds later. It’s not what you’re here for. You glance at the couch and it’s empty, not even Eddie’s usual indent on the cushion is there.

Swinging your keys from your pointer finger, you peek down the small hallway to Eddie’s closed door, light spilling out underneath. He could be sleeping, possibly ignoring you, or he snuck out the back door…

Your feet make an echoing squeak across the trailer’s flooring structure, your fingers twisting the knob and pushing, pausing, deciding to go ahead. If he wants you to leave then you’ll go, if he’s asleep, you’ll go, if he left… You can’t fathom that thought, another ignorance that you partake in. You aren’t sure exactly what you expected, but seeing your best-friend’s tallish frame, with his back facing you, lean leg propped atop his mattress, right arm bent at a very clear angle, his left propped on one of his many amps he’d apparently moved since you’d been here last—is sure as hell NOT it. Eddie’s curly hair ruffles and is jostled across his shoulders with each movement his arm makes, his delicious ass clenching as his body thrusts into his rhythm, the outline of his chain on his perspired neck and damp strands of dark hair—clear. You don’t have to hear the thick, slick and wet stroking to know what he’s doing to himself.

You cross an ankle over the other, squeezing your legs together tightly, trying to bounce on the balls of your heels to get relief. Your fingers white knuckle his banged up door handle, your mouth parting. Whether it’s that bond you two share, or your very visible labored breathing, Eddie’s shoulder blades pinch together, his motions abruptly cut. He turns as if caught doing something he shouldn’t be—definitely something you aren’t prepared to handle. It’s like your mouth is speaking for you, eyes in a trance, enslaved to your lustful abiding.

Fucked out, blown up pupils shave off the color of your irises, your tongue gliding across your teeth, that take a turn to sink into your bottom lip, your toes curling in your shoes. You feel hot, body battered in melting flames that won’t cease, won’t let you get in a normal burst of air flow. You know without having to fix your posture that you’ve made a mess between your legs, panties soaked to hell—completely ruined. You’re honest to fuck not sure if you can make it out of here in an upright position, that painfully strong ache tackling your cunt, breaking off your common sense, leaving you Eddie-drunk. Helping yourself to a swiping look between his legs, he’s still got a ring clad hand wrapped around a very generous girth—shiny—a length that leaves saliva pooling on your tongue’s tip.

His chest is slick with sweat, tattoos glossed beneath, nipples hard from the cool air let into his bedroom. Which, you note, is really fucking hot, and the window is steamed up. Your eyelids flutter in rapid blinks to help you reign yourself in, but all you see are glimpses of Eddie’s fist around himself, that creamy and swollen head, full balls on either side, trimmed curls at the base of his shaft. You want to die. And oh, what a sweet and sinful death that would be.

“Mhm… fuck.” You say through the gap between your panting mouth, words take the opportunity to bust free, joining a high pitched whimper.

Eddie’s chocolate eyes are completely black, leaving no room for anything else but purely raw desire. They widen, a sharp heave in his inhaling chest, abdomen flexing as he holds himself tightly. When you don’t move Eddie takes the initiative, slowly approaching, a softness there beneath the want and knowing. He reaches your space, still giving you enough, but you’re able to still feel that radiating body heat. Neither of you speak, because what is there to say right now?

You’d be a pleading mess of profanities, apologizes, and begging to be taken and used.

Thankfully, Eddie makes another move before you. His spare hand joins your own on the door knob, fingers brushing your knuckles, encouraging, giving you one more opportunity if you’re in distress or uncomfortable. You hook onto his offer and you surprise you both by finding something to say after all, throat parched, yet still damp with wanton rasp. “Start touching yourself again, Eddie. Please?” Fuck, well there’s a beg.

Eddie, assuming you want a show, nerves being dipped in lava and left to forever sizzle and smoke—gives in, both of you shutting his door and closing the two of you off from the outside world. He doesn’t wait for you to back away, pushing his hips to a rise, his cock gliding through his closed fist. You let him lean over you, frame against his door, watching his legs spread to widen his stance, obeying your plea. He almost asks, but assumes it would be too hopeful if you would want to touch yourself in front of him too. You’re out of your mind, common sense obliterated for all eternity, watching your bestfriend practically pin you to the door and fuck himself in front of you.

Those sounds you’ve imagined, pictured, they’re even more pronounced in person. Some low enough that it’s a stifling whimper, a needy sobbing. If you don’t do something about the gnawing throbbing between your thighs, it’ll be total combustion. There’s an empowerment that winds itself around a pulsating set of nerves in one’s decision to masturbate in front of their best-friend. That coolness works itself in your palms, your fingers tossing your keys over and onto Eddie’s dresser, toeing off your shoes, his eyes steamy in their grasp on your every move.

You’d wished you had brought your camera to photograph his expression when you walk over to where he stood in front of his bed, turning to face him, your fingers undoing your jeans and the zipper, a resounding echo in the room, Eddie’s tongue poking out on his upper lip, he holds himself around the base, the urgency to fuck his hand as you take your seat on his mattress and scoot with your back to the wall, hips lifting to help you pull off your jeans and panties. You struggle momentarily, but neither of you are saying a word, gazes steady and unwavering.

Discarding your clothing with a soft thump onto his floor, you’re heartbeat thumps in your throat, ribcage taking an unsteady hammering of its resounding drumming. You heed Eddie’s silent command to continue, agreeing to this turning point between you two. Your thighs fall open and that sticky want strings to your swollen folds, glistening in the creases of your thighs, your cunt sopping wet. You’re dripping, and Eddie isn’t missing it when your arousal finally does drizzle from your neglected pussy and onto his bedsheets. You shift to get comfortable, hand cupping yourself, immediately smothered in your own juices, legs falling into a drop, toes finally able to curl without the barrier of your shoes, bunching Eddie’s sheets.

Eddie watches you from where he can see, still eager to be closer, but unable to stop himself from stroking along his length, teasing that vein that runs alongside his cock. You do it again, rubbing your palm up and down your lips, a crude squelch causing Eddie to almost black out, and you shiver. He releases himself, heavy and hot between slim thighs, and he’s moving. He puffs out a gravelly hiss from pursed lips, stalking towards you and giving a cat like crawl across his own bed, planting himself shoulder to shoulder with you to your left. He must be feeling the overwhelming change that is occurring, as he reaches for your hand to give it a reassuring squeeze.

You gravitate towards your hand, fingers slipping through your slickness, your head bowing in embarrassment. Eddie grips your chin and tilts you his way, shaking his head, that same hand dropping to your thigh and lifting to pull up and to the side. And he looks. He fucking memorizes you between your legs with these little mewling coos of appreciation that cement themselves into your subconscious. You do the same, helping yourself to an up close and personal view of what he’s been hiding.

Eddie leans forward and cups the nap of your neck, his other hand taking your wrist and removing it from your self-touches, shushing your protesting whine. He brings it up to his mouth, which is hovering close to yours, your own fingers pressed against your lips, and he licks a straight stripe up your creamy covered palm, humming underneath his breath as he does so. You want to slap him and ride him on every available surface in this trailer. You’re the one to speak, having to.

“Eddie…” It’s a meek little trail-off.

Eddie lets go of your wrist and uses that hand to pull his cock off his stomach, a wet patch left behind in his happy trail. He still doesn’t let your neck go, his fingertips tapping an invisible beat, leaving goosebumps in their wake. He’s laughing, tufts of air settling across your mouth. You narrow your gaze, moving to shut your legs, Eddie’s hand quickly preventing the action, stroking the meat of your inner thigh. “Only fair if I’m exposed, sweetheart.”

“But… you’re laughing.” And it hits you then, why he’s really chuckling in that Eddie Munson way. It’s an incredulous and mind boggling turn of events. Best-friends that broke up when they were never together, now side by side and in a very compromising situation.

You grin and falter into his embrace, your hand working its way into a wind around his neck, taking sweaty strands in scoops between your fingers, his pick chain draped across your knuckles. Eddie licks across his bottom lip, tapping your hips as he moves, your hands falling, and sprawls his legs into a propped spread, cock neglected and flushed, much like the rest of his skin, that you’ll die if you don’t put your marks on. He’s motioning for you to turn in a slow facing position in front of him, and that’s how you end up—vulnerable, so fucking vulnerable. He’s muttering words, huddled and unintelligible, reaching out and tugging you to him by your ankles, stopping, resting, eyes dark as they do a once over to gauge your mental stability. When you don’t protest, palms splaying out to keep yourself upright behind you, Eddie lets his legs flatten against his sheets, a smirk pattering his lips, indenting its knowing presses beside his mouth.

His exhale catches on a ragged breath, a passionate declaration signing off on what’s about to occur, teeth sinking into his bottom lip as he pulls you close, your ass resting on his hairy thighs, waiting, held, his arm wrapping around your lower back and lifting you completely into that ink splattered, silk-slick chest, his skin sticking to your long sleeved t-shirt, ruining it with sex-soaked perspiration. You think that there’s nothing—no—you know that in this entire world, no matter what, that whatever will happen to you is never going to compare to the moment when Eddie’s maneuvering hands glide your wet cunt over his cock, using your drenching heat as his own personal lubricant. Your ankles lock around his waist, no choice from the close band that your best-friend has re-tethered you to him with, leaving no room or space where you’re not touching or breathing in the other. Your arms curl around Eddie’s neck, hands draped down his back as you help yourself to pinching and clawing the flesh beneath, relishing every little grumble and groan off his pretty lips. Your face takes solace in his neck, nosing your way through his curly hair, nose bumping his chain to lift so that your mouth can claim him.

“Fuck.” His throat constricts around a swallow, your teeth sinking into a piece of Eddie’s flesh and biting, releasing, lips closing over that angry spot to soothe, tongue tasting salt, licking it off, indulging.

He lets your have your way with his neck, a particularly harsh slap landing on your ass in following of your mouth on his jugular, letting your tongue following that curvature into his jawline. You don’t stop his wandering hands, you don’t dare fight off his vice grip on the globes of your ass, his kneading, using as them leverage to place you right where he wants you. You let him take control, an unspoken agreement, a having to have. Your head falls back as Eddie rolls his hips beneath, rocking his lap, solid presses that drag his fat cock over your embarrassingly wet pussy, scattering your thick arousal and smearing it across his happy trail, getting caught in that patch of curls at the base of his shaft. You’re dripping all over him, quite literally. Caught on a trapped hum, hung in its hisses between your clenched teeth, you croon into Eddie’s neck, your stomach tightening, that velvety drag of his dick through your swollen folds making your lids flutter closed, colors dotting in their dances—translucent.

You aren’t sure where to move your hands, comfortable with having them shred Eddie’s back and empty out the past few days of frustration and desperation. Eddie encourages, palming handfuls of your ass, creating a cresting twist, a thigh trembling rub of sopping wet desire. He’s merely whimpering, appreciating, not overly vocal until his swollen head catches your neglected clit, and his head drops back, fingers pinching so tightly into your skin that it burns.

“Oh, shit. Dammit, baby.”

You’re simpering on a series of whimpers, agreeable and speechless. Eddie is feeding off it. “Yeah? You needing this too? Little clit feels so good rubbing on my dick, sweetheart. You want me to do it again?”

When you’re not immediately able to be vocal, Eddie pulls back a little, shoving his hand between your thighs and drags his rings directly through your arousal, coating them in a glittering shine. His first real touch where you need him the most. You both inhale sharply. It’s the pain from the cool metal of his jewelry that makes it feel so fucking good. He curses, telling you how messy you’re being, flinging his hand in your sights, dragging you in a pry off of his neck, holding your jaw and flashing his knuckles.

“See what you did, messy little angel. You gotta clean em’ now for me.”

His eyes are so fucking demolished, brown crushed beneath a midnight sea of black and insatiable attraction. You’re mewling, tongue lolling out, licking that metallic onto your tongue, sloppily sloping around his knuckles, lips suckling what your tongue can’t catch, your own taste fresh off your mouth. That’s when Eddie brushes a calloused thumb across your bottom lip, tugging it down to expose your teeth, and he brings your lips to his, a feral groan stealing your breath, sharing your juices in your first kiss. It’s a shift in the energy you share, a no going back, no running away, a fate sealed. Eddie loses all control and flips you off his lap, pinning you beneath him, kissing you with such feverish vigor that your hand tangles into his messy curls, and you pull, hard.

His tongue licks your lips open, greedily removing what’s left of your taste that remains. It’s noisy and nasty in the expanse of his small bedroom—diabolically sinful. One hand caresses your throat’s expanse, the other dropping down with a snapped wrist between your thighs, palm smacking your cunt, a guttural groan vibrating from his mouth into your own. Saliva strings on the break away, Eddie’s gaze switching to watch the hand on your cunt, out of it.

“Your pussy always this wet, baby? Or is it just for your best-friend?”

“Only for you, Eddie. Always you.”

Fallen into the depths of satisfaction, Eddie permits a slender digit to drag down your slit, taking that thick honey with it, a squelch echoing in the room when his finger wiggles its way inside of you. You clamp around him, chest heaving with shaky breaths.

“Jesus Christ. You’re gonna drown my dick when you let me fuck you, aren’t you?”

You’re incoherently babbling, tapping the hand that’s on your throat, hungry for it. “Tighter.”

Eddie’s brow raise is comical, a surprise coating his features. “So miss Y/N likes it rough? Never woulda guessed.”

You gulp a pump of air that vibrates across his hold, trying to gain more depth from his finger. It’s moving in exploration of your softly wet walls, an excess of arousal being pressed out upon that squish. Eddie tightens his hold on your throat, before he taps his fingers to your jugular and releases, hand toppling down your side and caressing, bringing. “Fuck, my best-friend’s got such a perfect little pussy. S’ made to be destroyed and used.”

You’re nodding so hard that the motion causes a cracking pop in your neck, Eddie laughing that noise under a cute breath. He’s thick with it, wiggling in a second finger and causing you drop your hands back behind you and push into the sensation, chasing, hunting it.

“Desperate to get away from me all week, now look at you. What a whore.”

Eddie has a mouth on him, something you’d always wondered about in your daily daydreams and nightly fantasies. As vocal as when he’s singing with his band. He’s saying words to you, snapping your attention, you’re whining as his fingers leave your cunt, and he’s pulling you into him so hard your lips split apart, cushioning his cock, cradling him in that overwhelming slick. He must not have meant for that action to cause it, as he jumps when you do, this feral look flickering behind those heated orbs. You know… it’s time.

Eddie is barely able to stand, clumsily bringing you with him by a laced grip in your hands. He gets you upright and you’re dizzy, his hands taking purchase on your shirt (the only remaining piece of clothing on you), and rips it with gritting teeth and anger, as if he’s pissed it’s not the club shirt, or sickened with himself for destroying yours—you’re not sure. Spit pools at the corners of your mouth as you let him tear off your tattered tee and yank your bra down, impatiently yanking the clasp apart and discarding it, helping himself to your tits, closing those plush lips over a nipple. Your hand wraps around his throbbing cock, fingers barely touching around the width, squeezing him—tugging. His hips stutter and he whines against your breast, teeth biting the flesh with a harsh precision.

Your other hand works its way through his wet curls and massages his scalp, tenderly altering in beckoning strokes, ones that switch off into root tugging pulls. Eddie’s hands keep your breast cupped, switching off to the other, whilst you dip lower and fondle his balls, letting your pinky drop off and scratch into his inner thigh. He’s doing that humming thing underneath his fucked out tone again, and you’re focusing your attention on his cock, thumb pad stroking that weeping slit, spreading it around and over that vein, enchanted with how it causes a thin bright shine over him, your own cream matted into the curls at the base of him, pathed up his stomach. His mouth leaves your chest and those big hands grip your cheeks, both of you watching as you jack him with a sticky tug.

Fuck me.

“Who’s the whore for his bestfriend now, Eds? You gonna admit that half the shit I’ve done this week has gotten your dick so hard you can’t decide what you’ve hated me for more,” You say, pausing to twist your grip, making him fold into your holding hand, “my smart mouth or how much you need this.”

Your powering dominance is short lived, hand falling off his erection, with Eddie kneeing you into a shove until your back collides with his desk, his arm reaching around to push most of its contents off and onto the floor, not caring where any of it goes. He nudges your thighs apart and slots his lean frame between, thumb catching the corner of your mouth, his instruction clear, yet awaiting your consent to cross this no back-stepping boundary. “M’ gonna fuck you right here, and you’re goin’ to watch me take you, Y/N.”

You’re pretty sure you’re gonna pass out at any given moment.

“I’m gonna watch you, Eddie.” You agree, zoning out and sprinting after your pleasure.

“Good girl.” Eddie breaks briefly, mouth on your shoulder, hand winding your hair around his fist and tugging it back so hard that the ache inside of you becomes an inferno. He finds the underside of your chin, voice honey-hot. “Because you’re not leaving this room until there’s a puddle of me running back out of your cunt.”

You launch forward so fast that Eddie falls into you, chest smashing against your breasts, your lips crashing into his for a brutally intimate kiss. You sink your teeth into his bottom lip and tug, biting down so hard you taste copper—licking it up and making Eddie’s cock jump. His ring covered hand attaches itself to your throat and he drags you off your prop against the desk, spinning you around and securing you to it, those hairy thighs pressing into you, wet cock so close to where you need him the most. His hand wraps around your hair again and lifts your gaze to that small opening in the mirror where posters and his most prized possession hangs. You’re flushed and soaked with sweat, mouth swollen and streaked with red from biting into Eddie’s plump lip, your pussy dripping thick strings of your creamy essence, slowly slithering in dangles from your pussy and onto the floor.

“You’re so fucking messy, Y/N. Aren’t you ashamed of yourself, baby?” Eddie is like the devil on your shoulder, and you, you’re his angel of eternal damnation.

You’re about to beg, but Eddie saves you the trouble, his fingers tapping in tips down your spine, caressing, stroking, before they spread your lips apart and dip inside, palm flat. “Should fuckin’ split you open, do it raw. Cum so deep inside that you end up pregnant with my baby and have no choice but to always think of me, be around me.”

Though there’s a tease behind his passionate words, there’s this primal exclamation that overtakes you and you clamp down on his fingers. A series of fast paced images are vivid in your mind. Your tummy swollen and breasts heavy, Eddie having you bent over like this—one hand on your belly, the other on your throat, feeling your pulse galavant beneath his touch.

“Y/N… Fuck, sweetheart.” He’s so fucked in his descending tone that the depth is gruff and tipping off his diaphragm, you imagine. He presses his cheek against your own, chin resting on your shoulder as you drink each other in, in the mirror’s expanse, Eddie’s tone weak. “You really willing to carry my kid?”

You meet his eyes in the cluttered mirror, nodding, a softness carving out permanent residence in your features. It’s a topic you’d never shared with anyone else, never banked too much on thinking about, but beyond the idea of how hot this all is, you can’t imagine a scenario like this that doesn’t involve Eddie Munson. Vulnerable and barely above a brisk whisper, you’re answering him with, “Yeah, Eds. Want a family with you.”

At your admission, he lets his hand go in languid thrusts. You groan and let your head shift, but Eddie is jerking you back to stare into the glass, both of you panting and on the cusp of an out of body experience. It causes you to grin, licking your lips as your best-friend pumps those experienced digits to cause a purposeful squelch, his rings clinking together. His hard cock is pressed between his own stomach and your back, that pre-cum pooling onto your lower back and smearing in streaks down your ass. You’ve had more than enough teasing and you’re well aware that Eddie has too.

His look briefly falters, turning to mouth at your chin, a silent question. It’s you who uses your words, or rather, trembles in your feeble attempt. “Eddie, just put your cock inside me, or I swear I’ll—“

He’s smirking wildly at your slack-jawed expression when his fingers slide out of you and stick together with your cum, to which he helps himself to and coats his cock, then lines himself up and presses the thick head into your opening, leaning down to bite at your shoulder and leave an exposed imprint. Your legs feel like jello and he hasn’t even fucked you yet. He’s going to ask you to beg, and you’re an all in willing participant. Surprisingly, though, he doesn’t. He inhales sharply, you hold your breath, and both of you watch him sink into your slick and soft cunt, inch by inch, until his balls rest against the globes of your cheeks.

You’re still holding your breath, releasing it when you feel him sigh, grip on your hair loosening a little, too caught up in the fact that he’s where he belongs, after so much time doing without this. Your legs are about to buckle, jerking, toes curling against the carpeted floor, overwhelmed by everything that’s happened, and by your best-friend’s cock throbbing in your aching pussy. “E-Eds…?” It’s a pathetic cry of a question.

Eddie’s brows pinch together, sweat beaded between. He grips your jaw and his fingertips tap you back to meet his mouth, hovering over your lips. “S’ okay, sweetheart. Let me take care of you.” He briefly drops the playful gimmick, reassuring you that he’s right here with you.

It’s more than enough to have you arching back into him, a brash pummeling of his hips that sends you into the dresser, having to reach out and catch yourself. Eddie is quick witted, gripping your wrists with one hand and pinning them behind your back, stepping with you in toe, elongating his arm to snatch those handcuffs on his wall, that cold metal biting into your wrist, that dull noise presenting itself as the cuffs lock you into place, Eddie gripping onto the chains’ excess expanse, using it as a leverage. A sliver of a chalky moan trickles off your kiss-swollen lips, appreciative. The way Eddie is manhandling you has you so fucking euphoric that you’re sure you’ll be in a comatose state before either of you can cum. Your best-friend’s large hand finds purchase in your hair again, drawing his hips back, the other on the chain of the cuffs—steadying himself into a rhythm, riding you like all that matters is your destruction and his ultimate ownership.

Eddie Munson has owned you since the very moment that you two met.

The way he’s executing such precise and rough thrusts, making sure you’re high on the bring up, toes pressing into the carpet, that you’re stuffed full of his fat cock until it hurts, twitching in overstimulation, sore and fluttering walls eager to be soaked in everything he has to give you, that you are taking in every inch, catching every ridge, leaving you a shambled, panting mess, in pieces only being put back together again when Eddie will allow your release. His hair is tickling your shoulder blades, his fingers leaving the cuffs to press into your mouth and curl over your tongue, relishing in how you gag around the digits. You’re weak, so fucking weak for him, and he knows it.

“Can’t wait to hear you gag on my cock, Y/N. If you have trouble with these bad boys?” He puts an emphasis, wiggling his fingers against your tongue, giving them a secondary push to over extend your gag reflexes, his dick twitching inside you.

You bite down on his fingers, sucking them in, accepting his challenge, willing it to happen. His balls slap into your ass, heavy and hot, every movement causing the metal to rut into the skin of your wrists. He’s got a steady tempo going, alternating it by dipping his hips to bring you with him, letting you nearly collide with your chest flush to his desk. He reaches up and shoves that poster back by peeling tape, revealing more of your fucked out forms. Your eyes widen at your disheveled and unrecognizable appearance, Eddie using your cuffed hands as reigns. Riding you so hard that you can’t breathe anything but his hot air curling around the shell of your ear.

“Dammit, you are such a good girl for me, Y/N. Always pictured you takin’ my cock, but you’re not even crying yet, just taking what I give you.”

Yet… Fuck me running.

Your scalp is tingling with a prickling crowd of flames from his harsh grip, his other hand reaching to smack your ass, using some mechanism on the cuffs—albeit—struggling with his spit soaked fingers that were just in your mouth, to unlatch them and discard them at your feet, and he watches the flesh of your ass cheek redden and jiggle beneath his biting palm. You fist your fingers into a strewn pair of his blue denim jeans left on the desk top, dipping your forehead down and arching your back, trying to look between your own legs from this new angle to see Eddie’s cock cradled in your puffy lips. He tuts at your unsuccessful action, forcing you back into watching him doing his hard work—the hardest he’s worked at anything (sans his band or the campaigns, if he’s being honest with himself)—to make this unforgettable for you. He hits that spot located inside, the one you have to strain an arm to barely graze, and you lose all coherent capabilities.

“Eddie… that’s, oh my god, oh FUCK. Right there!”

Eddie’s throat crumbles under a weak pant, which ends up coming out as a whimper. He remains firm, however, still using your hair to keep you right where he wants you, his other hand reaching around to pet his own shaft as he slides out just enough to make you wetter.

“Yeah, baby? That spot gonna make somethin’ happen for you?”

You don’t answer, mumbles and babbling gibberish. He shakes that precious head of his, curls tickling your back and shoulders, a sigh breaking free. “Sorry, sweetheart. Can’t believe we’re doin’ this in front of you. Both my girls right here with me, one of them at my fuckin’ mercy.” Your attentions snap over your shoulder and you see Eddie looking at his fucking guitar, that is one of the only things remaining on the mirror. You gape, but aren’t surprised in the slightest.

He continues on, pretending he doesn’t see your partial seethe. “Makin’ a mess all over me, but I bet you like to see it too, don’t you?” He sinks his teeth into his lower lip, still talking to the inanimate object. “Both my sweethearts are such sluts for their owner.”

You can’t help that rattle that clamps around your bones and slices through your spinal cord, seizing your abdomen, right down into your cunt. Owner? You have zero time to warn him, ask if you can, alarms unprepared, skin slapping on skin, his taste on your mouth, his breath on your flesh, that slippery glide that has cum running down your thighs, and it’s a sudden wave crashing over your insides and drowning them in your painfully interstellar-esque orgasm. Your eyes burn with tears as you watch your best-friend feel what’s happening, realizing. He’s covered in your release, and instead of being mad, he is influencing you like the little devil that he can be, plump lip pressing to your ear lobe with one continuous command. “That’s it. C’mon, Y/N. Drench my dick.”

You wish you could bottle the feeling of your first orgasm with Eddie Munson, your best-friend—forever. Finding yourself growing into that vulnerability that comes with the high, you seek to find solace in Eddie’s arms, whimpering at the overstimulation of his thick cock. With that connection still in tact, Eddie is spinning you around, dick sliding out with a messy mixture of arousals covering you both—his member completely doused in your cream, painting the trimmed curls at the base of his shaft with even more of you, slicking back some more of that happy trail. You want to be embarrassed, but as he’s red faced and struggling to breathe, you know that there’s no need to be. He steers you back onto the bed, falling easily between your spread thighs, drawing them up and around his waist.

He presses his forehead into your own, kissing each corner of your mouth, rings circling in dusting sweeps on the apex of your thighs. His voice is a shivered whisper. “Fuck, baby. You okay?”

There’s words on your tongue, Eddie’s taste on your mouth, things you’ve known for years, but are unsure if Eddie has, or if this is something he needs because he’s afraid you’ll abandon him, but that he doesn’t feel what you do. Your head is spinning and Eddie brushes sweaty strands of hair off your forehead, taking his cock through your swollen folds, pressing that spongey head into your clit—both of you crying out. “Y/N, m’ right here. Care to join me?”

And god help you, the way that you look at him. Really allow yourself to see him this way—unabashed—it stirs all those feelings Eddie has bottled down since forever. You press your thumb into his mouth, your other hand sliding down to grip onto him, gliding your hand back and forth, relishing in how his abdomen tenses, muscles flexing, body gravitating towards whatever you’re willing to bestow. He doesn’t let you touch him much longer, taking what your hand isn’t around and guiding it back into your cunt, that scrumptious burn brimming you, making your thighs drop open, back arch, only to tighten your ankles around him, digging your heels into his ass. He suckles your fingertip into his mouth, licking the digit in until it’s down to the knuckle.

Your head presses sideways, cheek on his pillow, inhaling his shaving cream and that spicy scent. He pauses his movements, making you frown in displeasure. He lets go of your spit tainted finger, gripping your chin, a possessive fire overcoming him. His irises remain completely black, putting you deeper into that comatose trance of agonizing sin. “I want you to fucking say it, Y/N.”

You start a beginning questionnaire, Eddie shaking his head and pressing in harder on your chin, fingers splaying across your jaw, rings pinching your chin in the most delightfully painful of ways. “Say you want me, tell me you fucking need me. That you’re not tired of me, and that you’re proud to be the freak’s slut.”

Your hands wind around his back and you sink your nails in as hard as you can, bearing down on him, sucking him in deeper, both of you in a state of no return. His hand tickles down from your face and grips your neck. “Still sick of me, baby?” He situates your gaze, lifting his hips to a raise so that you can see where you’re connected. You’re inconsolable, that fire already blazing your gut, turning every sense into nothingness.

When Eddie starts back up again, he slams himself into you so hard that your vision goes dark and you shred your own bottom lip open, body moving closer to his wall due to the force. He’s licking beneath your jugular, words sensual and filthy, making your entire body spike in a sudden electricity. “Gonna cum in every hole you’ve got, so you remember that they’re mine.”

This time you’re more than ready to give him a warning, body beginning to shake beyond your control, breaths stuttering in your chest. Eddie reaches down between you, calloused thumb flicking your clit. Everything is so fucking wet and the way it sounds in the expanse of Eddie’s small room, it has you opening your mouth, out of control and greedily begging for more.

“Eds, harder. Please? Almost…”

He’s grinning in that special way that weakens you—heart and soul, body and mind. “So much more than a slut.” His thrusts become choppy, his own babbling tone turning into Eddie-speak. “You are way more than you know, Y/N.”

You fondle his pick chain and bring him into your immediate airspace, mouths hovering. He’s nearing his end, cock getting fuller inside you. “Need you to tell me how much you love me.”

You both completely go slack. Eddie stops himself all together, body trembling, head bowing. Your heart rate increases, feeling as if you’ve skipped a staircase thousands of feet in the air and you’re now free falling.

Love… You don’t have to think twice.

Your hands move to cup his face, holding on, your eyes shining with tears at all overloaded emotions and senses. “I love you so fucking much, Eddie.”

At your admission, those beautiful eyes—dark with remains of passion—they fill, and he gives you his all, driving his cock into you in calculated presses, trying like hell to get you to cum first. When he speaks, his voice cracks apart. “Let me know that you’re right here with me, Y/N.”

“I’ve always been here, Eddie.” Is what you manage, thumping your hand against his wrist and helping him bring his fingers back to your clit.

He doesn’t let you look away, noses smashed together, sticky foreheads pressing, hair curtaining the apples of pink, sex stained cheeks. Your eyes widen as that knot begins to tighten in your stomach, unraveling so violently that Eddie has to grip your quivering thigh in one hand, the other keeping steady on your clit. You dig into his back, other hand tugging on his hair, and Eddie is giving a throaty seduction. “That’s it, be my good girl and cum again for me.”

And you’re coming apart at your very core, every cell exploding and rebuilding, gluing yourself to Eddie to seize the ache that scrambles your insides and leaves you breathless. He’s cursing, keeping his finger on your clit to help you coast over the high, immediately following you with the lowest, sweetest, whimpering moan that you’ve ever heard. Both of your eyes still drinking in the other’s pleasure, tears spilling over your lash line as Eddie’s hips cease and he holds, his cock swelling and that soft, creamy warmth coating your sore walls in spurts. He collapses onto your chest and you hold him there in a vice hug, his hand still trapped between your exhausted bodies. He gently eases it out, groaning around the wetness that he’s all too eager to sample until the layer of shine is off his fingers.

Holy shit and fuck me…

Your legs fall to the side, unable to stay upright any longer, Eddie keeping a hovering hand to soothe your shaking. He kisses your neck with a plush mouth, his chain dangling between your breasts. You’re petting his hair—which is so soaked it’s as if he’s been in the rain or come from the shower—off his forehead, wincing as he slides out and keeps himself by your side. You gasp and he joins, fascinated by your cum and his own seed pouring from your cunt. He raises up a little. “Mhm. Let me see?”

He props your thigh, sliding his fingers back and forth, zoned in on his bedsheets being ruined from the literal puddle of your shared cum that runs from you. Seconds pass and he grins widely, plopping onto his back, his fingertips caressing your shoulder, down to your arm. It’s a comfortable quiet, even with the intense meaning of the words that were spoken, until Eddie starts with a, “So..?”

And you cut him off, trying to get your uncomfortably hot body closer. “So I love you. And I have never stopped needing you, or wanting you, Eddie. I just hope all this wasn’t because we were fighting and you got scared I would leave, and —“

He doesn’t let you finish this time, that chocolate-ly brown ring swinging back around his pupil in a brisk develop, showcasing the moisture in his eyes. “I was scared because I love you so damn much that I would charge headfirst into Mordor, or some alternate dimension without any weapon or any shield, just for you. You gotta know that, Y/N.”

His softness, that glittering fragility, it makes you seal your mouth to his, kissing him full of your feelings. He cups the nape of your neck, drawing in closer, thumb coaxing a shiver from you as it passes over a certain spot behind your ear. On a wet break away, you’re nodding your head. “Guess we spent all week fighting when we should’ve been fucking and talking about our feelings.”

Eddie smirks, then is serious. “Be that as it may, I’m sorry I’ve been shit at showing you I appreciate all that you do for the guys and me. And for forgetting that you are your own person too. S’ not like I meant to, I swear. I just get so fucking caught up and I shouldn’t take for granted anything that has to do with you or with us.”

“Have I ever told you that you’re my best-friend, Eddie Munson?”

While it’s still true, you’re wondering when the words leave your lips. Eddie just fucked you so hard you probably won’t be able to sit down for a week or walk upright for hours, so friendship isn’t exactly the most appropriate term anymore, is it?

Eddie taps his fingertips to your temple, drawing your dazed expression, clinging to the cosmic connection once more. “M’ yours, Y/N.”

“Oh yeah, Munson?” You’re so high that you could fly out of here right now and make rounds around the whole globe. Your chest is aching with a tempo that promises new hope and ease.

Eddie is giddy too, that wide set smile, cheesing. “Just gotta get you a new shirt.”

The memory of your old club attire being one with the forest floor seems like so long ago. Eddie knuckle grazes your cheek, apologetic. You shush him. “I ruined yours, so we’re even.”

There’s a mischievous glint in his eyes and he’s tackling you beneath him, pinning your hands in a lace above your head. “Nah, we are just getting started on bein’ even, baby.”

~*~

Tagging: @littledemondani @prettyboyeddiemunson @gothbitchshit @thisishellfire @ethereal27cereal @likedovesinthewnd

-I really need to form a bigger tag list! I’m sorry :/-

Lemme know if you want on my general tag list, please! :)

#kristenwrites #eddie munson #my work #my writing #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x fem!reader smut #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x reader #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fic #stranger things 4 #stranger things #stranger things 4 fanfiction #stranger things 4 fic #stranger things smut

[wqnwoos]

joshua hong breaks your heart three and a half times before you can even reach nineteen, and yet you can’t stop loving him with the pieces that remain.

i. the first time ; when you meet

the story of you and joshua starts at the beginning, which sounds pretty redundant, but it’s the beginning in more may than one. the beginning of friendship — the beginning of freshman year — the beginning of something bigger than two fourteen year olds can imagine.

it starts, as you say, at the onset of freshman year. you’re nervous — extra nervous because these kids went to the same middle school, and you’re the stranger, the outsider, the transfer student who nobody knows yet. it’s obvious in the way they talk to each other; gossipping about unfamiliar names, inside jokes only they understand.

and so homeroom begins with ice breakers, and it turns out that you and someone named joshua hong have the same favourite colour and you both like horror movies, and that’s enough for you to think to yourself, that one. i want to be friends with that one.

for a moment, it seems like that sentiment is mirrored. when lunch is called, and you’re stuck in the corner of the canteen, eating lunch alone, joshua hong appears to your side, holding his tray. he smiles at you first, and when he speaks, he speaks softly; you like him instantly, especially when he gets your name right first try, and talks to you about the horror movies you like.

unfortunately, your conversation lasts about five minutes; it’s interrupted by joshua’s actual friends, waving from another table, yelling for him to come join their arm wrestling competition, and someone wants his chocolate milk, and, and, and — because of course, joshua is popular.

he’s also incredibly polite, for a fourteen year old boy, looking between you and his table, eyes torn, mouth twisting. but you make the decision for him; you stuff the last of your food in your mouth — it tastes like cardboard — and you gesture for him to leave, saying, through a dry mouthful, “i’m done anyway, go ahead!”

he leaves then, sending an apologetic smile you pretend not to see. you won’t be pitied, not even by popular guys with nice smiles. but when you walk out the cafeteria, as alone as you were when you walked into it, your silly, young little heart does break a little.

and then it’s glued back together by clumsy fingers the next day. joshua’s in the cafeteria before you, and this time, he waves you over to his table, patting the seat next to him. he introduces you to his friends, who are nice and sweet and funny, and you do like them, you just like joshua that extra little bit more.

ii. the second time ; when you fall, suddenly, completely, absolutely.

by the time junior year rolls around, you and joshua are joined at the hip.

you do everything together. you’re at his house more than your own; his mom calls you the second child she never had; your mom calls him by his nickname; you know his deepest darkest secret, and he knows yours; he’s your favourite person in the world, and as teenagers are apt to do, you’d never willingly tell him such a thing.

“you’re disgusting,” you tell him, whenever he belches, unashamed, on your couch after a horror movie marathon. “you’re the worst!” when he tickles you within an inch of your life, rolling onto the floor with you in a mad tangle of limbs and giggling. “i hate you,” with a smile on your face, when he teases you about a crush or pinches your nose a little too hard.

“you love me,” is always his response — easy, carefree, and the l-word rolls off his tongue so confidently, sometimes you wonder how he does it. but you do love him. as a friend, of course, and nothing more, despite what other people say. at school, people think you’re together — people pull you aside in the locker room, giggling like they’re in on your secret (“so, you like like him, right?”) and nobody believes you guys when you deny it.

“it’s not like that,” you find yourself saying over and over, until it feels like the words are tattooed on your tongue. “he’s just josh, you know?” and he is. he’s just your joshua. nothing more, nothing less, he’s just your person — your best friend.

you manage to convince yourself as well, with those repetitive words, until one day, you find out you can’t.

it’s a sunday, and so of course, he’s singing sunday morning as the two of you stroll down to the park, hands stuffed in your respective pockets. it’s late september, but the dregs of summer are lingering longer this year, and the two of you are drinking them up before autumn rolls around, and strips the greenery bare.

“your obsession with that song needs to be studied,” you say, and it comes easily because you haven’t realised yet.

“your brain needs to be studied,” is his quick retort, as you guys make it to your usual spot.

it’s nothing special, this spot — to an outsider, at least. it’s a crumbling wall to the side of the park, that overlooks a pond (an ugly, swampy looking pond, but a pond nonetheless).

to you and joshua, the deteriorating wall is your Place, with a capital p, because that’s how important it’s become to the two of you. it’s simply. a little bit ugly, but who cares, when you have your whole life stretching in front of you, a wall to sit on, and a best friend to argue over the red gummies with?

“there are five red gummies,” he pronounces, peering inside the pack. “i call dibs on the third!”

“what?” your voice raises automatically. “absolutely not. you had the third one last time.”

“last time there were six!”

“that’s so not fair!” you poke his rib, scowling. “we’ll split it. for justice.”

joshua sighs, long and reluctant, but nods, setting the packet between you — but moments later, when you’ve spiralled down a tangent of cursing out your physics teacher, he swipes down on the third, stuffing it in his mouth with a triumphant, guiltless grin before you can even say stop.

“you’re evil,” you say, slow and shocked, narrowing your eyes at him. “you’re actually fucking evil!”

“sorry,” he says, without the slightest hint of remorse.

“i hate you.” and again, you’re smiling — and so is he, throwing his head back to laugh (because the thought of you hating him is so ridiculous that he has to laugh), and his darn eyes catch the afternoon sunlight at just the right angle, twin pools of honey brown, and you’re drowning in them; and his laughter sounds like music, and his hair’s blowing back in the breeze, and the lines of his face are lighting up golden; and oh, fuck, you’ve forgotten how to breathe.

“you love me,” he says, normally, casually, his ordinary response, but it feels like he’s plucked the sentence straight out your mind, where it had been nothing more than a half-formed sentiment you’d pushed into the corner.

cheeseballs, you think to yourself, breathless, stomach sinking, eyes wide. i think he’s right.

i think i love him, your fifteen year old self thinks, and then your fifteen year old self’s heart breaks.

it’s more painful than the first time. much more.

iii. the third time ; when he leaves (because you push him out the door)

the third time is not like the others. you can’t pinpoint a specific moment; it happens gradually. less of a shattering — more of a slow crushing, like joshua is pressing down on the centre of your chest, slow, heavy, and completely unaware of how blood is spurting from the cracks of your heart.

because he doesn’t know — of course he doesn’t know. and he can’t know now, now that the two of you, as a unit, have become past tense.

you can barely call himself your friend anymore, and it’s entirely your fault.

not even a month after that fateful day in junior year, joshua had gotten himself a girlfriend. and she wasn’t mean and you couldn’t hate her even if you wanted to, she was the sweetest person alive, and had no problem with you; but still, that step did mean other things, like backing off joshua a little. there was another priority in his life now.

they only lasted three months, but it felt significant. it felt like a sign — he’s not yours, he can never be yours, and so even after emily benson and joshua broke up, you kept your distance. then he joined the football team, with seungcheol and mingyu and those guys, and you joined the photography club with wonwoo and seokmin and those guys, and there was suddenly this divide. a line drawn; you were the artist.

because joshua did try, and he definitely tried more than you. he’d invite you over to his house for movie marathons, and you’d decline. he’d wave at you from across the football pitch, and you’d pretend not to see.

you only see his mom in the supermarket now. she still hugs you, calls you her other child. you don’t know what to say to her.

it is, technically, your own fault. self-preservation instincts; because being around joshua hurt like a bitch after that sunday. there was an ache in your heart you’d somehow not noticed for two years, but now that you’d noticed it once, it was there always, a permanent throbbing pain in your chest.

you think of it as losing your heart; you’d given it to joshua without even realising, and he hasn’t realised either. and so the hot, slippery organ is left in his hands, and you don’t know how to get it back.

senior year comes, and it’s clear to everyone that there is no longer a you and joshua. sometimes you get questions about it; “did you guys fight?”, “what even happened? was it emily?”, “did he cheat on you?”, and you answer them all wearily with a smiling front.

just drifted apart, i guess, you always say, paired with a nonchalant shrug, like it doesn’t kill you a little every time you see him.

you wonder what he says, when they ask him. if they even ask him at all.

iii.v half broken, half mended

joshua shows up at your house.

it’s the night before graduation, and if it were a movie, it would be raining when he knocks on your door — but it’s still warm, there’s still faint sunlight behind him, and he’s panting slightly on your doorstep, eyes wide with something you don’t have the time to read before he’s rushing out words, garbled with speed.

you’ve just woken from a nap, and you don’t understand a word he’s saying; you hear a whole lot of “we” and “friends” and before he can get any further, you raise a hand to stop him.

“what — what are you talking about, shua?” you question genuinely, rubbing your sleepy eyes as though this is some sort of twisted dream.

joshua lets out a breath on your doorstep; he looks harried, panicked, like if he doesn’t say everything he needs to, he’s going to explode. but he holds back, inhaling, exhaling, suddenly short of breath at the sight of you, up close after what feels like forever.

“where did you go?” he says finally, and you can hear fifteen year old shua in there, a crack in his voice, emotion leaking into it.

you know what he means, you know exactly what he means, and you don’t have an answer for him. “i didn’t go anywhere,” you reply, voice small. you don’t look at him, because both of you know it’s a lie.

“you did,” he repeats needlessly. “it felt like you left me.”

you don’t have anything to say, and so you stay silent. there are birds chirping, you realise absently, somewhere behind him.

“was there a reason?” his words are growing quicker now, spilling out of him like they’re overflowing; and maybe they are, maybe he’s kept them locked up just as long as you have. “there must have been a reason — you need to tell me, i deserve to know. don’t i?”

his voice is tinged with a sort of raw desperation that pulls at your heart, because no matter how hard you try to convince yourself otherwise, he’s still your shua, he’s still your person, and you can never hate him.

he deserves to know, and you’re too cowardly to tell him.

joshua waits. (he’s always been the more patient out of you two.) “you won’t tell me,” he realises finally, stepping back just once. “god. fuck. i don’t even know why i came.”

he turns, and you blurt three words that halt him in his tracks. you see the way he freezes on the spot, and so you repeat them again, just so he can be sure.

“i love you,” you say, softly, but he hears you. he hears you and turns around, and his pretty doe eyes are round with confusion.

you don’t realise you’re crying until he wipes away the few that have spilled oit the corners of your eyes; he does it delicately, with hands that tremble a little. they’re unfamiliar in their familiarity, those hands, and the feel of them makes you close your eyes.

both of you are breathing shakily. like you’re on the cusp of something new; something bigger.

“how long?” he asks quietly, hands trailing down to cup your cheeks.

you don’t open your eyes when you speak your next words, pouring from your mouth into the space between you. “since we were fifteen.”

joshua’s quiet for a moment, and when you open your eyes, there’s a ghost of a smile playing on his lips, and the ghost of tears filling his eyes. “haha,” he whispers, leaning closer, “i win.” his lips brush against yours, so light and feathery it could barely be called a kiss.

he pulls back, forehead against yours, and smiles, properly this time. “since fourteen,” he says, and it feels like your heart is mended and broken at the same time.

an / typed this out in an hour of feverish inspiration. idk. 💪

taglist: @n4mj00nvq @eoieopda @som1ig @glowunderthemoon @wondering-out-loud @graybaeismytae @hannyoontify @sahazzy @dokyeomin @icyminghao @smilehui @nicholasluvbot @lvlystars @immabecreepin @hanniehaee @kokoiinuts @astrozuya

#joshua fluff #joshua x reader #joshua comfort #joshua fic #joshua fanfic #seventeen imagines #seventeen fluff #seventeen x reader #seventeen fic #seventeen fanfic #joshua imagines #joshua headcanons #joshua x you

[itsbebebrainrotting]

God i just want to ramble about the sunny lenay conversation today so excuse me for a second... It was just so sunny and oh my god it was rped perfectly.

They were with tubbo hanging at phils but tubbo went afk and phil chayanne and tallulah ran off. Sunny asked tubbo where they went and got told they were probably having family time, and since sunny doesnt really have much family other than tubbo to have their own family time, they asked for family time with their ma (lenays floating corpse under tubhaus). They built a little platform to stand by her and started making up a conversation they were having with her about how she became a mermaid (died) and how they can become a mermaid to join her, because by becoming a mermaid they will be safer from attack.

The entire time tubbo just doesnt know what to do because his daughters playing with a corpse so just plays along. The vibe of the stream really encapsulates how morbid it is - theres no music, tubbos voice is really sad and hes just sat there reading her signs as they discuss becoming a mermaid and how they need to catch the person who stole their ma's legs.

Its all silly childish make believe that really just highlights that sunnys so little too. Too young to be spending their free time with a corpse.

And the entire thing just feels... lonely. Sunny doesn't have many friends. Or at least comparatively they have a lot of non-friends compared to the other eggs. The only parent they have is Tubbo. They feel so alone and they try so hard to make friends and all that culminates in is them wanting family time and making up a story about mermaids with their ma's corpse.

Just a little girl playing mermaids with her mothers dead body.

#if you havent watched it please do oh my god #qsmp #qsmp sunny #tw parent death #<- tagged just in case

[strayflowersstarsandlove]

Honey bee (dad!hanjisung)

The whole "favourite parent" theory never really convinced you to the fullest, not with how much Daisy was obsessed with father, her very first word being "dada!", the biggest rounded eyes looking excitedly at him, her cute little mouth just a happy happy o shape as she tuned to her dad when you had first asked her to try and say the word, which nearly brought Jisung to tears right then and there.

With you being the parent that was at home the most though, you were quite used to being wrapped around her little finger, catering to her every need, helping her and caring for her through her trickiest nights and seasonal flu.

Jisung tried his very very best at being as present as possible and not miss on any important milestones such as her first word, which had happened fairly recently, or the first few little steps she walked from your seated figure to him, resting his bum on the carpet, opposite you, both of your arms outstretched for her shall she stumble on her little feet. He was there. Overjoyed.

Whenever he came home from work, be it at 2 in the morning or 4 in the afternoon, he always made sure to go and see his baby, even if it was for a little bit, like his lunch break or five minutes before going to bed, he always stuck to his habit of just taking a few minutes to just look at her, kiss her cheek, play with her or have a cuddle if she was awake.

And Daisy must have developed a sixth sense for that, even for a toddler as young as barely one year old, she just knew whenever her dad was about to come home. And she would become just a liiiiiitle restless and fussy with either excitement or desperate anticipation. Hence you secretly started to believe perhaps he was the favourite parent, probably cause she loved him so, and missed him just as much, despite his best efforts.

Tonight was just one of those nights, Jisung had literally just gotten home not even 3 hours ago, it was way past her bed time but none of you had the heart to deny either of you some bonding family time, or better yet father and daughter quality time.

He had postponed his shower and his unpacking and just picked her up from the floor where she was playing quietly with you, and smothered her little face with kisses and hugged her and hold her and played with her for as long as possible before she required a nappy change and the delayed night time routine.

Neither of you felt like you were being bad parents. Routines and regular sleeping schedules were important but so is being patient and lenient, understanding of your child needs and yours as parents too. A little indulgence and some extra cuddles never hurt anyone.

Bathed and half way through her bottle, baby Daisy was having a hard time concentrating on the soft lullaby bed time story you were reading her, she kept rubbing her small chubby knuckles into her eyes and half giggling cause she was too awake and eager, kept fidgeting and twitching in her sleeveless sleep sack she usually loved being swaddled in.

"Ah I see, you're not so sleepy tonight are you? Silly little bloom you are", you giggle at her cute happy and definitely more than alert face, gently pinching her rosy cheeks, "is someone just so excited dada's home? Shall we go see him? Shall we have dada sing you to sleep tonight?", you suggest rhetorically, knowing that even though she can't fully grasp what you're saying she definitely understands any mention of her father.

With a little huffing and puffing from the effort, you roll over onto the side and get up from her little bed wich you had squeezed yourself in, you unzip her sleeping sack and pick her up, gently brushing away her satiny soft wisps of dark brown hair, just barely curling at the tips, you balance her on your hip, careful to distribute her weight evenly so you don't strain yourself, and slowly pad into the corridor and then into your master bedroom where you find your husband folding his clothes into the closet, his suitcases now empty, discarded on the floor beside the bed.

"Knock knock? A certain daisy bloom is requesting her sweet honey bee to help her sleep tonight", you announce playfully as you cup your daughter's little hand and help her knock on the door, Jisung spins around with a start, his face immediately lighting up, "oh goodness!", he muses excitedly, dropping whatever shirt he was trying to neatly fold in his lap.

He walks over to you, grinning from ear to ear, and gently lifts Daisy from your arms and into his, holding her close to his chest so he can place a fluttery stream of kisses into her hair, "is it true Deiji girl? you want Dada?", he coos, sitting on the edge of the bed, relishing in the way his baby girl latches onto him, her little arms and hands trying to grip onto his neck as she squeaks happily, "da-dda", she blubbers, burying her face into his chest.

He shoots you the puppy eyes, his bottom lip trembling, the look on his face so devastatingly amazed and touched, which you reciprocate, clutching your own chest, watching as he cuddles her closer while he scoots on the bed so he can rest his back onto the bed frame, the baby not even shifting into his arms, her ear pressed onto his pectoral, perhaps a subconscious reminiscence of when she used to do that as a newborn.

Endless were the days when Jisung wouldn't dare breathing too loud, scared he would disturb her sleep, and would hold her like that for hours on end, the tiny shell of her ear pressed onto his hearbeat, his hands rubbing her back ever so lightly in soothing motion, his lips brushing her head every once in a while in a dream like state, or a suppressing-his- leg - cramps - and- impeding- need- to- pee- and- breathe- normally- hazy state. For there was no way in hell he was going to move and wake her up.

Fatherhood. What an immense blessing to have been bestowed upon him. Jisung was the most wonderful father despite the demands of his tight working schedules, he had been pouring himself out for your daughter from day one, and you had been witnessing him blossoming into his nurturing calling just like his first baby name's sake.

"You guys... I'm going to cry", you mumble, feeling suddenly very emotional at the scene before you, "me too... oh... how I missed her", Jisung sniffles, snuggling his baby tightly but still carefully enough so he doesn't crush her, "she's so cuddly I'm going to die", he adds then, holding her up closer to his face so he can kiss her cheeks and her forehead and the tip her nose and her cheeks again and her nose again.

"You are the best cuddler in the whole world you know that sweetheart?", he says softly, gazing into his daughter boba brown eyes, a miniature version of his own eyes, along with the squishiest cheeks and poutiest lips she inherited straight from him as well, whereas she had your nose and your chin and seemingly your hair, the perfect tiny combination of both of you guys' genes.

Daisy tilts her head to the side and slabbers a little, adorable loud giggles escaping her mouth, "dadda eeppyy", she gabbles, trying to stand on her tippy toes in Jisung's lap, whose hands hover over her small frame, catching her whenever she wobbles unsteadily, "dada's sleepy? Yeah, I am sleepy. Is Daisy sleepy too? Shall we go night night?", he says sweetly, smiling proudly, elated at just how bright and smart and cute his daughter is, "ya", she says in her tiny voice, trying to nod lightly, mimicking a small yawn after.

"Okay, night night we go then. Let's say bye bye to omma and sissy first! Say night night mommy, night night sissy!", Jisung instructs tenderly, brushing her hair with his fingers and then gently guiding her to you so she can crawl over and cup your cheeks in her little hands:" nah nah mam-mah", she babbles, her aim a little off when she tries to kiss your cheek and ends up slobbering all over your face.

Which you can't help but laugh endeared at: "good night sweetie, I love you, sissy loves you too!", you say softly, your hands cradling your round bump. A fond smile and soft gaze into his eyes, Jisung pecks your lips once, lingering there just for a second, a promise for more at a later time.

"Let's say bye bye to sissy too, where is sissy?", he adds then, gently encouraging Daisy to use her little pointer finger to poke at your chest, just slightly above your heart, "aw sissy is mommy's heart, but she's also in mommy's belly!", he prods her on gently, until she pokes your belly too, smiling excitedly, "good girl! There's sissy! say goodnight sissy, I love you! like this, here, watch dada", he explains patiently, bending down to kiss your belly once, and then twice, and then thrice.

Soon enough Daisy copies him and you find yourself overwhelmed with a flurry of slobbery kisses all over your tummy and your chest, the echo of your husband and daughter's giggling and smacking their lips on your skin making your tear up with both joy and the prickling feeling of having to go toilet with how much they're ticking you.

"Night night Nari, we love you", Jisung whispers, his lips pretty much still attached to you, an arm firmly wrapped around his toddler and the other cradling your belly, honey dripping from his words and his eyes.

#stray kids #skz #hanjisung #han x y/n #han jisung #dad bf #skz han jisung #skz jisung #jisung x reader #skz x reader #skz x you #skz x y/n #stray kids imagines #straykids imagines #straykids scenarios #skz blurb #skz blurbs #han imagines #han x you #han x reader #Dad!Skz #skz fluff #straykids x reader #skz x oc #skz x female reader

[creedslove]

WHO KNEW? 💍💔

No outbreak!Joel Miller x f!reader

"You took my hand, you showed me how

You promised me you'd be around (...)

I took your words and I believed in everything you said to me (...)

If someone said three years from now, you'd be long gone, I'd stand up and punch them out, 'cause they're all wrong

I know better, 'cause you said forever, and ever, who knew?"

Summary: You and Joel had been married for a few months when he broke things up with you because he'd fallen in love with someone else, Sarah's mom. You parted ways but more than a decade later you end up meeting Sarah and that leads you to face your ex-husband one more time

• Inspired by this amazing HEADCANON request ❤️

Warnings: angst, broken hearts, asshole!Joel, divorce, infidelity, pregnancy, fluff (a little, maybe?) age gap (Joel is four to five years older than reader and the time skip is 12 to 14 years (Sarah's age) but feel free to imagine whatever you want)

A/N: Hi guys!!! I got obsessed with this story ever since I received that ask and turned into a headcanon but it wasn't enough, I had to write a longer, fuller version of this story! I think it's so appealing because we are all used to Joel being our knight in shining armor, always the perfect husband/boyfriend and well, here we can see another part of him. It's not a crime to fall in love with someone else, but the way he broke reader's heart was very mean. Also, I didn't specify reader's profession, just keep in mind she studied A LOT and now she makes good money, but feel free to idealize her job the way you want. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this story, besties ❤️

10.6k words

You never really understood why some people told you getting married so young would be a mistake. It didn't make sense to you, at all. You and your soon-to-be husband Joel, were young, yes, but you loved each other deeply. You figured it didn't take much more than that to make a happy marriage.

You were fresh from highschool, always had good grades and it didn't take long for you to be accepted in many different institutions, and yet, you decided it would be a good idea to take a sabbatical year in order to get yourself sorted out, maybe get a job and save up some money and enjoy your marriage a little. Joel was very supportive of you, even if he knew you would eventually leave for college and you would both have to make it work long distance.

Joel was just a couple of years older, he'd just left the military and he also needed to know what to do in life, in order to support his wife, he didn't have the book smarts his girl did, but he was kind-hearted and hard-working. He also hadn't planned on getting married that young, but before he could even try to make any sense out of it, he was deeply in love with you.

So Joel proposed, you said yes, his dad helped him get a small, but cute house and the two of you started your new wed life.

For the first few months, everything was a bed of roses; you were so in love, that man was simply intoxicating. His touches, his kisses, his body, his smell, everything about him was addictive to you and you couldn't be without it.

You had found yourself a part time job as a sales clerk at a baby clothes store at the mall, just as Joel was working as an apprentice in the construction business, it was a very hard job, and just in a matter of a couple of months, you saw your boyfriend becoming bigger and more muscular. He worked hard for you, for your relationship, your marriage and the future family you would build in a couple of years. Even if your friends had told you it was madness getting married so young and your family had asked you not to do it, everything was just fine, what could go wrong?

Every single day, Joel would come back home, tired from work, and he would be welcomed by you in your fullest housewife version. Dinner all ready, house spotless clean and a loving wife dying to be in his arms. He would not disappoint you, taking you into his arms, lifting you up, pressing you against the wall, his kisses were so urgent, so needy of you, his hands roamed all over your body as you felt his cock throbbing. Every night next to your handsome husband Joel was a delight, it was your personal piece of heaven, nothing could stop the two of you when you were together, but eventually, it happened.

You didn't know exactly how it started, or when for that matter, it was all a thick fog in your mind, being unable to say precisely when your marriage began falling apart. Perhaps it happened sooner than you thought but you were just too naive or too blind to see; first thing you noticed, were the kisses; they were gone. No kissing before going to work in the morning but you shrugged it off, thinking that maybe Joel was just in a rush to get to work. Though you really missed them, your skin seemed to burn and ache for his touch, you didn't want to seem like a clingy wife, or nag him with unimportant things. Whenever he came back from work, he was still all yours; that's why it took you long enough to notice it.

Every evening, he came back with the same hunger he felt, only this time, he didn't seem to have felt that hunger for you per se, more like a desire within that needed to have you to help him relieve it.

He took you every single night, he gave you pleasure, simple, raw, indifferent pleasure. You didn't actually remember the last time you actually made love, because everytime Joel touched you, he always had you on your hands and knees for him, always fucking you on your back. At the time you thought it was just some kink or something like that, but now it was pretty clear to you it was just the easiest way for Joel to close his eyes and pretend you were someone else.

It was just simply fucking, a means to get to an end.

Then, he began getting home later and later, sometimes he would be too late for dinner, or he would just skip it entirely. Never explaining exactly what he was doing or why he was spending less and less time at home.

"Sorry babe, just had a sandwich with the guys"

That's what he would say before shrugging and going straight to the bedroom; not taking his time to actually see you'd cooked his favorite or that you were starving because you'd waited for him until that hour. The weekends weren't different at all, at first, right after you two got married, you'd spend the entire day in bed, just enjoying each other's company, each other's bodies and love; caresses full of affection carried with lust, turned into nothing more than just a memory some months later. Every weekend Joel simply got up, had breakfast and told you he was heading for work; and he would spend the entire day there, no phone calls to let you know he wouldn't be back for lunch nor calls to tell you he would grab a few drinks with the guys.

Always the guys, and as much as you tried to convince yourself it was indeed just one drink, or a burger, or a soccer match with the guys, your heart was sending you signals, trying to warn you there was something seriously wrong. Yet, you chose not to believe it, you told yourself it was actually kind of cruel of you to have such thoughts about your poor hard-working husband. What kind of wife would you be if you became paranoid while Joel was just working hard to provide you a good life?!

Joel was so busy with his work he barely even noticed when you asked for a double shift on Saturdays. Not that you liked working at the mall, but if you were going to stay alone all the time, you figured you would at least earn some money. Maybe Joel was just stressed about having to put up with the bills all by himself, you reminded yourself. Perhaps things would be back at what they were in the beginning, you were now marking six months of marriage and you knew this wasn't supposed to be happening. Your husband wasn't supposed to be that uninterested in you, he wasn't supposed to be indifferent towards your presence or so ungrateful, and yet you decided to fight for his love, after all, you loved him more than anything, more than anyone, it was an overwhelming feeling but you simply couldn't move on from it.

You waited for Joel another night, you'd made dinner, but of course he said he wasn't very hungry because he had grabbed a bite to eat with the guys.

Your heart clenched, he didn't kiss you, nor held you, it was like you were two different people sharing the same house; not lovers, not husband and wife, perhaps not even friends anymore. It felt each time more and more empty next to Joel, but you tried. You sat down and had dinner on your own, as he glued himself to the TV, watching whatever it was on. You knew him enough to know his mind was drifting away, thinking of something or someone, you weren't sure, the only thing you were a hundred percent sure was that he did everything at his willpower so he wouldn't have to spend time with you. It hurt, like a knife piercing through your chest, it was humiliating and you still didn't know why you were insisting. You swallowed after dinner and walked to the couch, he was nearly asleep and you ran your hands through his hair, feeling how soft his curls were; you had missed dearly times like that, it had been only a few months prior and yet, it felt like an eternity. The way your Joel would come to you, crave your touch, and just overall pay attention to you, unlike the haunting reality that you had to face, in which your husband simply began to ignore you, as if you weren't much more than a shadow, or an invisible and yet quite annoying presence. You looked down at his sleepy and peaceful form, he always looked so young and innocent when he slept it always warmed your heart.

The tip of your fingers ran through his scalp once more, he had always loved that particular display of affection. Minutes passed while you stroked his hair, you could feel Joel shifting softly under your touch, satisfied groans coming out like purrs as he began to slowly open his eyes

"Angela.." he murmured under his breath, but it was loud enough for you to catch it.

At that moment you felt as if you'd lost all balance, gripping the couch and staring at him in disbelief

"Who's Angela?" Your voice suddenly loud and serious, making Joel snap away from the sleeping haze he was in and stare into your eyes. He was carefully not to give it away immediately

"What are you talking about?" He got up from the couch, determined to turn his back to you

"You said a name. Angela, who's she?"

"I don't know what you're talking about, Y/N, stop being crazy"

Your blood boiled at the accusation.

For months all you did was try to be the perfect housewife, you cooked, cleaned, worked and brought home the little money you made in order to win back your husband's attention, not only that, you didn't want to have to give away to everyone who told you you would be making a mistake by marrying so young. It had been so difficult to actually admit to yourself your marriage was at a risk, and now you just had enough proof. After months of indifference, your husband was now mumbling another woman's name; as if it wasn't bad enough, he was trying to make the tables turn by accusing you of being crazy. That was so typical of men, but not of your Joel, you thought he would never do that, you were so sure he was honest, honorable, a decent human being, he wouldn't hurt you on purpose in order to prove his point. Or so you thought.

"Don't you fucking dare call me crazy, Joel Miller, for the past couple of months you haven't given a shit about me, you're never home, you never spend time with me, you don't hug me, don't kiss me, you don't even fuck me anymore, and now you are mumbling someone else's name? Who's she? Is she your mistress? How long have you been with her?"

Again, you tried being strong, you really did, but your voice cracked, and the tears threatening to escape now ran freely down your cheeks, he'd walked away from you, but you managed to corner him in the kitchen, you were tired of being blinded by your own feelings, at the same time you were tired of being played by Joel, he had no right to act that way.

"Answer me, Joel!!! Who's the fucking whore?!" You yelled at him, the impatience and anxiety creating an explosive combination inside of you. You were so close to solving the mystery that haunted you at the same time you didn't wanna hear any further word. You just wished you could close your eyes and make all that away, you wish you could just wake up and see the last couple of months were nothing but a nightmare and that you still had the same good old loving Joel Miller as the best husband in the world; instead, he simply groaned, rubbing his face and looked down, not having the courage of look at you in the eyes.

"She's not a whore, don't call her that. I-We.. we're in love. I met her at work, she's the receptionist there and we hit it off… she's gorgeous, funny and I fell for her" he swallowed not sure where the strength to be honest with you about his feelings was coming from, but it was enough to make eye contact "I've never cheated on you, Y/N, I haven't slept with her yet, I haven't even kissed her, but I think she's the one, I wanna be with her, I'm not gonna lie to you anymore"

"You don't love me anymore?" That was all you could ask, out of all the cruel and raw information he suddenly threw on you, the only thing you could register was the lack of feelings from the man who swore to love you forever one day.

"Jesus, Y/N, let's not do this now" he groaned, wanting to shift all that anger towards you, somehow blaming you for what happened so he wouldn't be consumed by his own guilt. He wasn't blind, he knew you loved him, he knew you waited at the door for him every single day, with dinner ready a pie in the oven and giving you those sad, heart eyes in hopes of receiving his affection once more. You reminded him of a puppy, as bad as it sounded, all it took you to be happy was a crumble of his love. What angered Joel was that you weren't satisfied with just crumbles, you wanted more and more from him, and he was unavailable; he simply couldn't give it to you, because his heart belonged to someone else. He hadn't planned on that happening, if it were up to him, he would've honored the vows he took on his wedding day, but Angela walked into his life without a warning and swept him off his feet. He couldn't stay with you out of pity, you deserved to be happy and so did you, but you weren't meant to be together.

"Do you love me or not, Joel?! Did you even love me?" Another grunt from his lips, you were so frustrated you didn't know how to rationalize, how to wrap your head around the fact he proposed to you, he had promised you the world and yet now he was treating you as if you had never mattered to him. His cowardice made you sick, he wasn't even man enough to look you in the eyes, you felt so angry a part of you was glad his body blocked your access to the silverware set because if you got your hands into it you knew at that moment you were willing to make a mistake. You gripped his shirt, slapping his chest and scratching him in a sloppy way, demanding answers from him. He could stop you at any moment, Joel was bigger and stronger than you, but he let you have your moment of hurting him out of pity, before calming gripping your arms and pushing you away

"I guess it's obvious I don't love you anymore, I love Angela, it's not my fault, it just happened, but I'm sure I want to be with her, you and I can't keep lying to ourselves, you can't keep lying to yourself, we're over, just as the love I felt from you, it's over…"

•••

You didn't remember much more after that. Some flashes of the following days, where the initial shock was still going strong, the waves of sadness mixed with anger, how Joel gathered some of his clothes and left the house that same night - probably to go to Angela's, how you refused to eat for the couple of days, you didn't talk to anyone, just spent your time alternating between crying yourself to sleep and actually sleeping, were just moments of blur. At some point you remember Tommy - Joel's brother checking up on you just to make sure you were alright. Tommy was the youngest of the Miller brothers, he was said to be the inconsequential one, but he would never do what his older brother had done.

Only after a few days Joel stopped by the house you once had shared, he had heard from his brother the pitiful mess you'd become because of him, and though a part of him didn't have the courage to ever face you again, another part - a more honorable one - insisted on it because he had to give you some kind of explanation. So after work, he didn't drive to Angela's like he'd been doing for the last few days, becoming his sweet routine and bringing so much joy now that he was free to love her just as much as she wanted to love him. Instead of going to his happy place, Joel drove back to the house that used to be his home for a while, a place where he'd been happy but it hadn't been enough for him. It was funny how he expected things to be drastically different, because his life had taken a dramatic turn just as yours had, and yet, things were just the same, or they appeared to be at least. He got off his truck, seeing that not a lot had changed, but this time there wasn't music coming from the house, it didn't smell like fresh cooked dinner, simply the living room with the lights on were the only thing that showed there was still someone in the house.

When he walked in, he expected to see you crying, depressed and begging him to get back, but much to his surprise, all your bags were already nearly packed and though it was visible you'd had some rough time by dark circles under your eyes and how pale your skin was, you welcomed him with a emotionless expression on your face, pointing at the couch, so he would take a seat and you could talk things through. After all the crying and suffering, you felt as if something had clicked and suddenly you went from heartbroken to numb. You knew the swirl of feelings would come and go, but taking advantage of your numbness, you put your head into place as best as you could and packed all your things, you didn't want to stay at that place surrounded by Joel memories, knowing he'd left the place you once called home and you were both so happy and also so unhappy in a short span of time. You wanted to put yourself back together, heal from him, forget he ever existed, go back to studying and focus on yourself only. But for that to happen, you wanted closure, not only wanting, you needed closure.

His low apologies combined with the rambling that came out of Joel's mouth was getting on your nerves, why couldn't he man up and actually tell you what he needed to in order to finally close that chapter in your lives.

"If you're not getting straight to the point, I will, Joel… I packed my bags, I am leaving this house, it's yours, your family managed to help you with it and I wouldn't feel comfortable living here. I'll go to college as soon as the next semester starts and I'll be waiting for the divorce papers, sign it as soon as possible, and pretend this never happened"

"Wait… what?! You want to divorce?!" Joel was quite shocked, not that he didn't want to divorce, because he did, so he could finally be officially with Angela, but he didn't think it would be that easy for you to agree, let alone be the one suggesting it.

You laughed. It was a dry, ironic laughter, because honestly, you didn't think Joel was that much of a dick, it was fascinating how he broke your heart and he still found a way to have his ego bruised by the fact you wouldn't accept being in a submission position, that you wouldn't cry and beg for him.

"What did you expect Joel?! That I would stay here, legally married to you, cooking and washing your dirty underwear while you go out of the door and keep cheating on me with that whore? Seriously? That's how low you think of me?"

"I already told you she isn't a whore and I have never cheated on you, that's why I want to divorce, us getting married was clearly a mistake and it's not my fault if I don't love you anymore.."

"So whose fault is it? Mine?! Do you really think what you did isn't cheating, Joel? Just because you hadn't fucked her while we were still together, but you had spent time with her, emotionally connected with her, fuck, just the fact you let her get closer to you even though you were married, that's cheating! You say it isn't because you don't want to feel guilty, but deep down inside you just know it is! I agree with you on one thing, though: our marriage was a stupid mistake, because of you I delayed a whole year of my life, I almost sacrificed my future because I really took your words and believed them, that we would be together, I never thought out of all the people in the world, you would be the one to hurt me! I trusted you, do you even know how many times I cried and sulked because I blamed myself for your behavior? The amount of times I felt guilty for even remotely considering the possibility of you having someone else? Because in my mind you'd always been the perfect husband and yet, you were backstabbing me day after day, with that slut!"

"Don't you fucking call her a slut! She's not a slut, she's not a whore! It's not her fault if you are a petty envious woman!"

"She is a slut Joel, I'm sure of it, because if she had any decency she wouldn't have come closer to a married man, my husband! She is probably excited about the thrill, but I'm certain that once the reality hits and she sees herself locked inside having to carry out chores everyday, take care of the house, the husband and even the kids if you two ever come to it, it's not gonna be as fun, and then you'll meet her for real. I don't wish you anything bad, but god help you if you ever have to face a disappointment as big as mine"

You dried your tears and began removing your wedding ring, it was quite pricey taking into account how complicated your financial situation was. You intended to return it to him, but the mere thought of maybe Joel taking the ring and handing it to his former mistress and soon-to-be official girlfriend, was enough to make you nauseated. You gave up removing it and left the ring right there.

"I'm leaving this place tomorrow, you can send the divorce papers over to my parents' and I hope I'll never see you again, Joel"

•••

You wished you could say that was the last time you ever saw Joel Miller in your life, but unfortunately, things weren't too easy for you. Only two months before you could finally enter college and forget about the disastrous year you had, you were working double shifts at the mall, in hopes of saving a decent amount of money for yourself. It was supposed to be another lazy evening, in which you would have to kill time until you could go home, you had just had your break and as you walked back into the store, you couldn't help but pay attention to your left hand. The wedding ring still there. It brought you shame and embarrassment, the mere fact you left it there. You often lied to people and to yourself by saying it was a way of keeping disrespectful customers away, but the truth was, you just didn't know why it was so hard to do it. It felt like a weight you couldn't get rid of, a part of your life that seemed like nothing but delusion.

You were scared of removing that ring, it was a sign that Joel wouldn't be much more than a memory to you, and even if you knew that was exactly what you needed, your heart still yearned for him. It wasn't fair, to still love the person who had hurt you the most, burying deep those feelings but also knowing they were there was nerve wracking.

You were ready to get back to work, just about to enter the store you were so used to spending your whole day when you felt paralyzed.

"What do you think of this one, darling? Do you think our baby will like it?"

It was Joel's voice.

His voice.

Darling.

Our baby.

You stopped yourself right there, too far away from their distracted eyes, taking in all the colorful and beautiful options they had before them, but also close enough so you could actually hear the conversation. Joel Miller was going to be a dad, it was a fact, you weren't having a nightmare that you were about to wake up in cold sweat at any minute, instead, he was there, with her, the woman he dumped you for, the woman who was now carrying his child. Under the shelves you'd been hiding, you could only catch a glimpse of her baby bump, and the way Joel's hand rested over it in a protective way. It was enough to make your stomach upset, your eyes burning with the tears that once more insisted on appearing. He had moved on from you, much faster than you had moved on from him; their happiness could be beautiful to anyone, but to you it was disgusting, infuriating, they had no right to come to your place of work and be so glad about life itself.

You couldn't actually see Angela's face, all you were able to watch from where you stood was Joel's hand on her womb, his right one, but the moment he rested his left one on her waist, you gasped softly. The wedding ring was gone.

Joel wasn't feeling that comfortable about being at that particular store, though it was the only decent baby clothing store at the mall, he knew you worked there or at least used to; but Angela wanted new baby stuff and he was going to be a dad, so it was his duty to take her and help her sort things out. He thought of you, not having seen you or listened to your voice in months he sort of missed you? He couldn't lie to himself, he was glad to be divorced, he was happy in a relationship with a baby on the way, but you'd been important to him too, he wished things didn't have to end the way they did, he has gotten used to living with you, seeing you, kissing you, touching you, it was natural that he missed the dynamics you two had established. A part of him sort of wanted to run into you at the store, he wanted to see how you were doing, if you were taking good care of yourself, but it was a relief to everyone you weren't there. It would be just awkward and embarrassing to be baby clothes shopping in front of you. And of course, he never wanted to hurt you more than he had already done it, but you would have probably interpreted it as provocation.

He scratched down his head while Angela picked all her favorites, Joel tried hard not to pay attention to the price tags, money was still a delicate matter for the two of them, but he had managed to get some by selling his wedding ring. Of course the pair would've been worth a lot more, but he couldn't go after you to ask for your ring, so he just negotiated his own and took the money. It wasn't the ideal situation, but in a few months they'd welcome the tiny little person that would become the most important thing in Joel's life.

You were too hurt to continue watching their display of happiness, you turned your back to the place you were hiding and you returned to the small break room. That was indeed the last time you'd seen Joel Miller; that was it until you also met someone who brought chaos but also colors into your life.

•••

"Aren't you too old to sell cookies door to door for school?" Joel asked while chewing his scrambled eggs and slurped his coffee, watching as his daughter rolled her eyes at him

"Aren't you too old not to eat your vegetables?" She snapped back at him in their usual morning routine.

Sarah was a teenager, much to Joel's sadness, as he still had serious attachments to when she was younger. He knew it was part of life, and watching her blossoming into a beautiful young girl made him proud and hopeful about the future, he knew his sweet Sarah would go far. But that also made him scared, because no matter how irrational it was, Sarah always reminded him of you; and he knew that if any guy ever dared to do to his baby girl, what he did to you, he would be really to kill him in no time. Joel Miller would like to think he had improved a lot as a human being, after all, he wasn't a young man anymore, he was a full grown adult, who had to get himself together and mature after he was abandoned by his girlfriend with a newborn baby. Life was full of irony and he was one to witness it, being left by the woman he loved and trusted a little more than a year after he was the one who walked away from someone who loved and trusted him. It was what everyone said: karma is really a bitch.

Through the years, Joel really felt an urge to call you, perhaps ask you to meet him, so you could catch up and he could finally apologize to you, but he had lost all contact with you. In fact he had no idea what you were up to through the decades, the few times your parents ran into him on the street or at the grocery store and made sure to ignore his presence and pretend they'd never met. He just couldn't approach them and ask for your phone number. Besides, what would he even tell you?

"Hey, I just wanted to tell you the woman I left you for also left me, so now I'm a lonely single dad and I realized I took you for granted and maybe if you ain't busy, we could go for a cup of coffee or something?!"

It would be just straight up stupid, not to mention he was sure you would've found someone nice, someone worthy of you, probably you'd be married by then, perhaps you'd have a kid or two, and he was sure you'd be an amazing mother, because he just knew you were an amazing wife, and he was the only one to blame for not treating you the way you deserved it.

So Joel decided it was best if he pretended nothing ever happened just like you did with him, of course destiny had other plans.

He gave Sarah a ride to school and went to work. It would be another busy day, like all of his days, in which he would work hard in order to save as much money as he could, wanting to assure his daughter the future she deserved. For Sarah, it meant another day of classes and selling cookies. She didn't like the activity, but she didn't hate it either. In fact, on that particular day she felt kind of excited as she was about to head towards the 'good' part of the neighborhood, where most houses were big and seemed expensive. Getting her backpack and her stash of goodies to sell, she left home and went on with her day.

You, on the other hand, hadn't planned on coming back to Austin so soon, as the years turned into a decade, and then a little bit more than that, you had dedicated yourself fully to your academic and professional life, focusing on yourself only, managing to bury deep your memories of Joel and never paying attention to anything remotely close to a love life.

Yes, you'd had relationships, affairs, and you'd been with a few guys: one of them was Javier, he was a handsome but very slutty cop who you had a no-string relationship with; it was good for a while, he was handsome, sexy and he fucked like no other, but he had a taste for women that unabled himself to keep it inside of his pants. You liked the freedom, but that was too much.

You also dated a guy named Dave for a brief period, he was nice, also painfully handsome, a tiny bit mysterious about his high profile government job, but he wanted a family, not just another relationship. He wanted marriage and kids, and you were just out of it in no time. The last straw was when you were traveling back home and during one stop for dinner at a small, cozy bar, a guy dressed entirely in cowboy attire came onto you. It was the undeniable proof you weren't made for relationships at all; it was like Joel Miller had casted a spell, or worse, a curse on you: it had become impossible for you to be in a relationship. Still, that wasn't your main concern, not more than why you had to move back to Austin after all those years shifting from New York to Boston, Texas and even a brief period in Spain which led you into an affair with another guy named Javier, but well, that was definitely another story. You'd simply got a phone call from your parents talking about a family emergency and once you had asked for a leave, your boss had mentioned the opportunity of you working for the Austin branch, it was a promising one, with a lot of chances of career growth and becoming the head of the office would actually come in handy, so you had no other option than say yes and pack your stuff. When you got back to Texas, despite the suffocating heat, you were also welcomed with suffocating news of your grandmother's passing, and a couple of weeks later, the news she'd left you a house in the suburbs, a real good area with many families, easy traffic and a lot of space. Having become an apartment person over the years, you first thought it was so odd to live in a house, especially by yourself. Everything seemed so big but now you didn't have to worry about having to clean it all, being able to afford someone to do so, you found your way by decorating everything exactly the way you liked it, using the spare rooms to build your home office, your closet space and a guest room, you slowly turned grandma's house into your own. However, the exterior still bothered you: there was a great space in the backyard, but the swimming pool was empty and dirty, and you could definitely have a barbecue area built so you could welcome your friends and family on weekends. As it wasn't your priority, you didn't bother so much about it, turning your attention to settling into your new office first.

•••

"Oh, hi ma'am, I'm selling cookies to help our school fund, would you be interested?" Sarah displayed a wide grin, hoping that would soften up the very annoyed looking old woman who opened the door. She noticed how the old lady looked at her up and down and just groaned a 'no' before practically slamming the door shut. Sarah sighed and shook her head, and there she was thinking the people who lived in the wealthier part of the neighborhood were more generous, but apparently they were just a bunch of snobbish cunts. Her stomach growled in hunger as she walked some more, she knew she should've eaten before going to sell the cookies, but she didn't have time at that moment. She insisted some more, knocking on another door, having no clue she was actually knocking on her father's ex-wife's door.

Sighing tiredly as you closed your laptop, you looked around and focused on what you would do next. You knew you needed to go grocery shopping soon, but you just didn't feel like driving to the store and pick up vegetables, so instead, you left your study and went to the living room, getting comfortable on the couch and groaning slightly the moment the doorbell rang. You were just so comfortable on the couch, you considered ignoring whoever was on the other side of the door, but for some reason, a slight wave of guilt made its presence and you obliged to answer whoever was disturbing you.

"Hello! My name's Sarah Miller and we're selling cookies for the school fund, would you be interested?" The smiley girl repeated her memorized speech the moment you open the door, she discreetly watched you, seeing you didn't seem so closed like the woman from the previous house, but still she wasn't sure if you were friendly, not when you stared at her with a seemingly shocked look.

Miller.

Her name was Miller.

Your heart raced and lost track of what she was saying, knowing you desperately needed to get your shit back together; Miller wasn't an uncommon name at all, quite the opposite, you had met a few people who also coincidentally had the same last name as your ex-husband, so your reaction to the girl's name was just absurd. Maybe it was because you were back in Austin, where everything happened, but then again, you reminded yourself Joel wasn't the only person named Miller in Texas.

"I-I'm sorry… I got distracted but yeah, I'll take two boxes" you smiled at the girl, she was a teenager, a very pretty one, she was pretty good at expressing herself though she looked exhausted and sweaty.

"Would you like to drink some water?" You offered her, feeling sorry for her at the realization she had probably been walking under the sunlight for quite some time. Sarah didn't think twice before nodding eagerly as she stepped inside, dragging her school bag and her cookie cart along. You let her in, finding sweet how she looked all over the place, taking in the different details from your home and enjoying that environment.

You guided her to the kitchen, getting her a tall glass of iced water, frowning at the fact she wasn't following you anymore. Instead, she stood in front of your bookshelf, looking at it up and down, trying to take in as many titles as she could. Sarah would love to have her own bookshelf like that, she loved reading ever since she was a little girl and though she used the school's library a lot, she thought the idea of having her own things was appealing, but she understood her dad couldn't simply splurge on books for her whenever she wanted to.

"Do you like books?" You asked her, walking closer and handing her the glass of water, which she killed with only a few gulps.

"Have you read all of them?!" Her surprised voice made you chuckle, she was such a sweet girl, you had no idea why you instantly liked her, but you did.

"Well, not all of them… I've just bought some of them and I haven't had the time yet, why? Did any of them interest you?"

"Well…" she said shyly and hesitantly ran her fingers through them, only pulling one out to read the description at your encouraging nod. "This one seems nice…"

"It is nice… do you want it? You can take it!" You smiled at how she blinked a little confused but nodded, so thankful for your kindness. Even if she didn't know you, Sarah already liked you. She smiled at the book and placed the glass down.

"Have you had lunch?" She shook her head shyly and you smiled "come on, I'll make you a sandwich…"

For the next hour, you and Sarah talked about several things: she told you about her school, her interests and how much she loved reading. She had assured you she would return you the book as soon as she finished it and you assured her she could borrow as many as she would like. She also briefly talked about her family, mentioning she lived with her dad on the other side of the neighborhood and you told her a little bit more about yourself.

She widened her eyes the moment she saw what time it really was, and quickly grabbed her backpack and the book you'd lent her, thank you several times as she walked towards the door "go before your mom gets worried about you" you told her without much thinking, but she shrugged "mom's not around… I live with my dad only, but it was really nice meeting you, Y/N"

•••

And for the next month, at least once a week you'd get a visit from Sarah. It had become a habit of hers to just stop by, spend a couple of hours with you, return you the book she'd borrowed the week before and get a new one. She didn't talk much about her family, it was mostly about school, friends and boy crushes and books. You were kind of suspicious she was missing a feminine figure, since she briefly told you her mom left a couple of months after she was born without looking back, you picked up the hint she wasn't open to talk about it yet, and you respected it. You were glad you unexpectedly got a new friend, a very young friend, and at first you thought it was kind of odd, until you realized she sort of resembled a daughter figure to you. After all, if you had had children with Joel, your child would be around Sarah's age.

Joel also thought it was kind of weird his daughter made an adult friend, he was well aware of how dangerous things were in the world, especially for young, innocent girls like Sarah, but when she told him her new friend was a woman, single, childless woman, who was nice, definitely had some money but also seemed quite lonely, he assumed she was one of those old cat lady kind of women; in his mind, his daughter's mysterious friend was probably a widow, who didn't have any kids and now had to approach random people for attention so she wouldn't be alone all the time. If only he knew how wrong he was, he would've asked your name, but he didn't. And he also knew he should've done it, perhaps even asked for your phone number so he could call you in case of god forbid, an emergency. But he worked so hard, not only that, he was going through a very stressful period too, so he didn't pay as much attention as he should have towards several things.

Sarah had become acquainted with several aspects of your life, from the time you spent together in your weird version of a book club. Mostly the conversations were about her and the struggles she often faced as a teenager, but sometimes you let out information, plans or complaints here and there. It wasn't different the day you were very displeased with how your backyard was looking; it had potential to be a beautiful place but it needed fixing and remodeling. Perhaps it'd been the stress at work, but for whatever reason the way that place looked was bothering you and making you cranky, if any other given day you wouldn't give a crap about it, but at that moment you did, and not only that, you mentioned it to Sarah, who tried to be useful and told you she could ask her dad to take a look at it, after all, he was in the business and could help you with it. You said yes and told her you'd be expecting the two of them on Saturday morning. Only when the girl had left happily carrying another book in hands, was that you realized that maybe, and just maybe, you should've asked her father's name.

•••

"So, you're really sure this friend of yours wants to get some stuff remodeled? And that she can afford it?" Joel glanced at Sarah before focusing again on the street as he drove to her new friend's house. He wasn't truly convinced you would actually want to hire his services, it just seemed too good to be true. He held back a smile at the way Sarah rolled her eyes at him, she'd told him hundreds of times that yes, you needed someone to repair and remodel the backyard, if anything, he could at least indicate you someone who could provide the service you were looking for.

"Fine, let's help the old lady then" he grunted at the same time his daughter turned to him "what old lady?!"

"Your friend… isn't she old? I mean, she's lonely and she lets you hang out… I thought she'd be like our neighbor an-"

"Dad, she's younger than you, I think! And she's pretty too…"

At that information Joel was more curious about you. Why was a pretty young woman all alone and willing to be friends with a girl who could roughly be her kid's age?! Were you really pretty? And did you really want your backyard remodeled or was Sarah playing matchmaker? He really hoped she wasn't, otherwise he would be very angry. Joel didn't need a new relationship, he didn't want to, having failed the two major ones he had in his life, the first one being so immature and cruel to his sweet young wife and the second one he didn't exactly where he screwed up, perhaps he had just been naive and thought the woman who wanted nothing more than just some fun was actually willing to build a life with, or maybe he wanted her to take over your place, after all, you'd set the bar pretty high for Angela when it came on being a dedicated housewife. The raw fact was that Joel was alone all those years later, his first wife was hopefully living her best years with someone who truly deserved her and Angela was God knows where but he didn't give a single fuck. She'd been dead to him from the moment she walked out of his door, denying her own baby, and all that passion he felt turned into hurt and anger. Unlike the feelings he had for you: as the years passed and he grew older, he thought of several times he could've treated you better than he did, he thought of how he would have tried not hurting you as much as he did, even if the situation the two of you were was tricky, he often fantasized about a version of your marriage where he hadn't ruined everything, where he had been honest without being cruel, without playing with your feelings, he didn't know if it was just his conscious weighing heavily on him or what, but he always thought of you with affection and love. At that time he was sure he didn't love you anymore, the passion he felt for the other woman was too intense, too much, it blinded and deafened him from everything around, everything that mattered the most to him at the time. But all those years later, Joel was sure the love for you was still there, perhaps it was just hidden away, or it got stuck under all that shit that went on, still, he didn't know who you had become, what you looked like or where you were at that moment, so it was a fairly assumption he was still in love with a memory and nothing more than that.

"Fine, so what's her name after all?" He questioned his daughter after some moment of silence but before she could answer, Joel parked his truck in front of your home.

You heard the engine and you went to the window, checking the unknown car parked in front of your place and though you couldn't actually see them inside, you knew it was Sarah and her dad. Just as you went to the door, he exited the car, his back to the entrance as you walked to them and greeted Sarah, at the sound of your voice he immediately turned around and the two of you froze in time as you watched each other there.

Joel.

You felt as if you were trapped in a weird dream, the ones you know you are just dreaming and yet you can't move or speak, just taking the role of the audience of a bizarre picture that formed before your eyes. Joel on the other hand, stared at you in complete silence, you couldn't really read him, it was impossible to know what was going on in his mind, in his heart, you could just feel his eyes roaming over your body, taking all the image of you as if he was trying to make sure you were actually what he saw in front of him. He couldn't believe it, after all those years, after everything he did to you, you were there, beautiful as you'd always been, even more so, the fancy lifestyle really suited you, he could tell by your clothes, your nails perfectly done, your hair looking gorgeous and styled nicely, you had succeeded, you had had a life he knew he could never provide you, and for that he felt kind of relieved, at least one good thing came out of your divorce: the chance of you having the success you deserved it, you weren't that housewife who needed to still work part time at the mall, you were above that now, and Joel was so damn proud of you for it.

"I-I.. yo-"

"Nice to meet you, you must be Sarah's dad" you interrupted him before he could say your name and extended your hand to him, pretending you'd just met. He was confused but you tilted your head very discreetly towards his daughter, being sure she didn't know anything that had happened between the both of you. He immediately picked up the hint and introduced himself, as if you were meeting for the first time. His hand engulfed yours like it always did, Joel Miller had always had big and strong hands, surely they got calloused through the years, but you knew damn well what they were capable of doing to you. He was older, looking more handsome than you thought he would, he aged like a fine wine, streaks of silver here and there but the majority of his hair still dark and soft like always, he was bigger too, he was stronger, broad and grew several muscles, all of it a result of years of hard-working. No matter if he had broken your heart, there was no denying he was an extremely attractive man.

He appreciated how heartfelt you were towards his daughter and gladly followed you inside once you invited him into the backyard to discuss what could be done. Sarah was right behind the two of you, but you turned to her, smiling big

"I went to the bookstore yesterday and I think you might enjoy what I bought, wanna take a look at it? They're all in the living room" you suggested to her who nodded and happily went after the books.

Once you and Joel got into the backyard, he stuttered some apologies but you immediately cut him off.

"I don't want apologies Joel, I didn't know Sarah was your daughter and I probably wouldn't have let her in if I knew who she was, but now I got attached to her and I hope our situation isn't going to prevent us from being friends" you told him honestly and watched as he nodded

"You know, her mom, Angela, she left us and I'm very sorry I left you for her.. "

"I don't wanna hear it, Joel. As I said, I don't wanna hear it about her mom or the apologies or anything at all, I mean, Sarah told me what happened and it's enough, you and I aren't together anymore, we're better off without each other, so let's just overcome this part and focus on the job I need you to do…"

"You know, I can indicate you another contractor to do it for you, so it won't be weird…"

"No, you can do it, unless you are feeling uncomfortable but other than that, I'd rather you do it, besides, Sarah would find it awkward"

And like that, Joel got into his professional mood and the two of you discussed the project you had in mind, hiring his services, he told you he could start the next Monday and he would take care of it himself, to make sure things would go according to your wishes. He noticed you didn't wear any commitment rings, nor there were pictures of you and any guy indicating a relationship and in his heart, the hope of perhaps taking you out for a coffee and getting to know you, the woman you'd become after those years, after growing mature and changing your life completely, growing in his heart. It was a fair assumption Joel had an immediate crush on you, the feelings he held within, were now blossoming more, at how beautiful, intelligent and attractive you were and suddenly, the roles were reversed: if more than ten years ago you had it bad for him, now he was the one who felt like a sick love puppy towards you.

The first week of working wasn't so bad at all, Joel would arrive at yours earlier than you expected and would start working. You didn't stay around much, letting him do his job while you were probably working in the living room or any other part of the house whenever you didn't have to go to work per se. He tried making small talk during some of his breaks and since you didn't see any harm in it, you chatted briefly, that was how he'd learned what you did for a living, where you'd been after you left Austin, and stuff like that. He told you some things about his life, mostly about how it'd been the experience of raising a child on his own, but whenever he got near bringing up your past or trying to apologize, you'd cut up any kind of interaction with him. At the end of the day you and him had nothing but a professional relationship. He understood your reasons, and yet, he hoped you would find at least a small breach in your heart to let him in, he really hoped he could show you he was a better man now, that he could be suitable for you, and yet, you kept yourself all the way distant and protecting yourself from him.

So it became a very common scene to always escape from Joel, moving seats or rooms whenever he was around, you didn't know how else to act, what he expected from you. It wasn't like you were old buddies catching up after years in a long-distance relationship. And he always got displeased.

It was about the third week of working at your house, he asked if he could use your kitchen to have lunch, heating up the food he'd eat, you smiled at yourself as you were taken back by the memories of times where you would prepare him lunches and send it in his lunchbox, how you would worry about him being hungry so you would always make sure there was something fresh out of the oven for him to nibble on as soon as he got home from work and chuckled softly, shaking your head and excusing yourself. He'd thought you would at least have lunch next to him, but you weren't willing to do that at all, and that both pained and pissed him off.

"Would it kill you to spend time with me? Look at me? Or act like a human being instead of being all stiff like a robot whenever I'm around?" He asked, breaking the silence, you could see he was frustrated and that puzzled you to no end.

"What are you talking about, Joel?!"

"You don't talk to me, Y/N, I try making small talk, you don't answer me, you don't even look at me, suddenly I'm not worth your time? You're too good to even acknowledge I am next to you?"

"Do you really want to talk about not being worth someone's time? Really Joel? I thought you had grown up during all these years but I can see you are just the same shallow fuckboy who gets pissed off when you see I'm not crawling towards you…"

"Stop being unfair to me! All I'm trying to do is to show you I've changed, I am a better man, a better person, I'm not that same immature Joel you met so many years ago, I'm trying to make you see I'm a new man…" he went from angry to desperate, you took a step closer and looked into his eyes, not breaking the eye contact for one second.

"I know Joel, I know you've changed… you've grown into this hardworking man, this amazing father, I can see it, I hear it every time Sarah comes over, but you don't have to try too hard, it's not gonna change anything… You and I are two different people, we have nothing to do with each other anymore"

"You can't say that, I want you to see we could try it again, I still love you, Y/N!"

"Joel, we'll never try it again, the marks of your betrayal still linger here, all over me, forgetting you was the hardest thing I've ever done, and I don't want to ever feel it again. You don't love me, Joel. You love the idea of me, of picking up the shattered parts of your broken life and making it right, you love the thought of building up a family, of giving your daughter the mom she deserves, and it's all because it didn't work out with that woman. We both know it… if she hadn't left you wouldn't even be thinking of me" you looked down, trying to hold back a tear that insisted on falling, but failing at that matter. "I wasn't good enough to be by your side, to build a family with you, you can't just expect me to throw myself into your arms as if nothing had happened, what exactly do you think would happen between us in the first place? I'd be waiting for you every single night with dinner ready? Those days were over, Joel…" you sniffed and he sighed, placing his hand on his waist.

"Give me a chance, go on a date with me, please… before you say no, just think about it, of what we could have together… please! You don't have to answer me now, think about it and when I finish the job, you can tell me your answer"

•••

The following weeks were as normal as they could be; you hadn't told Joel yes but you hadn't told him no either and even if it pained you to admit it, you sometimes thought of his proposition. Sarah was still coming over, your bond was now stronger, you really liked each other and despite everything that happened, you were thankful Joel wasn't against your friendship. You two had agreed on not telling her anything about your shared past at the moment, but in case you two decided she needed to know it for whatever reason, Joel would be the one to tell her, it would only make sense. You also thought about his words and you decided to be nicer to him, actually stopping to talk to him, or having lunch next to him instead of rushing away as fast as you could and in retribution, he stopped with the feelings talk. The deadline was coming to an end, as your backyard remodeling was getting prettier and prettier each passing day. It was odd and awkward and you wanted to get things over with as soon as possible at the same time a strange fascination with watching Joel caught you. It was hard to explain, but when the final day came, when Joel and his assistant showed you the word ready and done, and after you paid them the large wage you owed them for the services, your ex-husband asked to talk to you. He had hope in his eyes, he was wearing his flannel, and he'd combed his hair a little, which made him look painfully handsome, your heart clenched. Even before he could say anything, you already had your answer. He stood in front of you, baffled at the fact you threw your arms around his body, pulling him for a hug. His hands locked around your waist, strong grip not wanting to let go, while you sank into his warmth. He was your old Joel, the one you'd loved so deeply and broke your heart, but nonetheless your Joel.

Taking your hand to his face, you stroked it gently, feeling his beard scratching your palm a little and you smiled "I forgive you, Joel… I don't know if you wanted my forgiveness or not, but I forgive you anyway, I don't resent you anymore, what's gone, it's gone and now we can only focus on our future. I know that if I tried looking for a space in my heart, I would find it a part that still keeps all the love I felt for you, but we've changed, for the best and that teaches us we should never make the same mistakes from the past, so you do understand why we can't go on this date, right? We can't be together, I'm sorry Joel, but you know it's true… I just need one last thing from you…"

You told him, leaning towards him and pecking his lips. After all that time, it still felt like your favorite place in the world, your heart raced the moment he groaned into your mouth and his hands tightened his dominating grip on you. It was quite pathetic how he still had the same effect over you and if he hadn't hurt you as much as he did and condemned you two to a relationship based on lack of trust, perhaps you could even consider trying again. Forgiving and forgetting were different things, whereas you didn't resent him anymore, you hadn't forgotten about how broken he left your heart. You would never be able to trust him again, always worrying he had found someone better like he did once, you couldn't do that to yourself, you loved yourself too much to go back to Joel Miller. That last kiss you cherished, you would keep it in your memories, but it wouldn't go further than that. You and Joel were done for years and nothing would convince you otherwise.

____

A/N: I hope you enjoyed it 😭💔

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[gucciwins]

birthday blues

Y/N doesn't celebrate her birthday. Harry wants to change that.

Word count: 9381

A/N: it's my birthday! and I thought you deserved something nice. I feel sometimes birthday can be very up and down. somehow tears come by every year. I always wanted to write a birthday story and what better day to post it than on my birthday.

warnings: mentions of a parent death

happy reading!

+

365 days

That’s how long it took the sun to rotate the earth. That was also how many days it took for Y/N to turn a year older. 

Birthdays are meant to be celebrated with family and friends. Where they shower someone with gifts cake but mostly love. It’s something Y/N hasn’t felt since she was young. Her mother made sure Y/N was reminded that the sun shined bright for her. She made all her dreams come true until she couldn’t. Y/N lost her mother, Isla, to cancer. She fought a long battle, but it seemed losing her mother meant losing her father as he lost the love of his life. Her older brother, already close to eighteen, understood loss but didn’t realize how grief could change a person because as soon as Caleb turned eighteen, he was gone. Only calling during the holidays but never coming home. 

Y/N saw how others were celebrated on their birthdays as she grew up, from being invited to birthday parties to the grand gifts they would receive, primarily knowing that her friends had someone show up for them. That never happened for Y/N. 

She moved away from home for university, and there was no argument from her father. She began her life where she hoped to create a family of her own, and with time, she had. Y/N never believed in having a large group of friends, but wherever she went, she made a friend along the way. 

Aurora is Y/N’s best friend. She met her at a book club, their local bookstore hosts. Y/N complimented her fiery red hair; Aurora took one hard look at Y/N and claimed they would be best friends. Y/N brushed her off instead asking her out for coffee, and well, it seemed Aurora was right. She always is Y/N had come to learn. 

With Aurora in her life came new friends; she was invited to dinner parties, coffee days, and to join in on mundane errand days. Y/N had never felt so invited and loved by her friends, but she made sure to give it right back. When it was Suki’s birthday, Y/N knew she wanted an ice skating day with all their friends but could never convince everyone to go; well, Y/N turned on the charm, and off they went. At Edward’s graduation party, she brought his favorite cake from the bakery across town. For Tina, she found a vintage sweater she had been searching for since she was seventeen and learned who Vivienne Westwood was. Y/N was the friend who went above and beyond for everyone because she knew they deserved it.

Year after year, they would ask Y/N to celebrate her birthday or accomplishments, but Y/N always promised them she didn’t like celebrating her birthday. After two years, her friends decided not to fight it and respected her wishes. She’d start her day the same way each year: head to Heart Coffee to buy a croissant and an oat milk vanilla latte. She’d head to the park, where she’d sit by the lake, seeing all the people run by. Then she’d cook herself a small meal and stay home to watch her favorite show (Parks and Rec). It’s a simple plan, one she liked and her friends respected. Her friends would get her gifts, sometimes books, kitchen supplies, or even the sweater she had been eyeing and saving up for, but that’s as much as she allowed to be celebrated. 

Then Harry came into her life. 

Aurora was having a bonfire to celebrate the start of Summer. Y/N loved the beach, searching for shells, and mostly, being in the water. Y/N had offered to help set up because she wanted to maximize her time in the water. Her mum always told her she was born a mermaid in another life for how much she loved water. Y/N spent her time in the water, and once she felt the sun begin to set (Aurora yelled for her to come in), she took a final dive and dashed to her car to change into warmer clothes. As she was closing her car’s trunk, Y/N bumped into someone. She quickly apologized, knowing she was in a hurry to return to her friends because she was hungry. 

“My fault,” a strong voice responded. 

It sent chills down her back. She looked up to meet his eyes and found mossy green eyes staring at her. “Sorry,” she apologized again. “I’ve got to go.” Y/N pointed behind her to signify she had people waiting for her, and before he could stop her, she ran off. 

Y/N tried to brush away his pretty face, but her brain seemed frozen. She’d never seen someone so pretty. He had curls peeking out behind his hood, and his long eyelashes were something she’d forever be jealous of while she’d dream of what his pink lips might taste like. Y/N, with a drink in her hand, allowed herself to escape to her thoughts. 

“Babes, you’ve got a pretty tan going,” Aurora commented as Y/N set her bag down.

Y/N felt her face warm, knowing tomorrow she’d be more burnt than she liked, but being in the water was worth it. 

“So the mermaid has legs,” Frannie teases Y/N as she sits in the sand. 

“So it seems. Got any gummy worms?” Y/N plays along, knowing her friend would understand the significance of the candy from one of their favorite movies.   

There was a lot of chatter going around. She patted Frannie’s thigh, telling her she was getting another drink, but before she could do that, Tobias, Aurora’s boyfriend of two years, called for her. 

“Y/NNNNN!” She giggled because it was clear he was a few drinks in. “My sweet baby, I want to introduce you to my friends. We’re in a band.” 

“Were.” A man with an Irish accent answers. 

“Shush, Niall. Y/N loves musicians.” 

Y/N rolls her eyes, “only if they play the piano,” she corrects. 

She turned to look at the people Tobias wanted to introduce her to, and she took a deep breath when she recognized the guy with the gray hood, a smirk on his face.

“Right, whatever. My good mates from left to right are Niall, Sarah, Devon, and Harry. Mitch is off getting drinks. He’s the dude with really long hair. You’ll see him,” Tobias assures her. “Now, this is my best mate Y/N.” Y/N giggles. “Don’t tell Aurora, she’ll fight anyone who calls Y/N her, and I quote “bestie.””

Y/N hums in agreement. “It’s lovely to meet you all.” She shakes their hand in greeting. She saved Harry for last. Y/N tries to hide she’s looking at his long fingers, but when she looks at Harry, he’s staring at her with a wide smile. 

“Piano hands.” 

Y/N feels her face flush because he’s referring to the comment she made a few minutes ago. She takes a step back and excuses herself. “Off to get a drink. It was lovely to meet you all.” 

Harry steps forward as if to follow her, but Tobias stops him with a shake of his head. Always protective. She looks over her shoulder and finds Harry already staring at her. She laughs to herself. Maybe she’ll get the courage to talk to him after two more drinks. 

One drink later, Y/N was watching the waves crash in when she heard someone coming closer. She thought it was Aurora who was escaping the loud music for a moment, so she patted the seat next to her, but to her surprise, it was Harry. 

“Hi,” she greeted softly. 

“Hi, Y/N.” Harry smiled at her. “You’re hard to get alone.”

She rolls her eyes playfully. “That’s Mum and Dad for you.” 

“They’re protective of everyone like that?” He asks.

“Yes, but more so me.”

“Is it because you’re too sweet?” Harry asks curiously.

“Or to mean,” she counters. 

Harry laughs, “I doubt that.” 

Y/N turns her body to look at him, squinting her eyes suspiciously. “You don’t know me.” 

He shrugs, “I don’t, but you shook my hand when we met. Don’t think that’s happened in such an informal setting.”

Shit. 

Y/N lets his words sink in. So it was weird to shake hands, but her mum always taught her to be polite, and she'd shake their hand if she couldn’t be a hugger. Were handshakes weird? Did that mean Harry thought she was strange? Well, there goes her chance with him.

“Y/N, Sweets? Where’d you go?” Harry calls for her attention, seeing her lost in her head. “I’m that boring, huh?”

She’s quick to shake her head. “Sorry. That was so rude of me.” 

“Only teasing.” 

“Don’t like the party?” Y/N gestured behind them, knowing that was much better than sitting with her. 

Harry scoots his hand closer to hers, only an inch apart the slightest movement, and they’d be touching. “I meant it when I said you’re hard to get alone. Aurora asked me fifty different questions, and one was about my car insurance.” 

Aurora was odd, but she always had her best interests in mind. 

“Think she’s scared I might get taken away from her.”

“She did say something about 60/40.” 

Y/N lets her head fall into her lap, “that’s embarrassing.” 

“Take it everyone’s sweet on you, Sweets.” 

Y/N feels herself melt at the moniker. Harry is too charming for her, but it doesn’t mean she doesn’t want a chance.

“Are you?” 

Harry takes it in stride. “Definitely.”

“Hmm…”

Harry takes her silence as rejection. “Take it, it’s not mutual?” 

“I’m afraid you never asked me a question.” She feigns innocence. 

Harry grins, “would you like to go on a date with me?” Y/N stays silent. “How’s that for a question?” 

Y/N stands up, brushes away the sand, and offers her hand to Harry. He takes it, careful to not pull her off balance. “Yes.” 

She walks back to her friends, leaving behind a stunned Harry. 

“Did you say yes?” He yells, hurrying to catch up. 

“I did.” 

“Why?” 

Y/N laughs, confused. “Was I supposed to say no?”

“Tobias assured me you would say no, so I thought no harm in trying.”

Y/N steps close to Harry, removing any space they head between each other. “Listen here, Harry. As much as I love Tobias, he doesn’t speak for me. So, if you ever have a question for me, just ask.”

Harry nods. 

“Good. Now I’d love a s’more, care to join me?” 

Harry, enamored by Y/N, is quick to agree.

He spent the remainder of the night glued to Y/N’s side. He couldn’t get enough of her. He wanted to know everything about her, from her birthday to her favorite number. She asked him about the pets he had growing up and who his three favorite female artists were. Y/N told Harry his answer could change her response to their upcoming date. Harry named Stevie Nicks, Kacey Musgraves, and Megan Thee Stallion. Y/N told him she approved. He sighed in relief, telling her that his heart was close to beating out of his chest. 

Harry’s friends began to pack up to leave, but he noticed Y/N didn’t, so he stayed put Y/N tucked against his side and said it was time for him to go, sensing all the looking Harry’s friends were directing at him and he was ignoring.  

“Don’t want to leave you alone.”

“I’ve got my friends, Harry. I was fine before you and will be fine once you leave.” 

Harry frowned, “fine isn’t good enough.” 

“You’re a tough cookie.” 

Harry makes no move to get up.

“I’ll make you a deal.”

He perks up, “I’m listening.”

“You text me when you make it home.” Harry nods eagerly. “I’ll text you when I make it home. If you’re awake, I’ll let you call me to wish me goodnight.” 

“I’ll be awake,” he promises.

Y/N doesn’t know how true that is, but it does get him to finally follow his tired friends to their car. She watches him walk away when Aurora comes up behind, resting her head on Y/N’s shoulder. 

“Tobias bet me $50 bucks he could keep Harry away from you.” 

“What did you do, Rora?” 

“I offered him a blowie if he let you be,” Aurora laughed, “I saw the sparkle in your eye. Don’t love him more than me is all I ask.” 

Y/N giggles, “I wouldn’t dare.”

“Good. I told him 60/40, but 70/30 is a better deal for me.”

Y/N felt like throwing up. She changed her outfit three times, restyled her hair twice, and messed up her eyeliner for the first time in months. Her date with Harry was tonight, and while she had a massive crush on him, her nerves were getting the better of her. 

Before she could change her outfit another time, her phone rang, notifying her of a knock on her door. The security camera she had installed was a significant help. She pulled up the app on her phone and saw Harry wearing a black knitted sweater with two swans kissing. A bouquet of flowers in his hand. He kept pacing the front door, and Y/N felt settled, knowing he was nervous, too. 

First dates can be awkward, and small talk is boring, but as soon as she opens the front door, Y/N knows it’s different. Harry shows her a bright smile, telling her how beautiful she looks. Y/N lets Harry open her car door; for dinner, Harry decides to take her to his favorite Italian restaurant. It’s ten minutes from the beach. It’s a family-owned establishment where all the dishes are made from scratch. Harry promised Mama D’s offers a pink sauce that’s to die for. Y/N let Harry order for her, and she was not sorry; the food was delicious. She knew she would return, but that wasn’t the best part. No, it was spending time with Harry. 

She learned how smart he was. He is constantly reading a new book, whether poetry or history books; he always has his hand on something new. Y/N proudly told him she loved her romance books, that she had only recently begun to get into fantasy, but that her favorite series growing up was “The Hunger Games.” She went on a slight tangent explaining what the books meant to her and how, from time to time, she would pick it up to read it all over again. When she realized she had probably said too much, Y/N felt her face burning and wouldn’t dare to meet Harry’s stare.

“Sorry,” she apologized. 

Harry shakes his head, “no, don’t do that.”

“What?” Y/N asks confused. 

“Apologize for what you’re passionate about. It’s a part of you; don’t make it seem insignificant,” his words settled deep in her heart. “I could write you a ten-page essay on why The Notebook is one of the best romance movies to exist.” 

“With citations included?” Y/N teased, easing the tension she was holding. 

“Well, of course,” Harry plays into her banter. 

It’s clear by the end of the date that Y/N is head over heels for Harry, and the feeling is mutual. Harry sat across from Y/N at the start of the meal, but after their dinner and a glass of wine, he slipped into the seat next to her. He played with her fingers that rested on the table, his entire body turned to her, giving her his undivided attention. Y/N and Harry stayed at the restaurant until they closed. Their waiter, Devin, told them he didn’t want to rush them, but they did need to clean up the outside patio. Harry knew it was time to go but didn’t want the night to end. 

“Fancy a walk?” Harry asked Y/N as they stood by the car, pointing toward the beach where she could hear the waves crashing on the shore.

“Lead the way.”

Harry reached for Y/N’s hand, but Y/N was the one to intertwine their fingers, keeping a tight grip on him. Harry gave her a squeeze to assure her he liked it. The moon shone down on them as they walked towards the calm waves. They walked in silence; there was no need to fill the void with talk. Simply being together was enough for them. 

He was aware this was a first date. Yet, Harry knew what he was feeling was something he would never experience again, entirely because of Y/N. 

“Harry?” 

“Yes, Sweets.” 

“Can I confess something to you?” 

Harry stops walking, hearing the tremble in her voice. “Hey, of course you can. Anything you want.” 

“Well,” she takes a deep breath. “When we met, I thought you might be a little cocky because you have this larger-than-life personality, but truthfully, you're the sweetest person I have ever met.” 

Harry feels his cheeks turn red. He did not see this coming. “Sweets, you mean that?” 

“I do. You make me feel safe and cared for. I-I know we don’t know each other too well, but I would like to keep seeing you if you’re interested,” she whispers the final word as if all her confidence was sucked away. 

“Y/N, look at me.” She lifts her gaze to meet his. Y/N can see how bright his eyes are with the moon's light. “I would love to keep going on dates with you. You called me sweet, but Y/N, you’re the kindest, smartest, most beautiful person I have met in all my years of life. I’d love to keep spending time with you even if it was simply to go grocery shopping.” 

“Good,” she whispers. “I’m glad we’re on the same page.” 

“Come one, Sweets. The night is still young.” 

Harry and Y/N spent the remainder of the night sitting on the cold sand, telling each other everything they could think of because while neither would say it out loud, they knew they had met their soulmate.

+

Y/N loved playing dress-up. She loved exploring her fashion, knowing she’d get suitable and horrible outfits, but each one would be a story for her to tell. Y/N loved going to flea markets on the weekends and went to her favorite thrift store every time the kind worker shot her a text, there was a large donation that came in. Her mother once took her to an estate sale, and Y/N got to see pieces of someone else’s story. Y/N loved visiting the homes but also because she got to find some of the most insane items. Y/N had found a vintage baby pink Chanel sweater and a never-worn pearl necklace. It was her most precious piece of jewelry. 

When Harry learned that Y/N loved going to vintage and second-hand stores, he planned a date night to take her to all the hidden spots his mother had shown him. It had been a few weeks of dates, Y/N and Harry being exclusive, enjoying their time together. Harry had planned a few dates, but so had Y/N. With final exams looming close, he wanted to make sure that Y/N knew that spending time with her was his priority, so he wanted to take her to one of her favorite activities. 

Harry had specific tastes, loving to wear vintage shirts, sometimes paying too much for one he couldn’t live without. Harry loved being able to share this passion with Y/N but mostly enjoyed spending time with her. He understood they both had schoolwork and needed to make time to study, but Y/N was great at making time to see him, so he decided he could do the same. She stopped by for breakfast after her morning pilates class. Harry would send her flowers to arrive at her office. It was a simple gesture, but Y/N appreciated it each time.

“Did you know Dee can’t stand Prim?” Y/N tells Harry as she looks through the rack of skirts, trying to find a velvet skirt. 

Harry frowned. “Prim the cat?” 

“Mhmm…the very one. Says she’s demonic or something,” Y/N shrugs.

“Prim is the sweetest little baby. Always curl up in your lap for a nap.”

Y/N looks back at him with a big smile, recalling the memory of them over at Sasha’s house for game night. Harry sat to her right as they watched Frannie and Brandon try to beat their score in charades when the small black cat came right over to her with a tiny meow and settled in her lap. Y/N ran her hand through Prim’s black coat, coxing her right to sleep. Harry made sure to capture photos for her. Even made it his new lock screen.

“Yeah, told Dee she probably needs to bring Prim a snack to befriend her.” 

Y/N pulled out a black skirt; she looked it over, trying to decide if she wanted it, when Harry spotted something over her shoulder. It was a maroon velvet skirt with a split on the leg, and he knew it was exactly what she was looking for. 

“How about this?” 

She turned around to see Harry holding up a skirt. It looked in perfect condition, not a tear in sight. “What if it doesn’t fit?” 

“We can always alter it. I’m amazing with a sewing machine,” Harry shares. 

Y/N grabs it from him, adding it to the pile of clothes she’s already holding in one arm. “Fine, I’ve been convinced.” She giggles, knowing she would have taken it no matter what because Harry was the one who found it for her. 

“Did you find that knitted cardigan here?” Y/N asks him, exiting the shop, the bag of clothes in Harry’s hand as he uses his other hand to hold hers. 

“No, my Nan made it.” 

Y/N’s eyes gleam in excitement. “That’s amazing. Did she teach you?” 

Harry laughs. “No, I'm really bad with needles. Nan says I’ve got too big of hands.” 

Y/N lifts their intertwined hands, looking down at his black nail polish contrasting her red. “I think you’ve got perfect hands.” 

Harry kisses her temple. “Thank you, sweets. Are you up for a coffee?”

“And a croissant?” She asks excitedly. 

“Well, of course. Only the best for you.” Harry pulls her close and leads them to a coffee shop up the street. 

Harry knows he’s never been happier. He’s glad to have Y/N in his life.

+

Y/N had spent the summer falling in love. Harry had been the perfect gentleman. She had never met someone as kind as him, and when he asked her to be his girlfriend, there was only one clear answer. 

Yes.

She held back from screaming it. Her excitement was hard to hide, but thankfully, so was Harry’s. They spent that night back at Y/N’s apartment kissing. Harry had the sweetest lips, and Y/N always wanted more after one taste. He brought warmth into her life, which she would always be thankful for. 

Now, in Autumn, she spent her time with her studying, going on dates, and sharing lots of kisses. Y/N got to meet Harry’s family: his mother, who has a big love for cats; his older sister, who’s a lawyer and the best baker to ever exist; and his step-father, who is heaven-sent. Y/N shared she was nervous to meet them all because of how much Harry talked about them, but he assured her they’d love her. 

They settled on brunch together, which went as well as Harry expected. Y/N shared what she was studying, where she was from, and how sweet Harry was raised. His mother, Elise, was over the moon with her kind words. When Y/N excused herself to the restroom, his mum could not stop gushing about how perfect Y/N was for him. His sister, Aaliyah, was more challenging to win over. She seemed to think she could read everyone perfectly. It was her job as a lawyer, but sometimes Harry wanted her to simply be his sister. Y/N spent the breakfast sharing stories asking about Harry growing up. His stepfather shared his favorite memories of Harry growing up. How Aaliyah tried to always sell Harry away or ship him off in a box. It never worked, but she tried so hard.

It took a slight turn when the conversation shifted to Y/N’s family. “Has Harry met your family?” Aaliyah asked. 

Y/N felt her hands begin to sweat, and as if he could sense her nerves, Harry reached down and intertwined her hand with his, letting them rest on her lap. 

“No, uh, he hasn’t.” 

Aaliyah frowned, “Now that doesn’t seem right. Are you ashamed of him?” 

Y/N jumps back as if she had just been slapped. She knew his sister cared for him, but being accused of being ashamed of Harry was not something she ever wanted to happen. Y/N took a deep breath and decided to share the deepest parts of herself with Harry’s family, something she did not like to talk about and only mentioned to Harry, never giving him the whole story. 

“My mum Isla passed away when I was ten. She was my hero and my biggest supporter. It’s not something you ever really heal from; grief lessens, but you’ll always miss them.” Y/N wanted to look away. The look of pity on their face was not something she wanted. “My—my dad loved my mum. He always said she was his other half, and well…when he lost her, it’s like we lost him too. My older brother is eight years older than me. So when my mum passed away, he was getting ready to leave for university. Once he left, he never came back. He calls on the occasional holiday but loves life in America.” Y/N is surprised she’s not crying yet but pushes on. “It’s hard living in a house when you’re the one who essentially raised yourself. Dad worked, came home and mourned, then went back to work. An endless cycle. I had family members try to help him, but they knew it would be better if I left.” Y/N could feel her hands shaking and her knee continuously bouncing, but she did it; she made it through her story. “Sorry if that was an overshare.” Y/N excuses herself, needing a minute. 

She walks out front, and that’s when her tears fall. 

“For fucks sake,” she groans, knowing tear stains are hard to hide. 

“Y/N,” Harry calls for her softly. “Are you okay?” 

Harry. Her sweet angel. Y/N’s sure her mum put him on her path because her love for him is something she’s never felt before, but it makes her feel whole. Y/N lets herself collapse in his arms, no longer caring about her tears. 

“I’m sorry,” she mutters. “They must think I’m a mess.” 

“Hey,” he says softly. “Don’t talk about my girlfriend like that.” 

“It’s true,” she defends. 

Harry lifts her head to have him look at her. “You don’t have to be perfect or have to have your life together. You just need to remember you’re not alone. You’ve got so many people that l–adore you.” 

Y/N takes a moment to let it all sink in. Harry’s right. She’s simply overwhelmed and thankful to have him here. 

“Is your family upset with me?”

“Not at all, baby,” he assures her. “I think Mum was reprimanding Aaliyah, actually.”

Y/N laughs at his excitement, “let's go back.” 

“Are you sure?” He checks one final time.

“Mhm. Do you think your mum will share photos of you?” 

“Only one way to find out,” Y/N let him lead the way as she felt her heart calm down, knowing she was in safe hands.

+

Y/N could not be prouder of Harry. He had passed all his exams with flying colors (Y/N did, too), all while getting promoted at work. It was a campus job that paid decently. He did it for the scholarship offered but had come to love his role in helping other students. Y/N had done well, too, but that didn’t matter to her, not when she wanted to celebrate Harry. She planned a special night out for him with all of their friends. Harry loved a good party, and she wanted to give him precisely that. She had told him to prepare for the night, claiming it was a surprise. 

Harry didn’t think much, knowing her surprise ranged from a bouquet of flowers to getting dessert and the occasional new clothing she found for him. He didn't know what to expect tonight because when she showed up at his apartment in a little black dress, he was close to pulling her into his apartment and not letting her go. As good as that dress looked on Y/N, he knew it would look better on his bedroom floor. Harry noticed Y/N’s excitement and knew he couldn’t keep her locked up, but it did not stop him from pushing her up against the wall and happily messing up her lipstick. 

Once he noticed it was getting hard to control himself when he pulled away. “Look beautiful, sweets.” 

Y/N giggled, pressing a kiss to his stained lips. “Thank you.”

“Should we head out?” Harry asked, grabbing his coat and helping Y/N slip hers on. 

“Mhm…”

The car ride was short, driving close to the university. He noticed they were outside the bar they come to for karaoke some nights. He loves belting out an Adele song from time to time. Y/N hurried out the door, her excitement unable to be contained. Y/N waited at the door for him, her hand outstretched for him to take. He kissed her wrist and gestured for her to go on. 

Walking in, everything looked normal. People were sitting around at the tables, not a seat in sight at the bar. Y/N offered Grady, their favorite bartender, a wave. The crowd parted for Y/N as if she were an angel walking by. He was always mesmerized by how her presence caught the attention of everyone around her. 

Y/N led them to the back room, which was reserved for large parties. Harry was confused; she had said the surprise was for him, but it didn’t make sense when there was nothing to celebrate. His birthday wasn’t until February, and she knew that. Made a clear point to add it to her calendar as Harry Styles’ Birthday with a yellow heart next to it. A simple gesture that made his heart skip a beat. When they entered the room, Harry noticed all their friends gathered around. Mitch was laughing with Niall while Sarah approached them with three drinks in hand. She quickly passed Harry a vodka cranberry while Y/N got Sprite. 

“Your girl sure knows how to throw a party,” Sarah raises her glass in a cheer. 

“I-I.” Harry has no words. 

Sarah laughs. “Did you really not know? I thought she would have told you. Y/N was so excited she thought she might burst,” she teased. 

Y/N smiles, leaning her head on Harry’s shoulder. “It’s for everyone,” Y/N reminds her. 

Sarah clicks her tongue. “You said, and I quote, ‘Harry aced every exam. He had the highest grade in each class. It deserves to be celebrated.’ Or am I wrong?” 

Y/N feels her face heat up because Sarah’s words are true. She said it because it was true. He deserves all his accomplishments to be celebrated, from acing an exam to turning in an exam. Uni isn’t always fun; if she can make good days for him, she feels like she did something good for someone she loves. 

Harry excuses them, pulling them to the corner of the room. A few people try to get his attention, but he’s on a mission to get his girl alone. Harry corners her, his emerald eyes locked with her soft eyes. “You’re an angel,” he whispers. “What did I do to deserve you?” 

Y/N has no answer because she feels the same way. “I feel the same way.” 

“You didn’t have to do all of this,” he gestures around them. 

She nods, “I wanted to. You deserve to be celebrated.” 

Harry can no longer hold back. He connects his lips with hers. His hands settle on her waist while Y/N fists the front of his shirt. The passion was burning him; he craved the feeling. Y/N was lost in the feeling that she had forgotten they were in a room with their friends. She jumps back when she hears a loud holler and a yell of Harry’s name. Y/N lets her head fall on his chest, her cheeks burning while Harry tries to coax her to look at him. 

“Y/N, love. You’re amazing.” 

A large smile splits on her face; before Harry can kiss it away, Y/N holds his hand and pulls him to the dance floor, their drinks long forgotten.

“Let’s celebrate, baby!” Y/N shouts, laughing as Harry twirls her into him. Her laugh rings loud, and Harry knows she’s the best thing to ever happen to him. As Y/N dances in front of him, one thought rings loud in his head. 

He is completely and utterly in love with Y/N. 

+

Y/N didn’t enjoy her birthday, but it didn’t mean she didn’t celebrate her friend's special day. Frannie loved spending time with her friends, so with the help from Aurora, they planned a dinner party at Aurora’s shared apartment. They set up two long folding tables with chairs and pushed the couches back for extra space. Y/N decorated the apartment with streamers, balloons, and banners with the help of Harry, who got on the ladder for her when she couldn’t reach something. 

The dinner was set for 5pm. Thankfully, Frannie’s birthday landed on a Saturday, so everyone will be free from uni for the week. Y/N had place cards made for everyone. Harry even had a little heart next to his name. He would be sitting right next to Y/N, with Mitch to his left. They were his two favorite people because while he was good at having Y/N’s attention, it seemed when she was in a large group of people, she always became the life of the party.  

At 4:30, everyone began to arrive one by one. Aurora was set to get there at 5 with Frannie. They had told Frannie it would only be dinner with the three of them, but she was in for a big surprise. The door opened at 5:01, and everyone screamed, “Surprise!” 

Frannie dropped the flowers she was holding in shock. 

“You did this!” Frannie pointed at Y/N, who was leaning against Harry’s chest. 

Y/N brushes her off, “it was all of us.”

Harry knew she didn’t like all the attention, yet Y/N always went out of her way to show everyone how much she loved and appreciated them. It made him wonder how her friends would celebrate Y/N this year. He knows he tried but sometimes never can’t measure up. He loves buying her flowers, always treats her to coffee, and gives her kisses tenfold because he knows it makes her smile. 

He sees Frannie, gives her a tight hug, then settles down at the head of the table. Harry likes how easy conversation falls around him. He talks about a new album that recently came out with Mitch. Y/N jumps in, saying the closing song is her favorite. Sarah shared how the campus job is giving her 40 percent off on all merchandise, so send her a list of what they want. 

Y/N rests her hand on Harry’s thigh as she slips into conversation with Aurora and Brandon, talking about the lab Aurora did earlier in the week. Y/N jumps in every few minutes to show she’s listening. Harry selfishly wants to pull her away, wanting her attention back on him. 

Harry traces random shapes on her hand, letting Mitch talk his ear off as he picks at Y/N’s chipped nails. He makes a mental note of painting them for her tomorrow. 

“I love you, Harry,” she whispers in his ear. A soft kiss is placed on his cheek as she goes to pull away. Harry reaches out and sets her in his lap, not caring that all their friends are watching.

“Say it again,” he begs in a husky voice.

“You've heard me say it before,” she giggled, thinking about their midnight walk when Harry confessed under the stars how he had fallen in love with her. Y/N kissed him, not needing him to beg her to say she loved him. She’d say it over and over again for as long as he asked. “I love you” had become his favorite phrase. 

Y/N sits in his lap for a while; Harry knows she’s tired and close to falling asleep as he feels her settle deeper in his lap. She jolts up when Aurora asks for help with the main dish. Y/N kisses his lips, promising to be back quickly. Being at the apartment all day getting everything ready took a toll on her, and he knew that after eating, she would want to sleep for a long time, but Y/N would not leave because she would see it as rude. Harry composes an idea as dinner continues. 

The meal is enjoyed, and he has the perfect idea when dessert is passed around. He feigns a yawn, making sure Y/N is watching him. He apologizes, giving her a brief kiss. 

“Do you wanna go, H?” Y/N asks. “I know we’ve been here all day.” 

He shakes his head, “no, you can stay.” 

Y/N frowns, not liking that option at all. Harry has been staying over lately, and she’s gotten used to him in her bed. She debates on what to do because she knows cleaning up will be a bitch and would hate to leave it all to Aurora. Sarah notices her mood change and asks her what’s wrong.

“You alright?” 

“Ready to call it a night, but worried about the mess,” Y/N looks around mentally, trying to see what she can throw out and save. 

Sarah waves her off, “go home, babes.” 

“But–”

“Nope. We’ve got this. You set up, we take down,” Sarah tells her like it’s obvious. 

Y/N reaches forward, tugging her friend in for a hug. “You’re the best.” 

Y/N begins to make her rounds, bidding goodnight, sharing her fair of I love you before landing at Harry’s side, her hand in his. Harry quietly thanks Sarah and walks out with his tired girlfriend. She sinks against him as they walk down the steps leading them to the street where they parked 

“Remind me to never set up a party,” she groans as she throws herself into the passenger seat. Harry bites back a laugh instead, leans in, and helps Y/N buckle up. She gives him a tired grin. “You’re the best.” 

“Do you want me to set up a bath for when I get you home?” 

Y/N perks up. “Does that mean we’re going to yours?” 

Harry has the bigger bathtub, so he knows what she’s asking. If he’ll be joining her. “Text Mitch to stay with Sarah.” 

“Oh, are we using the citrus one?” 

“If that’s what you want.” 

Y/N sighs against her seat. “Oh, how I love you, Harry.” 

Harry’s heart fills with warmth. This love is everything he’s ever wanted in life.

+

Y/N loved her friends. She loved seeing them smile, helping them out, and, most of all, celebrating them. All her friends took care of her, but Y/N always seemed to go above and beyond for each of them. It was something her Mumma taught her. “Give graciously because it will come back to you.” She likes to think it’s come back in ways she never imagined. 

Brandon had always been an excellent friend to Y/N. He had her back when she failed her first exam. He held her hand when she got lost at the pumpkin patch the year prior. Y/N was thankful for everything he did, from helping her set up her first tattoo appointment to taking her to the mechanic and ensuring she wasn’t being ripped off. He was a good friend, and she wanted to celebrate this new opportunity that had opened up for him. He had started a new job in IT a few months back, and Y/N knew how much he enjoyed it. It was better than biology, but soon, his job offered him pay for his education under a different major: IT Security Protection. It was the easiest, yes, but the only problem was that he’d have to go to a college in the States. This was a celebration and an early goodbye because he wasn’t set to leave until the New Year. 

This time, the event was at a club. Everyone was ready to let loose after a hard week, and the celebration was a perfect opportunity. Harry promised Y/N he’d watch after them, only limiting himself to two drinks and ordering them an Uber home when it was time to go. Except for the fact that Y/N was making sure her friends were enjoying themselves. It seemed Samantha got into some drama with Frannie, and they’ve been butting heads. Harry knows Y/N is a great mediator, but he wants Y/N to be able to go out without worrying about fixing problems. His girlfriend is heaven-sent, but he wants her friends to be there for her like she is for them. 

Harry hoped they would prove it on the most important day for Y/N. 

+

Harry takes note of all the grand gifts and events Y/N goes on to plan for her friends. It’s something he knows Y/N loves doing, but what does she get in return? Harry knows her birthday is soon and wonders what her friends have planned. 

A few friends gathered to go out for drinks. Harry had not left his seat beside Y/N except to buy their drinks. Y/N leans in, kissing the corner of his mouth, promising she’d be gone a second, needing to use the restroom. Harry made sure she made it safely before getting everyone’s attention. 

“What are you planning for Y/N’s birthday in a few weeks?” Harry asks, popping Y/N’s cherry from her Shirley Temple in his mouth. Y/N stated she hated them but always ordered extra because she knew Harry would eat them.

Aurora frowned, “What do you mean?” 

“Her birthday. December 3rd. How do you want to celebrate? Was thinking of renting out the backroom of her favorite restaurant, inviting some friends, drinks all night, and cake. You know we’ve got to take care of her sweet tooth.” 

“She doesn’t celebrate her birthday,” Frannie tells him. 

Harry frowns; that doesn’t make sense. Y/N had told him all about how she celebrated with her mum when she was growing up. How her Mum would wake her up to breakfast in bed and slip in next to her, telling Y/N her favorite memories from when Y/N was an infant to her current age. It filled him with so much happiness that she got to experience it. That she had that much love in her life, and while he knows she has lost it in some way, it will always be with her. Frannie’s words ring over and over in his head.

 Y/N never mentioned not being a fan of her birthday. 

“What ya mean?” Harry needs a clear answer. 

“She refuses to celebrate her birthday with us. It’s been like this since I met her, Harry,” Aurora tells him, but he’s not so convinced. 

“Have you asked her? She’s got fond memories of her birthday, and if we let her stop celebrating, this day will mean nothing to her. Y/N makes all of you feel special every chance she gets, from celebrating graduations to the newest tattoos. You mean the world to her, but what does she mean to you?” 

Harry is getting heated, so he excuses himself. He was going to find Y/N and hoped to convince her to let him take her home. He’s too frustrated to keep sitting at a table of their friends who refuse to do something kind for Y/N simply because she said she didn’t want to celebrate once a few years ago.

“H, honey? You okay?” Y/N asks, concerned when she finds him leaning against the wall beside the restroom.

“Got a headache, Sweets. Wanted to see if you wanted to stay, and I’ll suck it up to keep you company.”

Y/N is quick to disagree. “No, no. We’ll go back to yours. Let me take care of you.” 

Harry loves his girl. She deserves the universe; if he can try to give it to her each day, he knows she will always feel loved. 

+

Harry woke up bright early, under purple covers. Y/N curled up into his chest, almost her entire face hiding under the covers. He hated moving, knowing she might wake up with any wrong move, but he managed to settle her and went outside. He did his morning routine quickly, then headed to the kitchen, where he made sure he had everything for French toast, her absolute favorite meal last night. 

While cooking the French toast, he ordered her iced vanilla oat milk latte to be delivered. He hated delivery fees, but today was a special occasion, and he would do anything to make her day memorable. 

As he placed the French toast on a plate, Harry noticed the front door camera and hurried over before the person could knock. Harry received the drinks with a giant smile, giving the guy a ten-dollar bill in thanks. He found the tray Y/N told him she likes to use under the sink. He put the French toast and a cup of water on the tray. Grabbing the flowers, he rushed out to get up the street from Lady Silvie and her coffee. 

He saw her beginning to stir, her hands moving around as if searching for him. His heart tightened in his chest at how much he loved her. Softly, he began to sing “Happy Birthday.” Y/N, in confusion, froze before shooting upright. Harry walked closer to the edge of the bed until he knelt on the corner, placing the tray over her lap. 

Y/N’s eyes were filled with tears at the sweet gesture her boyfriend did for her. She mentioned her birthday in passing, hoping he wouldn’t remember, but her dear Harry remembers everything she has ever told him. She had told him stories of how she celebrated with her mum growing up, the only person Y/N has confided in since moving here. Not that she didn’t trust her other friends but because he was patient with her and broke down every single wall she had. Y/N had never felt she could truly be herself with anyone, and thenHarry came into her life. He helped her begin to love every part of herself. 

“Happy Birthday, Sweet Y/N!” 

Her tears break free. 

She can’t even get a word out because her tears keep coming. Every birthday after her mum passed, she dreaded waking up. Most of the time, she slept the day away or treated it as any other day, but today, she woke up with a full heart as she woke up to her boyfriend singing. It’s something Y/N will always hold close to her heart. 

Harry is her best friend, the other person who knows her inside out. With a single look he knows what she’s saying. 

He crawled onto the bed, carefully moving the tray to avoid spilling anything, and pulled Y/N into his lap. It’s one of his favorite positions to be in.  

“Happy tears?” 

Y/N nods. 

“I have a nice day planned for us. Are you up for it?” He asks softly, his hand rubbing circles in her back. 

“You do?” She asks, surprised. 

Harry chuckles, “of course, it’s my favorite person’s birthday.” 

Y/N’s smile is bright. She lets Harry wipe away her tears and then gives him a chaste kiss. “I’m very lucky to have you in my life.” 

They eat breakfast with Y/N in Harry’s lap as she feeds him bites of her fruit. It was very domestic and everything he looks forward to with his future with Y/N. Harry cleans breakfast, asking Y/N to meet him in the living room. She comes out, hair brushed and wearing his hoodie. He has a few gifts sitting on her coffee table. 

Y/N jumps on the couch as she waits for Harry to give her the go-ahead with the presents. She opened her gifts and found items ranging from silk scrunchies to glitter bath bombs. Y/N thanks Harry with a kiss after each present. Harry hands her an envelope, promising it’s the last one. Y/N looks at him suspiciously but opens it slowly. It’s a piece of paper, and she can’t believe her eyes when she unfolds it. 

She reads it again and again.

“Is this real?” Y/N inquires. 

Harry laughs, “very much so.” 

“You got us tickets to SZA,” she says slowly, as if she’s waiting for Harry to tell her it’s not real. 

“It’s our favorite album. I-I thought it would be special. Something to look forward to,” he promised. 

“I love you. I love you so much.”

Harry spends the rest of the morning showing Y/N how much he loves her.

After spending a lovely morning in bed, Harry convinced Y/N to get ready and took her to her favorite bookstore, where he helped her pick a few books from her “tbr,” of course paying for her.  They took a stroll by the lake before deciding it was too cold. Then Y/N decided it was time for an early lunch, and they ate tacos from Y/N’s favorite restaurant. 

It was a perfect day. 

One that helps one final surprise for her. 

+

Harry had requested that she put on her favorite dress and get ready. There was somewhere he wanted to take her.

Outside the restaurant, Y/N asked Harry what they were doing as she saw a full parking lot and a familiar car, but her gaze didn’t linger long as Harry captured her attention.

“Do you trust me?” Harry asked.

“With all my heart,” she answered without hesitation. 

“Then follow me. No questions.” She took his outstretched hand and let him lead the way. Harry told the Hostess the name of his reservation and was told to go down the hall to the right. 

Harry felt his heart pounding as they neared the door that would lead them to all of Y/N’s friends, who were ready to surprise her with a party. Something in him stopped a few steps away. Y/N frowned because something was wrong. Harry seemed like he was going to throw up. 

“H, what’s wrong?” 

Harry lets go of her hand and brings them to rest on her cheek, needing her sweet eyes on him. “I-I-I love you, Sweets. I love you so much. Behind that door are all your friends, ready to celebrate your birthday with you. Selfishly, I want to steal you away, but they’re excited to spend this day with you. If it’s too much and I crossed a line,” his voice cracked. “I apologize. So if you don’t want that, we can go right now.”

“You planned this,” she whispered. 

Harry sighs, “yes, they told me not to, but you shower everyone with your love, and you deserve the same, if not more.” 

Y/N feels her throat close up and knows she’s going to cry as soon as Harry leads them to the party. 

She steps closer to him, with no space between them. Harry looks at her with so much love she knows he’s honestly her other half.  Y/N pulls him down by the collar of his shirt and kisses him with everything she has. Y/N spills everything in the kiss. All her love wrapped in a kiss for Harry. He gives her back the same energy; both lost in the taste of each other don’t pull apart until they’re fighting for a breath. Y/N laughs against his mouth. “I love you. I love you so much.” 

Harry kisses her again. “I love you, Sweets.” 

“Let’s go in.” 

He leads the way, knocking on the door three times, telling her that was the code for her arrival. Harry lets her in, and that’s when her friend's screams ring in her ears. Everyone Y/N considers a friend is here. The room has balloons and streamers around. There’s a cake that looks so yummy and a table full of presents all for her. Her friends stare at her with smiles. Y/N is so overwhelmed she doesn’t even know who to approach first. Aurora chooses for her, pulling her in for a tight hug. 

”Happy Birthday, bestie!” Y/N laughs as Rora twirls her around. Rora pulls her back in, wiping away a tear rolling down her cheek. “I’m sorry I didn’t try harder.”

Y/N shakes her head, “no, no.” 

Rora brushes her off. “You’ve been there for me since I met you. I’m sorry I didn’t always do the same.” 

Y/N appreciates her friend’s apology, but she was partly to blame. She never fully let anyone in, afraid they’d leave her just like everyone else, but Harry showed her that wasn’t the way to live.

“You’ve got a good one,” Aurora told Y/N, pointing at Harry, who was talking with Mitch and Brandon. As if he could feel his eyes on her, he turned around, sending her a dimpled smile. 

“You okay?” He mouthed.

“Perfect.” She replied. She blew him a kiss and continued around the room, talking to her friends.

As the night continued, Harry ensured Y/N always had a drink in hand, whether a vodka cranberry, or water. He ate dinner with her and helped her cut the cake when she asked for his help. All the cameras were on her, and she had gotten overwhelmed. Harry slipped his hand on top of hers, and together, they cut Y/N’s slice of cake. 

No one had left yet, but Y/N needed a breather, so she stepped onto the patio overlooking a beautiful lit-up forest. Y/N heard silent footsteps behind her. She turned around to find Harry with his coat in his hands. 

“Don’t want you to get sick, my love.”

Y/N smiles, stepping close to him and letting him help her put it on. She was staring at Harry with so much adoration. She couldn’t believe how lucky she was to have him in her life. Y/N leaned in close. The music flowing out of the room had her wrapping her arms around his waist. His hands settled on her waist as he held her tight, that familiar feeling that if he didn’t hold tight enough, she might disappear. 

Harry leaned his forehead against hers, letting each other fall in love all over again.

“This was the best birthday,” she whispered as they swayed to the music in the distance. 

Harry lifted his hand, brushing a strand of hair back. “Just wait until next year,” he promised.

Y/N looked forward to it. 

+

send me a message!!!! I want to hear all your thoughts

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #harry styles x y/n #harry styles stories #harry story #harry styles smut #harry fluff #harry angst #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fic rec #fine line #love on tour

[runnning-outof-time]

Sentimental | Tommy Shelby & Daughter!Reader

Request: yes by @midnightswithdearkatytspb

Pairing: Tommy Shelby & Daughter!Reader

Summary: It's (Y/N) Shelby's wedding day, and her father has to make sure she has one last thing before he walks her down the aisle. She's never seen him be so sentimental about something before.

Warnings: just a bunch of pre-wedding fluff, mention of a death of a minor character

Word Count: 2227

A/N: it’s been a bit since I’ve written a daughter!reader story….I hope this one makes sense, and I’m sorry if I got a little too sappy on it haha. Enjoy! :)

PLEASE LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK!

Comment/Message me if you’d like to be tagged in future stories similar to this one!

"Right, love...you're all finished," Polly said to her grand niece as she finished doing up the final button on the younger woman's wedding dress.

"Thanks, aunt Pol," (Y/N) smiled, taking one last look at herself in the mirror before she turned to face the older woman. "Can you believe the day is finally here?" she asked, a giddy smile present on her face.

Though she was an aunt by blood, Polly Gray was more so like a mother in the eyes of (Y/N) Shelby. The woman who held the title of mother in (Y/N)'s life passed away shortly after childbirth due to the complications and conditions she found herself in. The Shelby's took little (Y/N) in, raising her in their tight knit family. Polly stepped up the most to help, feeling thankful for this opportunity after her son and daughter had been taken away months earlier.

Tommy, (Y/N)'s father, was thankful for his aunt taking it upon herself to fill the void that his daughter had, a void that he knew she would feel for the rest of her life. He wouldn't have been able to come out and ask for the help, and so he was grateful that Polly knew he needed it. Hell, he was young himself - only being a few days shy of twenty when his daughter entered the world. But now this child needed him, and he was going to do everything that he could to give her the world.

Even though her father married, and then re-married, (Y/N) stayed close with Polly, thankful that she had her as a constant in her otherwise rapidly changing life. She couldn't imagine any other person helping her get ready for her wedding.

"I can," Polly answered, looking at the young woman before she pulled her into her body for a hug. "You've grown into such a beautiful, young woman, and I already know you'll make the best bride," she whispered into (Y/N)'s ear, her words making (Y/N) hug onto her even tighter.

"You're already the most beautiful bride," another voice that came from the dressing room's door made the two women seperate.

"Aunt Ada!" (Y/N) exclaimed, her eyes lighting up once they fell on the woman in the doorway, "come in quickly, before James sees me!" she waved her aunt in, worried that her soon-to-be husband would be lurking in the hallways.

"Don't worry about that," Ada brushed her off, entering the room and closing the door as she spoke, "I'm pretty sure the cheering that I heard from his dressing room means that he won't be leaving it any time soon...until it's time to walk down the aisle, that is," she added, a grin forming on her face. (Y/N) shook her head, rolling her eyes at her aunt's words. "I have something for you," Ada announced then, lifting up the small box she was holding, "two things, actually,"

"What are they?" (Y/N) asked, eagerness present in her voice as she watched Ada open up the box she'd brought.

"The first is the veil that I promised you..." Ada started off, working on taking the piece of fabric out of the box while she was talking, "I know you mentioned you wanted the floral accents on it as well, so I tried hard to add as many as I could while I was making it," she explained as she handed it over to (Y/N), letting the younger woman unfold it so that she could take all of it in.

"It's absolutely beautiful, aunt Ada! Thank you so much!" she gasped once she was able to look at it in its entirety. (Y/N) knew that she needed to have her aunt make her veil for her from the moment she found out about her crafty side. Seeing it now, she was sure that she'd never put her eyes on a veil as beautiful as this one.

"Shall we put it on?" Polly suggested, making (Y/N) turn to look at her. All that the younger woman was able to respond with was a giddy nod, but it was enough for the older two women to begin working on making sure that it was properly pinned to her head. "It’ll be draped over your face once you're ready to walk down the aisle," Polly added once they'd finished making sure that it was sitting correctly.

"It's beautiful," (Y/N) swooned, turning around to look at herself in the mirror again, admiring the full wedding look.

"I have something else too," Ada spoke again, drawing attention to her as she went about opening the bag that she had with her.

"Ada you didn't have to..." (Y/N) trailed off, overwhelmed by the amount of love she was being shown.

"I brought you the 'something new', so I decided that I'd also bring you the 'something old' too," she started off, producing a pair of older-looking, nude colored heels from her bag, "do you remember these?" she asked the younger woman then, an excited look forming on her face as she waited intently for a response.

(Y/N) just about gasped when she saw the shoes. "No...those can't be..." she trailed off, at a loss for words at the moment.

"They are," Ada confirmed, her grin growing, "the exact shoes that you literally begged me to wear when you were younger."

"I can't believe you still have them!" (Y/N) was still in disbelief.

"I nearly spent a day rooting for them in my closet," Ada remarked with a laugh as the women moved over to the couches so that (Y/N) could try them on. "I knew I had to find them though," she added, waiting anxiously to see her niece try them on.

"Do you think they'll fit?" (Y/N) questioned, slightly hesitant to slip her feet into them.

"Guess there's only one way to find out," Ada answered, nodding at the shoes then.

She was right. (Y/N) looked between the two women before she slipped her feet into the shoes, holding her breath while she did it. She only let it out when she found that they fit practically perfectly on her feet.

"How are they?" Polly questioned.

"Perfect," (Y/N) responded, a wide smile present on her face as she looked at the other women again. "I can't believe you're letting me use these, aunt Ada," she then turned to the brown haired woman sitting next to her.

"I couldn't think of anyone better to have them," Ada smiled back, wrapping her arms around (Y/N) in a tight hug. "Don't mess up the make up!" she exclaimed once they pulled away, quickly reaching for some tissue so that she could dry (Y/N)'s eyes.

"This seems to be the perfect time to give you this as well..." Polly began, coming over to where (Y/N) was standing with something in her hands.

"Oh no not you now too, Pol!" (Y/N) blubbered, completely overwhelmed with emotion at the moment.

Polly didn't listen to her and instead opened her hand to reveal a bracelet that had blue gemstones encased between the gold band.

"Something blue?" (Y/N) questioned, looking from the bracelet back to her great aunt, her eyes already watering again. Polly only nodded, a smile present on her face as she came closer to (Y/N). The younger woman knew what to do, holding out her wrist so that her aunt could clasp the bracelet onto it. "It's absolutely beautiful, Polly," she whispered, too overcome by emotion to fully trust her voice at the moment. "Thank you, both, so, so much," she added, looking at both Polly and Ada, who each sent smiles back.

"Now you're ready to be married," Ada commented, glancing over at the clock then, "and it's just about time for the ceremony to start."

"It is time," another voice broke into the conversation, making the three women look over at the doorway.

"How long have you been here, Thomas?" Polly questioned, eyeing her nephew as she wondered when he managed to slip into the room without them noticing.

"Long enough," he gave one of his usual, ambiguous answers, but this time there was no hint of the impatience that he usually spoke it with. No, today Tommy Shelby was standing in the doorway smiling.

"Are you ready, (Y/N)?" Polly turned to (Y/N) to check.

"I am," (Y/N) gave an assured nod, a smile present on her face as she looked back at her father.

"Pol, you and I should head out and make sure our seats are still open," Ada stated, placing her hand on (Y/N)'s shoulder and giving it a reassuring squeeze before she grabbed her bag and made her way to the door.

"It's going to be wonderful," Polly whispered to (Y/N), pulling her in for one last hug before she went and joined her niece at the door. She whispered something to Tommy, something that (Y/N) couldn't hear, before she and Ada exited the dressing room.

"Ready?" Tommy asked (Y/N) once they were alone.

"Ready as I'll ever be," (Y/N) answered, letting out a breath then as the excited jitters started to build up in her stomach. A smile returned to her features as she walked over to her father. "Let's go," she said, nodding her head as she spoke.

"I have one last thing to give to you," Tommy stated, making her stop in her tracks.

"What's that, dad?" she asked, her brows furrowing together.

"I've been wearing this since the day that she left..." he started off, undoing the top button of his dress shirt so that he'd have an easier time taking off the gold necklace he was wearing. When he did get it off, (Y/N) saw that there was a locket on it as well. "This was my mum's. The flower on the front represents strength. The pictures on the inside are worn out, but the flower's still present, so I wear it for strength," he shared some details behind the necklace he wore everyday, holding it out for her to see it better. "I want you to wear it today," he finished his statement with a suggestion, one that (Y/N) was quickly nodding in agreement too. She'd never seen him be so sentimental about something before, and so she was honored to be able to borrow and wear it for the day.

Tommy smiled at her answer before he moved over and clasped the necklace around her neck. "It's pretty, dad," she commented as she got an even better look at the intricately designed locket.

"Your grandmum had good taste," he answered her, his words making her look up to see that he was trying hard to keep the tears back.

"If you start crying, I'll start crying," she told him, her words making him chuckle.

"I won't," he promised her.

A smile formed on (Y/N)'s face and she glanced down at the locket one last time before closing the gap and hugging her father tightly. "Thank you, dad," she whispered, trying her best to hold her tears back as he held onto her equally as tight.

"It's time," one of the ushers entered the room to announce.

"Ready?" Tommy asked his daughter as they pulled away from each other.

"So ready," she answered with a wide smile. "You ready?" she turned the question back onto him.

"Ready as I'll ever be," he answered with a smile of his own, one that (Y/N) wished she could take a picture of and keep forever. She'd never seen her father smile so much.

"Let's go then," (Y/N) nodded, walking to the door with her father by her side.

They were led to where the doors that opened to the main room of the church were. As they got closer, (Y/N) could hear the music that was being played as everyone prepared for her entrance. The butterflies started fluttering like crazy as she and Tommy stopped at the closed doors. In just moments, she'd be brought down the aisle to the man who would be her husband.

Tommy couldn't help but look at his daughter as they waited for the signal to go. He still couldn't believe that today was her wedding day, and that in just a few moments he'd be walking her down the aisle. James was a good man (he'd made sure of that) a man who had promised to take care of (Y/N) until his last day. As much as he didn't want to let her go, he knew he had to. She'd grown up right in front of him and become a young woman, who he was so immensely proud of.

"Ready, dad?" his daughter's question pulled him out of his thoughts.

"Ready as I'll ever be," he used the same answer that he'd given her in the dressing room, his response making her giggle.

"Don't let me fall," she whispered to him then, taking his outstretched arm, wrapping hers around it.

"Never," he promised her, sending her a wink and a small smile before the doors opened and they took their first step down the aisle.

Tagged: @mystcldydrms @the-anxious-youth @cloudofdisney @look-at-the-soul @elenavampire21 @mrsalwayswrite @julkaamazing @evita-shelby @lilyrachelcassidy @notyour-valentine @shelbydelrey @onlydeadcells @peakyswritings @just-a-blackhole @watercolorskyy @strayrockette @peakyduchesss @alexxavicry @captivatedbycillianmurphy @yummycastiel @dark-academia-slut @tommystargirl @stevie75 @lyarr24 @signorellisantichrist @zablife @anotherblinder @midnightmagpiemama @cillmequick @rangerelik @dandelionprints @letal-y-poetica @itscheybaby @gypsy-girl-08 @insanitybyanothername @depxiety @raincoffeeandfandoms @dragons-are-my-favorite @acewritesfics @forgottenpeakywriter @cljordan-imperium @areyenotfondofmelobster @little-diable @thomashelbyswife @iambored24601 @shaddixlife

MASTERLIST

#tommy shelby #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby x daughter!reader #tommy shelby x y/n #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby one shot #tommy shelby oneshot #tommy shelby fanfic #tommy shelby fanfiction #peaky blinders #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders x daughter!reader #peaky blinders x y/n #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders one shot #peaky blinders oneshot #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic

[yandere-writer-momo]

Decided to share a piece I had written in 2019

Yandere Short Stories:

Heroes and Villains

Yandere lesbian supervillain x Afab Reader x Yandere Superhero x Yandere Heroine

  A young woman fidgeted in her seat as she sat in a plush red love seat right outside the CEO’s office. The large black doors intimidating her as she began to sweat. The bunny keychain attached to her black purse jingling every time she shifted in her seat.

     The young reported pulled out a compact mirror from her black purse as she checked her appearance again, making sure not a single hair was out of place to not offend the big bad boss of Domino Electric, the largest electricity company in the nation. The powerhouse of every major city’s power. The young woman had heard rumors that the CEO was a cold woman with a hell of a temper. 

    The young reporter was amazed to have this assignment rather than making a newspaper article on the rise of superheroes and the ever so popular super villainess, Electra.

    Creak. The young reporter’s head snapped up as she quickly composed herself and placed her compact mirror back into her bag. A tall, slender woman stood before her as the assistant gave her a reassuring smile.

    “Miss Spark is ready to speak with you now.” The woman raised a hand to the door with a bow as the young reporter shakily stood up and slowly made her way into the office, the door shutting quickly behind her, trapping her in the den of a lion.

    The young reporter gulped as her (eye color) eyes stared at the figure of a tall, voluptuous woman with long, straight silver hair and a black dress suit on. The businesswoman soon turning around, revealing her beautiful, flawless dark skinned face and violet eyes. The reporter whole face flushed red when they made eye contact. She felt like a tiny rabbit in front of a wolf. Her knees shook as her (eye color) eyes glanced at the CEO’s plump lips and slowly trailing her gaze to the violet silk dress shirt the businesswoman had on under her black dress jacket.

    “Sit down, Miss (last name).” The woman’s voice was cold and firm, the young reporter immediately sitting down as the tall woman sat in front of her. “I believe you have some questions for me?”

     “Ah, y-yes...” the reporter reached into her back, pulling out a notebook and pencil as well as a voice recorder. “I’m so happy for this opportunity, Miss Spark-“

    “You may call me Aria Spark since we are alone together.” The reporter nodded as she opened up the notepad and smiled at the businesswoman. “What is your name?”

    “Oh, my name is (your full name).” (Your name) replies as she turned to the recorded. “Let’s start with the basics shall we?”

   “What made you decide to be a businesswoman?”

    “I lived in poverty as a child and wanted a better life for myself. So I climbed to the top by utilizing my skills.” Aria replied as (your name) smiled at her to continue.

    “And what may those skills be?”

    “I am very good with electrical work.” 

    (Your name) jotted Aria’s answers down as (your name) listened attentively to every word Aria replied to her questions. (Your nams) soon learned a lot about Aria’s childhood such as her old neighborhood being in the ghetto and Aria’ friends and family who either were no longer in her life or still very close. About how it was hard being a lesbian CEO without criticism and hate comments. Aria told (your name) she was bullied a lot throughout high school for being gay. Aria also wanted to become a businesswoman and make it to the top to prove that she wasn’t scared of people’s expectations of her. Aria was a very admirable woman.

    And as the interview came to a close, (Your name) turned off her recorder as the reporter gave Aria another warm smile.

    “Thank you so much for this interview, I will publish this in the magazine soon-“ Aria suddenly leaned forward, placing her hands across her desk to stand in front of (your name), caging the young woman in her chair.

    “You should go out to dinner with me sometime. You’re really cute.” Aria then reached into her pocket and handed (your name) a business card with her name and number on it. “Call me whenever and we can go out.”

    “I-I... Oh um, I think I should go-“

  “You’re such a cute little bottom.” Aria chuckled as her violet eyes stared down at the smaller female through long silver eyelashes. “Makes me want to eat you.”

    “I-I’m leaving! Have a good day!” (Your name) quickly scrambled away, accidentally dropping the bunny keychain as Aria picked it up. The violet eyed woman smiling at the cute rabbit.

    “She’s just like a rabbit.” Aria smirked as she gazed out the door in awe. “And I’m going to have that little rabbit.”

    “Miss Spark, I think you scared her away. I’ve never seen someone run so fast-“ the assistant paused as the businesswoman began to chuckle. “Miss Spark? Are you alright?”

    “She’s perfect. Absolutely perfect.” A spark of lavender electricity surrounded Aria as she smirked.

    “Miss Spark, I don’t know if you know her well enough to-“

    “Maybelle, I want all her records and any other personal information you can find about her. I want the little rabbit girl-“

    The assistant sighed as she bowed to her employer. “Right away, Miss Spark.” .

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    “So how’d the interview go, (Your name)?” A slender  woman with long, black hair asked as (your name) flushes bright red. The Japanese woman had her jacket off, revealing her various tattoos and ever so prominent piercings, such as her prized septum ring.

    “R-really good, Ryoko. It’s just-“

    “Just?”

    “I didn’t think she’d be so attractive!” (Your name) squeaked out loudly as everyone in the break room stared at the two women as (your name) flushes even more red. “S-she was so curvy and had the prettiest eyes I’ve ever seen. And s-she asked me to dinner. Oh god I ran away from her, I-I’m so humiliated.” 

    The pale woman laughed at (your name) as the young reporter comically hid her face in her arms. 

    “Well, Miss Spark is clearly interested in you. Probably because you scream ‘bottom’-“

    “Why does everyone keep saying that!”

   “Because you’re like a cute little rabbit. So timid and shy. Easily flustered, you’re just really cute.” Ryoko told the (hair color) haired girl as Ryoko smiled, showing off her frenulum piercing. (Your name) began to fiddle with her fingers as she pressed them together.

    “Do you think I should give her a call?”

   “Well, do what your heart wants but we should leave, the pig is here.”

    (Your name) turned her head to see the boss of their News media company, Metro Media, Jasper Jones. He was handsome for a man. Tall with a large muscle build, pale blue eyes, short wavy, sandy blonde hair, a chiseled jaw, and he had this tough guy vibe with a scar right across his nose. He was very handsome and he was a very driven man but-

     “(Your name), there you are, I need you to see me in my office about your report.” His low voice rung out through the break room as he had his hands on top of the doorway, flexing his muscles through his white dress shirt as the other women swooned. All except (your name). She wasn’t interested in him that much. She didn’t understand what the other women found so great about him...

    “Y-yes, mister Jones.”

     “You can call me Jasper.” The man chuckled as (your name) tried not to cry at how much the male scared her. He constantly gave her compliments and although they were never stepping over boundaries, it was the way he stared at her. She has never met anyone who stared at her with eyes that felt as if they were undressing her. Jasper’s pale blue eyes gazed at her with such a burning intensity that (your name) felt as if she’d light on fire at any moment.

    “Um, I prefer Mister Jones. I’ll talk to you once I’m done eating-“

    “How about we go eat in my office-“ (Your name) gulped as she stared at her lap as she fidgeted with her hands nervously. She was so close to crying.

    “S-sorry. Maybe another time-“

   “Alright how about we go out tomorrow at the cafe next door to the building? My treat?”

   “Um, okay-

    “Hey, Mister Jones, (your name) is uncomfortable. Could you tone it down?” Ryoko stepped in as she stood between the two, her onyx eyes glowing gold for the briefest of moments as Jasper stood up and took a step back.

    “Oh sorry, I didn’t realize I did. Sorry for not noticing (your name).” The girl merely smiled shyly as she stared at her lap. “I’ll see you in my office later.”

   Jasper then turned to leave, flexing his back muscles as he did so, causing (your name) to look away in disgust.

    “I don’t like that guy hanging so close around you.” Ryoko stared as she went back to her seat, her onyx eyes furrowing in worry as she gazed at (your name). “You need to be more assertive with your no’s. Just tell him that you’re not interested. I know you’re bisexual but seriously, it’s obvious you lean more towards women. Just tell him you’re gay or something. I’m sure he’ll get the hint then.”

    “But I don’t want to make him u-upset. The look in his eyes scares m-me.” Ryoko frowned as she got up from her seat and wrapped her arms around her mousy friend, her body slowly heating up slightly as she glared at the door Jasper walked out of.

     “Don’t worry, I’ll always protect you, (your name).” Ryoko stated as she pulled the (body type) girl close to her lean muscled body. Ryoko would always be there for (your name) because she was (your name)’s best and only friend. Ryoko wouldn’t let anything happen to her little bunny.

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     Jasper tried not to throw his desk across the room but he really wanted to. He has tried everything to make the timid (Your name) love him. He changed his hair style, started working out more, waxing off his unwanted body hair, and even offered her on dates. But Ryoko was in his way. His grip on his desk tightened as it began to frost over with a thin layer of ice. Jasper exhaled as the air in his office slowly began to drop in temperature. 

    To think his own partner in crime was in an intimate relationship with the cute girl drove him up the wall. (Your name) deserves the absolute best and that’s exactly what he would be. (Your name) could not possibly be gay, she was too cute to be!

    (Your name) was the only one to not see him as a piece of meat and didn’t throw herself at him. She didn’t try anything to make him uncomfortable and respected his space and he absolutely loved it. (Your name) was so attentive to everything he talked about and she was so gentle.

    Jasper remembered the time her hand grazed his hand when he dropped his papers in the elevator as she helped him collect all of his belongings. Her hands were so small and soft compared to his, Jasper swore his heart stopped. Jasper wondered if all of her was soft. He wondered if she thought of him the same way he thought of her. Jasper relaxed as the temperature and ice began to slowly dissipate as his fingers touched his lips as he released a sigh as he began to give into his delusions.

    Did (your name) think of his lips touching her skin so lightly that it felt as if a butterfly landed on each spot his lips would touch? Did she think of Jasper laying beside her at night, holding her close as he whispered sweet nothings into her ear? Did (your name) want to ever date him?

     Jasper clutched his chest as he felt his cheeks flush pink. He loved her so much. He still had so much to learn about her.

   A quiet knock brought Jasper out of his musings as he cleared his throat and opened his office door, revealing his favorite reporter, a few of her (hair color) hairs out of place as she had a somewhat frazzled appearance. Did she run up the stairs to see him? Did she really want to see him that badly? Oh she was just so cute. Would she look like that if he made love to her?

    “Oh, you’re here so quickly (Your name)! I was starting to think you weren’t going to come.” Jasper immediately pulled a chair out for her to sit down as he went over to get her a glass of water from the pitcher. 

    “O-oh. I didn’t want to disappoint you. Shall we go over my article I wrote?”

    “Here drink some water, you look rather frazzled.” Jasper handed her the glass as she shyly took it from him, her fingers brushing his as Jasper tried not to make any inappropriate noises.

    “Oh the elevator took too long so I decided to take the stairs. I am so sorry for my appearance-“

    “It’s okay. I’m just happy to see you.” Just like she was happy to see him, or at least Jasper believed so. Why else would she run up the stairs to get to his office? To get her daily cardio? No, to see him, duh.

    “Shall we begin?” Jasper did not listen to a single word she said, his icy blue eyes were too focused on her plump lips and wondering what they’d feel like against his as he pressed her against the wall and-

     “Mister Jones?” Jasper snapped out of his musings as his blue eyes met (eye color) orbs. “It’s starting to get really cold in here.”

   Jasper immediately realized he accidentally used his powers underneath his desk as his whole face flushed red.

    “W-would you like a jacket? I’m sorry, I didn’t notice.”

    “Oh um, thanks.” Jasper pulled his jacket off his chair as he wrapped it around (your name)’s shoulder’s, his breath hitching as her cheeks flushed slightly as she bundled into his warm oversized jacket.

     Jasper didn’t think she could get any cuter but here she was... in his jacket. Oh lord he was trying so hard not to kiss her right there and then. To not bend her over his desk and tear off her clothes and make the whole department know his name-

     “Thank you, Mister Jones.” Jasper placed his hand over his face as his whole face turned a bright red. Oh lord he was going to catch a case at this point. “I’m done with my report, I’ll leave the article here so you can go over it. Thank you for your time, here’s your jacket back-“

    “Thank you, (your name). Have a good one!” As soon as she left his office and shut the thick mahogany doors, he fell to his knees as he grabbed his jacked and inhaled greedily. Oh lord it smelled like her. (Your name) smelled like roses and vanilla. She was just so sweet and he swore he’d make that sweet girl all his. Jasper swore on his life.

    But first, he was going to add this jacket to his collection. Jasper stood up as he opened up his bottom desk drawer with his key, revealing numerous miscellaneous items that wouldn’t mean much to anyone but they meant the world to him. 

    There were numerous photos of his beloved darling sleeping and an old toothbrush. As well as a tissue, a spoon, and a chapstick he swiped off her desk when she was out and about. And although Jasper hates to admit it, he used the chapstick on rough days to satiate his needs.

   He carefully folded up his jacket and placed it in the drawer as he locked his treasure chest. Jasper then reclined back in his desk chair as he smiled. Jasper couldn’t wait to see her tomorrow across a table from him eating. 

   Maybe this time he’ll get an even better Momento of her.

    Jasper was unaware of the drone outside the complex snapping pictures of his entire interaction as the drone quickly took off, to bring the video evidence to its creator.

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    (Your name) strolled through the bustling city as she smiled. She was finally off from work so she could have some time to herself. 

     As the reporter walked down the street, she heard the screams of the other civilians as people began to scatter around as dark storm clouds covered the skies. (Your name)’s eyes widened. Electra was here.

    She immediately began to flee until she felt arms wrap around her as she was pulled flush against a soft body.

    “Why are you running, little rabbit?” A familiar voice asked as (you’re name began to shake in fear. “You’re so very cute when you shiver. I wonder if you’d shake like that when I-” (Your name) turned a bright red at all the horribly dirty words that came out of the woman’s mouth behind her.

   (Your name) was quickly whipped around to face her captor as her (eye color) eyes took in a tall villainous with long silver hair and a black eye mask on as well as a tight black and violet jumpsuit with a long black cape. She looked so familiar...

    (Your name) didn’t have time to study the super villain before the villainous pulled her close and surrounded the two of them into an electrical barrier as a flaming hot (literally) heroine stood outside the barrier. 

    A lean heroine stood outside the barrier, her flaming hair standing straight up as a dragon mask covered her face and her red leotard had black plated armor in the form of scales armor all over it. 

    Mistress Dragon. (Your name) thought as the red haired heroine put her hands on her hips and glared at the villainous within the barrier.

    “Electra! Release that civilian!” The woman boomed in an intimidating voice that was more than likely edited with a voice changing device.

     “No chance, Mistress Dragon. Not when your little boy toy is running around as well.”

    And soon enough, a ring of ice formed around the entire barrier as a tall, muscular male with the mask of a white fox stood along side Mistress Dragon. His costume consisted of a tight navy blue jumpsuit with silver armor plating with patches of white fur on the shoulders and around the hands and feet. 

     “Sub-Zero, glad to see you’ve made it.” Electra laughed as she grabbed (your name) and placed her plump lips on her cheek. The barrier dissolved as the two heroes began to circle the villainess, preparing to take action against her. 

   “What is your scheme this time, Electra?” Mistress Dragon growled as smoke came out from the mouth of her mask.

    “I just wanted to warn you that I know both of your identities. All thanks to this cute little rabbit.” Electra cooed as she squished (your name)’s cheeks together. “Isn’t she just precious?”

    “Electra, leave her out of this-“ Sub-Zero tried to coax the silver haired villain as the villain began to laugh darkly. 

   “No.” Electra then grabbed (your name) bridal style as she soared into the air, lavender lightning striking the ground as she rose higher and higher, (Your name) screaming as she held onto Electra tightly out of fear of falling.

    Mistress Dragon immediately shifting into a large black oriental Dragon with a fiery red mane and a peculiar septum ring as she swiftly followed behind. Electra cursing under her breath as the dragon quickly caught up to her. She’d have to ditch her prize and come back another time...

    “Let her go!”

   “Okay.” And before (your name) knew it, she was falling through the sky, plummeting to her death. Her scream piercing the air as tears fell from her eyes. She didn’t want to die, not yet at least.

    Before she could even blink, Mistress Dragon shifted and scooped her into her arms as she quickly brought the reporter into her chest, Sub-Zero making a slide for the two to slide down as they made it back to the ground safely. (Your name)’s face flushing red as she studied the masked face of her savior.

    “Are you Alright-“ (Your name) pulled Mistress Dragon close as she began to cry.

    “Thank you. Thank you so much.” (Your name) sobbed as the heroine pulled her into a hug. “How can I ever repay you-“

    “How about a kiss?” Mistress Dragon asked as Sub-Zero’s hands began to shake on the sidelines.

    “Um s-sorry. I don’t think I can.” (Your name) stayed as she began to twiddle her thumbs together nervously. “I have a crush on someone already.”

   “Oh? Well, I respect that.” Mistress Dragon then pulled away as Sub-Zero stepped in.

    “May I escort you home?” Sub-Zero asked as (your name) gulped.

    “S-sure-“

    “Sub-Zero, I think we both need to leave the little lady alone. We could always send a ride to come get her.”

    “How about you head into your place of work and ask one of your coworkers for a ride?” Sub-Zero asked the girl as he smiled gently at her.

    “I’m sure it’ll be easy to do, you’re quite cute after all.” Miss dragon told the reporter as (your name) nodded and headed back into work. The two heroes immediately leaving the scene before paparazzi could show up.

     “Do you need a ride?” (Your name) smiled as her eyes met familiar onyx orbs of her best friend.

    “Yes please.”

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   “(Your name)!” The poor reporter almost cried when Jasper picked her up into a tight hug and twirled her as he sighed dramatically. “I’m so happy you’re okay! You were all over the news! Are you okay-“

    “Oh Jesus, leave the poor girl alone.” Ryoko interrupted as Jasper places (your name) down gently.

   “Sorry Miss Abo.” Jasper replied as Ryoko quickly began to fix (your name)’s hair and set it back into place as the reporter puffed her cheeks out.

    “Please stop touching me you two, I’m okay-“

    “(Your name), you poor little girl.” (Your name) was (height) y’all, but go off Ryoko. “We both just worry about you. Mostly me though-“

    “No I worry more. I was so scared you’d call off and I wouldn’t be able to give you an awesome assignment.”

    “Awesome assignment?”

   “Yes, I’m giving you an assignment to write an article on super heroes. I published your article on Miss Spark in the paper and everyone loved it. So I’m giving you a bigger assignment and this time you will be on the biggest magazine here. How would you like to be the main article in Times magazine?”

  (Your name) smiled as Jasper handed her the assignment. It was information on the cities top two heroes.

    “I need you to write an article on Sub-Zero and Mistress Dragon.  And lucky for you, you encountered the two of them recently.”

    “Thank you so much, Mister Jones.” (Your name) grasped Jasper’s hand as his whole face turned pink.As soon as she released his hand, he turned and coughed into his hand. Excusing himself to the restroom as he left Ryoko and (Your name) in (your name)’s tiny office.

    “I’m seriously glad you’re okay. I honestly thought you were going to take some time off. But I’m happy you’re here. It’s good to have you back.” Ryoko smacked her shoulder playfully as (your name) smiled. 

    This day was giving (your name) so much confidence. Maybe she’d finally call Miss Spark and accept her dinner date?

   (Your name) went over to her black bag, frowning as she noticed her bunny key chain was missing. She shrugged it off, she could always purchase another one.

    (Your name) reached into the middle pocket of her bag and pulled out a black card with a domino on the top of it. She released a shaky breath as she slowly dialed the number on the phone. Her (skin color) skin thumb hesitated before she pushed call, sealing her fate.

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    (Your name) nervously sat at a table for two at a high end restaurant as she nervously sipped on a glass of bubbly white moscato. She really hoped Aria would show up.

    (Your name) glanced around the restaurant until (eye color) met violet orbs. (Your name)’s mouth hung open as she took in Aria’s elegant outfit. Aria wore a long, elegant violet dress that had diamonds sewn into it. A long, white shawl wrapped around her to hide her cleavage from wandering eyes as the tall curvaceous woman strut her way over to (your name). Her white hair was up in an elegant bun with a few silvery strands loose around her face. If (your name) didn’t know any better than Aria would be the African American Jessica Rabbit.

    “Were you waiting long?” Aria asked as she took a seat in from of the (body type) girl. Aria’s dark chocolate skinned hand touching (your name)’s lightly as the girl almost by turned into a puddle of goo. 

    “N-no.” (Your name) stuttered as her cheeks flushed pink. “I was kind of just scared that you weren’t going to show.”

   “Well of course I would, little bunny. I asked you to dinner and I didn’t expect you to call me.” The woman reached into her silver clutch and pulled out a familiar rabbit keychain. “You remind me of one of these.”

    The two of them laughed as they ordered their food and drank numerous glasses of fancy wine. And before (your name) knew it, she was drunk. Very, very drunk. And Aria was nice enough to help her into her limo.

   “I think we should call it a night, bunny. You can’t even keep your head up straight.” Aria chuckled as (your name) just gave her a goofy grin as (your name) struggled to get into the limo.

    “I really like you, Aria.” (Your name) replied as she began to giggle. “I want to go out again sometime-“

    Aria pulled (your name) in for a steamy kiss as (your name) tried to kiss back to the best of her ability. Their tongue moving in sync as Aria pulled (your name) onto her lap and let her hands grab (your name)’s plump read in her hands.

    “Let’s go back to my place, shall we?” (Your name) could only smile as Aria shut the partition as they continued their steamy make out session. Thank god the windows of the limo were tinted.

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    (Your name) woke up with a pounding headache and completely bare in a violet, silk sheeted canopy bed. The bare form of Aria tangled in the sheets with her.

    Aria soon stirred, her violet eyes fluttering open as the silver haired woman pulled (your name) closer to her. Her plump lips kissing the exposed skin on (your name)’s neck.

    “I didn’t take you for a vixen in the sheets. You were so cute last night.” Aria cooed as (your name) flushes red. “But all those cute hickies on your shoulders are marks that you’re mine.

  “Aria-“

    “(Your name), I want you to be my girlfriend.” (Your name) smiled as she kissed Aria again. 

    “Let’s get to know each other better first and then we can be girlfriends. I need a little more time.” Aria nodded as she kissed (your name) on the forehead. 

    “I understand. I’ll wait for you.”

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     A few months had gone by since that night with Aria. And (your name) and Aria were  officially dating. It was such a surprise to everyone. And everyone was happy for her... except Jasper and Ryoko.

    (Your name) could tell Ryoko wasn’t happy about her new relationship status due to how forced her smiles  when she occasionally caught glimpses of the purple marks on her neck she didn’t cover up well enough, but Jasper was a completely different level of upset...

    “(Your name), I brought you a bouquet of red roses!” Jasper proclaimed as the dark bags under his eyes became more prominent as time went on. He didn’t look like he was sleeping well. His skin was paler than normal and his hands were shaky as he held up the bouquet. “They’re almost as beautiful  as you-“

   “Jasper, I’m sorry. I’m in a happy relationship. I cannot accept your gift.” The roses were gently placed into her lap as Jasper’s whole body began to shake as he forced a smile.

     “A woman can’t be with another woman. Y-you’re just confused is all. You’ll come around eventually.” He gave an uneasy laugh before he clutched his hair in his hands. His pale blue eyes widening as a demented smile made its way onto his face. Jasper crouched down on the floor, his hands holding his face while the smile widened even more. The deranged male beginning to ramble to himself. “You have to... you have to love me or I’ll go even more mad...” Jasper whispered to himself while (your name) quickly scurried over to him and wrapped an arm over his shoulders. The young reporter trying to gain his attention.

    “I-I’m sorry, Mister Jones. I just don’t return your feelings and I don’t know if I ever will-“

  “One day...”

   “Excuse me?” (Your name) asked, raising a brow at him. Jasper whipped his head up, revealing his terrifying smile to her, flashing his pearly white teeth at her.

     “You will one day. I swear on it.” Jasper chuckled, pulling her close to him and holding her flush against his chest. He then stood up to his full height, practically picking the girl off the floor while he burrowed his head into (your name)’s hair. Jasper greedily inhaling her scent with the same crazed smile. She still smelled so sweet. Ice began to slowly creep onto (your name)’s jacket as (your name) felt a sudden chill up her spine. Why was she so cold? “You’ll walk down the aisle with me and then you’ll bear my children-“

   “Woah, let the little lady go please.” Ryoko separated the two as her eyes widened in shock as Jasper was basically almost revealed his powers in front of everyone. Ryoko immediately stepping in before Jasper could lose his job. “Let’s go to your office and talk, okay? You’re scaring her.”

    “I-I’m sorry.” Jasper immediately released (your name), the scared look in her eye making his heart clench as he tried not to have a meltdown. “I don’t know what came over me I-“

     (Your name) fled as he tried not to cry out her name as Ryoko led him to his office. Ryoko immediately kicking the door shut behind the two of them as she shoved him roughly into the floor.

    “You’re such an idiot. You almost blew your cover in front of everyone!” Ryoko whisper shouted at him as she kicked him in the leg roughly. “Why can’t you just keep it in your pants?!”

    “I’m in love with her! You should know! You look at her the same way I do when you think no one’s looking-“ Jasper’s head was suddenly thrown to the side as Ryoko struck him. Ryoko’s dark bangs covering her eyes as she scowled in disgust.

    “Don’t ever compare me to you. You’re disgusting-“

    “Why don’t we work together for her affections?!” Jasper shouted as Ryoko’s head snapped up. Her Onyx eyes scanning Jasper’s for any sign of him joking as she began to think. She could tell Jasper was serious for once.

    “Do you think we could do it? I mean I don’t know how I feel about sharing but do you think she’d be okay with it?”

    “What do you mean? We shouldn’t give her a choice, she’d be safe with us. We’re heroes for god’s sake-“

    “I know we are but... I want her to be happy...” Ryoko replied as she rubbed her arm nervously, her dark eyes downcast as she began to fidget under Jasper’s intense gaze. “I don’t want to force her into anything with us. It wouldn’t be the same-“

   “I know but do you really think Electra would let her go? I mean seriously? Miss Spark isn’t that good at keeping her identity hidden. I’m amazed (your name) hasn’t caught on-“

    “(Your name) is oblivious to all of us having powers. I just don’t want to scare her away. She means so much to me. I’m alright with watching her be happy with someone else, unlike you. So long as she doesn’t get hurt.”

    Jasper hummed as he glared at the floor.

    “So I’m taking it as a no until something happens to her?” Jasper asked as his ice colored eyes glazed over with some hidden emotion. 

    “Yes.” Ryoko replied as she opened the door. “Good luck, Jasper.” She then left the room as Jasper stood up headed to his desk, he hunched over his desk as he placed his palms flat on the desk. The room’s temperature dropping in temperature as ice began to cover the entire desk.

  Jasper’s breathing became ragged as he tried to calm down his rage. His fists clenching to the point that his fingernails began to draw blood in their wake. 

   He then screamed in frustration as he slammed his fist into the desk, creating a large crack on the wooden surface as he began to take deep breaths to calm himself down.

    “She’ll be mine... I swear to god.”

.

.

.

    Ryoko sat in her small apartment as she pulled out a cushion and a lighter and carried it to a spare closet in her room.

     She then lit the small vanilla scented candles to illuminate the object of her desires as she smiled. Her onyx eyes never leaving the (eye color) orbs of her love.

     A large portrait of (your name) sat in the center of the wall as well as pictures of the two of them together. Pictures of every single selfie or pose they took while they were out and about. They had been so close for years, and (your name) didn’t even understand the depth of Ryoko’s feelings for (your name). Ryoko should’ve been more assertive and maybe (your name) would’ve become her girlfriend... Ryoko bowed her head as she began to concentrate on her goal.

     “Patience is key... Electra will mess up soon... and then I’ll be there to catch you.” Ryoko face twisted into a smile that seemed unnatural for her petite face as she leaned forward. Ryoko ran her pale hands gently across the portrait as she sighed longingly. “I love you, (your name).”

.

.

.

   “Aria!” (Your name) exclaimed as she entered her lover’s office, the silver haired woman shooting up from her desk as a smile made its way to her face.

  “(Your name)!” Elegant black heels came running towards the other woman as Aria swooped (your name) into her strong arms. “How was work?”

    “It was okay. Jasper was acting strange again and Ryoko has been so distant... I miss my best friend.” Aria’s eyes darkened as she pulled (your name) into her arms and furrowed her brow. Why were those two still bothering her lover)? Did those two imbeciles not understand that (Your name) belonged to her? Maybe she’d have to make her move now before those pesky heroes snatched her up...

    “Aria, what’s wrong? Is something bothering you, baby?” Aria tried her best not to melt into a puddle at (your name)’s cute nickname for her.

    “I think we should have some dinner at my place tonight. Does wine sound good?” Aria asked as (your name) nodded excitedly, unaware of Aria’s true intentions.

    “I’ll eat or drink anything as long as it’s with you!” (Your name) beamed as Aria kisses her forehead tenderly, a frown forming on her face as (your name) buried her face into Aria’s shoulder.

    “I’m so sorry...” Aria whispered almost inaudibly as she kissed (your name)’s forehead again. She hoped to god (your name) would forgive her...

.

.

.  

   Drip. Drop. Clink. Clank.

   (Your name) slowly stirred awake as she heard the sound of a faucet dripping. Her (eye color) eyes scanning her unfamiliar surroundings. Where was she? This wasn’t Aria’s house.

    “I’m so sorry, my little rabbit.” Aria replied as (your name) searched around for her lover.

    “Aria? What’s going on? Where am I?” (Your name) tried to stand up to find her lover but was stopped by the chain attached to her ankle. “Why am I chained up-“

    “(Your name), I’m Electra.” Aria’s voice rung out in the dark as (your name) gasped.

    “Y-you’re joking right? There’s no way-“ a burst of violet electricity shot across the room, activating the lights as Aria stood in the entrance of the dark, windowless room.

    “We’re in my secret layer.” Aria replied as her violet eyes began to tear up. “The heroes are after you and I’m just so scared something bad will happen to you. I don’t want you to be caught in the crossfire-“

   “Why would they be after me-“

  “They’re your coworkers (your name). Jasper and Ryoko are Sub-Zero and Mistress Dragon.” The gears began to turn in (your name)’s head as she tried it process what Aria as saying. How could she not have noticed the signs? The septum ring on the dragon? The coldness she’d always feel around Jasper? It all made sense...

    “But why me?” (Your name) asked as Aria frowned.

    “You’re too innocent and way too sweet.” Aria replied as her smooth hands grasped (your name)’s face and kisses her forehead. “I have to defeat them and then I’ll let you go.”

    “Aria, please don’t leave me like this! Please-“ The room soon became pitch black as the door was shut to the room. (Your name)’s sobs could be heard throughout the lair as her heart broke at her lover’s betrayal.

.

.

.

   (Your name had no idea how long she was trapped in that room without seeing Aria. Hours? Days? Weeks? She didn’t know at all.

   Creak! Slam!

   (Your name)’s head whipped up from the sound of the doorbell opening. Her smile widening as she gazed expectantly at the door. A figure standing in the center of it as (you’re name) began to sob, tears filling her vision.

    “Aria-“ The figure soon feel to the ground as two figures walked in. (Eye color) eyes widening in horror as she scooted herself close to the wall.

    “W-Who are-“

  “I knew we’d find you. It took us a week to get her to tell us where you were. We were so worried when you didn’t come to work.” A familiar voice rung out at she felt a pair of hands on her cheeks. (Eye color) eyes meeting onyx as she gasped.

    “Ryoko-“

    “(Your name)! Don’t forget about me.” Jasper cooed as he grabbed her free hand and placed a gentle kiss on it. “Oh my poor darling, you’re so skinny. I promise we’ll feed you and we’ll both treat you so very well-“

      “What are you talking about?”

    “Oh silly little rabbit.” Jasper chuckled as his icy blue eyes began to glow. “You belong to us now.”

.

.

.

    “We bring to you breaking news, it turns out Aria Spark of Domino Electric was the dastardly villainess who plagued our city for so long! She is finally captured and placed in the new Super Prison the Hero Association has established far away from here. I also bring to you news that Sub-Zero and Mistress Dragon have officially retired. Who do you think the next rising hero will be of these five-“

    Tears filled (your name)’s eyes as Jasper and Ryoko sat on either side of her, both of their hands lovingly rubbing her large, swollen tummy as they both smiled.

    “I think our baby will be the next rising superhero. What do you think darling?” Jasper cooed as he kissed (your name)’s cheek as tears fell down her cheek.

    “My baby is next! I can’t wait to see you swollen with my little baby dragon. I was able to get a sperm donation from my brother so we can do invitro-fertilization.” Ryoko fondly cooed as she kisses (your name)’s cheek. 

   In the end, the heroes and villains weren’t so different between each other in her story. While her beloved villain would spend the rest of her life rotting behind bars...

  Or was she?

#this is from 2019 so no part 2 #female reader #yandere fic #yandere imagine #yandere #yandere villain #yandere hero #yandere wlw #yandere lovers #yandere lesbian #yandere girl #yandere stories #yandere oc #yandere original character #yandere obsession #tw.noncon #yandere best friend #yandere male #yandere supervillain #original character #original writing #original work #yandere love #yandere love triangle #obsessive yandere #obsessive love