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aspirationalpeony · 3 months

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Dark Horse

Summary: As a cameraperson on the Abbott documentary crew, you've always had a good working relationship with Melissa Schemmenti. One flirtatious night at her home sends you spinning as you try to figure out if this is really real—not to mention how everyone at Abbott seemed to know about Melissa's crush on you, long before you ever did. (See author's note at the end for prompt credit.) Content Warnings: Lots of smut, a bit of emotional confusion, and me having absolutely no idea how filming anything works. I just faked my way through it, very horribly. Oops! :) AO3 Link

It all starts with a late shoot.

It's just you and the mic guy and one other crew, and your camera trained on Melissa Schemmenti. She talks, in a way she's done rarely so far. A season and a half and she's always conscious of the stare of the lenses, quick to dart around a corner or cut herself off if she knows the opps are listening.

She takes big sips, almost gulps, from her wine glass. She leads you back and forth across her house, reaching over tables or pointing along walls to find a photo here, another there, and talks. "Me'n Kristen-Marie... This one—" pause for more wine—"from my college graduation." It's the two of them, almost mirror images of each other at that age, with a tall man whose lean face makes you think he has to be their father; on the other side of the girls is their Nana.

There's no trick in this photo: no wedding dress, no blood, no hint of drama between the sisters at all. They just look hopeful and desperately young. This feels private, that Melissa could have been so young—something that shouldn't be content for the show—and you feel an impulse to duck the camera away, hide her secret. When you look at Melissa again, she’s watching you; there’s a glitter in her green eyes you can’t interpret: not hostile, and not the look she gets when she’s hustling someone, either. The gaze she’s giving you is strangely soft.

“Whaddaya think?” she says, to you, not to the camera.

You swallow. Nothing you say will make it to the final cut, but the editors will hear your answer, so you can’t tell her she’s beautiful in that picture. “I think I’m lucky you’re showing me this,” you say at last.

Her eyes move over your face. You feel it almost like a touch, intimate and slow, and you aren’t making it up: her gaze stops at your mouth and hovers there. She bites her lower lip before she lifts her wine glass again for another pull. “Maybe I like ya,” she says. “Maybe you’ll get luckier.”

You’re still blushing when you wrap for the night. You sit on your couch at home—you’re always insomniac after shooting at night, your brain and body still buzzing with the work—and put on Netflix on low volume and you don’t watch, just feel your cheeks still burning, thinking about her lipstick on her wine glass.

Of course, the whole crew knows the story by the next morning. When you turn up, Pedro, your best friend on the crew, says, “Look at you! Dark horse!” and it makes your face sear with heat all over again. He lowers his voice, leans in and nudges you. “C’mon, nothing in the contract about that. You deserve a little fun. Let your Italian mama take care of you.”

You cringe. “Please,” you say, “never say ‘Italian mama’ to me again. Okay?”

“Just sayin’,” he says, and leaves it alone.

Of course, it doesn’t leave you alone. You’ve learned the best way to sneak up on a conversation with Melissa and Barbara is to come at it around a corner, so you’re hovering down the kindergarten hall, camera on the two women, when you hear your name, making you stiffen.

“You said that?” Barbara’s voice is incredulous, sharp. “What did she say?”

“Nothin’, really,” Melissa says, “she was on the clock, y’know.” The smile starts in her voice before it grows on her face. It’s a Cheshire smirk bigger and deeper than you’ve ever seen. “She got all flustered. It was cute. You think she knows I was shootin’ my shot?”

“I think you could have ‘shot your shot’ with a little more dignity,” Barbara says crisply. “Like an adult does. Politely. Pleasantly.”

“Soberly,” Melissa says. “Listen, if it works, it works. I just gotta find out if it did, y’know. Work. She’s kinda shy.”

“I didn’t know you cared for that.”

"What, the quiet ones?"

You have to pull away. You're going to miss the rest of the conversation, but your face is burning again, your heart is pounding, and you're grappling with the reality that Melissa and Barbara are talking about you, that you're subject enough between them to be chatted about so casually, that all this footage is... God, are you ever going to live this down?

You'll go shoot some Janine and Gregory. That's always a crowd-pleaser; the audience loves the sweet tension between them, the way the space between their bodies turns tangible the longer their eye contact holds. You try not to think about Melissa's gaze on yours last night. You try to do your job.

That goes as well as you might expect. Fifteen minutes into some uninspiring quiz-grading ("oh, I never fail anyone," Janine says, "I just give 'em a different colored star—they like the gold ones best, so—") Pedro comes to find you.

"Hey, listen," he says, "I need you to come take care of your Calabrian chili pepper."

"What?"

"You know, your spicy linguini. Your Italian ma—"

"Stop." Your head whips toward Janine at her desk and then back to Pedro. The only thing you can think of to say, your heart thumping all over again, is "She's Sicilian, not Calabrian."

"She's giving us nothing. You got to come do her talking head. She keeps trying to square up to Kai and he doesn't wanna fight her."

"What makes you think she won't fight me?"

He gives you a look over his glasses.

The change in Melissa is instant when she sees you approach. Those folded arms, her squared shoulders, her broad, foot-planted stance—it all melts. She leans into the wall, her head tipping, one booted foot lifting for her toe to play in idle lines along the floor, and, yeah. Whether you picked her or not, this is your Sicilian chili pepper, and you swallow hard as you approach.

"Heya, hon," she says, "who's this clown they got me workin' with? Don't they know I only do this with the professionals?"

You mumble a little as Kai looks between the two of you, rolls his eyes, and backs off.

"We were talking about her Friday night plans," Pedro says. "It's school game night and she's not going."

"Yeah, the kids are too easy to hustle," she says, "it ain't even fun. What, do I look like I wanna spend all Friday winnin' their, I dunno, their Yu-Gi-Oh cards?"

Now's when Pedro should prompt her, ask a question. You glance at him; he nods his permission. "Not sure those are a thing anymore," you say.

"Their Pokemon cards," she says. "Whatever. Point is, it'd be like taking candy from a... Jacob."

You don't look at her; you focus on the camera. It's easier than holding her green gaze. "Is that where you draw the line?"

"Gotta draw it somewhere," she says.

You can't help it. Cautiously you look up, try to make your voice neutral: "So how are you going to spend Friday night?"

She lolls her head to one side and looks at you. She sticks her tongue into her cheek. "Prob'ly practicing tricks," she says.

"Tricks?"

"Yeah," she says. "With my magic wand."

You don't really remember the rest of the interview. You sure you babble some other questions, and she gives you some smirking answers, but your head is full of white noise and a singular image: Melissa Schemmenti with a vibrator between her legs.

You're sure other things happen that day. Pedro definitely ribs you some more, you and Kai go get lunch and he complains for a while, Gregory and Janine have one of their not-flirting conversations where he draws up a tightly-plotted itinerary for game night, trying to prove it's possible to run a children's event without delays (it all goes back to his father, of course), at some point you go home and numbly resume your post on the couch in front of your TV screen, trying to make sense of it all.

That picture won't leave your head. You think of the look she gave you that night at her house—intimate, caressing—and how she'd look deep in her pleasure, drunk eyes half-open, her face pink, her hair wild. Does she get naked when she touches herself? She seems too impatient—more like a jeans around her thighs kind of woman—but for a night she's planning ahead—a night she's set aside, just for her pleasure...

Your head drops back and you shut your eyes to see her more clearly. You can imagine the scattering of freckles over her shoulders and chest, the shift of her heavy breasts and the hard peaks of her pink nipples—how does she like to be touched there? Maybe she grabs one breast while she uses the vibrator, plays with a nipple, imagining the rough, confident hand of a lover. You can see the soft field of her belly, the abundance of her hips, her thighs, picturing her cunt, the head of the vibrator against her clit—she doesn't tease, can't tease herself, you imagine, not Melissa.

You can almost smell her sex, you think, until you realize it's yourself you're smelling. Your cunt throbs. You could shove a hand into your underwear now and just take care of it, but...

Your small toy collection lives in a box under your bed. It's nothing fancy, but you do have a small wand vibrator. You peel off your trousers and underwear and drop onto your bed, back against the pillows, holding the purple toy in one hand. Does Melissa have one this size? Or a big, classic one, the kind that could buzz your clit right off? You click the toy on and draw it up your thigh. As it nears the sensitive crease between your leg and your sex, your thigh twitches without meaning to, your clit aching, and you think, okay, no foreplay.

You can't help but wonder as you delve the thrumming head between your folds: does she know you're doing this? Was that the idea—plant herself in your head, grow over everything, including your common sense and your inhibitions, until your whole world flowers Melissa? Could she be doing the same—getting a head start on Friday's plans—thinking of you, right now? You're normally quiet when you do this, but that makes you groan aloud. Your clit pulses.

How does she do this, on a school night, like tonight? Back to the image of her with her trousers halfway down her legs, her hand and her toy crammed into the space between the fabric and her body. You can't help but see her in the outfit from today, that green, clinging top, the black blazer discarded somewhere, slacks caught just above her knees, her hair mussed and tangling against the pillows as she works the vibrator over her clit. No playing games for her, either; just getting the job done, hard and fast.

You come, watching her in your head, her name on your lips; you hope she comes tonight, too, thinking of you, of what she’s doing to you.

The next day, Janine, Gregory, and Jacob are in hushed conversation by the supply closet. You pick an angle from just inside the nearest classroom and train your camera on the slight crack of the open door and you can hear them, even though they think they’re being quiet—classic them.

“I don’t know, what do you think?” Janine is saying. “I think it’s kind of nice.”

“I think,” Gregory says, “it’s like…” He pauses, picking his words. “Like watching a dog shake a chew toy.”

“I think it’s very brave of Melissa,” says Jacob, and your heart drops into your stomach. “Considering the historical era in which she grew up and started her teaching career, being openly bisexual in the workplace must be a very—”

“Please don’t let her hear you call her ‘historical’,” Gregory interjects.

“It’s cute she has a crush on the camera lady,” Janine says. (“Cameraperson,” Jacob corrects.) “I just want it to turn out nice. You know, the vending machine guy didn’t work out, so. And now he doesn’t stock Gushers anymore.”

“Maybe she’ll be a little more relaxed,” Jacob says. “A little more… Open, fun—”

“She’s not going to start liking you because she’s dating somebody.” Gregory, with characteristic bluntness.

“One can hope,” Jacob says.

“The camera lady—person—is so quiet, though,” Janine muses. “Melissa is so intense.”

“Bet that’s what she likes,” Mr. Johnson says, making them all jump. He steps out from the supply closet; he’s holding a Teachers Without Borders coffee mug you know has to be Jacob’s. He takes a long, slurping sip, making sure everybody sees the logo on the cup. “Melissa gets a sweet little thang to take care of. Camera lady gets an Italian mama.” He says it eye-talian. (Where is everybody getting this phrase from?)

“Please don’t say ‘Italian mama’ again,” Gregory says, giving you a little flush of vindication.

“Why not?” Mr. Johnson says. “When I was on tour in Rome—”

That’s enough for you. You decide the rest of the conversation can go unrecorded. You check the time and it’s nearly lunch—thank God, because you don’t want to make eye contact with any of them for a while; you don’t know how to feel about them all talking about you. You know it’s not you, really, they care about. It’s Melissa, her caginess at odds with how boldly, openly she’s been flirting with you, an attraction so obvious even the younger teachers that she’d never confide in can see it.

Something light and effervescent swirls in your stomach, but there’s a leaden weight there, too. Nerves. And desire. You let Pedro know you’re taking lunch and leave your camera behind, finding Kai a block down, away from the school, hitting his vape. He passes it to you and you take a pull, letting candy-scented vapor out of your nose. You don’t really smoke anymore, but anybody would need a little comfort under these circumstances, you think.

“So what are you going to do?” he asks.

“What?” You didn’t know Kai cared about that. “I mean, I guess I’ll talk to her, maybe give her my number, then see—”

“For lunch.”

“Oh.”

You get hoagies together, eating them over a public trash can, standing up. Back at the school you scrub your hands clean in the bathroom and duck Pedro and your camera and you find your way down the second-grade hall to the classroom that's usually the noisiest. It's quiet now: the kids are at the library doing a reading circle with the librarian. Maybe it says something that you know their schedule.

She's in there, glasses low on her nose, working. You pause just on the threshold of the open door. You try to piece together everything you know about her, to make it all fit into the person you see, just a small woman with a love of pleather and a never-ending supply of high-heeled boots, a baseball bat taped under her desk (you've seen it), a guitar propped in one corner of the classroom (does she ever play?), how now she's focused and reading with scrupulous intensity, doubling back on a sentence from time to time, her manicured hand coming up to twitch away a lock of red hair.

You knock on the open door. You see her hand pass under the desk toward the bat before she realizes who's standing there. She cracks a grin, lifting her glasses up to the top of her head. Her eyes travel up and down your body in another look that feels like a touch.

"I was wonderin' when you'd stop by," she says.

You give a little hum. You cross the room to lean against a student's desk, just opposite hers.

"No camera?"

"No," you say, "I wanted it to be just us."

"Huh." She taps her pen on her paper a few times. "You here to let me down easy?" She lifts her chin. The look she gives you isn't intimate now: it's far-removed and challenging, like the gaze of a duelist across a plain. You've seen this before, the way she starts closing herself off, armoring up.

You shake your head. There's a shift in her expression, but the walls don't quite come down. "I guess I wanted to ask what you want."

"That ain't obvious?"

"I mean..." Your arms come up, folding over your chest. "You know, I was here last season, when you were dating that guy... Hulk Hogan."

It surprises a laugh out of her. "Yeah, Gary."

"You asked him out and it was... Different. I mean..." You can't think of how to say it. At last, you say, "Do you take me seriously?" No, that's not it. "I mean, are you just trying to hook up with me? Because, I..." You're starting to burn up again. You rub the back of your neck. "That's not the kind of... Listen, you're beautiful, and sexy, but that's not what it would—I mean, to me, it—"

"You're so cute when you're all shy," Melissa says, sounding equally mystified and amused. She stands. "Look... Maybe I did this all wrong." She circles the desk. "Kinda treated you like a piece of meat."

"Just a little bit," you say.

"I take you serious, hon." She doesn't cross the gap between you two, but mirrors your pose, leaning on the edge of her desk, arms crossed over her chest. "Look, Gare was a nice guy. But he didn't have, you know... He didn't make me wanna..."

You think of Gregory's metaphor. "Shake him like a chew toy?"

Another laugh. "Yeah, that. And I guess I felt... You know, I'd kinda uncorked the bottle, datin' him, when I thought all that part of my life was done, and when you were at my place the other night, you just looked so good, and I just wanted..."

You smile, eyes down. The cold uncertainty is trickling away and there's warmth pouring into the spaces it's left behind. "Okay," you say.

"Okay?"

When you look up, she's moved a little closer. You can smell her perfume again, warmed on her skin over the course of a long day. You've had the privilege of seeing her in detail, so many times: the fine, thin skin around her eyes, the creases at the corners of her mouth that forecast her smile, the tiny hint of gray growing in at her temples, the mellow warmth of her green gaze, the slope of her nose crooking slightly to her left. It's different with no lens between the two of you, when you're close enough to touch.

"Yeah, okay," she says to whatever she sees in your eyes. She lifts her chin and drops her gaze to your mouth. It's a clear request.

You answer it. You dip your head; there's a moment where your noses nearly bump, but you change your angle, catch her lips with yours. There's a tackiness from her lip gloss and an incredible softness underneath. The warmth of her almost shocks you, vivid past your imagining. Her hand pets at your jaw; you feel the other curl into the collar of your shirt. She pulls you closer by the fabric and you gasp.

You renew the kiss, lips sliding over hers. Your hand rubs down her lower back. You can feel the divot in her spine where it meets her pelvis, just above the generous curve of her ass. Before you can overthink it, your palm is gliding over that curve, your fingers digging into its lushness, Melissa gasping against your mouth as you squeeze.

"Oh," she says faintly when the kiss is over and you're catching your breath. "Huh." Her look is glazed and a little bewildered.

"I, um, I don't want to send mixed messages," you say, "but about Friday..."

"Friday?" she echoes.

"Yeah." You bite down on your smile, watching her try to remember what the hell you're talking about. "I was thinking... I know a few magic tricks of my own."

"Oh," she says again. You watch her eyes spark with understanding, her smile appear slowly, then all at once. "I guess you could come over and show me your stuff." Her hands tighten in your shirt and pull you back in for another kiss.

"Hey, gimme your phone," she says, much, much later, when you're wearing more of her lip gloss than she is. "I want to give ya my number." You don't think before you're unlocking it and passing it into her hands. She lowers her glasses from the top of her head to the bridge of her nose and thumbs her way around your phone, creating a contact for herself.

You have a flash of nerves—what if she opens your Instagram and sees all the stupid accounts you follow? A vision comes of her seeing all the dog-using-buttons-to-talk videos you've liked, her libido instantly withering... Then she's giving you back your phone and smirking at you, wiping at your lip with her thumb. "Might wanna stop in the bathroom before you get back to work, hon," she says.

When you leave her classroom, it's like floating; you've never felt so light. You stop in the bathroom and you wipe all the lip gloss off your smiling mouth. You catch yourself humming as you and Kai catch some footage of Ava pretending to organize game night, Gregory trying to involve himself, Janine admitting to a little competitive streak.

Your phone buzzes, chimes. "Sorry," you say to Janine and Pedro, who's leading the interview. You wait until you can lower the camera lens to check the notification. You always keep it silenced during the day—did Melissa turn the ringer on?

Italian Mama iMessage

Your face burns. You take a corner away from Pedro and unlock the phone.

Italian Mama You made me real happy

Your blush intensifies; something flutters in your chest. The phone vibrates in your hand as another message comes.

Italian Mama Don't know how I'm going to wait until Friday

The echo of your own thought in her words makes your heart flutter again. You bite your lower lip and type back, Me neither. An electric spark of daring moves you, makes you send her, Maybe I'll practice some magic just to make sure I'm on top of my game.

Is that too much? You hope not. You've basically made a sex appointment with her for Friday—sex appointment, you think, and wince at yourself, your own awkwardness; it's a date—and you don't—your breath hitches as three dots appear on your screen, showing that she's typing.

Italian Mama Oh yeah?

Italian Mama Better practice hard

You feel a pulse low in your belly. You're ready to type a little more flirtation when another message arrives and makes you gasp aloud, quickly clamping your hand over your mouth before Pedro or somebody else can hear you.

She's sent you a photo. It's herself pulling down the scoop neck of the hot pink blouse she's wearing today. You can see just the tip of her nose, her chin, the proud line of her soft neck, her freckled sternum, and, holy shit. She's showing you her breasts cradled in a bra made of black lace. And you stare. And you stare.

Italian Mama Little incentive for you

Your mouth is watering. You can see the rosy shadows of her nipples against the lace. You barely register yourself typing back, You're perfect.

Italian Mama Thought you'd like em

You're typing before you can stop yourself. All I'll be able to think about now is what I'm going to do to you.

Three dots appear, then disappear. Appear, then disappear. Your confidence wavers.

Italian Mama I want you to tell me

You've never imagined you'd be turned on in the halls of Abbott Elementary, but suddenly you're so aware of your cunt, you can't stand it. You're throbbing. You peer around the corner; Pedro isn't even looking your way, he's talking something over about the schedule with another producer. You have time. You glance up and down the hall; nobody except an aide going into a room at the far end.

Your fingers fly over the keys. If you stop to think, you'll psych yourself out, so you blurt out every thought, the iMessage equivalent of babbling—what you'd be doing in Melissa's ear if you could have her right now, in your arms, again...

You're so fucking sexy

I've thought about you so much

I touched myself thinking about you the other night

I'm going to kiss you until you go crazy and you're so turned on you can't take it

I'm going to undress you and I'm going to kiss every fucking inch of you

I'm going to play with you until you're begging

Do you like it rough or gentle?

Three dots.

Italian Mama Little of both

You're typing again in a flurry. You can feel your heart pounding, your breath coming in harder. You probably only have a couple minutes left to really make her feel it.

I'm going to be so gentle with you until you beg me to be rough

I want to bite you

Do you like being bitten?

Italian Mama Yeah

I know you do

On your neck, on your breasts

I'm going to bite your thighs before I eat you out

"Homie, you coming?" Pedro says, with the best and worst timing—and phrasing—he could possibly have.

"Yeah, one sec," you say, and you're proud of how your voice doesn't wobble at all. "Let me just send this. Sorry."

I have to get back to work

Italian Mama Fuck you

Italian Mama How am I supposed to teach like this

Italian Mama Come here and finish what you fuckin started

You laugh, breathless and surprised. You text her, YOU started it! If she hadn't sent you that picture... You scroll back up and look again. In the bit of her face you can see, she's smirking, because of course she is. The luscious curve of her breasts—you can almost feel them, what it would be like to drag your nose down between them, mouth at the soft skin...

Pedro's waiting. You send her a bunch of blowing-kiss emojis and put your phone away again. You're still buzzing with arousal, but you feel a strange satisfaction, knowing that Melissa is a few halls away, squirming behind her desk, thinking about all the promises you've made.

The day passes, somehow. It's a strange mixture of slow, syrupy boredom and electric, frenetic activity as more preparations are made for game night, and your phone periodically buzzes with another message from Melissa. Thankfully (for your pussy—you think it might fall off if it keeps aching like that), the two of you leave the subject of sex, and just talk.

She asks you your birthday, your favorite food. Where did you grow up? What's your favorite color? Each one makes you smile. You feel like you're on the receiving end of a Schemmenti interrogation, a mob boss with her goons behind her. You get her answers back in turn: July 19. (You respond in shock, You're a water sign??? and you can almost hear her voice when she dryly responds, I got no clue what that means, hon.) Pasta con sarde. Grew up here in South. Pink.

Your heart flutters with every new thing you learn. Even though you go home (and rub one out) alone, she's a presence with you, not just in your fantasies; you find you're texting her until you fall asleep, phone sliding out of your hand onto the bedspread. And when you wake up the next day, preceding your alarm by a bit, you find a text from her waiting for you, just a few minutes ago: Good morning, baby.

You levitate all the way through Thursday. You spot Melissa a few times that day, but it's a packed day for her two classes, so mostly it's in the hall as she marches lines of students to and fro. She gets you back for yesterday, though: pauses in the doorway of her classroom as she's filing the kids in after lunch, and gives you an up-and-down look of such searing intensity that your body heats, scalp to toes. She smirks before she vanishes into her room.

She makes you crazy. God, she's incredible. You're texting her every chance you both can get, though she's sparser while she's with the kids; it's all light stuff. Get lunch here today, she tells you, Shanae made beef patties, and when Shanae slips you a couple of golden-crusted pastries, you bite into them, smelling warm, floral curry, savory beef on your tongue, and think of how Melissa it is, feeding you from a distance.

That afternoon, just after dismissal, she calls, "Hey," to you from her classroom door. You try not to jump to attention. "I gotta do a lot of work," she says, playing with the strap of her Apple Watch, "or I'd ask you over, but..." Strangely, her eyes drop. It's a hint of shyness and it makes your heart patter, tenderness and affection for her pouring into your chest. "I was thinkin', why don't we go out and get, like, food or a drink or somethin' tomorrow? You know, before you come over."

"Okay," you say. Her eyes flick up and as soon as she sees your goofy grin, her shyness melts away, turns back into the smirking self-assuredness you're more familiar with.

"You pick the place," she says, knocking the wind out of you at once.

Oh, crap. You remember what it was like with her and Gary: he tried to take her to a shitty spot for their first date, and she flicked him away from her like a bug. She's challenging you, you think, asking to be impressed.

You can do that. Dark horse, right? "Okay," you repeat. "I'll pick."

She leans back against the doorframe. All at once she's in that lolling, casual, flirtatious posture that she assumes for you and only you, her face tilted up, gaze intimate and a little sly. "You headin' out? I get a goodbye kiss, or what?"

"Okay," you say a third time, and you can barely kiss her, you're smiling so widely. You take your fill of her, in every sense, one more time before you leave for the day, nerves and excitement and that thread of arousal all tangling together, like a knot of live wires.

You're texting her later, because of course you're texting her later. Do you want it to be a surprise?

Italian Mama I dunno

Italian Mama Surprises never seem to work out for me

That gives you a little twinge. You find yourself running the tip of your finger up and down the side of your phone, the way you'd touch her hand or her cheek, if you could. How about just this one? you ask. And if you hate it, I'll never surprise you again?

You wish you could see her face. It would help you know if she's resigned or wary or scared. You don't want her to be antsy or nervous going into tomorrow; you want her to feel like she makes you feel: like you've got balloons and not bones, like a wind could catch you and carry you off, you're so light and so happy.

Italian Mama Ok

Italian Mama I'm gonna trust ya

It makes your heart do its now-familiar flutter in your chest. It's like there's a bird in there, some delicate fledgling thing eager to start flying. It wants to soar, holding its precious cargo: Melissa Schemmenti's trust.

The next day. Friday. Friday. Somehow, the school day rockets past you. Game night preparations have gone disastrously, and it's time for a patented Ava save, with the help of Janine and Gregory.

"Wow, who could've guessed," Kai mutters to you, and fidgets in the pocket you know holds his vape.

Your hand fidgets in your own pocket, around your phone. You and Mel exchanged good morning texts, a few kiss emojis, promises to meet up before dismissal to solidify your plans, but you haven't had a chance to see her at all.

"I don't know," you say, "I think they'll get it figured out."

"I think she's probably going to use it to mine Bitcoin somehow," Kai says.

Honestly, that sounds plausible. You shake your head anyway and make an excuse and scoot past Pedro. He's not encouraging Ava to stream game night live on Instagram, per se, but everybody knows that will guarantee some Coleman-style silliness, so he needs to get her there somehow. (Can you mine Bitcoin through Instagram?)

You don't need to send any directions to your feet; they're already walking you toward the second grade classrooms. Mel doesn't have lunchroom duty today, so you know she'll probably be catching up on two classes' worth of quizzes, or restocking art supplies, or prepping the next lesson's props and tools. Her door is shut and you peek in through the window.

She's writing on the whiteboard, looking back and forth from a worksheet in her hand, glasses on her nose. You knock. When she sees you, the narrow-eyed look of interrupted concentration melts away; she gives you a smile that shows her teeth, the kind that changes her whole face, turning her girlish, almost a little goofy. It makes your heart melt.

You open the door. "Hey," you say as she puts her glasses on top of her head and caps the marker. Being in the room with her, after not seeing her all morning, feels like coming out of the cold to a blazing fire. "Uh, hi. You look beautiful today." Then, for the third time, stupidly, adoringly, "Hi."

"You missed me, huh?" she says, putting down the marker and paper. "C'mere."

As soon as you're in grabbing distance, she takes two handfuls of your ass and pulls you in for a kiss. You're lost in it for long, long seconds.

She pulls back after giving your lower lip a bite that makes you squeak. She tucks her hands squarely in the back pockets of your jeans, holding you against her. "You look beautiful today too."

"Thanks," you say, barely registering the compliment, the way you're chasing more contact, kissing the corner of her mouth, nosing at her cheek. She's so warm in your arms. She's wearing one of her tough-girl outfits, a blazer and matching top in military green, and you sneak your hand under the jacket, finding a little stripe of bare skin between her shirt and her slacks. You touch her there with a teasing trace of your fingernail.

She shivers. Is she sensitive on her lower back? You file it away to investigate later tonight. The thought of being able to have her all to yourself tonight—hours and hours—sends sparks skipping through you. You have to kiss her again.

"You think it's unprofessional, doin' this at work?" Mel asks you breathlessly when you part again.

"I don't know," you say, "but whatever Gregory and Janine have been doing is worse, kind of."

"Yeah, that's for sure," Melissa says, and gives you a third kiss; this time, the delicate muscle of her tongue laps at you, little frissons of heat that go right between your legs.

"I came to talk about dinner," you say at last, when you think you can survive without kissing her.

"Oh, yeah," Mel says, "right. What am I wearin'?"

"Uh..." You hadn't considered it. You're just going in your usual date outfit—a button-up, a nice pair of trousers. "Business casual?"

"Okay, easy. Do I get a hint where we're goin'?" One eyebrow goes up. Her gaze acquires a competitive glint, one you've seen a hundred times through your camera. "I bet I can guess it."

"Here's your hint," you say, "it's not Italian."

"Smart cookie," Melissa says, which leads you both into another kiss, and then another. "It ain't a sandwich shop, is it?"

"No," you say, "I can't beat cousin Rocco."

"Soul food," she says.

"No. I'll come pick you up, is that okay?"

"Yeah, come, like, at five. I gotta change and do my face and stuff." She leans back, giving you a squint-eyed look of scrutiny. "Tell me it ain't French."

"It ain't," you promise, and seal it with a kiss. "I have to go. I'm pretending to be in the bathroom."

"Oh, shit," she says, eyes going wide, "we gotta catch up on this freakin' math unit and I forgot, I haven't peed in, like—"

"Go, go," you say with a laugh, letting her extract her hands from your pockets.

When you return, Kai narrows his eyes at you. You shrug at him and you're ready to get back to work, when he reaches across and plucks something off your shoulder: a single red hair. Crap.

"Damn," he says. "Dark horse."

"What's up?" Pedro glances over at you two. Fuck, you don't know if you can take his teasing today—you know he'll want all the details, and you love him, but you want to just get through work and get to Melissa...

"Nothing," Kai says, and drops the hair. He gives you a nod.

You nod back, warmth and gratitude making you smile. He doesn't smile back—you don't think you've ever seen him smile, actually—but you think you see the corner of his mouth curve up, just a little, as he peers into his camera.

Dismissal, a quick goodbye kiss with Melissa, home to get ready. You're normally an all-black kind of girl—it's just easy—but you pause in your closet and find a pink button-up. It's a mellow, soft shade, the same color as a silky blouse you've seen Melissa wear.

You put on your cologne, you style your hair. You look at yourself in the mirror. It’s funny: this is the same face you’ve always had, but three days of Melissa have done something to you. Your eyes look larger, softer; there’s a smile on your lips, small but persistent, that’s been there all day.

You haven’t always been lucky with women. You have love in your heart—God, a lot of it. Sometimes it feels like the water of an ancient lake, going down almost infinitely deep, and yet somehow about to overflow. You spent years going around offering it to anyone who would take it, and once they’d drunk their fill, they just moved on, satisfied, never giving a thought to you, never thinking you might want something back, even just gratitude.

So you pulled away. You just hurt too easily: keep them at arm’s length, never close enough to bruise. The quiet one, the shy one; that’s who you became over time, knowing that if you gave out of your abundance, you’d only be depleted. No one’s ever filled your cup.

You find yourself chewing your lip, staring at yourself. You want this to be different. You want this to be something else. Can it be?

You park your car in front of Melissa’s and find yourself wondering: text, or knock? You’re starting to get out of the car when the front door opens, and a rush of surprise and pleasure comes at the thought of Melissa waiting, watching for you. Then your breath catches hard in your throat.

She’s wearing a little red dress that… “Wow,” you say, before she’s even close enough to hear. The square neck of the dress is cut lower than her usual wear, and shows an abundance of skin that makes your mouth water. There’s a princessy quality to the cap sleeves, a delicate detail that’s perfect for Melissa: blazing, challenging red, with a hint of sweetness. The hem stops just above her knees. The fabric shows her body in intimate detail, the delicate rounding of her stomach and the flare of her hips, straining across the perfect shape of her thighs.

Her hair is down. Even late in the day it has a bit of curl. Her green eyes are like gemstones in the early evening light. Her heels have got to be four inches, but she walks with the steadiness of a queen. She’s the most beautiful woman you’ve ever seen.

You circle the car to get the passenger side door. “Hey,” she says, surprised, coming closer, “it’s pink,” and touches your sleeve. It’s not even contact with your skin, barely contact, period, but it sends tingles up and down your arm. “That’s my favorite color.”

“Yeah, I know,” you say, grinning like a fool.

Her eyes drop—that hint of shyness again, that tenderness that makes your heart strain against your chest, trying to reach her—before they flick back up. “How do I look?”

“I could look at you for hours,” you tell her honestly.

"I'd kiss ya, but you'd mess up my face," she says. "Here, you get one." She turns and offers her cheek.

You're smiling as you lean down to kiss the offered skin. She's soft and warm, and you get the powdery scent of her makeup, the richness of her perfume.

"Now, c'mon, feed me," she says, and you laugh and open her door.

You drive. She's exactly the kind of passenger you expected: "Hey, check it," every time she sees a car nosing out past a stop sign, or "On your left," when you're trying to merge. "Hey," she barks when somebody cuts you off, a gesticulating, accusatory hand in the air, "cazzo, you wanna watch where you're fuckin' going?"

Melissa. Abrasive, loud, bossy, and you don't feel bulldozed at all. You feel charmed. The smile won't leave your face. You don't know if she could be more herself than right now, in your ancient Volvo, wearing the sexiest outfit you've ever seen on her, looking simultaneously bold and delicate and delicious, and hollering out the window like an angry truck driver.

She's checking her phone as you pull up outside the restaurant, and doesn't look up again until you're opening her door. "Oh," she says, surprised, looking at the place: it's a red brick building, no sign; just a single hanging red lantern beside a white door. You can see her trying to puzzle it out, glancing at you and back to the door.

"It's a bar," you explain. You open the door to your favorite izakaya. Low, golden light and warmth spill out with the Jrock playing over the speaker system.

Melissa cocks her head and looks at you curiously. You only notice that her hand's in her clutch purse when she draws it out again; you hear the rattle of her keys dropping back to the bottom. "Thought you might'a been about to take my other kidney," she says. "I was gonna fight ya."

You blink. It's one of those Melissa-isms, delivered in her dry voice, that you think might be a joke, but it might not be, either. "I wouldn't win if you did."

"You sure as hell wouldn't, baby," she says, and lets you hold the door for her as she steps inside.

You love this place. It feels a bit like your first apartment after you left home, a lot of exposed brick, shoddy white paneling creating an accent wall, and decor that's a little vintage, a little silly: a big, ornate mirror that might have once decorated a cheap theater, brass sconces for lights, Gojira posters in the style of classic ukiyo-e. There's booths on one side of the room and a mirrored bar on the other, with a wall of sake and Japanese whisky.

The hostess recognizes you, waves hi, gestures toward the room for you to seat yourself. It won't start filling up until a little later, so you have your pick of the booths; you take the side that puts your back to the door, letting Melissa have the sightline to the exit.

The low light flatters her. Any light flatters her, but there's something about the dim, intimate, golden warmth of it that makes you stare as she studies the menus, first the drinks, then the food; her eyelashes cast delicate shadows on her cheek, the curve of her lips carving lines there.

She looks up and catches you. The thoughtful twist of her mouth turns into a smirk. The question, though, isn't what you were expecting. "What made you pick here?"

Huh. "I..." You rub the back of your neck, dropping your gaze. "I really like it." That's a start, but not all of it. "I thought you might not have this kind of food all the time. I never see you eating it and I wanted you to have a nice change. And..."

"I come here alone a lot." You shrug. "I have... Good memories here." They are good memories: people-watching, trying new drinks and food, chats with the bartenders, a karaoke night where you fell in with a group of laughing, drunk women who all worked at the same office, who tried to persuade you to bar-hop with them until last call.

But it's always been you, alone; sometimes folded in with somebody else out of goodwill, sometimes noticed for your familiar face and your generous tips, spared a few more minutes of a busy mixologist's time, but always a separation, a glass wall between you and the rest of the room. No one's been on this side of it with you before.

"I wanted you to have a good memory," you say, finally. "I wanted to share it with you."

You glance at Melissa. She's watching you with a look you recognize. It's the one she gave you that night at her house—just earlier this week, but it feels like a lifetime ago. It's tender and intent. It's encouraging. Like she's watching a flower bloom.

"It's already a good memory for me, hon," Melissa says. Something nudges your ankle. It's her foot in its killer heel, gently insinuating between both of yours. You feel her knee against yours, your calves aligned together. She smiles at you. "We're here together."

Your heart does one of its aerial flips.

"You sure get shy for somebody who was talkin' about suckin' my tits before, though," she says.

You choke on nothing. Your face and ears burn. She laughs, her head dropping back, the light glinting on her saints' medals.

"Biting," you squeak, when you can get air. "We were talking about biting."

"Biting," she says, "right. How come you can say all that to me but you're nervous tellin' me you like a bar?"

It's not a bad question. You trace the grain of the wooden tabletop for a second or two, eyes down. "I'm used to giving other people what they like," you say. "I don't mean—it's not that I was lying or faking. No way. I meant it, I mean it, everything I say to you. So much, Melissa." You dart a look up to make sure she understands. "I mean, it's easy for me... For other people, I can express..."

Her hand finds yours on the table and stills it. Her manicured finger gently swipes along the curve below your thumb, down to the sensitive inner skin of your wrist, and traces slowly there, back and forth. She's giving you that look again, gentle and focused and intimate. "I get it," she says simply.

A rush of relief fills you, settling the rattle of your anxious nerves. You turn your hand over and hers settles into yours.

The server appears for your drink orders. You order the house sake, and Melissa says, "Yeah, me too." With your small glasses of sake, the two of you pore over the menu, picking a few things Melissa knows, a few things she's never had before.

The first few plates come out: shumai, hamachi, a bowl of spicy pickle. She gets pieces of toro, unagi, and salmon, and you get a roll and a plate of chashu buns. She gives those a look of pure lust.

"Take one," you say, and push the plate toward her.

She doesn't hesitate. At her first bite, she lets out a guttural moan that goes right between your thighs. You're suddenly much more aware of her ankle still caught between both of your own.

"You think I could get this recipe?" she says of the chashu after the bun has vanished.

"I think you can get whatever you want." Especially from you, especially if she keeps making those noises.

"I sure can," she says with a flirtatious bat of her eyelashes.

You've seen Melissa eat before, scraping the last bite of salad out of a tupperware or sipping from a Stanley Tucci mug, but it's different like this, sharing a meal. You love watching her small, plump hands with her chopsticks, her drinks; you love her expressive eyes, the way they widen or flutter shut at a perfect bite. Everything she tries she makes you try—insistent, "Here, you taste," like you're not the one who's had the whole menu before, and you oblige, trying to taste it for the first time, like her, letting each one blossom over your tongue, letting yourself fall under her spell.

The bar is packed by the time you're through and she's nibbled her way through a couple of frozen mochi. "We gotta come back here," she declares as the two of you leave, hand in hand. "I wanna try more. You got good taste."

"Yeah, I do," you say, looking at her. It's full dark now, but the streetlights and the moon illuminate her, outlining her red hair in silver, the shape of her hips.

"You gonna take me home now?" she says. She moves closer. "You made a lotta promises, you know."

"I know." Your hands settle on her hips. She tilts her head up; you catch her lips, tasting the plum wine you two shared. It's your first real kiss of the night, and she's mellow, soft, delicious. Still, you tell her, "We don't have to, tonight. I want to, but I don't want you to think..."

"I know," she says, and gives you another kiss. "If I thought you were buyin' dinner to make me put out, I would'a had way more food." Another kiss. "Come on, let's go. Or maybe you don't wanna get lucky?"

You drive back to Melissa's place, her hand on your thigh the whole way. Back over the welcome mat that reads GO AWAY, into the picture-lined place where it all started over a glass of wine.

Melissa takes your coat and her own and gives you her back, hanging them up in a closet by the front door. "I can get you another drink," she's saying, but all you can see is the back of her dress: the silver line of the zipper running from collar to hem, almost invisible.

You move closer and she stiffens when she feels you there, your chest to her back. You gather her hair, move it aside. Above the collar of the dress you can see the line of her nape and the muscle where her neck and her shoulder join. You lean down and kiss it.

Breathing in, you can smell her perfume again, her makeup again. Now, her skin. It's a scent you couldn't begin to describe, something living and animal and sensuous. And her hair: warm, intimate, a little bit of hairspray. You kiss the side of her neck.

"You have no idea," you say quietly. You nose against the shell of her ear. Its soft cartilage is cold from the night air outside, but warming quickly, flushing pink as you kiss it. "You have no idea how gorgeous you are. You don't know what you've been doing to me."

You lift your hands and find the tongue of the zipper. Her breath hitches. You slowly draw it down. The rasp of it is loud between your bodies.

The band of her bra. Red lace. Down her back to the luscious curvature of her hips. You're holding your breath. Her panties are red lace, too, a high-waisted thong that hugs her belly and hips but, oh, fuck: leaves her ass almost totally fucking bare. Of course, in that clinging dress. Couldn't risk panty lines.

"Jesus fucking Christ," you say, and slide the dress fully off her body. It's a puddle of red fabric on the floor. You push her chest-first against the closet door and drop to your knees.

"Oh my God," she says weakly as you hold her hips and kiss your way up the back of one thigh, then the other. The flesh here is dimpled with cellulite, a mark of her perfect abundance. You nose over the curve of her ass and bite one cheek and she squeaks and gives a weak, "Huh," afterward, like she'd surprised herself, and you bite the other cheek and her hips rock back into you.

She's still in her heels. You're starting to smell her sex. You think about having her bend over and put her hands against the door and let you eat her from behind until her knees shake and give out. Fuck, you want to, but you've been making promises; you have plans.

You straighten back up, brushing kisses up the line of her spine. "I want to see your bedroom."

"Fuck," she says dizzily. "Okay. Uh..." She starts to step away from the closet door and for the first time all night, she wobbles in her heels. She gives a little growl of frustration that's so Melissa you can't help but laugh, making her glower your way as she toes out of the shoes.

She leads you up to her bedroom. The big bed is made, but there are plenty of signs of life: the vanity against one wall, scattered with makeup; the bedside table with a dog-eared book and a pair of her glasses; there's a bra tossed over the cracked closet door.

She turns to face you, unself-conscious, and grabs you for another kiss, deep, dirty, her tongue licking into your mouth. "Can't believe you wore my favorite color," she says breathlessly, and starts fumbling with the buttons of your shirt. "God, you look so hot."

Your shirt's halfway open when you get your mouth on her neck. She groans, hands loosening on the fabric. Soft, right along the line of her jaw, under her chin, down her throat where you feel a moan vibrate through the skin. "Harder," she says.

You stay soft. The hollow of her throat, her clavicle. You nose one strap of her bra. She whines, "Harder," and grips your hair.

"I told you," you say. "I'm going to make you beg." She gasps. Your cunt pulses. You wonder if the same thing happened in her classroom that day, if she sat at her desk squirming, little hitches of her breath betraying her.

You squeeze her ass and she sways into you. Your hands shape her hips, up her sides, over her back, feeling the landscape of it, the valley of her spine. You trace the band of her bra. It's so pretty, you almost don't want to take it off.

"Where's your vibrator?" you ask.

"Huh?"

"Your vibrator," you patiently repeat, and lean back. You see in her eyes when it clicks. She leans away from you toward the nightstand, pulling open the top drawer. Inside, there's a pack of melatonin gummies, a lavender and chamomile room spray, a mini bottle of Jack Daniels, and a hot pink wand vibrator. Her sleep aid drawer, you realize.

You pick up the toy. It has a good weight, and the silicone is almost as soft as her skin. You find the power button, click it on, and cycle with a few presses through the three strength settings. You settle back on the first one and test it against the inside of your wrist, feeling the rumble against the sensitive skin there.

You look up again and Melissa's sitting on the edge of the bed. She's breathing hard, staring at you, and she's blushing.

"Lay back against the pillows for me, baby."

She scoots back, gives you a challenging look, and spreads her legs. You can really smell her, a thick, rich, saline scent that makes your mouth water. The drawer's still open and you spot a small bottle of lube; you take it out just in case, then slide the drawer shut.

"You gonna get naked?" she says as you join her on the bed.

"Not yet," you say and kiss her again. And again. The vibrator sits on the mattress, turned off, and you want to make her forget it's there. You take your time, licking at the serrated edge of her teeth, sucking on her lower lip until she's whimpering.

You couldn't have imagined that sound coming from Melissa Schemmenti. You chase it, have to have it again. Her lipstick is smeared, almost gone. She keeps tugging on your hair as you kiss her, starting to squirm beneath you, saying things like "More," and "Harder," but not please—not yet.

She slides down against the pillows, laying herself more fully under your body, and the motion makes the vibrator roll down the mattress to bump her side. Her breath speeds up all over again, and her eyes flick from it to you.

You pick up the toy and click it on. "Keep your legs spread."

"Oh, fuck yes," Melissa says, then whines aloud when you touch the vibrator not to her clothed pussy, but to the inner crease of her thigh. "Fuck, c'mon."

"C'mon, what?" You trail the vibrator up the inside of her thigh, toward her knee, and back down again.

"You know—" her breath stutters when you switch legs. "You know what I want."

"And you know what I want."

That makes her moan. Her head drops back, her chest heaving. You lean down to kiss her sternum, to finally nose against one perfect breast, the way you've hungered for it since that photo. The lace of her bra scratches your cheek. You can feel her nipple through the cup, taut against the fabric. You bring the vibrator up and tease its rumbling head over that peak, making her shudder, then replace it with your mouth, letting her feel the heat and wet, just barely, still separated from you by her bra.

"God, fuck," she says, "fuck you," and you switch breasts, teasing her other nipple to aching stiffness. You nuzzle the skin that her bra offers up, the plump perfect roundness of her breast, part your lips, drag your teeth over it. She's so soft here, so much, and it's perfect. Your hand drops with the vibrator and you trace it over her hip toward her sex, making her squirm, as you busy yourself with soft bites and sucks.

You change your angle a little, propping a hand against the pillows so you can lean over her. Your body casts a shadow and her green eyes look up at you from beneath it, somehow both pleading and mutinous. You idle the vibrator back up along the waistband of her underwear and then slowly down toward her cunt, playing it over the plumpness of her mons.

"Fuck," she says, "fucking fuck you, okay, please," and you smile. "Please, I said please, will you fucking please—"

You bring the wand down over her pussy. Her head rolls back and she groans, starting to squirm. "Pull down your bra for me," you say.

"What?" Her voice, face, are foggy and vague, but after a few seconds she understands, lifting her hands to tug down the bra's cups, showing you her perfect breasts. They're begging for your mouth, and you promised her you'd give her what she wanted when she begged, didn't you?

You drop your head. Kiss over one breast, then the other. Mouth at the flesh—so fucking soft, so good against your lips, sucked into the wetness of your mouth. The tops of her breasts have a small scattering of freckles that you have to dust in turn with adoring kisses. Her hard nipple brushes your cheek and you draw it past your lips as you trace the wand vibrator up and down, from her clit to the entrance of her cunt, back again, never letting it linger.

You switch to her other nipple, leaving her breast damp and reddened from your mouth. Her head tosses back and forth against the pillows as she whines, squirms, moans, says, "Fuck," and, voice breaking a little, "You're still fuckin' teasin' me—please, please, I said it, please—"

The words, her need, are electricity surging straight to your aching clit. Your voice is a rasp to match her own when you lift your head and breathe in her ear, "You sound so good like this, Melissa." She gives a broken whimper. "You're so perfect. I'll give you more. I promise. I'll take care of you. Take your panties off for me, sweetheart."

With a grateful sob she lifts her hips and shoves her underwear down her thighs, no further. You flash on that fantasy you had of her, getting off after a school day, slacks and panties around her knees as she fucked herself. Looks like you were right.

"You might need," she starts to say, but you're already reaching across to pick up the bottle of lube. You click off the vibrator and let her watch you drip the lube over your fingers, slicking them up. She's panting harder and harder just watching you.

With your other hand freed from the vibrator, you can pull the thong all the way off her legs, leaning back on your knees to do it. You push one thigh then the other wide apart. Her pussy is plump and gorgeous, red and swollen, her own wetness gleaming from between her spread labia. You add to it: the softest touch of your fingertips against her sex, trailing up and around the peak of her clit, not touching it directly.

She makes a noise you can barely describe, a groan of misery and arousal and desperation. Sliding your fingers back down toward the heat of her cunt, slipping one slowly inside, watching her as you do it. Her eyelashes flutter, her lips parting. Once you're sure she's wet enough, you add a second finger. The lube and her own gathering wetness makes a slick, dirty sound as you begin to stroke inside her, all delicacy, all torment.

"Oh, fuck," she says, "don't stop, Jesus Christ, please, don't stop, I need it, I, I..." Now she's babbling, the way she's made you do, one hand fisted in the bed covers, the other grabbing your wrist. "I need it so bad, I need you to fuck me, I've been waitin', please..."

"You've been waiting?" It occurs to you that this version of Melissa, already begging, might be willing to tell you some embarrassing truths. "How long?"

"Since we met," she gasps. "Since—oh, fuck..."

Since you met? That was the very first day of shooting—getting all the establishing shots, the very first moments and interviews. She intimidated you—her and Barbara both did—but Barbara, at least, gave a little, showed a bit of herself to the camera. You remember how Melissa was, arms folded over her chest, cool and hostile with Pedro as he tried to coax her out, get her to introduce herself.

Her eyes had moved from him to you, looking past the camera. "You Sicilian?" she'd asked you. She smiled at you that day and it transformed her sullen, cagey face, turned her, however momentarily, sweet. "Italian?" she'd continued, then her eyes darted from you to Pedro, over to the boom mic guy, trying to get a read on all of you. "You from South?" Her smile vanished. Her voice tightened up again: "Okay, you guys workin' with the cops? 'Cause you gotta tell me."

You reward her for the honesty with a press of your palm against her clit. Her hips jerk up. "I remember that day."

Her head drops back again, her eyes squeezing shut. The words leave her in a breathless rush: "You were so cute'n I hated the cameras but whenever you were there I would just—and you were always so, you were gentle, and—I always knew when you were lookin' at me—"

"I was looking at you every chance I got." You watch her face as you begin to ease a third finger inside her. This one has to burn a little; you can feel her body, resistant at first, starting to stretch to take it, and you don't push; you wait to see her eyes open again, their needy, yielding look. She lets go of the covers to grab one leg under her knee and pull it wider apart to help you. You add a little more lube, just in case, not wanting to hurt her.

"I was always looking at you, Melissa." She stares up at you. There's a crease between her brows, her swollen lips parted; she looks stunned, overwhelmed, face pink, as you slide that third finger inside her.

"I was always looking at you," you repeat, and begin to gently fuck her. Her cunt opens for you and desperately clenches against your fingers, grasping and irregular, trying to keep you. "You're so beautiful. I always wanted you. I thought you were the sexiest, meanest—" that surprises a panting laugh from her—"woman I'd ever seen. You were so smart, so funny—you protected everyone, and you took care of everybody—" her eyes squeeze shut. "Let me take care of you now."

You reach over and pick up the vibrator. You click it on. Her eyes open again at the sound of its buzz. You press the button again, then a third time, bringing it to its strongest setting. Melissa's eyes are huge. She's panting, staring, knowing what you're about to do, and the look of vulnerability and desire on her face, her smeared lipstick, her messy hair, she's perfect, so perfect, and you need to make her come now.

"I need it," you tell her, holding her gaze. "I need it. Let me feel it, Melissa." You bring the vibrator to her swollen, begging clit.

A moment of nothing but her breath caught in her chest and her wide-eyed gaze on yours. Her pussy clamps down around your fingers and you feel the ripples of her orgasm start before she drops her head back and gives a wounded, animal cry.

You chase the waves of her climax, fucking her through them, coaxing them toward you; you rub the head of the vibrator along her slippery clit. Her head tosses back and forth on the pillow like it's too much, but her hand still grasps your wrist, keeping you right where you are, and her hips are working, riding your fingers.

"I can't," she starts saying when she can heave a breath back into her lungs, "I can't, I can't, oh, please—" you click the vibrator off and throw it aside; it nearly rolls off the mattress. You spread the lips of her pussy wide and you lean down and bite one shaking thigh, then the other, then seal your lips over her swollen, tender clit.

Fuck the vibrator: this is your new favorite toy. You play with it and play with it and Melissa comes again, or keeps coming, you're not sure which. One leg goes over your shoulder and her hips twitch and writhe until you have to hold her down.

"Oh my G—oh my God, oh, baby," then, just chanting over and over again, like you could ever tell her no again, like you can deny her anything in the world: "Please, please, please..."

Anything she wants. The whole fucking world, if it were yours to give. You suck and lick at her cunt as her hands find your hair and yank.

How long can she go for? How many times can you make her come? You want to know. You want to fuck her until she faints. But that's not for tonight—not without planning, not without her consent—so when she starts making airy noises that are weak and almost pained, you ease off, slowing your mouth and fingers, letting her come down.

You rub her hips and thighs and her soft belly, and give light kisses to the mound of her pubis. She stops pulling on your hair, grip going slack at first; then, as she comes back into herself by slow degrees, she scratches her nails gently against your scalp.

Kisses for her stomach, her ribs. "Here, baby," you whisper, and reach under her body; she lifts up so you can unhook her bra, sticky fingers brushing her skin. You ease it off and drop it to wherever her panties went. She's nude under you now, flushed all over, body loose and relaxed against the mattress; you pet every inch of her you can reach.

You cup her cheek. Her head turns into the contact. There's sweat gleaming along her hairline and her upper lip. Her eyes, mascara and liner blurred, open to meet yours; her gaze is bleary at first, then sharpens.

You expect another fuck-you, or a joke, or even a "thanks, I needed that," but what she says is, "Now you sit on my face."

Your mind whites out. It's possible you forget the English language for a second or two. When you're back from wherever your soul departed to, she's pulling on the buttons of your shirt, brow knit and wearing an impatient little scowl, yanking the last ones open. "What?" you say weakly.

"I said," Melissa says, fully herself again, no longer the begging, needy, squirming creature of minutes ago, "now you sit on my face. C'mon. Get this off." She grabs the buckle of your belt and works the tongue out of it with a metallic clink.

"I," you say, "I," and she drags your trousers down your legs. You have to lean back off her to get them and your underwear all the way off. Your shirt still hangs open, showing your bra, your bare stomach. She leans up to kiss your sternum with an open mouth, tongue flickering hot against your skin.

"I told you," she growls against your neck, "to sit on my fuckin' face," and there's no more of anything in your world but her, you scrambling up onto your knees, spread wide, her sliding down the bed to get under your cunt.

You falter for a moment; she grabs your hips and yanks you down. There's no playing, no teasing. She drags the flat of her tongue up the folds of your pussy and takes your clit into her mouth and sucks. Her green eyes are open and staring up at you and you see your own dazed pleasure reflected in them.

It takes about five embarrassing seconds before you come in her mouth. She moans loudly against you and tries to hold you where you are, but your legs are shaking badly; imagine if you broke her nose the first night, God—you lift one knee so you can get off of her and drop onto your back.

She follows you. Clambers on top of you intently but unsteadily, still wobbling from her own orgasms, and kisses sloppily down your stomach to get back to your pussy.

"Melissa—" you're gasping, and she's putting her tongue inside you, angling her head to get it in as far as she can. She licks, sucks, wraps her arms around your hips and holds you against her as you try to buck away. The wet noises of her mouth against your cunt are obscene.

You come again, and maybe one more time, you're not sure; your mind blanks again. When you can think, feel, process again, she's giving little kitten licks to your sensitive sex that send shudders up your whole body.

"Okay," you say. Your throat hurts a little—how much noise were you making? You clear it. "Okay. You win." You tap out on the mattress like a boxer. She's wearing a look of supreme satisfaction as she lets you go, her face covered in slick wetness, her makeup a disaster, her hair a messy tangle. She's so beautiful. Your heart does a now-familiar backflip.

She crawls up your body and flops onto her side next to you, curling onto your chest. There's long minutes of just you two breathing, the sound filling the room, a tingling starting in your pussy that you know is the herald of after-sex soreness, her damp fingertips tracing idly on your skin.

You start to smooth out her hair. It'll take a shower and a comb to really fix—maybe you'll suggest it. You trail your fingers down and follow the freckled curve of her shoulder, the roll of flesh on her side along her ribs, the dip of her waist before it opens onto the perfect field of her hips and ass.

Her eyes flick up to yours. They're softer and happier than you've ever seen them; the look on her face is gentle and content. You bring your questing hand up to cup her cheek. She kisses your thumb.

"I'm hungry again," she declares.

A laugh bursts out of you, full of affection. "What?" she says, clearly about to be offended, but before she can go any further, you pull her fully into your arms, wrap around her and squeeze.

You press your face into her neck and inhale, smelling her sweat and skin and sex. "You're perfect for me," you say into that warm curve, muffled against her skin. "You're just perfect." You peck a kiss onto her jaw and lean back to touch her cheek again. "Should we make something? Do you want pasta?"

She grins at you. It's that big, Cheshire smile you saw on her face a few days ago, telling Barbara about how she shot her shot, full of preening satisfaction. She leans in and brushes your nose with hers.

"I knew I picked right," she says, simply, happily. She laces her fingers with yours. "Come on, I got a robe you could wear. You like carbonara?"

She leads you off the rumpled bed. You can see you've left a blurry pink bite mark on one cheek of her perfect ass. She brings you a fuzzy shortie robe ("I like your legs, baby, lemme see 'em") and puts on a silk one herself, and takes your hand again as she opens the bedroom door.

You feel good. You're happy. You realize as she brings you to the kitchen, to the very heart of her home, that you're not alone anymore.

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

Author's Note:

I received the following prompt from an anonymous reader on Tumblr:

"can you write some fluffy smut for Mel x reader where everyone thinks Mel would be in charge in the bedroom because she’s so tough and reader is so shy. but actually reader takes care of Mel."

Back when Season 2 was airing, I saw a few fan posts saying that Lisa Ann had suggested there was a cameraperson on the crew that Melissa thought was cute, which led to the rare scenes where Melissa opens up to the camera. I'm not sure if this is accurate to what she said, but that idea has stuck with me. When I received the above prompt, it went into a blender with that thought, and this is the smoothie that resulted.

I hope I've done justice to this lovely prompt!

#melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti x you #melissa schemmenti #as an FYI: this is my longest fic yet and may be easiest to read on AO3 :)

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disappointing-my-kid · 11 months

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Im sorry I think I heard someone say angel Luigi? Like oddly born with wings? Learns to hid them? Magic? Maybe some sort of creature that latched on to baby Mario’s cries as a child? Shifted to match him but has the wings? Maximum Ride vibes? Hmmmmm. Trigun vibes? Maybe a lil bit of both!

Ok hear me out. But I warn you this isnt my typical post. Im tired and cold so it’s a mess but maybe ill clean it up later. Who knows.

Mario’s family was super freaked out at first but accepted it cause of how much it helped Mario. Like maybe he was sickly as a baby but this odd creature who looks like him is helping. Doctors told him he was gonna die. Now it’s a miracle. So they just raise Luigi too. Well guarded family secret. Maybe thats why Mario is so protective of his brother. Their mother believes Luigi an angel sent to save her lil baby boy. Their father thinks him a demon who will one day eat their little boy. Why else would it be helping if not for it’s next meal he claims. Luigi has no idea why he was sent here. Never a good enough reason for their father. Maybe their mother and Mario are the only two who really accept Luigi, rest of family share the fathers pov.

Idk how to tie this into bowuigi but just let me think of the middle part for now think of the end game!

Bowser finds an injured winged Luigi. Slap that man in a bird cage. Oops thats Luigi’s biggest fear. (Did you papa traumatise you Luigi or was it just me) anyway mans having a horrible time at all the bird puns. Yoikes hes heard those before get creative Bowser smh. Oops did he say that outloud? Well now Bowser is pissed. Someone is lucky their so pretty up in that cage. Oops did he say that outloud? Well now Luigi is blushing. GET THIS MAN SOME SKIPPY CLOTHING AND A GOLDEN CAGE NOW! Well now Luigi is mortified and horrified. Hes just a decoration now. Or a pet! Awww maybe they can give him a little collar. Oh how humiliating. Whats he got left now? Probably no more tears at this point. Hey Bowsers new pet doesn’t look so good. Oops someone stopped eating. Maybe actually be nice idk man you killing Luigi from the inside. Look at those soulless eyes. You did that Bowser you happy?

Cut to Bowser trying to bring some life back to Luigi. Awww hes making sure hes ok. Getting him food. An actual bed? A room? Who said the beast doesn’t have a heart? This is how Luigi remembers the story. Though he doesn’t understand why Bowser had a change. Of course Bowser saw the soulless eyes of someone begging for death and realised he done fucked up. Of course he never thought he would have greenie over this long anyway. Wheres that red pain in his side. It’s been ages? (Oops Mario is injured and thats why Luigi had his wings out. From protecting his brother. Maybe ill put Mario in a coma for sillies)

Anyway ever so slowly Luigi gets some pep back in his step. Though hes clearly more reserved. The kids (yes plural) helped. But Bowser can see the longing in Luigi’s eyes. The way the man just looks to the sky like an old friend. They had just started really getting along too. But if you love something set it free right? So he does. And Luigi doesn’t even hesitate. The moment he is uncollared (yea baby thats last to go lmao) and outside. The moment Bowser tells him to go he just takes off. As fast has those beautiful wings can take him. Can I get an F in the chat for Bowser and his broken heart.

Luigi is frantic to see how his brother is. Consumed with worry almost his whole stay in Bowsers castle. He could feel their link, their bond, and knew his brother needed him. Of course once he reaches Mario and grasps his hand Mario wakes up. Awww brotherly love (and nothing else ya goobers) is a magical sight. Literally Luigi is glowing and has wings. Neat says princess Peach.

Maybe once he is sure his brother is oi he can feel love sick about Bowser. And misses the kids. Now it’s Mario’s turn to see the longing look in Luigi’s eyes. Mario’s turn ti tell Luigi it’s ok to just go. Though he better tell his brother whats going on when he gets back. But maybe since im such a kind god ill make it painful for Luigi to show his wings. Like painful when they sprout. So he just walks to Bowsers castle. Who is probably smad. Lmao hes sad and mad. Though word filtered in of Mario being in a coma and he figured thats why Luigi needed to go. Anyway hes probably relieved to see Luigi back. So relieved he can feel mad about not even getting a goodbye. Oopsies. But they will make it. Im sure of it.

Ok I know this post is a mess but man I had to get this idea out of my head. I wanna draw it. And I just might.

#luigi #prompt post #winged au #Bowser #bowuigi #mario #angst #idk how to tag this one

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tyanis · 6 months

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Out of Context Quotes FanFic Game!

Rules:

Post funny/weird out of context quotes and/or thoughts from your fic(s) with the only context given is what character the quote is from.

Post as many or as few as you want. But maybe keep it under 50.

Tag other fic writers. You don't need to be tagged to join, however.

Optional: Add a link at the bottom to the fic(s) the qoutes and thoughts came from.

Sound good? Ok, I'll start.

Quotes under the cut. And all these are from a currently incomplete Resident Evil 2 Remake fic.

"Don't know. But I walked through there earlier and now I feel a little offended that a mythical beast was mooning me." - Leon

"Thanks, I dressed myself." - Claire

...what do I say? I was sure you were dead? I hated being here without you? Did it hurt when you fell from the fence? - Leon

"Yes, yes... if my tiny woman muscles give out over something that's less than ten pounds, I'll let ya know." - Claire

Good job, brain. Proud of you. - Claire

"Yeah but... with beer?!" - Leon

I mean, the only way I can top all that awkwardness is by blowing up. - Claire

"Ah, prom night... I can already tell this is gonna be bad." - Leon

"Look, how about this. You believe in me enough for both of us and maybe I'll succeed and not horribly maim you. Deal?" - Claire

"Now take that owl over there. Unlike you, he actually had a brain. Removed it myself..." - Irons

"Yes sweety. He blew up the car." - Claire

"Well, I'm starting to suspect I'm not gonna have a future here in Raccoon City considering everything is on fire and the populace is eating itself..." - Leon

"I was scooting around screaming like a chimp with his dick stuck in a mousetrap." - Claire

"Hey! You like my heels?! 'Cause I sure as fuck do!" - Ada

"Hey, here's a little secret, Leon. I'm kinda stupid." - Claire

A vending machine... A fucking vending machine! - Leon

"I have eyes and a memory that spans more than ten minutes." - Claire

"It made acid." - Sherry

"Ahh... just enough room, I'll probably only bump my head a few times. But that's ok, I got a pretty thick skull. Had to sacrifice a lot of brain space for that, but nobody's noticed so far." - Claire

Hey legs? I know we almost died again but maybe start working?! - Claire

"You want me to throw some toothbrushes at it?" - Leon

"Oh no, not dust! The horror! How will we ever survive?" - Claire

"You fell out the same window twice." - Leon

Whoa, hey there buddy! Where's that hand goin'?! I know you're excited to get that shotgun, but goddamn. - Claire

"I don't take orders from you. I will land on that pavement like a man!" - Leon

No, don't stop yet! I spent most of "nice comfort time" all pissed off. - Claire

"This thing is jiggling and I don't know what that means!" - Claire

"I'm not supposed to hit people with flashlights!" - Sherry

"Speaking of balls to the face... I got beaned in the head with a baseball once." - Leon

"My ass hurts." - Claire

---

And done! Sure were a lot from Claire lol. But yeah, all of these quotes came from this incomplete Cleon fic. Now, to tag people...

Let's go with @brokenangelwings22 @leonisdumbasallhell @nspired1fanfiction but anyone can join!

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theokapuco · 11 months

Text

Maze Runner Aus that have been locked in my brain for year's and have now finally found a way out

Tmr expect the Ivy Trio [Thomas, Newt, and Minho] are corrupted / the corrupted versions of them

WCKD is still a thing in this World except they never had a Maze plan in place, instead, they took to experimenting on the subjects to get the results they want.

Thomas was a subject that showed great promise, he seemed to have the flare but his blood would constantly be getting rid of it. WCKD decided to test his limits and see if there was a certain amount of the flare his blood can take. This resulting in him becoming half crank with his blood constantly fighting the flare but the flare always grows back.

Newt is a Crank subject, he is given potential cures to the flare very often which made him conscious of his mind compared to the other cranks, but he still acts like a crank just with self-awareness now. When he attacks people he doesn't do it mindlessly he does it with purpose and knows what he's doing.

Minho was another subject who showed promise with his blood being able to cure people for a short amount of time, expect his blood didn't contain the flare like Thomas's did so he went through a different experiment. Basically the same as the movie where they put him through realistic scenarios of his worse nightmares expect he ends up losing his mind and is unable to tell what is real and what is fake.

God Au

This story does not have a plot line yet, just characters

Thomas is the God of Heros and is considered one of the nicest Gods so if you want to communicate with a God, most people recommend going to him

Newt is considered a Pathway, which basically means he's a way to get to the Gods, him and Thomas have been married for thousands of year's, he is moral but keeps his morality with a necklace Thomas gave him that connects him and Thomas together. Basically, Newt relies on Thomas's life source to keep him alive. If the necklace is taken off nothing happens, he just goes back to being moral.

Minho is a moral in this Au, he does not have a role in this Au right now but he is the main focus of this Au, with Newt and Thomas being side characters at the beginning before being main characters later on.

The Graveyard Shift [Newtmas Au]

A simple sweet Au that was inspired by "The Nightmare Before Christmas" & "I have read the complete works of Montague Summers as well as Vampires: Burial, and Death and would just like to say the Penny Dreadful's are horribly inaccurate" by Singtome & "Amalgamation" by Tattered_Dreams

Thomas is a part of the Zombie population and quite literally lives in a graveyard, he is a part-time worker at a gas station that runs 24 hours, with him taking up the Graveyard shifts. Something features about Thomas is that he can not feel pain but that does not mean he isn't hurting, he's hand could be on fire and he wouldn't know until someone pointed it out. He is also able to rip off his hand, but only his left hand specifically since that was cut off before he became a Zombie.

Newt is basically Mothman and likes bothering the shit out of Thomas during his shifts. He has bright red eyes and large moth wings, at the beginning Newt would try to scare Thomas by popping out of nowhere, hanging upside down by the ceiling but Thomas has gotten used to it and doesn't even bat a eye.

There was a time when Thomas did scare the shit out of Newt when he got stabbed by a Robber but didn't notice until Newt pointed it out and all he said was "Oh,,,how did that get there? 🤨☝️"

Basically; Strangers to Friends to Lovers

Extra --> A small concept writing of this story expect Thomas works at a coffee shop instead with Brenda

October weaves through September, summer sun green leaves turning into fall orange and reds. Pumpkin spice hangs in the air, breeze passes through the town, and the sun covers up. Thomas yells a “see ya” before leaving his home, closing the chain link fence behind him and sprinting through the dead weeds and cracked brick path. He rounds the corner, using the lamp post as leverage to make a sharp turn. Busting open the doors of a dingy old looking coffee shop made of dark oak wood and filled with books, webs, and mold.

The Flower Shop Down the Street [Newtmas]

Another short and sweet Au expect with superpowers

Thomas and Newt are around 26-30 years old, they are married and run a flower shop together, their flower shop is considered one of the most popular for the fact that Thomas has water base powers that allow him to water the plants more easily, with him being able to pick up water.

Newt on the other hand is a Planter but more on the weaker side of being a Planeter where he can't fully grow a plant but he can aid them in the growing process.

Extra--> I did write a short story about this but will only show some since I do not like the writing of it, I was like 14 when I wrote this LOL

Thomas places the watering can down the floor, next to a row of multicolored roses. And like magic, the water in the can float up, Thomas having his hands out. The water parted into four balls of water, all for different kinds of roses. He puts them into place above the plant stand, spreads his fingers out and let the water drop onto the roses like small rain droplets. Minho claps his hands in slow motion "ah, impressive" Minho says sarcastically. Thomas rolled his eyes " yeah I know, am the best " Thomas replies. He continues watering the plants the same way he did with the roses. Minho watching, the thing is, Minho wasn't born with powers and he always had an interest in them. When he was a kid he would pretend to have super speed and run across the field making 'zooming' sounds. He was kinda jealous of Thomas and Newt but he got over it and accepted the fact he was powerless.

This is it for now but in the future I probably will draw fan art of some of these Aus or built more onto them

#Me full on just vomiting all the Aus of the Maze Runner into this post 💀#The maze runner #The maze runner aus #thomas the maze runner #newt the maze runner #minho the maze runner #Tmr #The maze runner thomas #the maze runner newt #The maze runner minho #newt tmr #thomas tmr #minho tmr #Theseus Talks

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teabights · 2 years

Text

Nothing Else Matters

Summary: Chrissy Cunningham and you have been best friends since you were born. Your mothers were best friends since kindergarten. As the years go on, you and chrissy become different, but you guys don't let high school tell you who you can and cannot be friends with. When you realize that you are one of the ones who would paused Fast Times at 53 minutes and 5 seconds, you seek advice in your best friend Eddie Munson (which you are also the bassist of his band). You two deal with your new found orientation with the help of Robin and Steve.

Pairing: Chrissy Cunningham x alternative!Reader

Warning: drinking, homophobia (they get called slurs), smoking marijuana

Word Count: 14K+

You stand at Chrissy's locker, waiting for her to arrive at school, of course, all the meatheads don't understand why she would be friends with a freak. Honestly, you don't know how your friendship lasted this long with her. Your mothers are best friends, that's why. They have been best friends since kindergarten and got pregnant at the same time. Chrissy and your birthdays are so close to each other. You guys just shared every birthday together until you guys turned 14, that is when the shift of aesthetics happened. Chrissy got on the junior varsity cheer team. You got serious about your bass guitar and singing. You two manage to balance the societal pressures of high school.

"Hey! I am so sorry. Mom was going off about how they have this big case coming up, and trapped me in the car for a ten minute talk." Chrissy says.

"It's fine. Mom slipped me forty bucks for dinner tonight and tomorrow as she's going to be going on a quick work trip to Indianapolis for two days. She had to drop me off early so she wouldn't hit the horrible traffic." You tell her.

"Ugh, I wish my mom would do that. Of course the rest of the team would want me to buy blow from Eddie with that money." Chrissy says with a small eye roll.

"You don’t…" You start to ask.

"God no. It's disgusting." Chrissy says with a small eye roll.

"Hey Y/N!" Eddie calls out as he makes his way to you.

"Did you study for our quiz today?" You ask him.

"Uh, I came to talk about band rehearsal and you wanna talk about math?" He asks. "Oh, hey Chrissy."

"Hi Eddie." Her cheeks darken slightly as she goes to open her locker.

"Listen Gareth can only practice for like an hour, something about his grandma going to a nursing home and they have to help, so I was thinking that we could just cancel and…" He informs you.

"You can't cancel again. We have that gig coming up." You roll your eyes. "We can get high afterwards like we always do."

"Can I come? Cheer is always over by the time you guys get done. And besides, y/n has the house alone tonight and can order us pizza." Chrissy asks as she closes her locker.

"Listen, Cunningham…" Eddie starts.

"Munson, be nice. You know I would pick Chrissy over you any day and your band needs a bassist and some sex appeal." You snap at him.

"Yes ma'am. I won't cancel… see you at 4?" Eddie says.

"4." You simply say.

Eddie walks away. You look over at your friend who was smiling too much for your own liking.

"You fucking like him, don't you?" You ask.

"Well, he's nice to me because of you. He's always been such a gentleman. He gives me deals when I am the one who has to buy from him. He's very charismatic." She lists on.

"And you blushed when he said hi to you." You point out, realizing that sounded a bit more jealous than you intended.

"So what if I like the freak?" Chrissy asks.

"Nothing… just surprising. And hey, I am glad you don't coke like your other friends." You say.

"Yeah, they've tried to peer pressure me into it and it's hard to turn down, but I do. For you, ya know." Chrissy informs.

"For me? Why me?" You ask.

"Because we pinky promised in seventh grade to never do coke. That is sacred, you know that." She giggles a little bit. She links her arm with yours and starts to walk to class with you.

"That is sacred, you are right." You agree.

"Hey, why don't you invite someone you like over, that way it's not awkward with Eddie, you, and me there." She suggests.

"Uh, I don't know." You shrug your shoulders. "You two are my best friends, that's good enough for me."

"What about Steve? Come on, you said his hair was bitchin' when you met him for the first time at one of his parties last year." She suggests again.

"Uh, I said I liked his hair, not that I wanted to sleep with him." You answer.

"Come on, just go to Family Video and ask him. You never knoooow." She sings out the 'o' sound.

"Ugh, you're annoying." You say.

"I know, but you love it." Chrissy smiles at you.

The day trickles on, slowly, but surely. You had an arrangement with Eddie and Chrissy. Chrissy is your lunch buddy Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. Eddie has you Tuesdays and Thursdays. It is Wednesday, so Chrissy's day. You join her for lunch with all her cheer friends. They talk about the boys they find cute and who they are going to hook up with at Jason Carver’s party on Saturday. Chrissy says Jason, to fit in of course. No one bothers to ask you, simply because you already told them you weren't going, even when Chrissy begged you.

"Chris, I have to go tell Eddie something." You get up from your spot.

"Okay, hurry back or I will eat all your oreos." She threatens, which earns an eye roll from you.

You walk over to Eddie’s table. Eddie looks at you confused.

"It's not Tuesday or Thursday." He says.

"Yeah, I know, loser. I am sitting with Chrissy. Anyways, I have to run to Family Video after school. To erm… rent a video for tonight. Do you have any suggestions?" You ask.

"Well, do you really need to rent a video or do you want to see Steve 'the hair' Harrington?" He asks.

"His hair is stupid, why would I?" You start.

"Chrissy told me in science, while we were looking at petri dishes, that you were inviting Steve tonight to smoke with us." Eddie says.

"Fine, I am going to see Steve and ask him to hang out." You say.

"Henderson here," Eddie points to Dustin. "Worships the guy, so he knows if Steve is good or not. I don't need you coming to me to have me sing a break up ballad that you wrote in a month if shit doesn't work with Steve."

"Steve is very cool. He'll like you." Henderson speaks up.

"Thanks Dustin." You mumble as you walk back to your spot.

You sit down next to Chrissy, noticing something is wrong with your area. You look at her as she is licking the cream off the last oreo. She left you nothing but the oreo cookies themselves.

"Cunningham!" You say as you look at your pile of chocolate cookies.

"Oh, come on, you always scrape it off anyways. I was just helping." She giggles as she puts the two cookies down into the pile.

"Yeah, but that usually isn't contaminated with your spit." You say, pushing them back into the bag in which they were stolen from. "Jerk." Your tone was slightly hurt.

"Ah, come on. I'll bring you more when I come over." Chrissy says.

"Nope." You shake your head after you pop the 'p' in a dramatic sense.

"I proooomise." Chrissy says with a slight giggle.

"Chrissy, y/n, stop acting like fags." Missy, bottom left girl on the pyramid, says.

You feel your skin crawl at the use of that word. "We aren't fags, Missy. We've been best friends since the day I was born." You say back.

"Whatever, you guys are acting like fags…" Missy speaks.

"Rich coming from the bottom left of the cheer pyramid. Bottom, ya know, a fag term." You snap at her.

"Y/N! Be nice!" Chrissy says.

"Whatever Chrissy. She's the one calling us fags." You say as you get up, grabbing your lunch things.

You leave the table. You throw your trash. You feel your eyes water up. Why are you crying? You hurry pass Eddie’s table of misfit boys.

"Y/N?" Eddie asks. He notices the upset look on your face. "Y/N?!" He calls out as you make your way out of the cafeteria.

You head straight for one of the practice rooms down the hall. Eddie has followed you.

"Y/N." Eddie speaks as you open the door to a practice room.

"What?!" You ask, tears streaming down your face.

Eddie just takes your wrist and drags you into the room and closes the door behind him. Knowing that the rooms are sound proof, he figures it's a great place to talk. He sits down on the floor, pulling you down with him, having you land in his lap. His fingers wipe your tears off your face. The cold metal of his rings sting your face.

"What's going on?" Eddie asks.

"Missy Dickins called Chrissy and I fags because we were play arguing over oreos. I don't know why, but it just broke me and my heart. Chrissy then defended her, like Missy has been her best friend since Missy was born, like what is that." You say as tears stream down your face.

"She did? Chrissy would choose you over anything." Eddie says.

"Well, I guess… this is it. High school is finally separating us." You say, a crocodile tear ran down your face.

"Hey, come on, don't be ridiculous. You two have a bond that I've never seen before. You two are peas in a pod. Totally different peas. Like… you are a black eyed pea and she's a sweet pea." Eddie tries to help encourage you.

"Yeah, see like that… we are completely different. Like she likes Billy Joel and I worship Joan Jett. She wears dresses and short skirts and I wear stupid jeans everyday." You could spend all day listing the difference between Chrissy and you. "Like, she likes boys and I like her…." Your eyes grow wide as you move a hand to pinch the nose of your bridge. Fuck.

"Whoa… what? You like her?" Eddie asks.

"What? No. I meant that I like g-" You start.

"Of course you like girls. You have told me way too many details about Joan Jett and Cherie Currie." Eddie says with a smile. "And honestly, you've turned me down way too many times, that's when I put the pieces together that we weren’t batting for the same team. Listen, I don't view you as any less and frankly, I don't give a shit who you love. As long as I don't have to sing a shitty break up ballad about someone, I am fine with whatever gets you off."

You feel a small weight lift off your shoulders. Eddie was truly the best man you've ever met.

"Now, if you still invite Steve over tonight, I will help you sell it. When you go to Family Video, ask Robin about Fast Times 53 minutes and 5 seconds. She'll know what you mean." Eddie says.

"Can we blow off next period?" You ask.

"If you think we can sneak out to my van before the bell rings." Eddie states.

"It's on Munson." You say as you stand up.

Eddie scrambles to his feet. You open the door and rush out, he is behind you. A teacher scolds you two for running, so now you two are in a fast walk laughing race, all the way to Eddie's van. He opens the sliding door and you climb in, he's quick to follow and close the door.

"Well?" He asks.

"Do you think in some universe Chrissy might like me back?" You ask him.

"Maybe, she always seems to be talking about you." He shrugs his shoulders.

"We've been inseparable since my birth Eddie, of course she does." You say.

"Tonight, I will watch her body language and her and see how she acts around you fully." Eddie says.

"Thanks Eddie." You respond so genuinely. "So Gareth's grandma is going to a nursing home?"

Eddie fills you in about the insane story about their drummer's grandma, which takes up almost a length of a period. Eddie checking' his watch every 10 minutes. You were able to clean up the black smudges on your face from your mascara at that time. You two end up back inside the school during the passing period. You walk past Chrissy like she was no one to you, which only makes your heart hurt.

"Y/N!" Chrissy says as she follows after you. "Hey, I am sorry about Missy."

That almost makes you stop dead in your tracks, but you keep going. "You know, Cunningham, in that 18 years I've had the pleasure of knowing you, you have never chosen to defend someone over me."

"Come on, you were being a complete bitch." Chrissy says, which then makes you stop in your tracks.

"Excuse me?... Missy started being a bitch first. She's the one who called us a slur, over us play-fighting about oreos." You snap back.

"What has been your problem lately? It's like you've been hanging out with the freak more, that you're turning into one." Chrissy says.

You stare at her, seeing the instant regret on her face.

"Wait Y/N, I-" She starts.

"You know what? We promised each other freshman year, that no matter what happened or who we hung out with that we were always going to be best friends by the end of the day." You are undoing the stupid friendship bracelet she made you as a seventh grader. "But clearly… that was a lie. You aren't my best friend anymore. Give this to Missy, yeah?" You toss the bracelet at her, which she catches. "You're also uninvited from tonight. Good luck trying TO GET IN EDDIE MUNSON'S PANTS NOW." You, of course, take advantage of the small crowd that was watching this show.

"Fuck you Y/L/N." Chrissy says as she walks off.

"YOU WISH." You say before you could even stop yourself.

Well, now, she is never going to want to date you. The fact you wanted to date her is what was fueling this rage towards her. You walk into the classroom, sitting down, hearing a few mummers as you make it to your seat.

Time flies by to bring the school day to an end and you end up at Eddie’s van, waiting for him to escape whatever hell class he has.

"Y/N?" Eddie asks.

You keep rubbing your wrist, missing the feeling of the stupid stringy best friend bracelet. "Yeah?"

"What's up?" Eddie questions.

"Can you take me to Family Video?" You ask.

"Yeah…" he simply answers.

You two climb into his van. He turns the engine over and starts to drive to the video rental store.

"So, I heard about the show that happened in the hallway earlier." Eddie says. "You know, belittling the girl and telling her good luck of trying to get into my pants is not the way of getting her into your own."

"I didn't belittle Chrissy." You respond. "She called me a freak. She never used that word towards me in a derogatory form before. She knew that I hate that everyone calls you that, so when she did, I just lost it."

"Yeah, but now, you aren't speaking to Chrissy at all. How are you going to make her fall in love with you if you aren't speaking to her?" Eddie asks rhetorically.

"Well, it doesn't matter. I am not going to date anyone until we become big and famous rock stars." You say.

"Come on. The difference between you and Chrissy is cute…" Eddie says, not wanting you to give up on this new found thought of liking Chrissy.

"Eddie, please…" Your sentence ends there and you see him nod in understandment.

He pulls up into the parking lot and cut the engine. You two crawl out of the van and walk towards the store. You recognize Steve’s hair right away, swearing it has only gotten bigger. Eddie walks with you, right up to the counter.

"Hey Harrington, my friend here…" he motions to you. "...is looking for Buckley, is she in?"

"Yeah, she just got here like a minute ago, give her a minute. Can I ask why she needs to see Robin?" Steve asks.

"Uh… y/n tell him." Eddie says.

"I paused Fast Times at 53 minutes and 5 seconds." You say, still not sure why you had to say it like that, since you've never actually seen it.

"Oh, no shit? Robin will love to know there is someone else like her." Steve says.

Robin comes from the back, her eyes going wide when she sees you. "Oh shit, Steve, you know how I was going off about the fight in the hallway. It was her, y/n."

"Well, she just told me about what time she paused Fast Times at." Steve says casually.

"Oh, no shit? You two were breaking up?" Robin asks.

"Uh, no… breaking up in a sense of friendship, but…" You are not ready to admit it out loud.

"She has a huge crush on Chrissy and I need you two to help us find a way to make them friends again so she can tell her." Eddie says.

"Huh, Cunningham?" Robin says.

"They've only been best friends since y/n was born." Eddie’s tone is almost mocking how you usually say it.

"Yeah…" You say. "Uh, you guys can come to my place… and then we can brainstorm I guess. Like at like 5:30?"

"We'll be there." Robin says with a smile.

Steve slides you a pen and paper. You jot down the address and slide both materials back to him. Eddie and you say bye then leave the store. You two get back in the van. Engine gets turned over by Eddie and he takes off. You two arrive at the rehearsal space. You didn't want to do all of what was happening today, but Eddie is still incredibly hard to turn down.

The band practices for the quaint hour they had. You've never seen Eddie get straight down to business, he usually goofs off for the first ten minutes. Eddie drives you home afterwards. He cuts the engine when he gets in the driveway. You sigh as you recognize the car that was sitting there.

"Give me like five minutes." You say as you climb out of the van.

You walk to the door and open it. Sure enough, Mrs. Cunningham and Chrissy were on the couch.

"Hey Y/N. Chrissy told me about your little exchange at school." Mrs. Cunningham says.

"Did Chrissy also tell you that one of her friends called both her and I fags for fighting over oreos?" You ask her.

"It doesn't matter. Chrissy isn't a fag and neither are you. You apologize to her and we'll be on our way. Chrissy has a long day tomorrow. Cheerleading scouts are coming out to watch them practice." Mrs Cunningham says.

"Fine, whatever, Chrissy, I am sorry." You say.

"What kind of half ass apology was that?" Chrissy says.

"Chrissy…" her mother starts.

"No mom, that was so half assed." Chrissy says.

"Chrissy Cunningham, I am truly and honestly sorry for my behavior. I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me." You apologize, only half serious.

"I accept your apology. Here." Chrissy holds out your friendship bracelet.

You smile as you hold out your wrist. She ties it back on your wrist for you. You two squeal and hug it out. She pulls from you though.

"Glad that is settled. Come on Chrissy." Mrs Cunningham says.

"See you aunty. See ya Chrissy." You say.

Chrissy and Mrs Cunningham leave. You sigh out a breath, like you've been holding it in for ten years. Eddie sees the pair of women leaving, waving to Chrissy, who waves back with a smile. He can see her mother scold her. Eddie climbs out of the van with his lunch pail and walks to the front door, being met by you opening the door.

"Ugh, I guess Chrissy and I are on okay terms again. But I am not going to hop right back into being her friend again." You say as you move out of the way to let Eddie in.

"Well, that makes our job easier... now, how to make Chrissy Cunningham fall in love with you..." Eddie says he sits on the couch, plopping the lunch pail on the coffee table.

"I don't know." You say.

"You’re the only person in her life that knows every detail about her." Eddie says.

"Yeah, but that still doesn't matter. I dont think I've ever seen her head over heels in love with a guy." You say.

"Maybe she's never felt genuine love with a guy?" He asks.

"I mean she's been crushing on boys as long as I can remember, but she's never told me that she's in love with someone." You say.

"Huh..." Eddie says.

"Let's wait for Steve and Robin before we get ahead of ourselves." You say.

The couple minutes of a Robin and Steve free house was nice. Soon the pair comes in, blabbing already about the idea that they had. Robin had jotted down her and Steve’s idea. You had to stop them to let them know that you and Chrissy were on speaking terms again.

"Just kiss her when you are over at her house." Robin suggests.

"No." You say.

"Ask her to watch Fast Times and then ask if she paused at any moment." Robin keeps suggesting.

"She's a beast and can sit through any movie, just fine." You say.

"Ask about the po-... Steve, this one is terrible." Robin says.

"That one was your idea..." Steve points out.

"Oh... yeah..." Robin says.

"That one is a no. I don't need to know." You say.

"Okay, what about... bringing her flowers before her practice tomorrow." Robin says. "Steve, that is so sweet."

"That's the one. It's a kind and romantic gesture that cannot be spun as something else." Eddie says, taking a drag off the joint before passing it to Steve.

"Yeah, but is it too romantic?" You ask.

"You literally want to fuck her, who cares if it's too romantic." Steve says.

"He has a point, y/n." Eddie says.

"Maybe small romantic gestures then boom, you hit her with the big one of 'I like you Chrissy!'" Robin suggests.

"That's the one." You say.

Everyone cheers. You four all share the joint. Eddie gets up to order the pizza. You take the time to get to know Robin and Steve a bit better. The night goes well. Robin, Steve, and Eddie left around 10pm.

As the morning rolls around, you get up in the morning. You get yourself ready for the day. You walk outside and see Chrissy waving at you from the passenger side of her mom’s ride.

“Come on Y/N!” Chrissy says with a sweet smile. She is so pretty.

“Alright.” You take a moment to lock the door. You walk to the car. You get in the back seat.

“Your mom asked me to pick you up today. However, you will need to catch a ride home.” Mrs Cunningham says.

“Yes aunty.” You say.

The drive to high school was Chrissy and you screaming all the words to ‘Piano Man.’ Mrs Cunningham pulls up to the curb. Chrissy and you get out of the car. Chrissy and you walk into the school, chatting about the upcoming scouting meeting. Chrissy informs you that was hoping that UCLA was coming.

“Chrissy!” Missy says. “We have to see Coach this morning.”

“Okay. Bye Y/N, love you!” Chrissy says as she parts from you.

“Love you Chrissy.” You say quietly.

You walk to your locker and shuffle around the things you need today. Eddie walks up to you.

“Hey sweetheart.” He says casually.

“Hey baby.” You say with a small eye roll.

“Listen, I have Hellfire tonight, but if you hang out - afterwards, we can smoke.” He says.

“Hey, can I use your van then? I need to get the flowers.” You ask.

“Uh, yes! If you pick up some soda and snacks for us.” Eddie says and he hands the keys to you.

“Thanks sucker.” You say with a grin.

Eddie rolls his eyes and walks off from you. You carry on with your day. Making the long haul to lunch, which you just leave and pick up flowers and the snacks that Eddie asks for. You come back before lunch is over. You walk over to the table. You set down the snacks and his keys.

“There are your snacks.” You say.

“Thank you doll face.” He says.

“Do you think this bouquet is too…” You ask.

“No…” Eddie says quickly.

“Sweet. Now or before?” You say.

“Now or before what?” Dustin asks.

“Nothing Henderson.” You and Eddie say.

“Before.” Eddie says.

“Fine.” You say. “Thanks Eds.”

You move yourself from the table to head over to your locker. You manage to put the flowers in there. You close the locker and see Chrissy there.

“Hey Chrissy.” You say.

“Listen, after cheer practice, do you want to hang out? I want to go get milkshakes.” Chrissy says.

“I am going to hang out with Eddie tonight to smoke… if you wanna come.” You say.

“I can meet up with you afterwards. I know that milkshakes after would be nice.” Chrissy says.

“Do you want me to bring Eddie along?” You ask.

“Oh come on, I just want alone time with you. I feel bad about yesterday.” Chrissy informs you.

“Aren’t you having the most stressful afternoon of your life? And you are worrying about me?” You ask.

“God forbid, I want to make sure my best friend is okay.” Chrissy says with a smile. You melt a little bit.

“8:30?” You ask.

“8:30.” Chrissy says.

“Oh hey…” You open your locker and grab the flowers. You hand them to her. “I got them for you. Uh, as a good luck thing. I am stoked for you!” You flash a little smile.

“Awh, thank you!” Chrissy says.

You two hug and she walks off, smelling the flowers. You watch her, feeling your heart skip a beat. You close your locker. It feels like a successful first move.

The day carries on as you float through your last few classes. You stand at your locker and exchange your books. You take in a deep breath.

“Y/N!!!” Chrissy says as she walks to you. “Wish me luck.”

“Good luck bestie!” You say with a large smile. “I love you Chrissy. You got this. They would be crazy to not choose you.”

“You think so? I am so nervous.” Chrissy says.

“Don’t be. You got this.” You say with a smile on your face.

“Can you come watch?” Chrissy asks.

“Uh, let me check in with Hellfire before… I will be there, I promise.” You answer her.

“Okay. I have to stretch!” Chrissy says as she walks off. “THANK YOU FOR THE FLOWERS!”

“NO PROBLEM!” You say loudly.

You watch her walk away. You feel your stomach do somersaults. You walk towards the Hellfire room. You peek in and see Eddie setting up his DMing set. You smile as you walk in.

“Hey, I am going to… watch Chrissy.” You say. “I’ll be back in time for you to give me a ride.”

“Fine. Go watch your girlfriend.” Eddie says, not taking his eyes off of his set up.

“Thank you Eds, I love you.” You say as you scamper off.

"Uh-huh." Eddie says quietly in response.

You make your way to the football field. You go and sit in the stands. You watch Chrissy do her routine. Chrissy takes a moment to wave at you. You wave back. They keep doing their routines. You don’t find it too interesting, but for Chrissy, you’d sit through a million of these. The routines come to an end. You pick up your bag and walk up to the fence that separates the field from the stands. Chrissy walks over to the fence.

“You did great.” You say with a smile.

“Thank you for watching.” Chrissy says. “Listen, we have to go to the locker room… Did you see the scout from UCLA?”

“Uh, I think so.” You say. “Go… before you get in trouble.”

You watch her walk away. You walk back into the school and head towards the Hellfire room. All you hear is Eddie.

“THAAAAAAT’S A MIIIIISSSSSSS!” Eddie says.

“You’re an idiot.” You say and he glances at you.

“Be nice or you will walk home.” He says.

“Fine, I’ll be quiet here in the corner.” You place yourself on top of an empty desk.

The campaign comes to a good stopping point after another hour. Eddie and the boys clean up. You look over at him.

“How was cheer?” Eddie says as he pulls a face. It was an odd sentence.

“Boring, but you know…” You say.

“Yeah. You ready?” He asks.

“Hey, do you want to get milkshakes at like 8:30?” You ask.

“That is stupid specific?” He says. “That’s like an hour. We can definitely get high in that time. I am good on milkshakes though.”

“Can you take me?” You ask.

“Yes, I will be the vestal to take you to your date.” Eddie says.

“Just until my mom gets back…” You roll your eyes. “Then I can take her car.”

He puts the last thing in his bag and slings it up on his shoulder. “Let’s go.”

“Chrissy… does like you though…” You whisper.

“Well, that might be a road bump then,” He says.

“Yeah, so maybe you could just drop me off?” You ask.

“I like you better when you didn’t have a massive crush on someone who has a massive crush on me. We were a good trio.” He jokes.

You two walk out of the Hellfire room and walk to his van outside. You two get in the van and get in the back. He lights a joint almost instantly. He takes a long hit then hands you the joint. You also take a long hit off it, handing it back. He exhales out some smoke. You exhale after a moment. You two repeat that rotation until the joint is gone. You feel like you’re on cloud nine. He drives you to the diner, pulling up to the front.

“Go get them, tiger.” Eddie says with a chuckle.

“Shush Munson.” You climb out of the van.

You walk in and see Chrissy sitting there, daydreaming. You sit in front of her, smiling at her.

“Hey, so?” You raise an eyebrow.

“No one got offers tonight. Our coach says that they’ll put out offers tomorrow.” Chrissy says. “I got us each a chocolate cookie and cream milkshake.”

“Thanks Chrissy.” You say with a grin.

“Where is Eddie?” She asks.

“Uh, home by now, or almost I would assume.” You say.

“Damn, hoping on getting a big scoop of Munson tonight.” She says with a small wink.

You can’t help the small frown that pulls on your lips. “Uh, yeah, maybe next time. Besides you said you wanted to hang out with just me.”

“I do but, I am all tense from cheer.” She notices the frown and her eyebrow shoots up. “Y/N, are you okay?”

“Yeah, just a lil…” You get distracted by the waiter who puts down the milkshakes. “YOU GOT SMILEY FACES FOR US. UGH, CHRISSY, I LOVE YOU.” You take off the cherry eyes and pop them in your mouth.

“Right, I forgot about why you hung out with Eddie. Is that all you do with him?” She unwraps her straw and puts it in the milkshake, taking a sip.

“No, we rehearse. And smoke. And sometimes we talk about you. And sometimes we talk about Hellfire.” You say after swallowing down the cherries.

“You talk about me?” She says.

“Yeah, about how pretty your smile is and how it lights up a room. And your laugh, that could cure depression because it’s so happy. And your gorgeous eyes…” You ramble off as you open your straw and stick it in the milkshake, taking a sip.

“Eddie says those things?” She looks almost hopeful.

You might be high, but you were not about to admit to her how you feel. “Uh, yeah. I think if you ask him out, he would say yes.”

“Maybe I’ll see if he wants to come to Jason’s party.” She says with hopefulness.

“Uh, no, we have a show at the Hideout.” You say.

“What! You’re letting me go to some dumb party and didn’t tell me about the show! Y/N!” She pouts a little.

“It’s no big deal, just our first Saturday show. I had to flirt with the slimey manager to get us there.” You mumble.

“Your first Saturday show! Y/N, I am going to kill you. I want to go. What time?” She asks.

“Uh, I think like 7:30.” You answer.

“Perfect! I’ll go to the show then the party.” Chrissy says with a smile.

“Perfect!” You say with a fake smile. Not perfect. She’ll be around Eddie. She’ll fall in love with him. They’ll get married. They’ll…

“Y/N? Are you okay? Seriously, what is going on with you lately?” She asks.

Your hand moves to touch your cheeks as soon as you notice tears flowing down your face. “Fuck, I am sorry. This shit is good. I am going to have to ask Eddie for more.” You grab a napkin, but Chrissy already has one and wipes your tears.

She leans back in her spot. “Oh, right, aunty is getting back tomorrow. You’ve been without her for two days. So much freedom.”

“Yeah, that’s it. I miss mom so much.” You say, which was a half lie.

“Let’s finish this up, mom will be here soon to grab us.” Chrissy says.

You two slurp down your milkshakes. Only taking little breaks when you would get brain freeze or you two would get into discussions about what you two would do in California, because let’s face it, you were moving with her, regardless of what happens. You two finish your milkshakes and Chrissy pays for them. You guys walk outside. Chrissy has her arms tuck close to her body, shivering a little bit. You shimmy off your coat and hand it to her. A black leather jacket might not be her style, but your jacket certainly looks cute on her. Her mom pulls up and you two crawl into the car. The car ride was quiet for the most part. It mostly was her mom asking questions about school and cheer. You watch the street lights move fastly past you. You recognize the streets and when Chrissy’s mom pulls up in front of your house. You thank her and get out of the car. You walk to the house and unlock it. Once you are inside, you squeal a little bit. That definitely felt like a date… sort of. You relock the door and walk to the phone. You dial up Eddie’s number.

“What up?” Eddie so carelessly answers the phone.

Your eyes roll. “Eddie! Hey! So, I fucked up a little bit.”

“What did you do?” He asks.

You can hear a faint rustle of a chip bag. “I told Chrissy that if she asks you out, you would say yes.”

“Fuck, how high were you?” He asks.

“Very.” You admit. “I also told her about our Saturday gig, which she is coming to, so I assume that is when she’ll make her move.”

“You got yourself in a pickle, huh?” He questions. “How was milkshakes?”

“Good, chocolate cookie and cream with a stupid face in the whipped cream.” You answer.

“You are a girl after my own heart, Y/L/N.” He responds.

“Listen, bring more of that shit to the gig. It is the only way I am going to deal with Chrissy being there.” You inform him.

“She is your best friend. She wants to be supportive, Y/N, so let her.” He says. Why is he so full of wisdom?

“Goodnight Eds.” You say.

“Goodnight princess.” He says so coyly back and hangs up.

In the morning, you spent about twenty minutes looking for your leather jacket. It was your staple piece. You roll your eyes as you give up. It isn’t even cold, long sleeves will do. As you bounce downstairs with your neatly straightened hair, long sleeve black W.A.S.P shirt, and a pair of jnco shorts you scored at the thrift store, you see your mom walk in the house.

“Mom!” You say excitedly.

“Baby!” She says back.

You two meet in a hug in the middle of the living room, both hanging on to each other for dear life. She looks at you for a moment.

“The car is fueled up if you wanna drive today.” She says, sliding the key into your hand.

“How was Indianapolis?” You ask, holding the key tightly after.

“Good, boring. Clients are idiots.” She answers.

“Always idiots. I love you. I have to leave for school. I left the change from the food on the kitchen counter. I think there should be enough for the diner tonight, if you want to go.” You say as you kiss her cheek after.

“Why do I feel like a teenager?” She asks with a laugh.

“I don't know.” You say with a chuckle. You walk to the front door.

“I love you, sugarbear.” She says with a smile.

“I love you.” You respond.

You manage to get out of the house and into the car within seconds. You fiddle around to find the tape you always leave in here. You groan when you can’t find it. You just turn on the radio and the music fills the car of your tape. Your mom was listening to your music on her way back? She is adorable. You drive off to Chrissy’s house, seeing her mom and her walking out. You turn down the music.

“CHRISSY!” You say from the driver side, after rolling down the passenger window.

“Go.” Her mom says.

“Y/N!” She squeals as she runs to the car. She gets in the car.

You look at her for a minute. “You punk! That is my jacket!”

“Yeah? It goes with my ensemble today. I feel like Sandy.” She says.

“Yeah? Whatever… Don’t be mad when Gareth approaches you and asks you to name three songs by Slayer.” You say starting the drive to school.

“Hell Awaits, right? It came out this year. Black Magic and shoot, what is that one?.... Oh, Haunting the Chapel.” Chrissy says with a big smile.

“CHRIS! I would be so hard right now if I had a penis.” You say with a chuckle.

“You have played all those. I am good with remembering song names.” She defends herself.

“I can’t wait to brag to the whole school.” You say.

“I wanna surprise Eddie.” She says.

Of course she did. “Duh!” You comment.

You pull into the parking lot, next to your favorite idiot’s van.

“I am going to have lunch with Eddie today. I didn’t get a chance to yesterday because I got those flowers for you…” You trail off.

“Yeah, that’s fine.” Chrissy says.

You two exit the car after you cut the engine. You see Eddie getting out of his van.

“Hey Y/N!” He says. “Oh hey Chrissy. Wearing the big girl jacket today?”

“Hey! I know songs by people on this jacket!” Chrissy says with a slight flirty tone.

“Name a couple.” He eggs her on.

“Hell Awaits, Black Magic, and Haunting the Chapel.” She says.

“Well damn, Y/N, you did good with this one.” He says with a smirk on his face.

“It’s been my hardest project.” You joke.

“Stop being so mean.” Chrissy says to Eddie with a smile on her face.

“Cunningham, you are wearing a black leather jacket over your little cheer uniform, you’re not exactly edgy now.” He says.

“Eddie, be nice.” You say.

“Fine. Hey, practice today at 4pm. We have to before our show tomorrow.” Eddie says.

“Got it.” You say. “Come on Chrissy, you have to see if you got any offers.”

“See ya Edd.” She sings as you two walk off.

You two get inside of the school and head straight towards the locker room. All you two see is a bunch of senior cheerleaders standing around a paper that is hung up on the coach’s door. A couple of them are crying.

“I am nervous. Go check for me.” Chrissy asks.

“Gotcha Chris.” You say.

You push yourself towards the front. Cunningham, Chrissy - University of California - Los Angeles, University of Southern California, University of Texas, Indiana University. You try to hold in your excitement as you make your way back to her.

“So, University of Texas and Indiana University made offers.” You see her face fall. “However, USC AND UCLA MADE OFFERS! CHRISSY YOU DID IT!” You pull her into a big hug. She holds on to you for dear life. You spin her a little bit. All her dreams are coming true. You want to kiss her so bad right now.

“I can’t believe it. UCLA?!” She squeals as she jumps up and down.

“You got this. You start now, you can get those grades up and we can work on a kick ass college application paper. You can definitely do this Chrissy!” You say excited for your best friend.

“I can’t wait!” She says. She couldn’t look happier. You two are still holding each other. “Thank you for believing in me. I am going to need you at every home game while I cheer for UCLA! You are my good luck charm.”

“I will be there. Every home game.” You move a hand to stick out your pinky.

“Deal.” Her pinky wraps around yours.

You two giggle while leaving the locker room. Chrissy and you walk to her first period. You stand there a moment, glancing at her, eyes trailing from her eyes to her lips but would snap back to look at her eyes. She is also looking at you.

“The bell is about to ring, you should probably head to class.” She says.

“Uh, shit, yeah… I am gonna go to class.” You walk off from her before she could even say anything.

Once you get near your class, you dip into the bathroom. You walk into a stall and take a deep breath. You all of a sudden felt very overwhelmed. She is going to UCLA. You, though, were going to try to get the band a record deal. You two's dreams were different, way different at this point. Would your feelings even matter when she was going to leave eventually? You let out an audible sob.

“Hey, girly, do you need a tampon or something?” A familiar voice questions.

You open the door and see Robin. You wipe your face after feeling a tear go down your face. “No, no, I am good. It’s not that time of month, it's everything else.” You say to her.

“Is it…” Robin is about to start, but she takes a minute and sees that you two are alone. “Chrissy?”

“Yes, it always is. She got a scouting offer from University of California - Los Angeles. She has her life planned and I was thinking about it and I am like do I even fit in her picture?” You admit.

“Holy shit, that’s cool. That’s great for her.” Robin says. “But, listen, I am sure she sees her best friend in her life forever. She loves you and will accept you no matter what.”

“Yeah, but Rob…” You say.

“You need to do more romantic gestures, so she knows.” Robin nods her head. “Can I hang out tonight, we can discuss more?”

“Come to The Hangout tomorrow at 7:30. Eddie and I have band practice and my mom and I are going to the diner for dinner tonight.” You answer her.

“Yeah, of course!” She says just as the bell rings.

“Oh no, we better get to class.” Your eyes roll.

“Oh no, what a shame.” Robin says.

You two made no effort to leave the bathroom. You cave first though and Robin is quick to follow you out. You two go to your separate classes.

The day slowly drags on, a normal feeling for a Friday. You go over to Eddie and the Lost Boys, sitting yourself in a spot closest to the dungeon master.

“I swear Gareth, the pat-” Eddie starts but is distracted by you sitting down next to him. He is even more distracted by the fact you put a ham and cheese sandwich with lots of mayo (like he likes) down in front of him. “Why did you make me a sandwich?”

“I felt like being nice when I woke up this morning.” You say, knowing all he has in his lunchbox is cocaine, weed, and a couple of those small bags of chips and a half eaten pack of m&ms. “Plus, you have to last the entire practice. We don’t have time for mid-practice pizza.”

“I love mid-practice pizza.” Gareth says.

You glance at the drummer. “Yeah, then we can suck and never get a Saturday night gig ever again.” The male band members groan as you are being the usual band mom to them.

You glance at Eddie, who was in the middle of taking a bite, “I can’t stay for pizza breaks and smoking after. My mom and I are going to the diner afterwards.”

“So what? Like 8?” Eddie asks as he has his mouth full.

“For being such a gentleman, you should know better not to talk with your mouth full, but probably close to 7:30.” You say.

He sticks his tongue at you, showing him the chewed up food. You roll your eyes. You just go quiet, listening to conversations happen around you as you eat your lunch. You put an oreo in your mouth. You feel Eddie’s eyes burn a hole in your skin. You hand him an oreo, which makes him squeaks almost, taking the cooking from you. You had two left. You get up from your spot. You finish eating the oreo you were working on.

“Oh please, Y/N just left her jacket at my house, so I decided to wear it. Why is it a big deal?” You hear Chrissy ask her friends.

“Because she’s a fa-” Missy starts, growing quiet as she sees you walk up.

“Hey Chrissy. I had these leftover.” You put the oreos down in front of her. “Uh congrats again on UCLA.”

“Thank you Y/N.” Chrissy says as she takes the bag.

You just glare at Missy and start to walk away until you hear the words leave Missy’s lips. “She’s a fag, obviously.” You turn yourself back around and walk over to the table. You get down in front of Missy’s face.

“I swear Dickins call me a fag one more time, I’ll make sure that you can’t cheer for the rest of your boring ass life. Don’t project onto me just because you only got a recruitment offer from Indiana University.” You say, with a big smile on your face.

“Oh please. I am not scared of you, freak.” Missy says.

You lean up from in front of her. “Then swing at me… Swing. Hit me.” You see her shocked face. “Yeah, THAT’S WHAT I THOUGHT, DICKINS!” Your tone is condescending. Everyone's eyes were on you. “YOU BETTER BE SCARED OF ME.”

“Y/N, please stop.” Chrissy's voice is a whisper.

“ARE YOU PROJECTING ONTO ME? MAYBE YOU HAVE THE HOTS FOR CUNNINGHAM, HMMM DICKINS?” You absolutely are lost with rage.

“EVERYONE KNOWS FREAKS ARE ALSO FAGS THAT’S WHY YOU AND MUNSON HAVEN’T DATED YET.” Missy snaps back with.

“THEN WHY DID HE TELL ME THAT HE FUCKED YOUR MOM? HUH? IN YOUR BED TOO.” You say, eyes moving over to Eddie, who was trying to not laugh and totally ready to play along.

“HE DID NOT -” Missy starts.

“DICKINS AND Y/L/N, MY OFFICE NOW!” The principal steps in.

You see Chrissy let out a heavy sigh. You and Missy both walk with the principal to his office. You both sit in the chairs that face his desk.

“Listen, this is the second time someone has said something Missy calling you a fag. God, I don't even like that word. Missy, that is slur, therefore it is bullying. I can suspend you for bullying and you don’t want that on your record. Indiana University can take back their offer based on this alone.” He says. “Now, Y/N, for God’s sake, we do not accuse other students of sleeping with other student’s mothers, regardless if it is Munson or not. We don’t appreciate the theatrics that you and him cause in our cafeteria. We also do not threaten each other, regardless if it is self defense or not. That can also get you suspended or worse, expulsion. I know you cannot afford that. You two are seniors. You need to be setting an example of more than just the teenage drama at school.” There is a lull in his words for a moment. “I want you two to apologize to each other or I will call your parents and let them know what you two have been up to during your school hours.”

You let out a small sigh. You turn to face Missy. “Missy, listen, I am sorry for all I said. I just got carried away.”

“You’re forgiven. I am sorry for calling you a fag and a freak.” Missy says.

“You are forgiven.” You say.

“You two are dismissed. Enjoy your lunches… from opposite ends of the cafeteria, please.” The principal says.

“Yes sir.” You both say.

You walk out of this office with Missy. Chrissy and Eddie are both waiting for you. Chrissy walks up to you two, obviously panicked. You see Eddie hanging back, you wish he didn’t.

“Well?” Chrissy asks.

“We had to apologize to each other. That’s it.” Missy says.

“And?” Chrissy eggs on.

“That’s it Chris.” You say. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” You walk to Eddie.

“An apology?” Eddie asks.

“Easiest lie I’ve ever told.” You whisper.

He smirks. “Did he call your mom?”

“No, thankfully. I should be good for the show.” You say.

“Sick.” Eddie says.

You two walk back into the cafeteria. You collect your lunch items. You throw your trash and sit yourself back in your spot.

“You’re not in trouble right?” Gareth asks.

“No Gar.” You mumble.

The bell rings and you go off to your locker. You exchange your books and head off to your after lunch class. The rest of the day drags from there. At the final bell ring, you get up and leave as quickly as possible. You drive yourself home. You see your mom on the porch, tending to the flowers in her flower pots. You cut the engine and go over to your mother.

“Hey honey, how was school?” She asks as she checks the soil moisture with her finger.

“It was okay.” You answer. “Uh, in like thirty minutes, can you take me to our practice space? We’re gonna practice until like 7:30, then you and I can get dinner.”

“Sounds great sweetie.” She says, holding out her hand.

You slide your keys into her hand. “Chrissy got a recruitment offer from UCLA.” You inform her.

“What! That is great for Chrissy! I always knew she could do it.” She says.

“Yeah! I am stoked for her. She was so nervous yesterday.” You say.

“Well, maybe we will ask them to join us, to celebrate.” Your mom says. “I am sure Laura would love that.”

“We can also celebrate my band’s first Saturday show.” You ask more than say.

“Yes, of course! You kids are growing up.” She says.

“Cool.” You simply say.

You head inside and sit on the couch. Your homework fills your lap and you keep your attention on it as you hear the front door open and your mother comes in.

“So Monday, I will be in Indianapolis for the whole week.” Your mom says.

“Uh, why?” You ask.

“My client is insistent that I watch over every little thing that goes on.” She answers.

“But, they know you have a child right?” You respond.

“Yes darling, they do, but… It’s a good paying project and I want to be able to get your graduation present that you have been dreaming of.” She hints.

“A BLACK 1980 SQUIER PRECISION BASS?” You ask so excitedly, throwing your books off your lap as you stand up.

“That’s the one.” She says.

“Oh my God! You can be gone for the whole month. I don’t care!” You say happily, pulling her into a tight hug. “I can’t wait to rub it in Eddie’s dumb little face.”

“Speaking of, has he asked you out at all?” She is being nosey and you know it. She releases you from the hug.

“Yeah, but I turned him down. He is a great confidant.” You say with a shrug.

“Okay, I was worried I was going to have a chat with Wayne about you two.” She says with a chuckle.

“Nah, nothing.” You sit back down, collecting your homework.

“Let me know when you finish and I’ll take you over early.” She says, sitting down on the other end of the couch with a book.

“You got it.” You say.

About twenty minutes later, you had all but one assignment done. It is stupid and you did not comprehend it at all. You put all your stuff back in your bag and hop up.

“Alright, let’s go melt some faces off.” You say.

“Better bring some aloe then.” Your mom says as she bookmarks her page and puts down her book.

You look at your mother, enjoying her trying to be ‘metal’ with you, but in her own mom caring way. You two head outside. You both climb in the car. She turns the engine over and drives to where your band practices. She asks questions about the gig on Saturday and if you were okay with her not going. You tried to protest, but secretly happy that she didn’t want to go. She drops you off at the practice space. You get out of the car, but Eddie takes a moment to talk to your mother.

“Y/N!” Eddie says happily. “Thank you Mrs Y/L/N for dropping her off. How was Indianapolis?”

“You know Edward, full of idiots.” Your mom responds. “Let me know if you and your uncle need anything, okay?”

“Yes ma’am. I’ll ask him tonight and I’ll let you know tomorrow.” Eddie smiles at her. “The world is full of idiots.”

“Yeah, you have…” Your mom takes a moment to count your band members. Your mom was the best. “Including you, 4 idiots right here.”

“Damn, ouch Mrs Y/L/N. You even included Y/N in that, harsh.” Eddie shakes his head.

“Can you stop trying to fuck my mother so we can practice?” You ask.

“Y/N, don’t try to cockblock me.” Eddie says loudly.

“Sorry Edward, you are way too young for my type.” She says.

“Ouch again Mrs Y/L/N. Until we meet again.” Eddie walks away from the car.

Your mom drives off and you roll your eyes at his theatrics. The band gets started on practice pretty much right away, which again surprises you that Eddie could focus long enough to start practice and not waste time with endless talking. You keep yourself in a perfect rhythm. You know you guys need to get into a recording studio to make a song. You guys finish rehearsing at 7:30 like you want and your mom pulls up at 7:30 on the spot.

“We are totally ready.” Eddie says.

“I am excited.” You say. “Well, see ya dorks later. I am going to get some grub.”

You walk over to the car. You get in the passenger seat. You look at your mom who just greets you with a “Hi sweetie.”

“So, uh, we were going to stay at The Hideout until like midnight tomorrow. Is that okay?” You ask.

“Of course, as long as you get home safe or stay at someone’s house. Just leave a message on the answering machine if you do that.” Your mom says.

“Thanks mom.” You say.

You fill your mom on everything that happened at school while she was gone, choosing to leave out the Chrissy and Missy stuff. You also tell her about your new friends, Robin and Steve. Your mom goes off about how snotty Mrs. Harrington is, so she is surprised to find out that Steve is so sweet and caring. Your mom parks in the parking lot and cuts the engine.

“I am not missing anything, am I?” You mom vaguely asks.

“Hm?” You hum in response.

“Being away so much this month, I feel like I am missing out on your life.” She answers.

“Mom, you’ve raised me, pretty much by yourself. I am 18 now. I know to go to school and come home and do my homework without being told. I can cook myself dinner. You’ve raised an incredibly independent daughter. You’re not missing out on my life. You paved the way so I can have a good life. You’re working extra hard for no reason but to get me my dream bass, which I am surprised that you could even remember. You’re so supportive with the band. You treat my friends so kindly. You’re a great mother and I love you.” You comment. You move a hand to wipe a tear that was starting to well up in your eye.

“I love you too, kiddo.” Your mom says as she leans over the middle console to hug you. You hug her back with much need.

“Besides, I know Chrissy and Eddie are my best friends, but you are truly my best friend, mom.” You say. Do you tell your mother right here and now? The timing seems right. “Mom…?”

“Yes baby?” She asks.

“I’m ga-....” You start.

“I know. Moms always know. I still love you. You are still my world, baby girl.” She kisses your forehead, your eyes watering up. “Besides when you said you turned down Eddie… I knew right then and there. He’s a handsome charming guy.”

You laugh and wipe your face again. “You know, Wayne is just like him.”

“For the last time, I am not going to date Wayne Munson.” She says.

“Mom, come on. He’s single. You’re single…” You start.

“If you say one more word the rest of the night about this, I will ground you and you will not be able to do your show tomorrow.” She says.

“Yes ma’am.” You grumble out.

You two get out of the car. Your mom throws her arm around you as you two walk to the front doors of the diner. She holds the door open for you and you two walk in. You two get your usual table. You mull over the menu as you feel your mom’s eyes on you.

“So is there anyone…” She starts.

“Uh, if you must know, yes… but she’s not on my team.” You say back, quietly, as not to out yourself to the entire restaurant.

“Oh shit. Really? Do I know her?” She asks.

Your brain almost short circuits at that moment. She can’t have her blabbing to her best friend that you have a crush on Chrissy, especially since she said that you two aren’t fags. “Uh, no, I don’t think so.”

“Alright… “ She grows quiet.

“It’s complicated. Eddie found out Wednesday and it was weird to speak out loud. I feel like I have been holding it in.” You say, knowing Hawkins is not the place for the couple of queers that it did house.

There are a few more moments of mulling over the menu before the waitress comes over and you two order what you usually order. Your eyes gaze around the familiar diner.

“Did Chrissy and her mom not want to celebrate?” You ask.

“They are going to celebrate Sunday during brunch.” She says. “She asked if we would come and I said yes.”

“Okay, cool. It’s wild that Chrissy got UCLA. I get to move out there with her, probably with the boys. She wants me to go to every home game to be her good luck charm.” Your heart swells at the thought of watching her. “I know California is far from Indiana, but we can make it work.”

“What about you though dear? Like if the band stuff doesn’t work out.” She asks, obviously a little concerned.

“Well, I plan on applying to UCLA or maybe USC, work some stupid student job, make the boys work as well. We’ll practice music on the weekend and save enough money to record a song to start applying for record deals. Eddie already has a little saved towards that.” You inform her.

Her lips curl into a smile. “I am glad you have it all planned out. What if my daughter becomes a rockstar and tours? What about Chrissy then?”

“She can sell merchandise.” You say.

“That’s your dream, not hers. What if she wants to cheer for the Los Angeles Raiders and can’t join you on tour?” Your mom asks.

“Mom, I think we can survive that if we can survive high school.” You reply.

“Okay sweetie.” She says.

You two talk about how your mom’s work is going. Her clients definitely were idiots like she said. The food gets set down after talking for another ten minutes. Your mom and you quietly eat, not much conversation going on. After you two eat, your mom pays the bill. You two pile back into the car. She drives you two home.

“So, do you really think Wayne is handsome and charming?” She asks.

“Uh, yeah!” You say sort of excitedly.

“Okay, shush. I am sure he and I will run into each other because of you kids.” She comments.

You just smirk, can’t wait to tell Eddie about it when you two get home. The rest of the car ride is full of your music mix. Your mom only slightly mentions that she likes Motley Crue. You two arrive home. You immediately get out, leaving your mom in the dust. You unlock the door and head straight to the phone, dialing Eddie’s number.

“Wayne speaking.” Wayne’s voice fills your ears.

“Hey Wayne, is Eds there?” You ask. You see your mom walk in and make herself comfy on the couch.

“He should be, give me a moment.” Wayne speaks softly. You can hear him call for Eddie.

“What’s up sugar tits?” Eddie says.

“Hey baby.” You say with a chuckle. “Did uh, Wayne need anything? Remember like my mom asked.”

“Uh shit…” Eddie says. You hear a faint ‘Wayne, Mrs Y/L/N wanted to know if we needed anything.’ You don't hear a reply back. “He said, and I quote, no we are good, but if she needs some company tomorrow night while you kids are playing, I have a certificate to that new pizza place that I got from work.”

You just squeal. “My mom and your uncle need to hook up.”

“That’s what I have been telling him.” Eddie says with a chuckle.

“Then we can be cousins.” You speak.

“Uh, pass…” You can hear Eddie’s grin.

“Oh! I also meant to brag at practice, but my mother is saving her money from this project next week to get me a graduation present.” You sing.

“And what is it?” Eddie asks.

“1980 black squier precision bass!” You say.

“No fucking way. That’s fucking awesome.” Eddie says.

“That’s what I am saying.” You comment.

“She’s so fucking cool.” Eddie comments.

“Right! She also said she’s been liking Motley Crue a lot lately.” You grin as you see your mother shoot you a look.

“Your knowledge of badass music spreads to the best people.” Eddie hums out.

“I told my mom…” You say not wanting to utter those words.

“That you’re?” He asks.

“Yeah. She supports.” You comment.

“Did you tell her about Chrissy?” He questions.

“No, I can’t… not until something happens.” You say.

“Fair enough.” He comments.

“Hey, I gotta go. My mom and I are gonna watch a movie.” You inform him.

“Alright, good night babycakes.” Eddie chuckles.

“Goodnight lover boy.” You hang up the phone after that. You walk to the couch and sit down next to your mom.

“Are you sure you’re not… what is that word…?” She asks.

“No mom, totally 100%...” You answer her.

“Do you always call Eddie little pet names?” She questions you.

“Only because the big doof says them first. It’s his thing.” You comment.

“Fair enough.” She says.

You get up to put in a movie for real and sit back down next to your mom, Star Trek two. Your mom was a trekky in a Wars world. You two sit there and watch the movie. You end up falling asleep, leaning up against her. Your mom pulls the blanket you had around yourself closer to your body. Her hand smoothes up and down your spine. This reminds her of when you were little and never could stay up during a movie. You never did get to finish Snoopy, Come Home when you were 4. You had Peanuts everything growing up, so your mom was so excited to rent the movie, but after ten minutes you were out like a light.

After the movie ends your mom lightly shakes you awake.

“Hmm?” You mumble out, not bothering moving or opening your eyes.

“Baby, go to bed.” She says.

Your eyes open and you whine slightly. “Okay, okay.”

You get up off the couch and walk to your room, moving at the pace of a mummy. It doesn’t take long from the moment you hit your bed to fall asleep. You wake up in the morning, groaning from being in the same clothes you had on yesterday. You end up taking a shower and getting half ready for the day. You can smell the smell of bacon float through the air. You end up in the threshold of the kitchen, your mom was cooking, giggling into the phone.

“Yes, she was out like a light. Reminds me of when Chrissy and her used to do that all the time when they were babies.” She chuckles. She is definitely talking to Mrs. Cunningham. “Yeah, Y/N mentioned moving out there with Chrissy, I swear they must be secretly attached at the hip and we don’t see it.” There was a lull. “Yeah! Alright. I have to finish breakfast. I love you.” She hangs up after a moment. She turns on her heels to hang up the phone and jumps in her spot, chuckling. She moves to hang up the phone.

“Good morning baby.” She greets you.

“Good morning mom.” You say.

“Bacon is almost done. I have a stack of pancakes in the microwave to stay warm. My timing is never right when I cook.” She says.

“Thank you.” You say simply as you walk to grab a plate from the cabinet.

You fix yourself a plate of food and gather all the fixings for it. You sit at the table and start to eat. You groan happily, your mom’s breakfasts were always the best. She always cook the best. It could be the nastiest food known to man, but if your mom cooked it, there was a big chance that you would eat and enjoy all of it. You see her sit down with her plate. She fixes her food up like how she likes and she eats happily.

“How was aunty this morning?” You ask between bites.

“Well, you know the Cunninghams? They had breakfast with Phillip’s parents this morning to tell them the news. They were excited for her.” She informs you.

“Oh cool.” You say.

“Is Chrissy going?” She asks.

“Yeah, she really wants to see Eddie.” You say, seeing the look on your mother’s face. “Nope, let’s pretend that I didn’t say that… Don’t tell Aunty Laura. She’ll kill Chrissy for not going after Jason. You know how she cares about how her family looks.”

“I won’t tell Laura.” She assures you. “I am just surprised… they’re so different, that’s all.”

“Well, it’s my fault. I forced them to get along to the point where Chrissy started to fall for Eddie.” You point out.

“True, but still Chrissy Cunningham and Eddie Munson… they would be cute.” Your mom says.

We’d be cute too, you think. “Yeah definitely.” You just agree. You push around your last few bites.

You two eat the rest of breakfast in silence. You aren’t sure how you were going to pass the time today until tonight. Your mom excuses herself after a few minutes, saying she is going to get a head start on her upcoming project. You watch her walk to the spare room you guys use as an office space for her. You take the time to clean up the kitchen for her and do the dishes.

As the time slowly trickles over to 5:30, you feel relieved. You were ready to go. You had to be at the venue at 6:30 to set up. You convince your mom to grab a pizza on the way to Eddie’s. You two arrive and you walk to the door knocking on it.

“Hey Y/N, Y/M/N.” Wayne greets as he steps out of the way and lets you two in.

“We brought pizza!” You say with a smile. “Eddie and I have to eat and head over.”

“Y/N insisted we get here early to have pizza.” Y/M/N says.

“That’s fine with me. I was just debating on what to cook. So, I’ll take it.” Wayne says.

You barge into Eddie’s room. He was adjusting himself in his jeans.

“Jesus Y/N, you can’t just barge in.” He says with a small eye roll.

“Oh please, you are only half naked. I have seen you shirtless so many times.” You say with a small smirk. “Plus, you know I have no interest in you.”

“Your mom is here, she can’t see me indecent!” He says as he pulls on a cut-off shirt that was slightly cropped.

“Babes, she doesn’t care.” You say. “Do you need eyeliner?”

“No, not tonight.” He shakes his head. He loads up his pants with all his accessories and the things he keeps in his pocket.

You stand there a moment, hearing your mom and Wayne chatting and laughing. “You hear that?” You whisper.

He pulls on his shoes. “Yeah. Looks like we are doing it.” He whispers back.

You two walk from the bedroom to where Wayne and your mom is at. You grab a slice of pizza from the box. You eat and sit down on the couch. Eddie grabs a piece of pizza and joins you.

“Hey, Mrs. Y/L/N. How was your day?” Eddie asks.

“Oh, you know, waiting around for Y/N to go off to this gig.” Y/M/N says.

“Oh yeah, same with Wayne. You guys just want to get rid of us.” Eddie comments.

“Soon, after graduation we can be Los Angeles bound and get a record deal and become rock stars!” You say to him.

Eddie and you eat your slices as you two listen to Wayne and Y/M/N chat. Eddie eats two more slices and you eat one more. You guys then excuse yourselves as it was time to go. You two go outside and get in the van. Eddie turns the engine over and drive to the practice space to pick up equipment.

“Do you think Wayne likes my mom?” You ask.

“I have never seen him laugh so much, so maybe.” Eddie answers you.

“So, what do you think about Los Angeles?” You ask him in a serious tone.

“I know you want to go because of Chrissy. Y/N, we’ll need to record a song.” He says.

“And we will, but we need to make connections and then we can record a song… one of our own songs. Then we can be big musicians and still come to Hawkins for Christmas.” You say.

“And I can get Wayne a house.” Eddie mutters.

“Yeah, you can.” You say. “My mom could design the interior for him. She went off today about how her clients wanted cerulean and then proceeded to pick out lapiz.”

“Aren’t those both blue?” He asks.

“Awh, who paid attention during art class?!” You say with a smirk.

“You are so mean.” He chuckled. “I was painting one of my D&D figurines and the container so happened to be lapiz.”

Eddie pulls up and parks the van. You two both get out and help Gareth and Jeff load up the van with the equipment.

“Be careful, idiot.” Gareth says as Eddie almost drops the cymbals. “Those are only ones I have.”

“Jesus Gareth, calm down.” Eddie says with a smirk.

Gareth rolls his eyes and you bite down on your tongue. You take a small breath through your nose. You didn’t feel like being band mom at the moment. You guys get everything loaded. Jeff and Gareth get in the back. Eddie and you get in the front. Eddie gets you guys to the venue, rather quickly. You guys were quick to unload the equipment. Gareth takes it upon himself to get his own cymbals. You guys get all set up and did a small sound check. You were starting to feel nervous. You look over at Eddie. He just smiles at you. You guys had about fifteen minutes until you go on. You peek out your head from the stage area. No Chrissy.

“She isn’t here…” You say.

“She’s not?” Eddie asks as he moves to peek his head out, scanning the faces.

“No…” You feel a bit dejected.

“Come on, she has Carver’s party tonight too. It probably just skipped her mind.” Eddie says.

“But…” Your eyes are watering up. “I went to her stupid cheer thing and she knew this is so fucking important to me.”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay.” Eddie looks panicked almost. He wipes the tear that does escape your tear duct. “Maybe she’s running late.”

“Maybe she hates me.” You whisper.

“Y/N?” Robin asks.

You sniffle and look at Robin, throwing on a smile. “Hey Rob! Thanks for coming!”

“What’s with the water works huh?” She asks.

“Chrissy isn’t here.” You say.

“I could have sworn I came in behind her.” Robin states. “Well, she’s dumb for missing her best friend’s important event. I am going to grab Steve, he got caught up chatting with a dumb girl.” Robin leaves the backstage area.

“See, Robin said she might have seen her.” Eddie says.

About five minutes until you guys go on, Eddie looks again and nods his head. “There is a real cute blonde in the front, Y/N.”

“SHE CAME?” You say almost way too excited. You peek out and see Chrissy standing there, still wearing your jacket. She looks so cute. “Fuck, she’s so cute.”

“You really like her huh?” Eddie asks.

“So much.” You say.

“You need to tell her.” Eddie says.

“Yeah, I can’t…” You start.

“Take over the vocals for ‘Nothing Else Matters.’” Eddie says.

“Wh-what?” You question him.

“Come on, just do it.” He says. “Jeff and Gareth, Y/N is doing ‘Nothing Else Matters’ tonight.”

“Yes boss.” Jeff says.

“In fact, we are playing that first.” Eddie says with a smirk.

“Munson…” You start.

“Nope, no ifs, ands, or buts.” Eddie informs you.

You guys get called to the stage. You move to grab your bass, slinging it on. You make eye contact with Chrissy for a moment and smile. Her smile is beaming back at you. Eddie starts the notes for ‘Nothing Else Matters’. Soon the rest of you join and you start singing into your microphone. Chrissy’s eyes go wide as you focus on her. The song then ends and you guys transition into your first usual starter song. You proceed to have fun for the rest of the set, the fact you serenaded Chrissy lives in the back of your mind. Eddie thanks for giving you guys a listen and you all walk off stage. The curtain closes. You guys start to reload your equipment. You and Eddie then join the regular crowd, only getting a few people telling you guys that you did good. Jeff and Gareth move outside to smoke. Robin and Steve join you guys at a table.

“That was so good. Y/N, I could feel your love in the song!” Robin says.

“Yeah, it was good.” Steve says.

“Y/N!” Chrissy says as she squeals a little, pulling you into a hug.

“Hey Chris!” You say, hugging her back.

“You didn’t tell me that you did vocals!” She says with a smile.

“Uh, Eddie surprised me tonight. Let me do our first song.” You say with a smile.

“You guys were so good. I thought you were great.” Chrissy plops herself to sit on your left thigh.

You snake an arm around her. “Don’t you have Carver’s party?” You could feel everyone’s eyes on you two.

“Well, it’s only 8 and his dumb little party doesn’t start until 8:30.” Chrissy says. “Abigail, you know, brunette, mid left of the pyramid? Anyways, she’s grabbing me, so I am pregaming a little bit.”

“Good ol fake ID?” Robin asks.

“The bartender thought I was cute. Gave it to me for free.” Chrissy giggles.

“How many have you gotten for free?” You ask.

“Just two. Feel my face.” Chrissy moves to grab your hand and put it on her cheek. “So warm huh?”

“Very.” You say.

“Eddie, your vocals are amazing. You definitely have a voice for music.” Chrissy says as she moves her attention from you.

“Yeah, thanks Cunningham.” He says. “Congrats on UCLA, Y/N won’t shut up about it.”

“You told them?!” Chrissy asks you.

“Yeah, I was excited for you.” You answer her.

“Well, thank you Eddie.” Chrissy says. “Hey, I am going to see if I can score another free drink. I’ll be right back.” She moves off your lap to get the drink.

“Oh my God.” You whisper as she walks away.

“Her skirt is so short.” Robin says.

“Yeah, she’s not leaving much to the imagination.” Steve says.

You take a deep breath. “She literally sat on my lap. I could feel her ass on my pants.”

“She has to like you, there is no way.” Eddie says.

“Maybe… She …” You start, but Chrissy rejoins the table and your arm moves around her waist again.

“What did I miss?” She asks.

“We were talking about your outfit! Y/N and I love it.” Robin says.

“Thanks Robin… right? We have math together?” Chrissy asks.

“Yeah, math.” Robin says. “No problem.”

Chrissy slurps down her drink, letting you take a sip. Your face flushes as you look up at her as you sip. You are unsure how much time has passed. Your head is spinning.

“Hey, it’s 8:30.” Steve says.

“Oh shit, walk me out?” Chrissy asks you.

“Ye-yeah.” You barely say.

You two both get up and you take her hand. You two walk to the front. You two walk outside. She immediately looks for Abigail’s car. She doesn’t see it.

“Abigail is always a few minutes late.” She says.

“Well, I hope you have fun.” You say.

“I would if you were going.” She half begs.

“Yeah right.” You mutter.

“I love hanging out with you, regardless of who we are around.” She comments.

“Yeah, I love hanging out with you, but being around Missy…” You trail off.

“Yeah, I know… We are seeing each other for brunch tomorrow. I can brag about how good you were tonight.” She closes any gap between you two.

You squeeze her hand and she squeezes yours. “Chrissy?” You start but there is a horn beep.

“What?” She asks.

“Nothing… go, Abigail is here.” You reply.

“Tell me first.” She insists.

“Uh, nothing, I just like you.” You say.

“Yeah, you better like me. We are best friends.” She says.

“No… I like-like you.” You sigh a little dejected, feeling juvenile.

“Oh…” She responds with. “Uh…” She starts to walk off. “I’ll call you when I am home from Carver’s party.”

“Okay… I’ll be at Harrington’s.” You say as you watch her get in the car.

You feel tears fill your eyes. You walk over to where the van was, sliding it open and sitting down. The tears start to flow down your face. You are there for probably ten minutes and on a verge of a panic attack.

“Hey, she’s here!” Steve says after opening the door to find you. “Hey kiddo.” He moves to sit in the van, pulling you into his lap. His hand running up and down your back in a soothing manner, his other hand wiping your tears. “What are 5 things you can see?” Eddie and Robin join you two at the open door.

“I… the equipment, the stupid rug Eddie put in here, you, Robin, and Eddie.” You still have tears running down your face.

“What are 4 things you can feel?” Steve asks, still wiping your tears.

“The cold air, your hand, my jeans, and your shirt.” You answer him.

Robin watches him awe.

“3 things you can hear?” He continues to ask.

“Eddie kicking rocks, my own heart beat and the faint music of the headliner.” You say. You are feeling a lot calmer than earlier.

“How you feeling?” Eddie couldn’t help but ask.

Steve puts up a finger. “What about 2 things you smell?”

“Cigarettes and weed.” You answer.

“1 thing you can taste.” Steve finally asks.

“Uh, the alcohol from whatever fruit drink Chris had.” You say.

“Now, how are you feeling?” Steve asks.

“Better…” You say.

“You’re a fucking wizard, Steve.” Robin comments.

“You told Chrissy?” Eddie asks.

“Yeah, she said ‘Oh…uh… I’ll call you when I am home.’ I am such an idiot.” You mumble.

“Oh come on, give her time to think.” Robin says.

“Yeah, thinking time. That’s all she needs.” Steve piggybacks off of Robin.

“What a good idea Steve, how did you come up with it?” Robin says.

“Well, I know what people need…” Steve starts.

“Shut up Steve…” Eddie says. “I am sure she does.”

You just nod your head. You and Steve climb out of the band. Eddie pulls you into a huge bear hug. You like the pressure he was providing, so no complaints. You four head back inside. Robin is able to score beers for the whole table. You guys drink a little bit. Sooner or later, Eddie takes Jeff and Gareth home, meanwhile he takes you and him to Steve’s since you were waiting for your phone call there. Steve and Robin are already there. You do take a moment to call your mom and left a voicemail to let her know you are at Steve’s. Steve finds more beer in the back of his fridge, collecting them for you four. You guys drink a beer. Steve’s phone finally rings after two hours. Steve picks up the phone.

“Harrington residence.” Steve answers the phone. “Yeah, she’s here. Hold on.” He hands the phone to you, mouthing ‘Chrissy’.

“Hey Chrissy.” You say quietly.

Eddie takes Steve and Robin’s hands and leads them to the back door, to give you privacy.

“Hey Y/N.” Chrissy sounds surprisingly sober.

“What’s up?” You want to act like tonight didn’t happen.

“You’re a fucking idiot.” She says.

“What?” You snap back.

“I literally couldn’t have been closer to you tonight. I sat on your lap for fuck sakes.” She says.

“But you have a crush on Eddie.” You say.

“No, I don’t. I’ve never had… well maybe a small one, but Y/N…” Chrissy says. “I love you. I will always love you. I just want to love you for the rest of my life.”

“Wait… I am sorry. You like-like me back?” You ask for clarification.

“What are we middle schoolers?” She says with a laugh. “Yes, you fucking idiot.”

“Chrissy…” You say with a smile. “I want to love you for the rest of my life too.”

“I wish I was there.” She says.

“Uh, no you don’t. Harrington’s house is so quiet, it’s creepy.” You say with a laugh.

“Yes, I do. Creepy or not. I want to kiss you… And I am not going to be able to kiss you until…” Chrissy says.

“Monday… Eddie can pick us both up.” You say.

“No… I am not kissing you Munson’s van.” She says. “Especially not for our first time.”

“What? No fun… Our spot in the woods?” You ask.

“Where Eddie also deals? Only if he doesn’t have one going on.” She says.

“Okay. I love you… girlfriend. I’ll see you tomorrow at brunch. Wear a cute dress.” You say, twirling the cord around your finger.

“I love you, girlfriend. Wear that cute red plaid skirt. I love it on you.” She says.

“Deal.” You say.

“Deal.” She says back.

You stand there for a minute before you hear the phone get hung up. You hang up the phone and squeal. You walk to the back door and open it, interrupting the whole conversation happening.

“Well?” Eddie asks.

“She’s my girlfriend. We are going to kiss at your dealspot, so no deals on Monday.” You say.

“You got it! Congrats!” He stands up and pulls you into a hug.

“YAAAY!” Robin says excitedly, joining the hug.

“Congrats!” Steve also joins the hug.

Fast forward to Monday, the final bell rings and you book it out of class and to the spot. You sit on the bench, feeling your leg bounce. It was so hard to not kiss her at all yesterday. You two held hands under the table though.

“Y/N!” Chrissy says as she walks over to you.

“Chrissy, hey!” You feel your heart swell up at the sight of her.

You stand up and slide a hand onto her face. You are about to lean forward, but she beats you to it. You are quick to reciprocate her kiss. Her arms are moving to go around your neck. You could cry. You finally get to kiss her. She parts from the kiss.

“I wanna tell my mom.” She says.

“Tell her. I don’t give a shit. You are perfect and if she kicks you out, you know my mom will take you in.” You move your arms to go around her waist.

“I love you.” She states.

“I love you.” You respond.

There is another quick kiss shared before you two part. Her and you walking out from the woods and to Eddie’s van - he offered a ride home at lunch.

#chrissy cunningham x reader #chrissy x reader #chrissy cunningham #grace van dien #Chrissy Cunningham x alternative!reader #stranger things fanfiction #chrissy stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things #chrissy Cunningham fanfic #chrissy cunningham fanfiction #wlw

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lycheesuwa · 9 months

Text

Part 5: Embers

Listen to: Daylight (Taylor Swift: LOVER album)

Osamu x Reader x Suna [Fluff/ Angst] (fluff, mentions to suggestive themes)

Summary: You take a vacation down to Hyogo for the new year (2789 words)

This story is heavy Suna in the beginning (Osamu does not appear until chapter 3)

Ft. Watanabe siblings, Kita Shinsuke

link to part 4 | link to part 6

(2784 words)

AN: This is probably my favorite chapter in this mini series~ Hope you are enjoying it so far!

Natsuki invites you to one more game to watch her brother and Suna play. She recognizes him now, since some nights Suna will say he just needs a house downtown to escape from his one night stands so they don't think there's more if he wakes up at their bed in the morning. And being his friend-with (less)- benefits, you let him stay on the couch or in your bed. You sleep together a few more times, but your mood is ruined quickly if you think about the other girl too much, which happens often. Even being friends with benefits doesn't get you close enough to the enigma of Suna Rintarou anymore.

“Why do you put yourself through this?” Natsuki asks at the end of an EJP Raijin and Azuma Pharmacy game.

You pause. There's not a good answer. She already knows you like Suna. You confessed everything to her, so she knows he was your first everything— first crush, first kiss, first time, first love. But saying it so explicitly—

“I'm asking why you're letting yourself hurt over this. You should be with someone who can love you back, (Y/n). Suna-san isn't emotionally available to anyone.” Natsuki looks at her watch and then pulls you towards the hallway to find her brother.

You're not actively trying to let Suna break your heart every time he stays over. He never stays later than 8:00am or for breakfast, even if he doesn't have practice, and you didn’t even sleep together. But he does keep coming back sometimes— you aren't a stranger or one night stand. And imagine if things go horribly wrong with that other girl? You'd be right there to hold Suna and pick him up and then surely he'd fall for you. These little lies you tell yourself have been building for the past year and a half.

Maybe getting to know Suna has made him even more of an enigma than before.

Natsuki invites you to her family house in Hyōgo for winter vacation. She's excited to show you everything about where she grew up and where her parents live. The drive is long but you take turns and she finally pulls up into the driveway.

The beginning of the holidays are warm and cozy in the Watanabe family home. Tenji and his friend (who’s wiry and tan like he works in the sun) frequently hang around too, even though Kita lives in Hyōgo, himself.

“We're gonna hit up ’Samu’s restaurant tonight,” Tenji says near the end of your vacation. The new year is only a couple of days away. “Ya wanna join?”

“Sure!” Natsuki chirps back, brightly, her eyes landing on Kita behind her brother.

“Where are we going?” You ask as Natsuki pulls you from the couch where you were in the middle of a movie.

“Onigiri Miya,” Tenji says, taking the keys for the car to drive you all downtown.

You remember Osamu from that party, and how kind he was to explain the situation with Suna. Even though he did give you a bit of a false sense of hope… He was still kind. Not to mention you were supposed to go visit him when you could. Now is as good a chance as any.

Onigiri Miya is absolutely packed at 8:00pm on a Friday night. There's barely anywhere you can see to sit, but there he is— Miya Osamu, pushing through the dining room to gesture at a table half hidden behind a screen and in a more secluded section.

“Here, I saved ya a table,” he greets you all. “Ah, nice ta see ya, Shinsuke-san.”

“You as well,” Kita says.

“And (Y/n), yer here too!” Osamu moves on to greet you with a surprisingly friendly and warm hug. “What brings ya ta Hyōgo?”

“I'm here with Natsuki,” you say. You should have worn something cute instead of an oversized peach-colored sweater and jeans. Something cute? You want to look cute for… Miya Osamu? Who's literally standing in front of you in a black t-shirt that deliciously hugs his arms and pecs— yeah. You're going again tomorrow night and you're going to look cute.

“If I'd known ya were comin' I woulda prepped somethin’ fer ya guys,” he winks at you, and then pulls out a chair for you to sit in while Kita helps Natsuki into hers and Tenji watches the spectacle unfold.

For the first twenty minutes you guys snack on onigiri and edamame, until Osamu declares it's slowed down enough that he can hang out to sit and drink with everyone.

The food is delicious. There's usually an overwhelmingly greasy aspect of restaurant food that's absent in this dinner. Every dish feels homemade, as if your father cooked it for you. You've never had better donburi or nigiri, and it's hard to believe but amazing to know that the man sitting next to you and leaning over to put more takoyaki on your plate made it all.

“Thanks fer helpin’ meh this mornin’ with tha’ rice,” Osamu says to Kita. “Ya saved meh some time. I had this huge order ‘f onigiri from Akagi fer tha’ volleyball team since they're about ta go ta nationals.”

“Aww, does that remind ya of yer own highschool days?” Natsuki has tears in her eyes, and wipes at her face with her fingers. She's three cans of beer in, and her words are slurring as she leans on Kita’s sturdy shoulder.

“Reminds me of when ya made onigiri for tha’ team my final year with yer friend,” Tenji says to Osamu. “How's she doing?”

“She's good,” Osamu shrugs. “Haven't seen her in a while, since ma brother n’ Sunarin’re always on her when they're around.”

Tenji chuckles. “I had the hardest time figurin’ out who she was datin’, ‘coz tha two of ‘em wouldn't leave her alone. Yer brother always tellin me she was ’is girlfriend, but durin’r after practice she’d be with Sunarin.”

Your throat feels dry and you toss back the rest of your beer and take another bite of Sukiyaki. You've figured out this is the girl that you have to fight for Suna’s attention for, and you're not sure if you like hearing about how close he was to her in high school.

“Botha them needa stop hoeing around if they wanna chance,” Tenji also throws back his head and tips a shot of sake down. “Coz she ain't gonna see either of them ‘f they keep it up.”

“Don't think she knows how much Suna sleeps around,” Osamu says. “Sunarin would die before he let her know he's a horn dog.”

“She probably knows,” Tenji shrugs. “She was always sharp. Made me question why she was never tha manager fer ya guys.”

“She's inta writing,” Osamu says. “She was assistant editor fer the journal at school in our third year.”

Tenji nods thoughtfully, “and she's single?”

“Course. Ya know that ’Tsumu and Sunarin won't let another guy near her if they can help it.”

“They’re so oppressive,” Kita sighs.

“Hey, why ya gossiping like old grandmas when ya got two beauties right ‘ere?!” Natsuki smacks her hand on the table. “(Y/n) and I are single too!”

Tenji looks at the beer cans in front of his sister and sighs. “Natsuki, lower yer voice, we're indoors.”

You don't miss the look the two shoot at Kita too while Natsuki grumbles about how everyone else in the restaurant is being equally as loud. Is it possible that Kita likes your friend?

For the rest of the evening you watch how Kita is polite to Natsuki, although it seems like nothing out of the ordinary. He offers to drink the rest of her beer can, and she hands it to him sullenly through her drunken stupor. The clock ticks on and Osamu goes to get some mochi for dessert and by the time you're all ready to leave, the restaurant is closed and it's long past midnight. You stayed there for almost four hours.

“I gotta clean up a bit, but hopefully I'll see ya guys around?” Osamu looks at you and then Natsuki who's draped over Kita’s side.

“Maybe not her,” you muse.

“C’mon, I’ll take ya home,” Tenji says.

“Thanks for dinner, it was super delicious,” you wave goodbye to Osamu.

“Hope I get ta see ya before ya leave,” he says. “Stop by anytime.”

You stop by for your last two nights. At 7:00 before the night rush you sit at the raised bar counter, away from the other guests. The location keeps you in sight of Osamu too, so you can watch the way his arms bulge, and the way his back ripples under his tight shirt. And Osamu keeps the food coming to you— edamame, onigiri, takoyaki, gyoza— until by the end of both nights you're convinced you've gained an extra 10 kilos.

Osamu pulls up a chair as the rest of the guests file out, and takes the apron off of his waist. He places the cloth on the bar counter and then leans an arm across the smooth mahogany wood to look at you. “How're things goin’ with Sunarin?”

You see him once every other week or so, but only because you live in a convenient location. The last time you guys actually fucked was probably back in October. But Osamu’s steel eyes are trained on your face, watching your brow furrow, his own glinting at you, teasing. “He's… a bit distant,” you admit.

“Ah, sorry ta hear,” he says. “So uh, what’re ya doin in Hyōgo?”

“Visiting Natsuki and her family… and now you, I suppose. She's out with Kita, at the moment.”

“Yanno, I don't think the captain ever talked ta her in high school, but he likes her fer sure,” he says.

“He left tomatoes on her front porch today, and she picked some wildflowers for him,” you say back. “She likes him a lot.”

“I saw tha flowers on his dash this mornin’ when he came ta drop off tha edamame,” Osamu chuckles. “D'ya think they'll get married soon?”

You think for a moment. You've never met a single one of Natsuki’s… anyone. It’s not that she doesn't like boys, but she's only had a total of two crushes and dated one guy. And even though you won't say it, you know it's because she sees her older brother as a perfect guy, and it's hard to compete with that as an example. So unless Kita is absolutely perfect, she won't get serious with him. “I'm not sure,” you say. “There's a chance they do.”

Through talking to Osamu, you learn that maybe Kita is perfect for Natsuki. He's meticulous with life, searching for the perfect way to complete his day. Osamu says he's fallen into a routine that he's satisfied with, although he could probably use a bit of help around the house since his grandmother is quite old now.

“I think Natsuki likes him a lot,” you agree. “She'd be perfect as a housewife— she'd be able to continue gardening.”

“Yeh? Well, it helps that Tenji already knows and likes Shinsuke,” Osamu adds. “Coz ‘f he didn't, yanno that Shinsuke’d have no chance.”

You giggle and shake your head. Ironic of Tenji and Kita to call Atsumu and Suna oppressive for that girl when they have their own thing with Natsuki. At least Natsuki doesn't have to choose between the two.

“Hey, I'm glad ya made it out ‘ere, (Y/n),” Osamu says. “Yer real nice.”

You tilt your head to look at him. “You've been feeding me for free the past week, so it's really the least I can do.”

“Are ya gonna pray tomorrow?” he asks. “Fer new years?”

You're not particularly religious which you relay to Osamu.

“Ah, I'm not either, but I like ta go fer this at least. Even though it's only once a year, gotta try all tha’ luck I can, and I like ta think it's helped out with tha’ business.” There's a hint of pink on his cheeks. He opened up to you in a small way, so you nod.

“I haven't been to a shrine in a long time,” you admit. “Can I go with you?”

“Yeh, ‘course,” he says. “But I wanna go early, if that s’all right with ya?”

You nod slowly. “Sure.”

“I’ll throw in a homemade breakfast, how’s it sound?” he winks, catching you off guard. His eyes are gleaming, but after eating so much of his cooking the past three nights, you’d be a fool to turn down a free, homemade breakfast from Miya Osamu.

“That sounds wonderful.”

The morning is cold, and dark, but Osamu has a backpack and promises you that he’ll cook something for you when you get back. When you get to the mountain outlook with the shrine, he takes out a small thermos filled with fresh rice that's still steaming when he unscrews the lid. Using a metal spoon, he spoons some of the rice into a chipped porcelain bowl, and places it at the shrine.

He pours you a shot of sake to toast to the new year together. As much as he said he wasn't religious, he's taking the new year traditions quite seriously.

Praying has never really been something you truly believe in, but this year you manage to mentally ask for some good changes. Not that it's a specific prayer, but you could use something new in your life, whatever the gods want to send your way (with the caveat that it's good of course).

The sun breaks across the mountain range as you clap to finish your prayers.

The walk down is relatively silent. You allow yourself to be surrounded by the sounds of the mountain waking— the trees rustling, the chirping of crickets joined by birds. Sunlight streams through the branches of the trees and touches your face every other step, warming your face. You feel lighter, and thankful for a new year as the golden-white beams burn through your vision.

True to his word, Osamu brings you to his apartment above Onigiri Miya and cooks a delicious breakfast of tamagoyaki and Ogura Toast which reminds you even more of home, Aichi especially. There's something strangely domestic about this activity of eating breakfast with someone. You didn't even sleep with Osamu, or maybe it's because you didn't sleep with him that you accept the gesture of him making breakfast and coffee and sitting down to eat with you.

It's only after you and Natsuki meet up to walk around the neighborhood that you realize you spent an entire morning thinking only about the future and Osamu, and your mind is void of Suna. Not worrying about when he'd call you next, or if he liked that girl…

“How was the shrine?” Natsuki asked. “I thought you didn't want to go because it was too early.”

“I didn’t, but… it was nice,” you admit. Even though initially you hadn’t wanted to go to the shrine with the Watanabes and Kita, Osamu makes everything seem easy to you. He's there in a way that feels… permanent.

Natsuki brings you around to her old high school, Inarizaki. You wander the grounds, unable to get inside but appreciate the scenery. You wonder if Osamu ever had a window seat and looked out of it, day dreaming of opening his own shop. Or maybe he sat near the hallway and put his head down on his desk.

Natsuki shows you Gymnasium 2 where the volleyball team practiced, and you peek through the window. The court is dark, and everything is wrapped up and put away, but in your mind you can almost hear the faint screech of a whistle and the pounding of a volleyball against arms and hands as the ball flies through the air.

“Thank you for this trip,” you say, linking your arm through Natsuki’s.

“Did you enjoy it?” Natsuki asks.

“I think so,” you reply.

“I think… I want to move back to Hyōgo,” Natsuki says quietly. “I… I really like Shinsuke.”

You crack a small smile at her. “You should definitely move back, then. After all, trees need to be planted everywhere, not just on a city grid.”

Natsuki leans her head against you. “You're too good to me, (Y/n). What am I going to do without you?”

“You'll have Kita-san,” you reply. “I'm not worried.”

“What about you? Who's going to take care of you?”

You let out a small laugh and dodge answering. You don't know. A year ago you would have immediately said you'd make Suna yours, but maybe there's more to the story. Maybe there’s someone else.

part 6

#miya osamu #osamu #haikyuu #haikyuu osamu #x reader #suna rintarou #fluff #watanabe tenji #kita shinsuke #hq hyogo #hq suna #hq osamu #watanabe natsuki

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goose-books · 10 months

Note

3 for Anna and Errans, and also 20 and 21 :3

i meant to remember to answer these before the last day of pride month. and then! anyway,

3. How did your oc discover themself? Did something cause them to question, or did they always know?

(godsong WIP page with links) (for context, anna is god's specialest girl ever and the main character, and she's a transfemme nonbinary lesbian. errans is a minor side character with terrible sideburns and transmasc unswag)

anna grew up in a city where priests have a special gender and pronoun, and she was designated a priest at age 11 by the gods, so her transness started as sort of an occupational thing; she was like, "okay, i'm priestgender," and then progressed to, "wait, i like this gender stuff." you are allowed to be priestgender and also another thing, and getting to explore her presentation at the temple lead to the realization that her Other Thing was womanhood (nonbinary-flavored). more a sister than a woman etc <3

as for the lesbianism, i don't think that was ever a discovery for him; there's no homophobia in ivander and his parents are in a bisexual polycule, so i think he just always knew his future person would be a woman. (i say "person" because ivander doesn't have legal marriage, but there is a religious equivalent if you want to dedicate yourself to someone long-term; otherwise you can just do Whatever. city that is absolutely bursting with gender and fruitiness)

errans i'm less sure about dskhfkdsfkdsnfsd. i know he came out as trans when he was around sixteenish; i think he knew he was bisexual first, and the image coming to me is errans experiencing the "do-i-want-to-date-that-guy-or-be-that-guy" about someone he probably never actually spoke to. i don't get a vibe like he ever loathed being a woman, more so that eventually he just realized he could simply be a man. for free. and was like. "well this is clearly so much more what i'm supposed to be doing"

now i'm thinking about awkward teenage errans and his awkward genvy crushes. god bless him

20. Have your ocs helped you in self discovery? How?

sigh. well i have to tell the story don't i. POV: you are [max], age 12, working on the first iteration of the story that will become TMR (my on-hiatus YA transgender evil-faerie high fantasy). you give the character who will become moon marigold all of your uncomfortable feelings about your body, feelings that are certainly not physical dysphoria because you are cisgender. about a year or so later, you realize that this WIP is full of cishet white people (i have since remedied this), and you should really add some diversity. hey, moon's got weird body feelings! what if you made her genderfluid? that sounds great! you are not thinking at all about where those weird body feelings may have come from or how this may reflect on anything at all.

POV: you are [max], still age 13ish, and you've got a new WIP (it's my also-on-hiatus NA monsters-in-NYC thing). you are going to put a binary transgender person in it. not for any specific reason. you just wanted to. who can say why. certainly not you. anyway you've never done this before and you are a little nervous because how can you, as a cisgender person, accurately represent a trans character? you muse about how to write dysphoria as you dress up for an orchestra concert, in an outfit that is extremely feminine. halfway through, you get derailed by crying real tears about said feminine outfit, because now the boy who sits beside you in the orchestra will know that you are a girl (because your long hair and name clearly couldn't have tipped him off beforehand). could you draw on this experience to describe dysphoria, you wonder? or maybe that other time you cried in the shower? but that's bad and wrong, isn't it? because you're cisgender. so comparing your own... whatever this is... to dysphoria would be an APPROPRIATION of dysphoria! how villainously cis of you! how horrible! you'll have to figure out some other way to write this character.

...anyway. thank you to moon and augustus for that. my kings my brothers in arms. and they BOTH do arson in their respective WIPs, so maybe i have another plot twist in my future?

21. Free ramble card wee

FREE RAMBLE WEE... hmm, well, since i've already touched on it a little in this ask, one of the most interesting things about worldbuilding for godsong is that most of the major settings don't have homophobia/transphobia/misogyny the same way that our world does. (i say most because ambergris is stuck in misogynyville. it's probably fine and i bet she won't get violent.) i honestly didn't think super hard about this; i just wanted to write a high fantasy world where women and nonbinary people and bisexuals and lesbians can hold positions of (sometimes corrupt) power, or where the chosen one can be a transfemme lesbian whose issues aren't transphobia but how to complete her quest.

except then i realized that not having homophobia/transphobia/misogyny invites so many other questions about the social fabric of a society. i mean, the modern legal concept of marriage is rooted pretty solidly in heterosexual relationships wherein women move from one family to another, right? so if gender relations are entirely different, do these places even have marriage? do these places even have gender? this is something i'm still figuring out (and honestly, if anyone has suggestions for media that pokes at this kind of thing, i'd love to hear them!). the two main cities in godsong are ivander (a theocracy) and farria (a democracy with a new revolution every tuesday), and i've been playing around in my head with some of the differences--for example, in ivander, being trans is generally considered holy, because the city's patron god is many-gendered; in farria, being trans is something nobody thinks twice about, because everyone is focused on Just Getting By. in ivander, there are at least three defined genders (man, woman, and priest) which can all overlap. in farria, gender doesn't define social relations so much as a parallel hierarchy of military and/or governmental power--eg, farria's very own neopronouns marc antony isn't afraid of "emasculation" in the gender sense, because xir gender is "if you like me you're gay," but xe's terrified of emasculation (for lack of a better word) in the sense of being seen as weak/submissive. in farria these things are way less connected than they are in our world. i'm still working out a lot of the details, but it's been a lot of fun to think about :3

wow that sure was a free ramble. thank you for the asks rook i love you so much <3

(pride asks!)

#max.txt #asks #long post #godsong tag #anna ivtouched #stella errans #and then also:#tmr tag #moon marigold #quark tag #augustus alexander #for my transgender brethren/mentors

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merriclo · 1 year

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@majoraspades you asked for wip #17 so here ya go!! this one’s abt two Links from my au: Lorule and Oracle. they’re having a talk abt trans stuff. it doesn’t escape me that this is the first bit of writing that y’all are getting abt these guys which is kind of crazy, but eh ahsjkds it’s whatever here y’all go <3

context y’all might need: Oracle is a trans man, but he’s closeted and only out to Lorule, who’s genderfluid. Lo and Ravio are married for “tax benefits.” Oracle lives at the castle with his Zelda and acts as her lady-in-waiting, guard, advisor, etc. Basically they’re just really good friends who are kind of attached at the hip and find every way to spend more time together.

content warnings: very brief/vague descriptions of pain and injuries, dealing with dysphoria

…

Lorule shifted uncomfortably, trying to ignore how the medical gauze rumpled under his ribs, or how his sweat-slicked bangs stuck to his forehead, or how horrible he looked.

He was happy to be home, at least. Hylia had been nice enough to set the portal’s opening to right in front of his house after he got halfway mauled by a bokoblin.

Okay, so he was being a bit dramatic. The wounds weren’t horrible (he hadn’t even needed stitches,) but they were bad enough that Wild had sentenced him to the couch, and his head cold only prolonged his stay.

Sighing, Lorule glanced over at Oracle who was stationed in the green armchair, all curled up with a book in his lap. When Wild asked for someone to stay and watch over the ill, he was the first to volunteer, to the surprise of several. Lorule wasn’t sure if he was actually worried about him, or if he just walked to sit down for a while.

Lorule watch them as they fiddled with a ribbon and bit his cheek absentmindedly. The older hero grimaced.

“Stop chewing up you’re cheek,” he said, voice too hoarse to be properly demanding.

Oracle’s eyes snapped up, filling with a familiar snark as they stared at him through their eyelashes. “Not even bleeding out will stop you from fretting, huh?”

Lorule huffed and tucked some hair behind their ear. “I am not bleeding out.”

“Anymore.”

He shot him a glare, though the mix of pain and sickness made it a lot harder to be mad. “The moment Wild gets back, I’m telling them to scold you for chewing again.”

“And I’ll tell them to scold you for not relaxing!”

“I am relaxing!”

Now it was Oracle’s turn to glare at him, though his had much more edge than Lorule’s did. “Liar.”

He scoffed and suddenly became very interested in both the wood and avoiding the wizard’s harsh gaze at all costs. Oracle didn’t make eye contact often, but when they did it was sharp enough to cut, especially when they were right about something.

And, annoyingly, they were definitely right. Lorule had yet to fully lay down or let their hair loose or even change into something more comfortable. It was a miracle Oracle was able to get him to take his binder off, though Lorule’s compliance was more out of fear of Ravio than Oracle. His husband wouldn’t be too happy catching him breaking house rule #7: no binding when badly wounded.

“Just stop chewing your cheek.”

Lorule looked back up at them and, sure enough, they had stopped gnawing at their cheek. He noticed for a moment how long their hair was, even if it was pulled back in the worlds shittiest ponytail.

“Who taught you how to do your hair?” he asked before he could stop himself. Had they not been both ill and injured they would’ve tried to have a little more class, though when they saw Oracle go rigid they regretted saying anything at all.

“Uhm… I did.” their voice got quiet, replacing any spunk they had before with defensiveness. “Why?”

A pang of guilt hit Lorule’s stomach, right next to the scratches in his flesh. He shifted again, and some of hair fell loose from behind his hair. “Oh, well, it just looks a little uncomfortable,” he floundered, trying to justify his words and make them less bitter. He really had to stop prying into other people’s sense of style, even if it really did look uncomfortable.

Oracle’s shoulders loosened a bit and he tilted his head up, looking in Lo’s direction but not quite at him. “Does it?”

Oh, thank Hylia, it worked. He didn’t offend him.

Lorule cleared his throat nervously, then winced at how it accentuated the burning from the nasal drainage. “Yeah, does it pull at your hair?”

He nodded.

“I can help fix that! Here, c’mere.” Lorule patted the cushion next to him, pulling their legs off of it as much as they could without any pain. Oracle obliged, albeit a bit reluctantly. Their position must’ve been comfortable despite how unbearable it looked. That, or they were hesitant to let a sick person do their hair.

Lorule repositioned themself again and loosened the blue ribbon in Oracle’s hair. It was sweet how he wore his Zelda’s favorite color so often, they really were adorably close. Oracle’s hair slipped from its confinement, falling against his back in a long, pink curtain.

Seeing it up close, Lorule finally understood just how fucked up the kid’s hair was. Didn’t he work in castle? Surely, his Zelda wouldn’t allow her right hand man to go around with such a scraggly haircut?

He had to bite his tongue to stop from asking. Really, he had to get his nose out of other people’s business. He remembered so clearly how it felt to be torn to shreds in Hytopia. It was horrible, no matter how justified it was. He had no right to put someone else through that, didn’t want to put someone else through that.

Oracle shifted under Lorule’s hands as he combed his fingers through his hair. To Lorule’s surprise, there weren’t that many knots, and the ones that were there were relatively easy to break through. It felt healthy and had a good sheen, too. Lorule smiled to themself. Even if the kid had no clue how to style it, at least they knew how to care for it.

Oracle couldn’t help but be a bit sheepish under the attention. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t like the sensation. They would never admit to that, though. Never. It didn’t matter if he’d already been embarrassingly vulnerable with the other hero on numerous occasions, some secrets were best taken to the grave.

He wasn’t very good at doing that, however, and the way he melted under the touch Lorule everything. Thankfully, he let it go unmentioned in favor of a different topic.

“If you don’t mind me asking,” Lorule said as they worked through the knots, “why do you keep your hair tied back if it pulls?” They couldn’t help but push into their style choices just a bit. But, he wasn’t as crude this time and it was a legitimate question!

Oracle was silent for a few moments, formulating their words as the other hero’s gentle hands continued card through their hair. He mulled over his words for so long that Lorule realized they’d stepped into a sensitive zone yet again. Godsdammit.

“You don’t have to ans—“

“No!” Oracle snapped, body tensing up as they interrupted. They took a breath and tried to relax their shoulders. “No, it’s fine. You can know. It’s just… hard to word…”

Oracle’s tone made everything click. Lorule had only ever heard that tone twice before: when he’d found them sobbing by the lake and when he’d caught them looking jealously at a shirtless Spirit.

Shit. This was a trans thing.

Fucking of course it was. A frown weighed against Lorule’s brow as he realized just how deeply the cold and injuries were screwing up his critical thinking. He really wasn’t in the right state of mind to handle a talk like this, but, like an idiot, he’d already pushed too far and now he had to commit.

His voice was tentative, but croaked on certain vowels.

“You… don’t like having long hair, do you?”

Silence sat between them, and the only response Lorule got was a slight shake of the head.

He bit his lip as he looked down at the hair gathered in his hands. There sure was a lot and it all went down to the boy’s hips.

Another pang of guilt settled into Lorule’s stomach, wrapping its way around his ribs and clawing at his organs. How had he not realized how dysphoric that must’ve been sooner? Not everyone was able to be okay with having long hair like he was.

Another beat of silence, then: “Do you want to cut it?”

“What?”

He was about to die from how small and tender Oracle’s voice was.

“Do you want to cut it?”

In the quiet between them, Lorule remembered exactly why Oracle had come out to only them. “The people of my Hyrule… they’re… not as accepting at this group. I don’t want to risk any slip ups or suspicion,” they had explained, swearing Lorule into secrecy after he’d accidentally found out.

“We can lie. Say it got cut during a battle.” Oracle didn’t respond, and the older hero resigned themself to doing something they never thought they would. “I can make it choppy and uneven so it’ll be more convincing.”

“… What about the rest of the group? They’d know it’s a lie.”

“We don’t have to do it right now. We could wait until we’re back on the road, find an excuse to leave, and come back claiming we ran into a few ‘blins.”

The wizard shifted in his seat and let out a shaky inhale. “… You’d really help me do that?” The poor kid’s voice was cracking and it was obvious he was fighting back tears.

#bc i didn’t write an ending here’s what happens:#they hug and oracle cries it all out and they go through w the plan #oracle and lo come back to camp one day and oracle’s got short fucked up hair. no one thinks it’s a lie #well ok save Traveler but it’s fine ahsjkds he’ll keep ur secret babes <3 #oracle gets their moment of euphoria and all is well #oracle prob loves that it’s all fucked up too. at heart they r a dungeon crawling gremlin who loves lookin messy #i love oracle can y’all tell #what’s that one quote that’s like #‘she’s my darling— difficult and morose but still my darling’ by. i think vladimir nabokov??#idk but. that’s me w oracle fr. my little fuckass. my dearest baby boy.#i’ll save y’all from a rant abt how much i love lorule too annskdks #sigh i need a writing tag. oh well #Hero’s Call AU

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kate-les-bridge-stewart · 1 year

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This is a transcript of a semi fanfic semi rambling stream of conciousness I wrote on discord about an idea i had for an au. I did not write this intending for it to become a fanfic so it is formatted and written horribly lol. Hope you enjoy my mad scribbles and babbles.

---

Osgood had been knocked out cold by a sudden explosion, hitting her head hard against a wall.13 saw so she rushed over and checked her pulse. And to her complete bewilderment she hears a shockingly familiar "thump thump thump thump"

She freezes. How?! how was this possible?! There surely had to be another explanation, maybe osgood had a heart transplant or something embedded in her heart that made it sound like that! Surely she couldnt be- no, that's impossible, right?

She rushes osgood to an infirmary and has to leave to deal with whatever threat had attacked in the first place.

Later when that's done tho she goes back to the unit infirmary and finds kate sitting next to osgood on her hospital bed. Theres a "do not disturb" sign outside the door to the room and osgate are the only ones in there.

"Pretty odd for an infirmary room to have a do not disturb sign" 13 thinks but focuses on finding out how osgood is doing.

(Osgood is asleep btw)

13: So, how is she? She got hit pretty hard, knocked out cold

Kate looks a bit startled at the sound of 13s voice and seemingly scrambles to hide what looked like some xray prints

Kate: o-oh! Yes shes doing fine, got a nasty bruise on her head and some other bumps and scrapes but nothing too serious.

13: (slightly suspicious at this point) where's the med staff? You elected yourself as her personal caretaker or something? I dont mean this in a bad way but you seem like you have too much on ya plate to try learning medical care

Kate: oh no the med staff tended to her, I was just helping. I just had to, shes one of my best friends after all.

13: ah gotcha. Sorry, dont mean to pry but shouldnt her heart monitor be on?

Kate freezes for a brief moment and some color drains from her face.

Kate: uh-

Before kate can react 13 has turned on the monitor for her and to her surprise, she sees the dual heartbeats again.

The doctor stops and stares at the screen. Kate sits back as her own heart sinks into her stomach.

Osgood wakes up suddenly at the sound of the computer and stares up at the doctor in horror

13: why do you have 2 heartbeats?

Osgood is too stunned to speak, kate who's normally an impeccable speaker was also at a loss for words

13: kate... were you holding chest xrays when I came in?

Kate cant give an answer.

13: let me see them. Please.

Kate looks to osgood as if silently pleading for help. Osgood closes her eyes with a sigh and gives her a nod.

Kate slowly and hesitantly pulls out the xrays which 13 takes tentatively. Sure enough, the impossible was true.

Osgood had 2 hearts.

There was no mistaking it.

13: Osgood... why do you have 2 hearts?

The doctor couldnt describe her emotions in that moment even with a gun to her head. A sizable part of her was convinced this couldn't be real, this had to be a dream or something.

Osgood: ..... there's a lot you don't know about me....

13 remained silent, listening.

Osgood: I'm not actually a human. I'm... I'm a timelord...

13 didn't know what to say, there were thousands of questions and thoughts racing through her head. There was so much she wanted to say, so much to ask.

Osgood: to ease one of your worries first, no, I'm not a spy for rassilon. I have no affiliation with them whatsoever, I'm a rogue just like you.

Osgood gently grabbed 13's hand and made a telepathic link between them. She opened her mind to the doctor, allowing her to see Osgood was telling the truth.

13 looked off to the side, racking her brain as she struggled to decide which of her thousands of questions she should ask.

13: so everything I thought I knew about you was a lie?

Osgood: pretty much. I'm not affiliated with the master either, just to quell that suspicion right away.

13: who are you then?

Osgood: I'm me. I'm just another rogue time war refugee who simply wants to live. I have no motives, I have no giant history, i just want to live in peace...

13: does anyone else know? Besides kate?

Osgood: no. I've been living as a human for the past 15 years.

13: how did you get to earth? Do you have a tardis too?

Osgood: yes. A newer model too.

13 thought carefully for a moment.

13: why did you join unit?

Osgood: I wanted to help humanity. I love them just like you. Plus, dealing with alien technology is familiar and comforting to me, gives me something to do.

13 stood back.

13: ... I think I've interrogated you enough for now. But I'll be back with more questions. This is... a lot to process...

And with that the doctor walked towards the door, her emotions just as immense yet indecipherable.

#doctor who #dw au #osgood #petronella osgood #kate lethbridge stewart #kate stewart #osgate #13th doctor #the thirteenth doctor #thirteen

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aspiringroleplays · 5 months

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@atimelesslullaby

OH! FRIEND! I totally forgot to tell you (and I’m posting it so I don’t have to bombard you with messages):

So I was figuring that Sora heard about the war/darkness/evil reign from all the townsfolk as he tried to learn about the world, and started sticking around for a while. I sort of mentally moved his convo with Sheik to guards and random folk when you decided not to have him as a muse because I figured the story came out eventually LOL. Or at least part of it. The only thing he doesn’t know obviously is how Zelda managed to hide for seven years or her direct involvement with Ganondorf getting access to the triforce. (Or EXACTLY how Link was involved because all he heard about were the exploits of when he was an adult.)

So, in short: he knows the townsfolk are rebuilding from a state of ruin, and that Zelda lost her family, and why she’s the reigning princess. Also that she’s, you know, “sealing” the demon king away and is apparently part goddess, but he’s too scared to ask to figure out what they mean HAHAHAHA.

I basically just did it so we wouldn’t have to waste time going over exposition or backstory, but then I realized…. Um… SORA’S home was lost to a state of ruin… and he lost HIS family so... obviously he’s going to empathize with her :’).

In this AU he was directly involved with the relief effort and rebuilding for a while, he actually has a good idea of what the damage probably looked like even though he didn’t see it directly (even if it’s just castle town). And also, because he and Kairi are best friends he knows the mayor personally, and even calls her by her last name, instead of just “Ms. Mayor.” He saw the stress and pain she was under as she tried to manage everything and help with the rebuilding efforts- ON TOP of her daughter being in a critical situation. So while he doesn’t know HOW everything works, he knows it’s very, very stressful.

So all that to say: Sora has a very personal understanding of what Zelda and the townsfolk went through, and while he was just crushing on her at first because she was pretty and really nice, he really started to feel for her and feel sorry for her, because he knew that pain personally.

So all in all, he’s EXTREMELY impressed that she’s running a whole kingdom, AND rebuilding from a horrible event that lasted seven years AT THE AGE OF 17-19 (seriously he's just like "how tf???"). The only thing he’s glad about is that it was a couple years ago and that they’re clearly making headway in the recovery efforts, so at least everything is in a much better state now.

… so I tell you all this to say that this may or may not have turned into a semi-parasocial relationship on his end. OTL IM SORRY IT WASN’T MY INTENTION.

He doesn’t realize it fully yet but he’s already started to feel very protective of her feelings- he knows she’s strong, but he knows everyone feels pain, so that’s why he was so mad about that merchant, moreso than the other princes. Because the dude was openly stating he didn’t actually care about Zelda so Sora is just like “ExCUSE she has gone through SO MUCH the LEAST you can do is be NICE to her! >:(((“ He’s already in this mindset of “she deserves to be happy after everything she’s gone through”, so… yeah he’ll snap if anyone is rude or cruel to her. Even if she CAN take care of herself XD.

...Granted this is also extremely personal for him since he, ya know… also lost his home and family laksjdkalsjdakldj like in a weird way he feels like he already "knows" her, and forgot she didnt tell him all this herself hahaha.

The last thing is I need to clarify the dance scene: it wasn’t that he was actually falling in love with her from the dance, those were just endorphins XD It’s a real phenomenon that can come from doing exciting activities with another person, or having close contact. For whatever reason dancing can sometimes trigger this, and since Sora was already crushing on her and gets ridiculously happy being near her, well, it was kind of a given it would happen lol. But Sora doesn’t know much about science or how the human body works, just the basics of his own, so he wouldn’t realize this. I tried my best to write out that it was just circumstances, but unless you actually know this phenomenon it can still be confusing. Hence why I figured I should tell you XD

ALL THIS TO SAY: I really hope you don’t feel like I’m trying to rush a ship or anything, or that I’m trying to make Sora come on too strong. I really did intend for it to be a slowburn romance, but then when I started remembering backstory and everything… yeah XD I figure Zelda is probably used to “strangers” clamoring for her attention and whatnot, and people feeling strongly about her even when she doesn’t know them personally, but if Sora ever says or does something that seems strange or out of place or too strong, she’s perfectly welcome to call him out or ask about it. Since I imagined their first two convos were actually fairly casual and didn't mention history, and Sora wouldn’t have told her about his past yet, so she wouldn’t know why he’s so emotional so “quickly”.

….though now that I think about it I guess it IS still weird from her point of view because he’s a foreigner so he wouldn’t feel personally invested in her and this country HAHAHAHA.

Anyway, yeah, now I hope we’re on the same page since I forgot to mention it before :’D

#plotting #((me @ me: he's just a cute shonen protagonist why must you make him so complicated))#((me: BECAUSE I MUST))#atimelesslullaby

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minty-mumbles · 2 years

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Hi, I don't know if you take requests as this is my first time doing so, but if so, may I ask for a Linked Universe Wild telling the gang his age? You don't really have to do this sort've stuff (I know if I did, I'd probably say no cuz my writing is HORRIBLE) but thank you!

Sure why not? I was actually just talking about this with Rus the other day. So here ya go.

~~~

The silence in the clearing was stifling. Everyone waiting for an answer to Legend's question, but it never came.

Legend, more confused than irritated, spoke. "I just asked how old you are. Seventeen? Eighteen?"

"Could you shut up for a second?" Wild asked, looking extremely distressed.

"It's not that hard of a question." Four tried.

"For you, maybe," Time interrupted. He alone looked unperturbed by the confusion spreading through the group.

"Well, sure," Four said, "But your age is all messed up because you've time traveled. Wild hasn't done that," After a moment of consideration, he turned to Wild. "You haven't, right?"

The entire group sighed in relief when Wild shook his head. He was counting on his fingers now, staring contemplatively at the two fingers he held up.

After a few more moments, he seemed to give up, shrugging. "I could give you any number between two, and a hundred and nineteen, and I could be considered correct."

Legend threw his hands up. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

Wild groaned, realizing he wasn't going to get away with not explaining. "Okay, so chronologically I'm a hundred and nineteen. Physically, I'm nineteen. Mentally? Well, I've only been awake from the shrine for two years, but it's not like my amnesia turned me into a baby. But most of the time, I just try not to think about it."

#this is quick and messy #Personally #I don't think that even Wild knows how old he is #he's in the same boat as time #asks open anon on #mint's fanfiction #linked universe #lu wild #lu legend

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helliontherapscallion · 3 years

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(Y/n) and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Week: Thursday (Part 2)

Monday Tuesday Wednesday Thursday (Part 1) Friday Saturday Sunday

Spotify Playlist (collaborative)

Warnings: panic attacks, swearing, puking, concussions, mentions of injuries/bullying, homophobia

Word count: 5,138

After school, you were sitting on the couch as you furiously typed on your keyboard at an extremely fast pace. You were on a roll with these essays, they were probably going to be finished by the time you had to go back to the school to get on the bus with the team. You figured that you could even finish Annie’s essay and get started on Sammy’s US history presentation on the sociopolitical climate of the United States in the mid twentieth century to today. However, instead of covering a variety of topics like the rubric requested you to do, you were only going to talk about the significant events that happened to the LGBT+ community starting with Stonewall and going to Obergefell v. Hodges. You were also going to go in depth about how even if there are more opportunities available and more laws set in place to protect for LGBT+ people in the present then there were in past, members of the LGBT+ community still suffer heavy discrimination in the workplace and in the public. With receipts of course, the assignment required a minimum of three pictures per slide, and the group chat was a perfect source.

After that was done, you would email Sammy’s teacher (you had her last year for US history and you knew that she had a son in the grade below you currently transitioning from female to male) that you were the one that did her project and send screenshots of Sammy calling you slurs. Luckily for you, you had receipts of her being transphobic in the past that you could also send. Everything was effortlessly falling into place for you today.

As you were typing, the front door swung open and two overly excited fifth graders ran into the house and up the stairs. A tired Schlatt followed them. “I will never know how the hell Phil keeps up with them.”

“I dunno, maybe because he’s already raised three kids before.”

You watched as your uncle jumped and whipped his head over towards you, his hand clutching his chest. He lightly glared at you, “christ kid don’t do that, you nearly gave me a heart attack.”

You smirked at him before turning back to your laptop to continue typing the essay. You were almost done with the conclusion paragraph on Annie’s essay and you wanted to get to Sammy’s presentation as fast as possible. As you were typing, you felt a warm air fan across your neck and your uncle’s voice right next to your ear, “whatcha typin?”

You lept off the couch and almost fell into the coffee table before steadying yourself and deadpanning at Schlatt. “I was typing an essay before you interrupted me.”

He snorted, “it looked like you were on a roll, just thought I’d see what my beloved niece was writing. Can I read it?”

Your eyes lit up as an excited grin split your cheeks, “yeah, but lemme catch you up real quick. Adrian, Sammy, and Annie got mad at me a few days ago and wanted me to do some homework for them as a sort of payment. But after they pulled that little stunt in the lunchroom yesterday, they decided to be little bitches to me and call me slurs. So naturally, I decided to change the essay prompt into an in depth analysis about discrimination LGBT people face from their peers on the daily. My english teacher’s really against homophobia and the project’s worth twenty five percent of our overall grade, so it’s perfect.”

While you were rambling on and on about your detailed plot for revenge, Schlatt couldn’t help but be proud of the person you’d become. A major part of him was impressed that you came up with a detailed plan so quickly, that meant that his cunning nature was rubbing off on you and that made him ecstatic. Sure you mentioning not being straight was new to him, but he was prepared to accept you for whatever you identified as. He didn’t care how people identified, he just cared if they were good people. And his niece was one of the best kids he knew. He’d let your slip up slide for now until you felt comfortable enough to properly come out to him.

“That an amazing plan, fuckin brilliant. Though, you could do more.”

That piqued your interest, “I’m listening.”

“Do you have any blackmail?”

Your eyes glinted with sudden understanding, “why yes I do, uncle dearest. I just so happen to have thousands of texts from them talking shit about each other and basically the entire school. And them being incredibly racist. They would be destroyed if that came out.”

“Two things. One, never call me that again. Two, perfect. Keep it as leverage if they try to do something. You don’t pull out all the good cards in the first round, you wait for the right moment to strike so you can win. You need to constantly defend yourself against other players and anticipate their every move. If you leak everything right now, you won’t have anything to use against them if they have something up their sleeve you didn’t know about. Patience is key in things like this.”

You absorbed every single word that came out of his mouth like it was the holy gospel. Although he was your uncle and you loved him with all your heart, but he was a sly bastard when he wanted to be. He knew his way around fighting and manipulating people just right, so you were incredibly happy that you were on his good side and he absolutely adored you. Though questionable and morally gray, he was giving you advice because he cared about you and you’d be an idiot to not heed his advice.

“That’s genius, Uncle Schlatt. What would I do without you?”

“You’d get along just fine without me, you would’ve gotten there eventually. You’re smart. I’m just givin you a little push in the right direction.”

“I honestly would’ve never thought about waiting, I was so dead set on getting revenge that I would’ve just leaked everything all at once. I want them to feel how I felt when they were around me. I-” you paused. Would this make you the same as them? You’d be screwing up all their grades, Adrian’s job, and Sammy’s athletic career. You came to the chilling realization that you’d be the same as them. You’d be as manipulative as they were. “...Uncle Schlatt, would that make me the same as them?”

“Fuck no! You’re always gonna be better than them no matter what. When they’re at their best, you’re always gonna be a whole lot better than them. They deserve what’s happening to them, it sounds like they put you through so much shit the past few years. I actually think you could do a whole lot worse to them if you’re willing to put more work in, but it’s your plan and if you think that what you’re doing is too much,” he darkly chuckled, “you wouldn’t like my idea.”

“You’re right, they deserve everything I have planned for them. God, I don’t know what I was thinking, ‘would that make me the same as them,’” you mocked what you said earlier, “what a load of shit. Anyways, thanks Uncle Schlatt. I’m gonna get back to writing this. They’re due tomorrow and I wanna finish as much as I can before I have to go.”

“Alright, whaddya want for dinner? Phil’s gonna be like thirty minutes late from work so I’m cookin tonight.”

Oh no. No, no, no, no. That man can barley cook boxed mac n cheese, let alone anything else. He’d burn down the house if you left him alone in the kitchen with the stove. “On second thought, why don’t I help you with dinner? We can make some chicken alfredo.”

“Awe, you’d rather hang out with me than finish your homework? Ya really do love me. C’mon let’s start.”

The process of making dinner was… interesting. Multiple times, Schlatt almost spilled boiling water on himself and he even managed to burn the pasta while it was in the water. How he even managed to do that you’d never find out, you had your back turned cutting up vegetables and herbs at the time. That was when you subtly started to take over in the kitchen, giving him smaller tasks while you handled everything else. You felt bad for Tubbo, his father can’t cook for shit.

By time you finished, about an hour passed and Philza had come home and changed out of his work clothes. The two adults sat at the table discussing something that you didn’t pay attention to while your brothers and cousin were in the living room waiting for you to finish dinner. Finally, you set the table and it was time to eat.

Because you couldn’t have many fatty foods before any matches or practices, you had made a separate plate for yourself that only had plain pasta, chicken, and broccoli. You were surprised with how well it turned out, you were following an iffy recipe you found on the first link Google brought up.

After dinner, you went upstairs to put your uniform on and pack a little bag full of things you might need: a small blanket, some snacks, a water bottle, and a portable charger. Oh, and fuzzy socks and a pair of crocs. You could never go wrong with fuzzy socks and crocs. Feeling a vibration in your pocket, you pulled out your phone.

Hales : )

(Y/n), I’m omw to your house

Gonna give you a ride to the school

(Y/n)

Hales you don’t have to give me a ride, I can drive

Hales : )

Don’t care

Omw, be there in like 7 mins

You swiped out of yours and her conversation and opened up the family group chat

(Y/n)

I don’t need a ride to the school, Haley’s giving me one

She’s gonna give me a ride home too

Dadza

Alright, thank her for me

Tell her I said good luck too!

Uncle Schlatty Patty

Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do

Dadza

(Y/n), do everything he wouldn’t do

Uncle Schlatty Patty

Fuck you I’m a good influence

Dadza

You’re really not

Wilby

^^^^

Technology Sword

Uncle Schlatty Patty

Fuck all of you

You heard Haley’s car pull into the driveway and dashed out of your room with your bag. Just as you put your hand on the doorknob, a hand stopped you.

“Coat.”

You grumbled as you reached past Philza to grab your coat. After you slipped it on, you were pulled into a hug. “You’re gonna do great out there. I know you’re gonna win this, we’ll be watching in the stands.”

“Damn right she’s gonna do good, she’s my niece after all.”

Schlatt pulled you away from your father’s hug and tried to ruffle your hair before you swatted away his hand, “don’t. You have no idea how long it took me to get a perfect ponytail. I have an ungodly amount of hairspray and bobby pins in my hair right now.”

“Fine. You’re gonna kick their asses tonight.”

Tommy and Tubbo pushed past Schlatt and both tackled you into a hug making you stumble slightly back.

“Kick their asses good (y/n)!” Tommy cheered, making you crack up before one stern glance from Philza completely stopped you. “Tommy, don’t say that. (Y/n), not funny.”

“Alright, Haley’s waiting for me. I gotta go, love you guys!” As you turned to walk through the door, you could hear your family following you and shouting “good luck”. You felt heat creep up on your cheeks as Haley rolled down her window and wove at your family with the biggest grin on her face.

“Thank you! We’re gonna take home the gold for sure!”

You hopped in her car as she rolled up the window and chuckled. “I love your family, they’re always so full of energy. It’s refreshing to see compared to how boring my family is.”

You glanced at your entire family gathered on the front porch. Tommy and Tubbo were practically vibrating with excitement, Wilbur and Techno calmly smiled and wove at you, Philza was grinning widely at you as you saw his mouth forming words that you couldn’t hear or read, and Schlatt was grinning cheekily at you. You raised your hand to wave at them as they vanished from view when Haley pulled out of your driveway. You smiled softly, “I love em too.”

The car ride was relatively quick with the same soft indie pop music floating from the speakers and an easy going conversation with Haley about the match tonight. You both thought that you could beat the other team if everyone focused 100% and played exactly like you guys did in practices. If everyone did that, you would be unstoppable.

Luckily for you and Haley, you were the first ones in line to board the bus so you two got the back seat with Zara and Jazzy sitting across from you guys. The hour long bus ride passed quickly and lively with you four passing around your phone and playing some mad libs, you were sure that by the end of the last game you four were laughing and crying. Sometime in the middle of the trip, you noticed that Haley would start to lean on your shoulder and continuously glance at you as she laughed. You desperately wanted to believe that it was because she liked you, but she was straight and she was your best friend. She was probably trying to make sure you were having a good time.

When the team had gotten to the opposing school and left the locker room to stretch in the gym, you could hear your family start to scream your and Haley’s names from the front row next to you, Tommy and Tubbo being the loudest amongst them with Philza trying to get them to quiet down so you could focus. You felt your cheeks heat up as you smiled at them and Haley wove enthusiastically back at them. Zara was laughing at you two. Stretching went by in a flash and before you knew it, you were on the court facing the opposing team.

The first match was won by the opposing team by five points. The second match stretched on and on until it was won by your team narrowly by two points. The team was going to have to shape up in the third match if you guys wanted a chance at winning, the opposing team was good. Before the third match started, Coach Williams called for a time out so you guys could talk about strategy. Before Haley could go back onto the court, you pulled her aside.

“Hales, we need to do what we practiced. The other team won’t be expecting it at all, I’ve been setting you up this entire game. They’re never going to expect you setting me up for a spike.”

“When are we going to do it though? We need a better plan.”

“I’m sure the opportunity will come and both of us will recognize it. We just can’t do it too early in the game though, that’ll ruin their surprise.”

“(Y/n), I hope you know what you’re doing.”

“When do I not Hales? We gotta get gold this year.”

The third round went by with both teams constantly swapping places until you both were tied fifteen to fifteen. You saw the ball flying towards Haley, giving her the perfect opportunity to set you up for a spike. “HALEY NOW!”

You watched as her face hardened in determination as she pretended like she was going to spike it by jumping high in the air and stretching her arms back, making the opposing front row players all gather in front of her. Much to their surprise, she launched it towards you as you leaped up and went for the kill. The stinging of the ball hit by your wrist and the smack sound the ball made when it slammed onto the open gym floor was something you’d never forget as the crowd around you went wild over the unexpected play. You could hear the high pitched screaming of Tommy and Tubbo over everybody else. Glancing at them over your shoulder, you saw them jumping up and down on the gym floor and looking at you with awe filled eyes and gaping mouths. The rest of your family looked at you with similar expressions, their cheers echoing in your mind. Winking at them, you turned back to your team and went straight to Haley. Clapping a hand on her shoulder, you pulled her into a quick hug, yelling over the raving of the crowd. “HALEY WE NAILED THAT!”

“HOLY SHIT I DID NOT THINK THAT WAS ACTUALLY GONNA WORK!”

“You have such little faith in your setter! You wound me Hales.”

“Well, I would have more faith in you if you weren’t chaotic on the court, sweetheart.”

You felt yourself surge in happiness at the nickname, but you couldn’t afford to focus too much on it. Your team only needed one more point to win best in the state and go to nationals. It would be the first time in your team’s history if you reached national level, and you’d be damned if you were the one to screw it up for them.

The last rotation went on for a while, each team fighting tooth and nail for the state championship title with clashing determination. You tried your best to block every hit and try to set Haley up for a spike, and you were successful for the most part, only missing a few blocks. You saw the setter adjacent to you set the spiker up for a spike and jumped up in time to try to block it, your arms stretched upwards and your palms out. Only, the ball didn’t hit your hands. It collided painfully with your nose, ricocheted off your face with a thwack and sailed over to the other side of the court. Your head whipped back as your body followed suit and flew backwards onto the floor. Without giving you any time to react, your head bounced back and cracked against the polished hardwood floor of the gym. Everything went black.

“...(y……”

“..(y/n)......”

“(Y/n).”

You faintly heard someone calling someone’s name over the continuous ringing noise. Was it your name? It felt right, so it had to be your name. You peeled your eyes open to see a blurry figure hovering over you. It was swirled with tans, browns, and backs. After a while of the figure repeating your name, it slowly became more recognizable, albeit appearing twice in your vision. It took you a while to figure out who this was before your muddled brain recognized Haley.

“Hales! There’s two o’ya. Twice as beautiful babe…” You slurred out as you attempted to smile at her.

“Oh thank god, PLEASE WE NEED A DOCTOR SHE HIT HER HEAD!” Her usually angelic voice gritted against your brain like sandpaper making you cringe as pain exploded in your head.

“God babe you’re so loud, why’s so bright? I-wha's goin on?” You blearily tried to move your head to look around only to be stopped by a pair of large hands on each side of your head gently holding it in place. You moved your laggy eyes around to look at the figure. He was a blonde man with blue eyes and a hint of stubble on his chin. His eyebrows were knitted together and he looked… he looked… your brain worked to figure out why he looked how he looked. Who was he?

“Please don’t move hun.” His muffled voice was baritone. You squinted at him trying to figure out who this man was.

“Who th f-fuck… why?”

“I’m your dad hun. Do-do you not recognize me?” You made a noise in the back of your throat as your stuffy brain finally put a name to the face.

“Dad- wha’s goin on? I’on feel so good…”

“Shh, I know, I know. Just stop moving and talking. Everything’s fine. I’m here. You’re okay.”

“Mmk… Dad, where are we? I’ont know- you’re so quiet.”

“Stop moving so much. You’re on the floor in a gym. You just won your team the state championship. Now stop talking please.”

Huh. So that’s why everybody seemed to appear from above you. You strained your eyes to look around you, but you could only see your dad’s face hovering above you. “Shit I- who’s aroun’ me? Where’s Hales?”

“I’m right here sweetheart. I got the doctor, Mr. Minecraft.”

Your dad’s face moved away from your vision so fast that it made your head spin and your stomach twist. Another face appeared above you that you once again didn’t recognize.

“I’m Doctor Martin, can you tell me your first and last name?”

“Uh, (y/n) Minecraft?”

“Good, what month are we in right now?”

“Nov-November?”

“Close, it’s late October. Can you tell me who this,” he pointed to your dad, “is?”

“S’my dad Phillip.”

“That’s your dad Philza.”

The questioning stopped as he suddenly shined a blinding light into your sensitive eyes. You hissed as you tried to move your head away from the offending light only to be held in place by your dad’s hands. Your head spun as you moved too quickly and a wave of nausea hit you, making you groan and move your arm to cover your eyes. Your hand was stopped by something warm and soft wrapping around it and holding it tightly. Everything was so overwhelmingly and painfully bright and loud. You wanted to make it stop.

“Mr. Minecraft, your daughter appears to have a concussion. I don’t have the tools on hand to determine the severity of it, but it’s worrying that her pupils are asymmetrical, she’s delirious, and has slight memory loss. I understand you live about an hour away from here, and it’s alright for you to take her to a hospital closer to your house. Make sure you keep her alert.”

Your delirious mind only registered about half of what came out of the doctor’s mouth. You mumbled gibberish as you once again opened your eyes to look around. You were only briefly able to crane your neck to the left. Several figures large and small were standing behind your dad. Your family, your mind supplemented. Slowly, your mind was starting to recognize your surroundings even if there was currently double of everything and everything was blurry.

“I’m going to help you stand up. Do ya think you can do that?”

“Yeah Dad.” You lifted your upper body off from the ground with a gentle hand on your back helping you sit up. Fighting the wave of nausea that slapped you in the face, you reached up to rub at your eyes. A hand once again stopped you. You peeked your eyelids open and lightly glared at whomever stopped you. “Hales you’re lucky you’re so cute I woulda slapped you. I like holdin but you’re bein annoying. Stop.” You attempted to make your voice sound firm, but the words that came out of your mouth were slightly slurred.

She was silent as she helped her dad haul you to your feet. Once on your feet, you saw the room spin and felt yourself start to sway slightly. An arm wrapped itself around your shoulders and pulled you close to them so that your weight was supported. They were a little taller than you were making it easy to lean on them.

“...Can you walk?” A deep, monotone voice rumbled the chest of the person you were leaning against.

“Mhm. ‘M not weak.” Though your limbs felt like they were made of molasses, you placed one foot in front of the other slowly. The person moved alongside you, “you’re doing so good, keep going.” That sparked familiarity in you as you stopped in your tracks and tried to look up at the person you were leaning against making the person tighten their arm around your shoulders when you almost fell over.

“Tech?”

“Yeah, it’s Technoblade. Just focus on walking. You’re almost out of the gym.”

When you realized that you were out of the gym, you sighed in relief. It was so much quieter and darker. Though it was still relatively bright, it was better than the gym.

“S’better.”

“When we get her to the car we can give her some sunglasses or something if it’s still too bright for her.”

“Wilbs-”

“Focus on walking.”

You huffed in irritation, “don’ tell me what to do bitch.”

You felt Techno’s body jolt slightly as he chuckled, making your head throb at the sudden movement. “Just walk.”

When you walked outside, you shivered as you felt the cool air nip at your exposed skin. Right, you were in your volleyball uniform. “I’ll go pull the car around, you guys stay with her.”

You saw a tall brunet start to walk away from you. Uncle Splat? Uncle Schmat? Whatever his name was, you were sure he was your uncle. You tried to snuggle closer to Techno, craving warmth but never being satisfied. Where was your uncle?

After a while, you saw a car moving towards you and blinding light pointed right at you making you cringe away and groan. Techno started to slowly walk towards the car. “C’mon (y/n), you’re almost there. When you’re in the car you can relax.”

“Tommy, Tubbo, and Techno, you’re in the back row. Schlatt can drive and Wil, you’re taking the passenger seat. I’ll stay with her in the middle row so she can have some room to lay down.” Tommy and Tubbo were with you? Why weren’t they talking, they usually were very vocal.

“Tom, Tubbs didja like the game?”

They didn’t say anything as they climbed into the car. Did they not hear you?

“They’re just… tired (y/n).” Your dad’s voice reassured you as he took Techno’s place holding you up.

“I wanna nap. ‘M so tired.”

“You can’t sleep yet. We gotta get you to a doctor first.”

“Mm. Makes sense.”

“Let’s get you in the car hun.”

As he helped you climb into the car, you felt an overwhelming wave of nausea wash over you making you lose your balance and almost faceplant into the cloth seats. You felt yourself being gently, yet urgently taken out of the car and led to grass as you felt your esophagus shorten. Something burning made its way up your throat and spewed into the grass. You felt someone rubbing your back as you puked up your dinner.

When you were done, you reached up with a shaking hand to wipe your mouth. “You feelin better? Think you can get back into the car or do you need to sit down for a bit?”

“Car.”

After some difficulty, you were successfully in the middle row of the car laying down with your head on Philza’s lap. Soon enough, your shoes were taken off and a blanket was draped over you.

“(Y/n), what do you remember?”

You scrunched up your face as you squinted at Philza’s face. “I remember playing volleyball with Hales. She’s so pretty, she’s straight though. I remember the other team hitting the ball, me jumping, then nothin. Wha’ happened?”

You watched as Philza winced, “well, you got everything right so far. You got hit in the face with the ball so you fell and hit your head on the floor. You were passed out for a minute before you woke up. It was a pretty nasty fall, we’re going to the hospital now. How’re ya feelin?”

“Head hurts, ‘m seein two of everything, an I can’t think.”

“Do you know what a concussion is?” You nodded in his lap slightly, “you probably have one.”

After a while of talking, you were slowly starting to come to your senses and your speech was clearing up, but your head was still too stuffy to think about what you were saying before you said it. You didn’t have a filter.

“Do you wanna tell us about your week so far? Do you remember most of it?”

“Mhm, it was shit. On Monday I had a panic attack and Adrian, Sammy, and Annie were being bitches to me all day. They fucked up my back. On Tuesday, they got mad at me for ditching them and they had me do their homework, had another panic attack, and Haley told me that someone took pictures of our boobs ‘n stuff and they were gonna leak it to the school if Haley didn’t stop hanging out with me. Haley and I almost kissed, but she’s straight. Pulled an all nighter and Wednesday I accidentally came out to Tech and Wil and had another panic attack. Annie, Adrian, and Sammy took more pictures of me through my window, Annie outed me to the entire school and slapped me. Another panic attack, skipped the last two classes and felt like shit the entire practice. Today Adrian and Sammy told me to kill myself and I had another panic attack. ’S about it.”

As you were going through your week, the hand that was previously gently stroking your hair had frozen as the car was enveloped in a tense silence. Luckily, Tommy and Tubbo were passed out in the back seat so they didn’t hear how bad your week was. Everyone awake knew that you had a few bad days this week, but they didn’t know the full extent of it. You watched as Philza’s expression had turned downright murderous, but you didn’t really care. You were busy talking about your week.

For the rest of the car ride, Philza asked you simple questions like what your favorite color was, your favorite animal, basically your favorite everything. Eventually, the car pulled into the hospital parking lot and Philza helped you get out of the car. “Schlatt, can you take the boys home so they can get some rest? I’ll stay with her.”

“Yeah, I’m on it. Don’t cause too much trouble (y/n), we all know you can raise hell.” He watched you for a reaction, but when you didn’t react, he coughed. “Well, I’ll see ya later kid. Good luck.”

The car drove off leaving you and Philza at the front of the emergency room building. “It’s gonna be a long night (y/n).”

“I gotta finish Annie’s essay and Sammy’s presentation though.”

“No you don’t, I’ll email your teachers.”

You two checked in with the front desk before moving to sit on the uncomfortable chairs. It was going to be a long night. You were so tired.

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daryl-dixon-daydreams · 3 years

Photo

Words: 9,067 Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader Reader pronouns: she/her Era: The prison Warnings: mentions of anxiety, language Summary: Y/N falls ill on a run and Daryl worries about what's wrong.

Your name: submit What is this?

You leaned back against the chain link fence as Daryl pulled out the bolt cutters and cut the chain around the gate. “Okay. Umm… canned pears,” you said, glancing over at the archer. He peered up at you through his curtain of wavy brown hair.

“Pears? Nah. Peaches.”

You straightened up as he heaved the gate open. “I prefer pears.”

“Canned pears are disgusting,” he said, raising his eyebrows at you.

“Fine! If we find some, more for me!” you said. He slung his crossbow back over his shoulder in a well-practiced habit and started to lead the way toward the building. You followed just slightly behind him, fingering the hilt of your knife.

When you reached the small loading dock, Daryl gave you a serious glance and set down his duffel bag. He pulled the bolt cutters out again. You nodded and he banged them harshly on the closed overhead door. You both strained your hearing after the metal rattling ceased. Nothing. It was silent. You grinned at him.

“Well, that’s good news,” you said, relaxing slightly.

“There could still be some in there stuck somewhere. Don’t let your guard down,” he said, clipping the lock off the mechanism keeping the door shut.

“You know I don’t let my guard down,” you countered.

“Mmm,” he hummed, focused on the task at hand. He replaced the bolt cutters in the duffel and checked the magazine of his pistol before sliding it back into the holster at his side.

“French-cut green beans,” you said suddenly.

His blue eyes shot back up to your face. “Green beans?” he repeated. “And what the hell does ‘French-cut’ mean?”

You laughed. “They’re, like, thin sliced lengthwise. Julienne cut.”

Daryl just kept staring at you like you were nuts. “Juli-what? Green beans,” he said again. You grinned. “I love canned green beans! Maybe even more than fresh ones… although I don’t think that’s true anymore since you can’t find fresh anything these days…”

He let out a scoff of a laugh and shook his head, turning back to his crossbow and fitting a bolt into the flight groove. “Yer nuts, ya know that?”

“You like it,” you said, lifting your boot and poking the toe into his butt. It elicited the exact response you wanted, which was a look he meant to be stern, but the crinkles at the corners of his eyes gave away his mutual amusement.

“Sometimes,” he said, straightening up.

“Well, what are you hoping we find in there? Besides canned peaches.”

He shrugged. “I dunno.” He reached for the door latch, getting ready to heave it open.

Your hand shot out and landed on his arm, stopping him. “Nuh uh! That’s not a good answer!”

He sighed, taking in your insistent and expectant expression. “How ‘bout a giant jar of garlic dill pickles?”

You nodded, pleased with his answer. “Much better. Okay. Ready,” you said, unsheathing your knife. Daryl took in the playful light that lingered in your eyes as you readied yourself for whatever you were about to find inside.

He heaved the overhead door open and the two of you stepped into the dim shipment receiving area, shoulder to shoulder. You both clicked on your flashlights and swept them over the room. Daryl led the way to a door in the far wall. “Bet this goes to the storage area,” he said quietly. You nodded, a little anxious, shifting your weight from one hip to the other.

Daryl knocked loudly on the door and again you both strained your hearing, listening for the tell-tale moaning and clawing of the dead. It was intensely quiet. You and Daryl exchanged a look and he reached for the door handle. You gave him a nod and he pushed into the next room.

You were hoping to find the stock of emergency supplies that had been put together shortly before the outbreak became all-consuming. They were to be sent as hurricane relief. But instead of the hoped-for stockpile, you found a mostly empty stockroom instead.

“Shit.” You stepped farther inside and kicked at a piece of discarded shrink wrap on the floor. “I guess someone else heard the same tip we did,” you said, shining your light over the empty shelves.

“Mmm. Or got real damn lucky,” Daryl said, his crossbow still raised. His light illuminating a nearby doorway into the main store area. “C’mon. Let’s just check out here.”

You followed behind him with your flashlight up and you hadn’t moved too far into the room before a wall of horrendous odor hit you. “Oh my God,” you said, pressing a hand over your nose and mouth.

Daryl’s light landed on the decomposing scattered bodies of walkers. “Somebody cleared the place out,” he said, crouching down to look at the inflicted wounds. “They’re all shot.”

“Oh, fuck,” you murmured, gagging at the smell. You doubled over and heaved a few breaths, struggling to stop the bile that was suddenly churning in your stomach.

Daryl glanced back at you over his shoulder, climbing to his feet when he saw how pale you looked. There were beads of sweat across your forehead. “Ya alright?” he asked, rushing over to you, overwhelmed with concern. He gently rubbed your back.

You were afraid if you spoke you were going to vomit so you waved a hand at him and did your best to steel yourself. When you felt like you could talk, you tried to straighten up. “I’m fine. I’m fine. Really. It’s just the smell—Ugh, it hit me hard. I think I just need some air…”

Daryl was staring at you with a deeply furrowed brow. “Ya sure?”

“Fine. I’m fine.” You felt another wave of nausea and shut your eyes against it. “I’ll be outside… Just finish looking around in here and I’ll—I’ll meet you out back,” you said. Daryl sweetly grabbed your hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. You met his blue eyes and saw they were darkened with concern. “I’m okay.”

The archer watched you retreat out into the fresh air, puzzled over the situation. He’d never seen you react to the smell of rotting bodies or gore that way. Hell, he’d seen you open up a walker’s stomach to check for meal contents. He’d seen you put down countless numbers of dead ones with an unhesitating knife to the skull. Just then he heard the unmistakable sound of you retching outside.

“Y/N?” He rushed outside to see you doubled over on the pavement a short distance from the door.

You straightened up at the sound of his bootsteps, your knees feeling a little shaky.

“You’re sick,” he said, a shadow growing on his face. “We gotta go. Get ya home.”

You looked miserable. “It’s just a stomach thing. It’s not a big deal,” you said, pulling out your water and rinsing out your mouth.

“Maybe it’s somethin’ ya ate. What’d ya have this mornin’?” he asked with anxiety.

You shook your head. “Can’t be that.”

“Food poisonin’? Why not?”

“Because I didn’t have anything,” you said, shoving your canteen back in your bag. “Did you finish up in there?” you asked.

He shook his head. “Nah, but don’t matter. I’m sure whoever put down all those walkers cleaned it out. Ain’t nothin’ gonna be in there anyway. C’mon. Let’s just get ya home,” he said, taking your pack from you and slinging it over his shoulder.

“Daryl, we came all this way. Don’t you want to—”

“Nah. What I want is to get ya home. You’re sick. C’mon,” he insisted. His face was clouded with worry as you wiped a shaky hand over your brow, surprised at the clamminess of your own skin.

You nodded. “Okay. Alright.”

You were still a little nauseous the whole drive back to the prison. You had the window down so the fresh air was on your face which helped some, but the churning in your stomach never really stopped. Daryl kept glancing over at you the whole time he was driving, checking the color of your face, watching carefully for any sign that you were worsening.

He reached over and rested his hand on your knee. You caught his blue eyes and smiled weakly. “Don’t look so worried. It’s nothing. Probably just the stagnant air in there or something,” you said, trying to reassure him.

He wasn’t convinced, but he nodded.

He felt better as soon as he had you back behind the safe walls of the prison. His hand rested lightly on your lower back as you both headed up toward the main building. Daryl spotted Hershel and Carol in the yard and stopped short. “Hey—I’m gonna grab Hershel to come take a look at ya. Go on and lay down,” he said, inclining his chin toward the building.

“I’m fine,” you said for what felt like the hundredth time. “You’re really making too much of this,” you said.

“Maybe. But better safe than sorry,” he said.

You gave him a weak smile and nodded, conceding to his sweet concern. “See you in a few?”

He nodded, grabbing your hand and giving it a squeeze before he jogged off toward Hershel.

It wasn’t long before he arrived at the space the two of you had claimed, Hershel and Carol in tow. You were laying on the mattress with his poncho draped over you. You looked tired, but Daryl was relieved to see that some of the color looked like it had come back into your face.

Hershel pulled up a chair as you sat up. “Feeling a bit under the weather? Let’s see if you’ve got a fever. After having kids, every parent turns into a human thermometer,” he said. He pressed a hand to your forehead. “No fever. Any other symptoms? Headache? Weakness? Feeling dizzy?”

You shook your head. “No. A bit tired. And just had some nausea.”

“She was pale and clammy before,” Daryl drawled, watching with worry. “She looks better now.”

Hershel nodded. “I see.”

“Really, I think it was just the smell of those rotting walkers. The air in there was heavy with decomp. It was like I could frickin’ taste it. Ugh, it was horrible,” you said. Your stomach turned again a little as you thought about it and you squeezed your eyes shut.

Hershel nodded. “Well, I don’t think there’s anything to worry about,” Hershel said.

Daryl shifted. “Ya sure?” the archer pressed him.

“I’m sure. Why don’t you go on and help Rick with that new water line? We’ll just get her some water and something to eat. Make sure she rests. But I don’t think there’s anything troubling.”

Daryl considered you for a moment and you gave him a smile. He seemed to feel reassured and he nodded. “Alright.” He crossed the space to you quickly and leaned down to place a kiss on your cheek. “I’ll be back in a bit,” he said, giving you one more parting glance. You smiled at him again and watched the wings on the back of his vest disappear down the stairs.

“So, I’m okay?” you asked, adjusting Daryl’s poncho over your lap. You watched Hershel and Carol exchange a look. You stomach twisted. “What? What is it?”

“It was the smell of the walkers that set off the nausea?” Carol asked.

“Yeah…” You stared at the two of them, perplexed. “What, you’re surprised that a bunch of rotting corpses in a closed-up store with no ventilation made me puke?”

“Well… a little, to be honest,” Hershel said gently.

You gave him a questioning look and then stared at Carol.

“We’re not saying that isn’t understandable. It’s just that you have never reacted that way before. And we’ve all seen you deal with rotting corpses before plenty of times,” Carol said. “You’ve never gotten sick.”

“I don’t get what you’re driving at. So, maybe I have a little stomach virus or something?” you said. “Is something wrong with me?”

“No. No, honey,” Carol said, grabbing your hand. She took a breath, her eyes searching your face. “Y/N, could you be… pregnant?”

You froze, a sudden, struck expression on your face. The doctor and Carol watched your eyes go a little round and wide, flitting back and forth as your mind whirred, like you were searching for the answer in the air over their shoulders. “Oh my God.”

Hershel and Carol watched your reaction carefully. You were as still as a stone statue.

“Oh my God,” you said again. “I didn’t even—” You shook your head slightly. “I didn’t realize, but—” You pressed a hand to your mouth. “Between never having enough to eat and the constant stress, I didn’t even notice that I—I mean, it’s not like we’ve been trying.”

“So, I’ll take that as a maybe,” Hershel said nodding. There was a spark in his eye as he peered at you kindly. “We’ll see about getting you a test.”

You looked back at Carol, your mouth dropping open and your eyes a little frantic. “Carol, what do I—? Daryl… He—" If it was true, you had no idea how the archer would react. Hell, at that moment you didn’t even know how you would react.

She gave you a concerned smile and squeezed your hand between her palms. “Let’s just take this a step at a time,” she said gently. “Okay?”

You gulped and nodded, suddenly reeling with anxiety. “Okay. Okay…”

Hershel climbed to his feet. “You rest. Carol and I will figure out getting a test for you. Probably just ask Glenn to make a run.” He read the anxiety on your face. “Either way this goes, it’s your decision what happens next,” he said gently. “Daryl is a good man. Try not to worry,” he said.

You nodded. “I know. I know… Okay.”

Carol followed Hershel out and you laid down on the mattress, pulling Daryl’s poncho up over you and curling your fingers into it, pressing your face close to the fabric and breathing in his smell. You laid awake for a while with your mind spinning, wondering how he would react to the news. It was always easy to picture your future with Daryl, even during what was seemingly the end of the world, but you’d never thought about the details beyond the two of you being together. And with the history of his parents, what he had gone through, you didn’t know what he would want as far as a family… That had never mattered to you before, but now that you were staring the possibility in the face you were suddenly wrecked with nerves.

Sometime later, the archer arrived to check on you, approaching the space you shared in the lofted area of the cell block quietly, expecting you to be sleeping. But he was surprised to see that, although you were in bed, your eyes were open and you rolled over at the sound of his quiet steps.

He was sweaty and coated in dust and mud that was in various stages of drying. He set his bow down beside the bed. “Ya ain’t sleepin’?” he drawled.

You shook your head.

“Why not?”

You shrugged. “Just couldn’t.”

His brow furrowed. “How are ya feelin’?”

“Fine. Just a little tired.” You smiled at his dirty and somewhat disheveled appearance. “Come here,” you said softly.

He glanced down at his mud-coated clothes and arms, and looked back up at you like you were nuts for that request. “M’filthy,” he said.

“I don’t care,” you replied. “Come here.” You moved over to make room for him to lay down beside you.

Daryl gave you a look, his blue eyes soft, and bent down to at least pull off his boots. He laid down facing you and his heart leapt as you moved into him closely, your arm draping over his waist. You moved your leg until it was tangled between his. He happily breathed in the scent of your hair.

“Ya okay? Really?” he asked, his deep voice a little heavy with gravel—the result of his concern.

You pulled back from him just enough so you could look into his handsome face. “Mhm. I’m fine. Really.”

He nodded and seemed to relax some, draping his arm over you, mirroring your position. You nuzzled into him again and for the first time since Hershel and Carol had left you alone, your mind quieted.

You felt him place a kiss in your hair and you smiled reflexively.

“I need to clean up. I’m gettin’ our bed all muddy,” he said. You felt the rumble of the bass in his voice.

“Can I come?” you asked softly. “I’ve felt gross since the run.”

He glanced down at you and nodded. “If I ever say no to that, ya can assume I’ve lost my damn mind.” He gave you a fond look and smoothed your hair gently. “Ya sure ya just don’t wanna sleep?”

“Mhm. I’m sure. Besides, I won’t be able to sleep unless you’re right here anyway.”

Daryl smiled, feeling a swell of affection for you and the way you always made him feel wanted and needed. “Alright. C’mon then.”

So, the two of you made your way to the showers and slipped into a private stall. Daryl pulled you into him under the stream of water and kissed your bare shoulders and up your neck, his arms smoothing over the curves of your sides and landing on the angles of your hips. You scrubbed away the mud from his skin and he smoothed the soapy lather over yours, loving the way his fingers glided over the shape of you. When you were both clean, Daryl shut off the water and wrapped you into him with his big towel causing you to laugh. “Gotcha,” he drawled.

“You do.” Your hand landed flush on his strong chest, your fingers splayed out, and you looked up at him, the corners of your eyes crinkled slightly in a smile. Daryl’s heart jumped every time you looked at him like that. He leaned forward and left a kiss on your nose, watching as your eyelashes fluttered closed.

You looked up at him again as he grabbed your towel for you and you both dried off before pulling on some clean clothes. Daryl watched you running a comb through your hair and studied the graceful movements of your hands. “Hey,” he said softly, drawing your eyes to him immediately. “Ya know I love ya, right?” He still looked a little bashful every time he said it. You didn’t mind.

Your face lit with a gentle smile and you closed the space to him in an instant, clasping his face in both of your hands. “I know. And you know, I love you, right?” you said.

Daryl’s lips found yours and you sank into each other for a moment. “I know,” he said when you broke apart. “C’mon. Ya need somethin’ to eat and then sleep.” He laced his fingers with yours and pulled you toward the cell block.

After a quiet supper with the rest of the group, the two of you wandered outside into the evening air to enjoy the stars for a few moments before heading up to bed. Daryl sat down on the soft grass and tilted his head at you, beckoning for you to come sit up against him. You sank down in front of him and leaned back. He wrapped his arms around you and rested his chin on your shoulder.

One thing Daryl always loved about you was that you didn’t need to fill every silence. Just being close to one another filled each of you up in ways that idle chatter never could. But when he did want to talk, you listened intensely, really listened to him in ways he wasn’t used to. “I’ve been thinkin’,” he said softly, pausing to anxiously chew his bottom lip for a moment, “if the outbreak hadn’t happened, you and I probably never would have even looked at each other.”

“Hmm. How do you mean?”

“Mmm,” he hummed, thinking about how best to explain what he meant. “I was too busy runnin’ around bein’ a piece of shit with Merle. And you—we were in different worlds, ya know. We probably never woulda even had the chance of brushin’ elbows. But if we did,” he shrugged, “I don’t think ya woulda looked at me twice.” He ran his hand down your bare arm, relishing the feeling of your soft skin. “Hell, I didn’t think ya would look at me twice even now…”

You turned and looked over at him, a sad but thoughtful expression on your face. “It’s hard to know, and maybe you’re right, that we would have never met… but if we did, I think I would have seen you just the same way. It’s impossible not to see you, Daryl.” You clasped his face and stroked your thumb along his strong jaw.

His eyes were flickering between yours and he felt that familiar bloom of warmth starting in the center of his chest, right between his lungs, and growing outward. He nudged his nose up at you, in awe of you always, and you acquiesced happily and kissed him. “Let’s get some rest,” he drawled when you finally broke apart. “C’mon.”

Daryl stood and pulled you up, keeping your hand captured in his, his thumb smoothing over the back of your hand as you made your way up to bed.

_ _ _ _ _ _

When you woke up the next morning you could tell it was much later than you usually slept in. And the fact that Daryl wasn’t beside you and that you hadn’t woken up when he stirred was also unusual. You were a light sleeper, and the two of you generally woke and got up around the same time. This sent your anxiety whirling again.

You got up and threw on some clothes, heading down to the lower level of the cell block and finding Carol and Beth sitting at one of the tables with Judith.

“Morning, sleepy head,” Carol said with a smile.

You rubbed your eyes and sighed. “Yeah, geez. What time is it? I don’t even know when I last slept in this late.”

She nodded and gave you a pointed look.

Beth only smiled up at you. “You must have needed it then,” she said kindly.

“I guess so…” You glanced around but the cell block was empty. “Where’s Daryl?”

“He’s on the fence with Rick. Little herd piled up overnight,” Carol explained.

“Mmm,” hummed in acknowledgment.

“Maggie and Glenn ran into town for some supplies,” Carol said, shooting you another meaningful look.

You nodded. “Great. Okay.” You anxiously bit the inside of your cheek.

“You want some breakfast? There’s some oatmeal we made,” Beth offered.

You shook your head. “No, I’m alright. I’m gonna go see how things are going on the fence I think.”

“Y/N, you should eat something,” Carol said.

You waved her off, already headed toward the door. “I’m fine! I’ll eat something in a bit!” Truthfully you had no appetite at all. This waiting, the not knowing, was agonizing.

You stepped out into the bright sunshine and set out toward the two figures on the perimeter fence. There was a group of walkers still clawing at the chain link, but it looked like Rick and Daryl had it under control. You grasped the interior chain link and hollered at Daryl and Rick over the mawing and growling sounds. “Best way to start the day?”

They both spun and you grinned at them. They were sweaty and splattered with walker blood, each clutching a metal rod in their hands, the end covered with a bit of gore. You felt a spin of nausea and avoided looking at the crimson dripping from their weapons.

“Morning exercise,” Rick said with a smile. He turned back and continued the task.

“Yer up,” Daryl said with a smile. He came over, wiped his hand on the red rag he always had in his back pocket, and then rested his fingers over yours, which were poking through the fence on his side.

“You should have woken me up! I can’t believe I slept in this late,” you said.

“Nah. Ya needed it,” he drawled. “Ya were out cold. Didn’t even move when I got up. Besides, we’ve got this handled. Ain’t no reason ya need to be out here.”

You nodded. “I see that.”

“Should be a done in a bit,” he said, glancing back over his shoulder at the growing pile of dead ones on the other side of the fence. Looking back at you, Daryl thought you looked a little pale. “Ya feelin’ alright?” he asked, his brow furrowing a little.

You nodded. “Mhm. Fine. I’m gonna just go see if Hershel needs help in the garden,” you replied. “See ya in a few?”

The archer nodded and watch you start to turn away. “Hey—just take it easy, alright?”

You laughed. “I think harvesting cucumbers is about as easy as it gets!” You gave him one more wide smile and headed for the vegetable garden. “Hey, Carl,” you said, as you came through the gate and passed him. “What are we harvesting today?”

Hershel glanced up at you and gave you a small smile. “Cucumbers. Peppers. Those tomatoes could use some weeding if you’re up for it,” he said. He surveyed you carefully and, like Daryl, did think you looked a little pale. But you seemed otherwise bright and alert as you set about your task.

But you hadn’t been working in the garden long when you started to feel a bit dizzy. A cold sweat broke out at your hairline and on the back of your neck and you knelt heavily in the soil a little suddenly.

Hershel noticed immediately. “Y/N?” He got up and moved over to you. He watched you wipe a shaky hand across your forehead. “You alright?”

You heaved in a deep breath and forced it out slowly. “Just feel sick all of a sudden. I’m okay. I’m fine,” you said, straightening back up. But as soon as you tried to stand your knees felt weak.

Hershel grabbed your arm to steady you. “Whoa. Easy now. Alright.” He turned to Carl. “Carl, go run and get Daryl.”

“No. No, I’m fine… Don’t bother Daryl with this. It’s nothing. I’m alright. I’ll just head back inside and rest,” you argued.

“You sure? It’s no bother to Daryl to come look after you,” Hershel said, giving you a pointed look.

“I’m fine. Really. I guess I do need some rest. It’s nothing,” you argued.

Hershel reluctantly released his gentle hold on your arm and you made your way back inside. Carol stood up when you came in and you read concern on her face at the sight of you. You let out a wry laugh.

“Wow, do I really look that bad?” you said, wiping at the sweat on your brow again with the back of your hand. Beth glanced over and she too looked worried after studying you. “I’m okay. Just gonna go lay down. I must just be a little sick... Caught some virus or something.” You climbed the stairs and collapsed back into bed, again grabbing Daryl’s poncho and cuddling up to it.

You dozed in and out for a while but woke when you heard hurried steps on the stairs. Looking up you saw Daryl in front of you, his blue eyes narrowed and obvious worry on his countenance. You leaned up on one elbow as Hershel came into view behind him.

Daryl sank down on the edge of the bed next to you and pushed your hair out of your face, smoothing it gently. “Ya are sick,” he said.

“I think she might be a little anemic,” Hershel said. “She needs iron. Red meat would be best.”

Daryl glanced over at him and nodded. “Alright. I can do that,” he said, grateful for a task that would be helpful to you when he was feeling helpless. He looked back at you. “I want ya to stay in bed today. Rest,” he said softly, his eyes flitting between yours. “Ya gonna be alright if I go out and hunt?”

You nodded. “Yeah. I’ll be fine.”

He gulped. “Alright. Promise you’ll stay in bed?”

You looked up at the sweet worry on his face. “I promise. Promise you’ll be safe out there?” You hated the idea of him going out and hunting alone.

“I promise. I’ll come back to ya.” He smoothed your hair again and then leaned down to place a kiss on your forehead. You closed your eyes briefly at the sensation.

He shouldered his crossbow and look at Hershel. “Thanks, doc,” he said. You watched the wings on the back of his vest disappear down the stairs.

You glanced up at Hershel who set a glass of water down next to the bed for you. “You really think I’m anemic?”

He nodded. “I do. Fits all your symptoms. All of them except you getting sick yesterday.”

“Oh… okay.”

Hershel gave you a kind look. “Glenn and Maggie should be back any minute now. I’ll come and check on you in a bit.”

You dozed on and off for a while until you heard some activity down the stairs and you sat up in bed. Quiet, steady footsteps on the stairs approached and Maggie came into view with a small bag for you. “Got what you needed,” she said.

You sat up, your stomach churning nervously, and accepted the bag from her. “Thanks,” you said. She hovered for a moment.

“Do you know what you’re hopin’ for?” she asked.

You shook your head and glanced up at her. “Not really…”

She nodded. “Well, either way it goes, we’re all here for you. And I know Daryl is too, no matter what.”

You gave her a small smile and nodded. “Yeah. Thanks.” You stared back down at the bag in your hand. “Well, better get it over with I suppose,” you said, standing up and heading for the bathroom.

A short while later you were back in the space you and Daryl shared, the pregnancy test sitting on the chair next to the bed. You couldn’t stop switching between sitting and anxiously bouncing your leg and pacing along the side of the bed wringing your hands. You were obsessively checking the time and it felt like it had decided to move like cold molasses. You were a bundle of nerves, but finally it was time to check the results. You forced a nervous breath in and out and picked up the test.

Positive. It was positive.

You felt like your knees were about to give out and you sat down on the bed hard, staring at that little plus sign.

Your heart was racing, and even though you were terrified, and so nervous wondering what Daryl’s reaction would be that you thought you might pass out, you broke into a teary smile as you stared at the results.

You replaced the test on the chair beside the bed and flopped backwards onto the mattress, staring up at the gray concrete of the ceiling and watching the shifting light and shadows. Whether it was simply from the relief of knowing or a result of the stress leading up to it combined with the toll on your body, you fell asleep not long after, cuddled up to Daryl’s poncho.

_ _ _ _ _ _

It was almost sunset when Daryl came back from his hunt, hauling a small deer over his shoulder. He had told himself he wasn’t coming back until he had some meat for you and everyone else (but mostly for you…) and he had succeeded. Usually hunting or tracking quieted his mind, but the whole time he was outside the prison fences he had been worrying about you. Before the outbreak, it wasn’t a big deal to get the flu or some random virus. But now, without access to modern medical care, something simple could turn into a big fucking problem real quick. You’d never had a problem with anemia before, if that’s what this was, and he didn’t really understand why you suddenly would. But he also knew that you were the type of person who would choose to go without a decent meal so Beth or Carl could have a second helping. He made a mental note to ask Maggie and Glenn about whether they saw any place on their run today that might have meds or supplements. Better to search out what they could before you needed it desperately.

The sun was low and sinking fast beyond the tree line as Daryl nodded to Carol as she closed the gate behind him.

“That’s a good find!” she said enthusiastically, looking at the deer slung over his shoulder.

“Yeah. How’s Y/N?”

“Hershel’s been checking on her. She’s been sleeping all afternoon,” Carol said.

Daryl nodded. “Good. I was afraid she’d be up tryin’ to help on the frickin’ fence or somethin’. Stubborn,” he drawled. He started up toward the prison and left the deer outside to be butchered. He wanted to see you before he did anything else.

It was quiet in the cell block. Most of the group was winding down for the evening, sprawled out with a book or busying themselves with some quiet activity. Rick gave Daryl a nod as he came in and continued bouncing and shushing Judith.

Climbing the stairs to your shared space, Daryl could tell you must still be asleep. Normally you’d have been calling out to him already with some greeting, or you’d be waiting at the top of the stairs with a one of those smiles that killed him every time.

He smiled as you came into view on the bed. You were partially curled up on your side, cuddled up to his poncho tightly, your fingers curled into the fabric and your cheek pressed to it. He pulled off his vest and tossed it on the chair beside the bed, debating about whether or not to wake you up and ask how you were, when he heard something clatter to the floor.

He bent and felt around under the chair and his hand closed on it. Straightening up, he finally looked at what was in his hand. Even Daryl knew what that little plus sign meant. He glanced back over at your sleeping figure.

This was—was this—suddenly, everything made sense.

The archer rushed down the stairs and toward the exit. Rick looked up and frowned at his urgency. “Daryl?” But the archer didn’t even stop to look at him.

Outside, he grabbed his crossbow from where he had laid it down by the deer, shouldered it, and let himself into the alley between the fences, running toward the vehicles waiting on the outside.

Carol saw him and her stomach immediately twisted. “Daryl?” She rushed toward the fence, but by the time she got there he was already slamming the driver door of the SUV and peeling out, the tires scattering gravel behind the car. Carol gripped the chain link fence so hard her knuckles were white and stared at the taillights disappearing into the dark beyond the lazily drifting cloud of dust. Her stomach dropped.

She ran the whole way back up to the prison and met Rick on his way out. “What’s going on?” Carol asked desperately.

“I was just coming to ask Daryl that same question,” Rick said, his eyes searching the yard and perimeter fence for his broad-shouldered frame. “He just went hurrying out of the cellblock.”

“I saw! He just took the SUV and peeled out of here,” Carol said, her eyes wide and worried. “It’s dark! Where could he possibly be going right now that couldn’t wait?”

A shadow darkened Rick’s expression. He shook his head and shrugged, meeting Carol’s eyes again, at a complete loss. “Better ask Y/N.”

Carol suddenly realized—like a flash of lightning. She nodded to Rick. “Let me go talk to her.”

Carol climbed the stairs to you and Daryl’s space in the cellblock. You were fast asleep on the bed and she gently touched your shoulder to wake you. You stirred and glanced over at her through sleepy eyes. You must have read something on her face because you shot up in bed immediately. “What? What is it? Is Daryl okay? Is he back?” You could tell by the lack of slanted light coming through the high windows that it must be dark.

Carol didn’t know how to tell you this. “He’s fine. He came back with a deer. And then—all of a sudden he just barreled out of here again. He took the SUV.”

You suddenly realized that Carol was sitting on the chair where the pregnancy test had been. Your heart plummeted into your stomach. “Wait—where—where’s the test? It was—it was right there where you’re sitting,” you said.

Carol shook her head. “I didn’t see it. There was nothing here when I came up. Just Daryl’s vest over the back here—”

Carol took in your wide-eyed expression. You jumped up off the bed and starting searching around the floor, reaching under the mattress. “It was right there. I set it there.” You stood up, frozen, one hand clutched to your head. Shit. You hadn’t meant to fall asleep. Daryl came back, and you were asleep, and he must have seen the test and— “He—He came back and I was asleep and he saw it,” you murmured. “He must have seen it and… he just ran off?” There were tears stinging in your eyes now.

Carol stood up and gently grasped your shoulders. “Try not to jump to any conclusions.”

“Carol, it was positive.” You just stared at her, your eyes still wide. “It was positive! What else am I supposed to think? He came back and he saw a positive pregnancy test and he just—he just left?” Your voice was desperate.

The only thing Carol could think of doing was to grab you tightly and hug you. “It’s okay. It’s going to be okay! Don’t panic!”

Part of you knew Daryl would never just leave, but another part of you knew this was completely uncharted territory. You honestly didn’t know how he would react to the news… You couldn’t stop cursing yourself for leaving the stupid test out like that and letting yourself fall asleep. Anyone could have walked up and seen it, and of course it had to be Daryl. You snatched his poncho off the bed and started toward the stairs.

“What are you doing?” Carol demanded.

“I’m gonna go wait,” you said. “I’ll be in the east guard tower…And Carol—Please don’t say anything about this to anyone… Just—not yet. Not now.” You breezed past Rick on your way out, ignoring him calling your name.

Carol met him at the bottom of the stairs. “What’d she say?” Rick drawled.

Carol shrugged. “She was sleeping. Maybe—maybe Daryl is worried about her being sick and decided to go look for supplies,” she offered weakly.

Rick let out a disbelieving sigh. “At night? By himself?”

All Carol could do was shrug.

“How is Y/N? And where’d she just rush off to?”

Carol nodded. “She’s alright. Worrying about Daryl now obviously. She wanted some fresh air and to watch for him so she headed up to the guard tower.”

The worry creases on Rick’s forehead didn’t ease. “What the hell is he thinking going off by himself at night?”

Carol shook her head. “He probably wasn’t.”

Up in the guard tower, with Daryl’s poncho swaddled tightly around you, you sat out in the open night air and stared at the road that led up to the gate. A few times you even tricked yourself into thinking there were distant headlights approaching, but when you looked again everything was just as still and black as it had been a moment before. You heard the door creak open behind you and Hershel stepped out.

He sighed and looked up at the inky blue-black sky, dotted with innumerable stars. “Ah. It’s nice and cool out here now,” he said, leaning back against the wall of the tower. He bent and set a bowl of some noodles and vegetables beside you. “You better eat something,” he said.

“No appetite right now, funny enough,” you said.

He could see the rigid tension in your shoulders and he sank down next to you with some effort, adjusting his prosthetic leg with a sigh. “I can see you’re getting ahead of yourself,” he said gently. “Trying to guess the answer before you can even ask the question.”

You finally looked over at him, an anxious expression on your face. “Did Carol tell you?”

“No. She didn’t have to. I can guess well enough,” he said, a small smile on his lips. Hershel turned his gaze out over the yard. “You know there was a time, back at the farm, when I wasn’t sure about Daryl. You can imagine this old farmer was a little skeptical of his rough-around-the-edges, hot-headed biker attitude,” he chuckled to himself. “But time and time again, he came through for me and my girls. He watched out for all of you and he kept us safe even when we weren’t his to care about yet. He certainly saw Shane for what he was before anyone else.” Hershel breathed in a deep breath of the cool night air and let it out slowly. “And I know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he’d do anything for you.”

You could feel tears burning in your eyes again, and you adjusted the poncho around your shoulders.

“Whatever reason he had for tearing out of here like he did, I promise you that he will be back,” Hershel said strongly.

You wiped one tear that leaked onto your cheek and sniffled, trying your hardest to blink away the rest. You nodded. “Yeah. I just—I don’t know how to—how to do any of this,” you said. “And we’ve never even talked about it so I don’t know what he wants. What if—”

Hershel chuckled again. “What ifs can lead you down a dangerous road of thinking. Let’s just wait and see, hmm?”

You gulped and nodded, staring back out into the night. “You don’t have to wait with me,” you said.

“I’m going to sit here until you eat something. Doctor’s orders.” You could hear a smile in his voice and you begrudgingly picked up the bowl he had brought for you and picked at the food. Hershel smiled.

When the bowl was empty, Hershel took it from you and pulled himself to his feet again. He gave your shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Everything is going to be just fine. You’ll see.”

You felt like you had been waiting up there for days, but it was really only a few hours. You were reeling with worry, but this time when you thought you saw headlights and looked again they were still there.

You jumped up and stared as the SUV came into view and stopped at the gate. Turning on your heel, you started to rush toward the stairwell but you suddenly froze. What the hell were you going to say? What the hell was Daryl going to say? You were gripped with anxiety again as the multitude of what ifs you had been fighting since waking up suddenly traveled through your brain in single file at light speed. You were frozen, staring at the door for… you didn’t even know how long when it suddenly started to open.

You startled and jumped back with a small gasp of surprise. Daryl’s broad shoulders emerged through the widening gap. “Y/N?”

You gulped and stared back at him, anxiously chewing the inside of your cheek.

He stopped just inside the door and took in your wide eyes and obvious distress. His brow furrowed heavily, casting a shadow over his narrowed blue eyes. He gulped and stepped closer to you.

You cleared your throat, hoping your voice wouldn’t come unnaturally high or strangled sounding despite the constriction in your throat. “You’re back,” you said softly. It was the only thing you could force out.

Daryl looked puzzled. “Of course I’m back,” he said, stepping closer. He drew his bottom lip in between his teeth and worried it between his teeth for a moment. You watched as he reached in his back pocket and pulled out the pregnancy test.

Your heart was pounding.

“I, uhh—I found this. Ya were asleep and—” He gulped. “It’s positive, right? Means you’re pregnant.” It really wasn’t a question.

Daryl could see your chest heaving a little with your nervous breaths. You nodded.

Daryl stared down at it for a long moment before he looked back up at you. “What do you wanna do?” he asked.

You stared at him. He looked so calm while you felt like you were spinning. “I don’t—I don’t know—I—” You forced in a breath. “We’ve never talked about what you want. Hell, we’ve never talked about what I want either…”

“I know what I want. I want you. That’s more than I could ever ask for,” he said, stepping closer toward you again. “But this? This is your decision. And whatever you decide is fine by me.”

You were almost overwhelmed with emotion immediately, just hearing him speak those words. Daryl saw it and he couldn’t resist breaking the buffer of space between you any longer. He clasped your face in both hands as the tears finally broke free of your eyes and traveled down your cheeks. “Hey. S’alright,” he murmured to you. He wrapped you up in his arms and pulled you against him tightly. “M’right here.”

You pulled back just enough to look up into his eyes. “You’re really okay with… either way?” you asked him, uncertainty still plain in your eyes.

He nudged his nose up in a nod. “Ya. Promise.” He smoothed his hands over your back.

You leaned your head against his chest for a moment and listened to his strong and steady heart. Daryl gently stroked your hair, enjoying the feeling of you against him and the silky strands of your hair under his fingertips.

You squeezed your eyes shut, part of you still bracing against some worst-case scenario you knew would never come, but that nagging doubt wouldn’t be completely silenced. Your voice was soft, but Daryl still heard it as clear as day. “I think—I want to do this. With you.” You pulled back slightly and looked up, meeting Daryl’s waiting blue eyes. You had barely gotten the words out before he had wrapped you up again and picked you up off your feet, hugging you so tightly he squeezed a little air from your lungs. You let out a surprised laugh as he set you back down, about to speak again, but he clasped your face and kissed you feverishly before you could start. It was like a warm shot of bourbon or that first warm day of sunshine after a long winter. It was urgent and soft at the same time, pleading and needy but affirming, his fingers in your hair.

When he finally pulled back there was a smile crinkling the corner of his blue eyes as they flickered between yours. You were sure you had a slight look of shock on your face still despite the bewildered smile you were now wearing.

“We’re doin’ this?” he asked, not releasing his gentle hold on your face.

You nodded. “We are.” Your heart was pounding. “Oh my God, we are…”

Daryl kissed you again and you sunk into it deeply this time. His hands came to rest on your hips and you stared up at him, still feeling a little like you were spinning. “I didn’t know how you’d—because of your life growing up…” you trailed off.

He nodded. “I know. But I ain’t my dad,” he said forcefully. “You’ve shown me that more than anyone.”

“I woke up and Carol said you just went running off and I—I didn’t know what to think when I realized the test was gone and that you must have seen it,” you admitted.

Daryl’s brow furrowed and he shook his head as he looked at you. “Ya thought I would leave ya?”

“No! No, I didn’t—but then—I just—I guess I got scared… This whole thing is a little overwhelming.”

“Hey. C’mere,” he said, wrapping you up in his arms again and pressing you against him. “I ain’t never leavin’ ya. Never. You’re—you’re my everythin’.”

You breathed him in for a moment before pulling back. “Well, then where did you go?”

One corner of his mouth twitched up and he laced his fingers with yours. “C’mon. I’ll show ya.”

You followed him down the stairs and back into the prison to the cellblock. It seemed that everyone was already asleep except for the two of you, satisfied once Daryl was back that they didn’t need to wait up worrying anymore like you were. When you climbed the stairs into your space, Daryl bent down and pulled a duffel bag out from under the bed. It looked like it was stuffed full. He knelt down beside it and unzipped it.

You stared down at the contents and then met his blue eyes. “This is what you were doing?”

He nudged his nose up at you in a nod, pressing his lips together a little nervously. Now you were the one who grabbed him and kissed him desperately.

The bag was full of things you would need during a pregnancy and for a baby; pre-natal vitamins, bottles, pacifiers, blankets, diapers. Your heart swelled as you looked down at it and then back at Daryl again. You shook your head. “You just—you amaze me,” you said.

He shrugged, still a little bashful when you directly complimented him even after all this time. He reached back under the bed and pulled out a second bag. You gave him a questioning look. “What is that?”

“In case ya decided the other way,” he said. “S’mostly just some random things ya like. Books and…” He shrugged again.

“So—Baby was Plan A?” you asked him as he climbed to his feet.

“You were Plan A. Ya always were and ya always will be.”

You looped your arms around his neck and his hands reflexively landed gently on your lower back. “But—you were hoping—?”

He paused thoughtfully for a moment and then nodded. “If ya woulda asked me a week ago I don’t know what I woulda said. But as soon as I picked up that damn test up and looked at it… And then I looked at ya just layin’ there asleep, all wrapped up with my poncho the way you were… I knew what I was hoping for. But I mean it when I say that anything you decided would be fine. You’re the one who as to do the hard part.”

You arched up onto your toes and kissed him again, sliding your fingers into his hair and feeling calm and happy again for the first time since you had sent out for the test. “How’d I get so lucky finding you?” you asked him quietly. Daryl felt his heart skip a beat and electricity zipped up his back. You always did that to him. Easily. Still.

“I ask myself that all the damn time,” he drawled. “Now c’mon. Ya need rest.”

You nodded and realized that despite sleeping most of the day, you were exhausted. Anxiety will do that… “I suppose you think this means you’re gonna be able to boss me around now?” you joked, settling into bed.

“Damn right,” he said with a smirk, pushing the duffels of supplies back under the mattress. “Gotta make sure ya take care of yerself and the little one. I’m gonna boss ya around all the damn time.” He kicked off his boots and slipped into bed next to you, immediately moving until his body was pressed against yours and he could wrap an arm over you. You slipped your fingers between his. “Gonna tell Hershel he can boss ya around too,” he joked. “And Carol. And Rick. And Maggie. And—”

“Alright, that’s enough,” you laughed.

Daryl smiled to himself and kissed your neck. “We’re doin’ this,” he said softly.

You sighed contentedly and nodded. “We are.” And that night you had no trouble sleeping.

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