“as soon as jeremiah fisher comes around, you lose sight of everything — and everyone — around you.”
notes: ( does not follow complete canon timeline / storyline, written for a female reader, no major warnings apply other than swearing, playlist depicted in each chapter title—this is super taylor swift coded, just like the show )
𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 • far too long after your rendezvous with that cute groupie you couldn't get out of your head, you finally make good on your promise to call.
𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁 • 4k
𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 • smut (18+ only), phone sex, m and f masturbation, discussions of oral f and m receiving and penetrative sex, subby eddie, pillow humping (kinda), fluff, pining, some angst, lots of dirty talk
Your manager was the one who convinced you to get a cell phone. It was a luxury item, it was a status symbol— it was bulky and heavy and you barely used it. She was still the only person who called you on it!
And you'd never even placed a call from the brick before, not in the first three months of owning it.
But, it's usefulness became more apparent when you were stuck on the tour bus, up later than usual, horribly bored. Not just bored, but… lonely, to put it nicely.
Your mind ran through some people you could call to take care of this problem, but it's not like anyone could get on the bus with you when you were going 75 miles an hour through the California desert.
That's when you remembered someone else; someone you'd never really forgotten.
Rolling on your side on the bed, you slid open your bedside drawer and searched until you found a folded up piece of paper. You opened it and beamed as you saw the numbers written in messy, boyish scrawl, snatching the phone so you could punch it in.
You held it to your ear as it rang, anticipation building.
"Hello?"
You smiled as you heard the familiar voice, blurting out, "Eddie?"
The next pause was so long that you almost worried you'd accidentally called the wrong number, but he finally broke it. "You know how long I've been waiting for you to call?" he laughed breathlessly.
"Sorry for the suspense, kid," you smiled. "Got busy."
"That new album— wow," he began immediately. "I was worried when you put out a ballad as a single, but damn— it was such a good record!"
"The label picks the singles," you explained.
"You just keep getting better," he sighed. "You're incredible."
"You flatter me," you cooed.
"How've you been?!" he asked excitedly.
"Uh, you know, the usual. We're doing a tour in Europe this time, kinda crazy," you hummed.
"Tell me all about it!" he encouraged.
"Oh, it's boring," you dismissed.
"No, seriously, I have a geography final tomorrow."
You laughed. "I forgot how funny you are."
"Well, I try…"
"And I forgot how sexy your voice is."
He paused for a second. "Oh, you think so?"
"Are you alone?"
"Y-yeah, whole place to myself," he agreed.
"Good. Because I want you to say some things to me that I don't need anybody else hearing."
You could all but hear his shiver, and you grinned. "Okay," he said shakily.
"Do you still jerk off to my poster?" you asked, point-blank.
"Yes," he answered instantly.
"Tell me how you do it," you instructed. "Tell me what you think about."
"Uh, fuck," he stalled as you slipped your hand into your panties. You were already just a little wet from hearing him talk at all. "I mean, like, how I do it physically?"
"Yeah, sure."
"Well, when I'm thinking about you I get hard in a half second… so I just lay in my bed and look at it— your poster is right on the other wall. And I get it out of my jeans and start stroking my dick."
"You don't use lotion?"
"Only when I'm feeling… extravagant."
You smiled. "And, not to be too cliched here, but what are you wearing?"
"Well, uh," he stammered, "I run this club at my school? And we make— I make— shirts for everybody. So I'm wearing mine. And my leather jacket, and some ripped jeans."
"Sounds cute," you smiled. "This club, it's not the I fucked a celebrity club or anything, is it?"
"N-no, it's just a club for Dungeons and Dragons."
"Oh right— that, uh, Satanic game," you nodded.
"Oh! It's not actually Satanic," he corrected, "it's just an immersive roleplaying experience where you roll dice and you can do basically anything you want. It's a fantasy game!"
"Oh," you frowned, "I think I liked it better when I thought it was Satanic."
He snorted a laugh. "But you probably don't wanna hear about that. You could always, uh, tell me what you're wearing?"
"Gonna be a pretty short list," you warned. "I've only got my underwear on."
"O-oh, shit," he hissed, "that's hot."
It was only because you'd stripped out of your performance wear and got too lazy to put pajamas on.
"It would be even hotter if you didn't have anything on," Eddie added, and you laughed but respected his boldness.
"Not while you're still totally clothed, pretty boy," you cooed.
"Well I can get naked in, like, ten seconds," he offered.
"Oh, I'm sure," you grinned, "but not yet. I want you to just touch yourself through your jeans first."
"You… huh?" he mumbled.
"I'm sure you've got a nice bulge going," you assumed, "just rub your dick through your jeans— get even harder for me."
"O-oh, fuck," he groaned. "Okay, I'm doing it…"
"Does that feel good?" you pressed.
"Not good enough," he whined. "Obviously I don't usually tease myself this much."
"Well, this will be a fun new experience for you," you decided. "I'm teasing myself too, if that makes you feel any better. I'm playing with my clit really slow and gentle…"
"Fuck," he grunted, "you sh-should play with your tits, too."
"Yeah? I was thinking about licking my fingers and running them around my nipples, what do you think?"
"I think if those are the fingers that were just on your pussy, then that's really fucking sexy," he replied.
"They are," you promised, and he growled through his teeth.
"God, do it, I wanna hear it," he encouraged.
Pulling your hand out from your panties and bringing it to your tongue, you wet your fingertips and circled your hardening nipples one at a time. Your moan was totally natural, and louder than you expected.
"You sound so pretty," he praised, "I— god, I'm squeezing my bulge way too hard and it's not even helping. I need to be in you right now."
"I'd be so much louder if you were," you imagined, shutting your eyes, picturing him above you again.
"God, please, I'm so hard," he whimpered. "It fucking hurts, I need to—"
"Get it out, Eddie," you offered, and you heard him sigh so hard it was almost a moan as the sound of fabric shuffling came through the line. At the same time, you put your hand in your panties again, biting your lip while you rubbed your clit properly.
"Can I jerk off?" he asked dutifully, and you grinned.
"No, right now I just want you to rub it on something," you decided. "Is there anything in your room that's as soft as me?"
"Fuck no," he sighed, "for that to be true there'd have to be a girl in here."
"Have there, uh, been any girls in your room since you last saw me?"
There was a pause, and it made your heart catch. "Don't tell me you're jealous," he realized, lowering his voice in a way that made you shudder.
"So what if I am? I wish you were all mine, pretty boy— nobody else should get to feel that perfect cock of yours…"
He laughed a little. "Well, there have been a couple girls since you rocked my world in that bus, darling," he admitted. "But they were nothing compared to you."
It still made your jaw clench angrily. He shouldn't have told you— you were going to go harder on him now. "Come on, Eddie, something to rub your cock on, I don't have all night here."
"Okay, well, there's… something here…"
You raised an eyebrow. "And what would that be?"
"Um… you remember when I used your extremely tiny bathroom before I left?" he mumbled, and you grinned.
"Yeah…?"
"Well, there was a shirt on the floor— a black one? I guess you changed out of it that day but, uh… I might have… taken it."
You smiled wide, feeling your cunt pulse as you imagined him that desperate. "Naughty," you scolded.
"It was this old KISS shirt and it smelled like you— and I actually sprayed it with your perfume while I was in there too and… there's still a little bit of your scent left on it. I get rock hard every time I smell it."
"Then rub your cock on it. Put it on your bed and hump it like the needy boy you are, hm?"
"Sh-shit," he groaned, and you heard the bed creaking under his weight. "Fuck, it's— god, you're so— shit."
You grinned playfully at his obvious disdain for the teasing, but he was helpless to you now. "Keep going, do it just how you would fuck me," you encouraged, "give that shirt the night of its life, Eddie."
"Ohhh baby," he whined. "Fuck, I'm so fuckin' hard… I-I'm leaking…"
"Hm, wish I could lick that up for you," you cooed, laughing when he moaned loudly.
"You're so dirty," he groaned, "the things you say— oh my god—"
"I just like driving you crazy," you admitted.
"Yeah? It's working," he sighed.
"Are you still humping the shirt, Eddie?"
"Yeah, how I'd fuck you, like you said," he agreed. "I'm giving it, uh, long strokes— that's what made you moan the loudest, before. And you liked it when I went really deep."
"Yeah," you agreed, back longing to arch hearing him talk like that. "I liked feeling your cock all the way inside— I was afraid at first that you wouldn't fit…"
"Y-you're making that up," he coughed.
"No, really, I wasn't sure I could take it…"
"Well, fuck, you did," he sighed, "you took it so well— all of me, all of my… big c-cock…"
"Uh huh," you agreed coyly. "You're good at this, Eddie, you're making me jealous of my own fucking shirt."
"Don't make me come on it," he whimpered, "cause then I'll have to wash it and your smell will be gone— please, it's all I've got left of you."
Ouch. Leave it to him to drop those little heartbreakers when you were trying to be sexy.
"You don't need to come on it, in fact you can stop humping it altogether," you decided. "Stroke that pretty cock for me Eddie, I wanna hear you moan."
It was so loud, poor baby, he was so sensitive. "Thank you," he choked out, and your heart twisted.
"Just think about how much better it would feel if it was me instead of your hand."
"So much better, god, fuckin' perfect," he whined.
You smiled to yourself. "Do you miss my pussy?"
"So much— I always think about it when I do this."
"She's so wet for you right now," you taunted, making him groan.
"God, what I would give to slide right into your wet little hole, let you feel this cock stretch you out— I wanna feel you cream on me again."
"Uh huh? What else do you want?"
"I want— I want you to suck me off again, your mouth felt fucking amazing," he added.
"Anything else?"
"A-and I wish I'd gotten a chance to eat you out when we were together— I would've loved making you come on my tongue.”
“Well,” you smirked, “I certainly wouldn’t have minded that…”
“Yeah? Then maybe I would’ve made you come twice,” he purred, “again.”
“Bet you’re still real proud of that,” you giggled.
“Proud is an understatement— I’m waiting for my trophy any day now,” he corrected. “Shit, and making you come with my head between your thighs? Holding your hips so I can keep you just where I want you? Tasting how bad you need me?”
You moaned as you rubbed your clit harder and faster, your hips starting to rock on their own as your pleasure grew.
“Fuck, do that again,” he grunted. “Moan for me again.”
You couldn’t exactly force it to happen, but you did slide two fingers into yourself— just to feel full for a moment— and your next sound was lower and needier. “God, I miss your cock,” you admitted with a sigh.
“Just say the word, I swear on my life I’d be driving across the country to see you,” he sighed.
“But you can’t miss that— ah, fuck— that geography final,” you purred, making him laugh.
“Guess not,” he agreed. “F-fuck, I’m close…”
“Good,” you praised, “I’m so hot imagining you coming right now— making a nice big mess, jerking your thick cock, listening to me, picturing us together again—”
“Tell me it’s gonna happen,” he groaned, “‘cause fuck, babe— I dunno how I’m supposed to go on knowing it was just one night.”
You raised an eyebrow. “Shouldn’t you be happy with just one night? That’s more than most people get.”
He paused. “I should be, yeah, but m’not. It was too good for just once— the way I feel about you, I can’t be happy with just once,” he admitted with a heavy sigh. “If you weren’t gonna make me yours, you should’ve never touched me.”
As fucked up as it was, you nearly came when he said that— but you managed to hold back. Not because you got off to sad things, but because you felt the exact same fucking way. “You’re mine, Eddie,” you breathed. “Mine— fucking mine.”
“Oh god,” he whined, “I-I’m gonna come. Fuck. Please…”
“Come for me, Eddie,” you ordered, but he surprised you by disobeying (for now).
"I-I want you to come when I come," he pleaded.
"No, then I won't be able to focus on how cute you sound," you laughed. "I need to listen closely so I can imagine you're pumping that huge load into me instead."
"Fuck," he groaned. "That's what I'm imagining too. It felt so good to come inside you…"
"I loved all that jizz dripping out of me for the rest of the night," you recalled, "it felt so dirty but I fuckin' loved it."
"Oh fuck, oh fuck," he whimpered.
"After you left, I tasted it," you admitted.
"Oh fuck!" he said again, yelping. "I-I'm gonna come, I'm so close, just— just tell me somethin'."
"Tell you what?"
"Tell me you really care about me."
You gasped slightly. "Eddie, I…"
You surprised yourself when you realized what you were about to say. I'm falling for you. You tried to think of what else you could say, something that would be true and satisfy him without giving yourself away entirely. I think sometimes you're the only one who ever loved me for who I am. I miss you so much that I can't bring myself to call because I'll miss you more. I get scared because I worry you'd hate me if you knew me better. I regret letting you go even though I know it was right.
"I meant what I said before," you offered instead. "I need you."
"I— oh god— I need you too," he whimpered. "I'm gonna come, fuck fuck fuck!"
His high pitched whines dropped to a low, deep groan as he came— abrupt, choking sorts of moans that made it so easy to imagine every pump of hot come he was coating his bed with.
"Oh my god," he sighed, "fuck, I just… I came everywhere. Fuck."
He let out a breathless laugh and it was the sweetest thing you'd heard all day.
"I… I have no idea how to clean this up," he realized. "B-but you still need to come, right? Just tell me what you wanna hear, you can get off to my voice."
"I want to hear you beg," you decided.
"I— god, I'll try," he offered. "Uh, please? Please come…"
"Good start," you egged him on.
"I… I want you to," he kept going. "I wanna hear it, and I can imagine that I'm licking your cunt while you do it."
Fuck, he's not bad. "I'm close," you whispered, "Eddie, I'm close— just keep going…"
"Please, please," he whimpered, "let me hear it, come for me— I know you'll sound so damn good… please just come, I want you to feel as good as I do— you deserve to feel so good…"
You gasped as it hit you, a sharp stab of pleasure that made your fingers nearly cramp up— but thankfully they didn’t, and you were able to keep pushing yourself further and further into it.
“Fuck, s’good, you’re so good,” he praised, “you sound just like I remember— except, you know, you were louder with me.”
You smiled as you started to come down, hips bucking weakly while a wave of numbness settled over you. “Damn,” you laughed breathlessly, hearing Eddie laugh too. “I’ve actually never done that before. Phone sex— not masturbating, that I’m very familiar with.”
“I’m kind of surprised,” he replied.
“You thought I would’ve had phone sex by now?” you assumed.
“No— the masturbating thing,” he corrected, “I mean, you’re a superstar! You could just have this, like, endless line of guys who wait for you to get horny and you could have sex whenever you want.”
“Uh huh, endless line of guys?” you repeated, sinking into the sheets a little deeper— that relaxation that could only come in those ‘after’ moments only enhanced by talking with Eddie. He seemed to put you at ease so naturally. “I don’t have room for many more people in this bus.”
“Okay, then just one guy,” he added, his grin audible even through the layer of static. “One super cool, curly-haired, educationally-challenged metalhead guy!”
“Hm, he sounds like a lot of fun,” you considered, “and I do like the idea of getting laid every day.”
“Every—” he choked, starting over again as his voice cracked. “Every day?”
“What, worried you can’t keep up?” you smirked.
“Oh— no, that is… so not my problem,” he sighed, and you laughed. “I’m just dying a little inside because you’re calling me from heaven and I’m stuck in hell— which has been going by Hawkins, Indiana for the past several years.”
You smiled, softer than before. “I’ll send you a postcard. Wish you were here.”
“Yeah…”
The silence wasn’t quite awkward… it was comfortable, but somber, too.
“It’s too bad your tour didn’t stop in Indiana this time,” he finally blurted out.
“Oh, Eddie— I really tried,” you promised, sitting up. “But the venue changed their price, and the label wasn’t pleased, and I argued about it but—”
“Hey,” he interrupted with a laugh, “it’s fine. I’m a big kid, I can handle it.”
You sighed. “I know.”
“And I’ll wait for you,” he promised. “As long as you need.”
“Funny,” you laughed, “I always thought I was the one waiting on you.”
“Waiting on me to do what?” he wondered.
“Graduate!”
“Right,” he chuckled thinly, “that’s what everybody’s waiting on me to do. But I seriously don’t know if I can pass Ms. O’Donnell’s class.”
You sighed, shifting onto your side as you slipped under your covers; that orgasm took you out, and it was already later than you would normally go to sleep. “Tell me about it,” you offered.
“Well,” he sighed, “first of all, she assigns so much reading— and reading kinda gives me a headache…”
He talked for a while about it, venting about his issues, about the jocks in his class that bully him, about the teachers who didn’t really believe in him.
You listened, eyes getting heavier, the sound of his voice like a comfort for your mind similar to the blanket that was draped over your body. “And don’t even get me started on Mr. Young’s math class…”
“Eddie?” you interrupted.
“Huh?” he mumbled. “Oh, fuck, was I rambling again.”
“No, no, it was fine,” you promised, “I’m just getting pretty tired…”
“Oh… okay,” he offered.
“Will you stay on the line until I fall asleep?” you requested hesitantly.
“O-oh! Yeah, sure,” he agreed.
You couldn’t be sure how long he stayed on after you drifted off, soothed by the fuzzy sound of the silence over the phone— you had no way of knowing that he stayed on for hours and just listened to your breathing, hoping to hear you whisper or mumble to yourself, smiling when you snored for a minute.
All you knew was that when you woke up, there was a dial tone in your ear.
You hung up and put the phone away, its battery nearly drained, and snuggled yourself back into the sheets for a few more hours— hopefully able to continue your dream where it left off.
You called again a few months later, from what was technically your home phone— but the LA mansion never really felt like home.
An older, rougher voice answered after five or six rings. "Hello?"
"Um, is Eddie there?" you asked.
"No," the man answered flatly.
"Will… he be back soon?"
"Considering he doesn't live here anymore, I'm figurin' not."
"O-oh…"
"Who's callin'?"
"Uh, just an old friend. He's not… in jail or anything, is he?"
The man laughed heartily. "Amazingly, no. He moved to Indianapolis after he graduated—"
You interrupted with a beaming smile: "He graduated?"
"Yes ma'am, and he even got a few As on his final report card," he explained proudly.
You opened your mouth to ask for another way to reach Eddie now— a new number, maybe an address, but you suddenly stopped. He finally did it, he escaped. And he did it without you.
Maybe he needed to move on; really, it sounded like he already had.
Now that he was out of school he might ask to join you on tour like you promised over a year ago. It would break your heart to have to say no to him— if you could find the strength to. Worse, you were terrified that he wouldn't ask to be with you, that he'd be content without you… which simultaneously is what you wanted, and what you feared most.
You didn't want to know, was the main thing. You didn't want to find out the hard way that he didn't need you anymore.
"Listen, uh, next time you see him, just tell him to take care, okay?" you requested.
"Sure, can I get a name with that message?" the man pressed.
You wouldn't believe me if I told you. "You don't have to say it's from me," you decided. "Just tell him on my behalf, is all."
"O…kay…" he replied, confused. "I will."
You thanked him and hung up, looking around the empty house— someone else decorated it, and it looked good, but it was too empty and clean, too sterile. Why even have all this space if you had nothing to fill it with but noise.
Noise, that’s what you needed right now; you went upstairs to grab your guitar, suddenly realizing you had a new song to write.
Summary: JJ’s older sister is dating Rafe Cameron and finds out her brother got arrested because of her boyfriend.
A/N: We also know Rafe would be a full ass simp if he had a Pogue girlfriend so here we are. roughly edited so please be kind, this is also my first Rafe fic bc who doesn’t simp over Drew Starkey…I was too excited to wait to post so. Masterlist in bio
Disclaimer: I in no way condone Rafe’s actions in the show, Drew Starkey is perfect Rafe is a crackhead with anger issues but this is fiction and we can write whatever we want so.
Summary: JJ’s older sister is dating Rafe Cameron and finds out her brother got arrested because of her boyfriend.
A/N: We also know Rafe would be a full ass simp if he had a Pogue girlfriend so here we are. roughly edited so please be kind, this is also my first Rafe fic bc who doesn’t simp over Drew Starkey…I was too excited to wait to post so. Masterlist in bio
Disclaimer: I in no way condone Rafe’s actions in the show, Drew Starkey is perfect Rafe is a crackhead with anger issues but this is fiction and we can write whatever we want so.
Summary: You and Shawn escape for some quality time before his show, but things quickly escalate.
Requested: Nope, but they are open!
I let out a moan as Shawn nipped at my bottom lip. My heart fluttered in my chest as he took my hip in one hand, pulling my body into his. With the other, he moved the seat as far back as it could go–putting us in a reclining position.
I brought a hand up to his face, my thumb gently stroking his sharp jawline. There’s no way Shawn’s team isn’t going to know what went down in this car.
I bit down on my bottom lip as Shawn attached his to my neck, his grip on my hips tightening. Without thinking, I ground my hips against his–earning a grunt of pleasure from him as he sunk his teeth into my neck.
“Shawn,” I moan, letting my eyes fall closed as I ground against him again. “We can’t.”
“Then stop,” he mutters against my lips. He presses my hips down on him, earning a moan from me as his hard on makes itself known through his sweats.
“You first,” I breathe.
Shawn brings his lips to mine, kissing me slowly before muttering against my lips, “Don’t want to.”
I run a hand through his chocolate curls and place my lips firmly on his neck. I hear him curse under his breath as I run my tongue over the skin.
“Fuck. Baby, no hickeys.”
Right, he’s got a show shortly. The last thing he needs is for everyone to know what we were doing. Not that they don’t already assume.
Shawn’s hands drop to my thighs, which are strategically situated on either side of his hips. He squeezes, earning a gasp from me, as they slowly travel upward. I attach my lips to the soft spot just under his ear, causing his breath to hitch as his hand dip under my dress.
I let out a moan, my grip tightening on the back of Shawn’s chair, as he applies pressure to my clit with his thumb. I rock my hips with his circular movements.
“Fu-“ I breathe, dropping my head into the crook of Shawn’s neck. “Don’t stop.”
Next, Shawn pushes my underwear to the side–his finger running along my slit and collecting my wetness. I let out a whimper.
“You’re so wet, baby.” He says in my ear. “You sure you don’t want to do this?”
I lift my head from his neck, my eyes coming in contact with his.
“Do it,” I pant. “Do it now, please.”
With that, a smile spreads across Shawn’s face as he slowly inserts a long finger into me. My eyes flutter shut as he starts to pump it in and out. I start to rock my hips against his finger as he curls it inside of me. It’s not enough.
“More.” I pant. I hear him chuckle as he adds another finger with ease. The squelching sound of Shawn moving his fingers against my wetness fills the car as I rock my hips faster, harder against them.
“Tell me when, babe,” Shawn states as I start to feel the familiar flutter in my lower stomach. I clench my walls around his fingers.
“Almost,” I pant as Shawn attaches his lips to my collar bone, placing gentle kisses. “So close.”
“How do you want to cum?” He questions against my skin.
“On you.” I moan. “I want you inside me.”
Shawn looked up at me through his lashes, a smirk playing at his lips. “You got it.”
He slides his fingers out of me and brings them to his lips. He licks me off his fingers as he reaches into his sweat pants, taking himself out.
Wrapping an arm around my waist, he pumps himself a few times before placing himself at my entrance. Taking hold of his shoulders, I lower myself onto him.
We both let out a satisfied moan as Shawn fills me. He closes his eyes, his head falling back onto the seat. I place my hands on chest and start to circle my hips.
“Oh god,” Shawn moans. “Fuck, Y/n.”
Suddenly, there was a rhythmic knock on the window, letting Shawn know it was time to go. Letting out an irritated sigh, Shawn knocks back.
“Sorry. We gotta make this quick, Love.” He says grasping my hips. He then moves me against him at his desired speed.
I bring my lips to his, moaning repeatedly into his mouth. Soon, the familiar flutter in my lower stomach came back at full speed.
“Don’t stop, Shawn.” I pant, my jaw dropping. “Don’t stop. I’m–I’m gonna cum.”
“So tight,” he groans as my walls clench around him in attempts to catch my orgasm. “Cum for me, baby. Cum for me.”
“What about you?”
“Don’t worry about me. Just cum.” He instructs applying pressure to my clit. With that, I cry out Shawn’s name as my entire body tenses–my orgasm washing over me.
“Shit,” Shawn groans, stilling inside me. His entire body tenses as his orgasm hits him. His head falls into my neck as his body shudders. “Holy–“
I let out a breathy chuckle, running a hand through his hair. Lifting his head, he places a kiss to my lips before lifting me off of him.
He tucks himself back into his sweat pants. I fix his hair as he opens the car door. I climb out first, running a hand through my own hair, followed by him.
“Ready?” He asks, shutting the car door.
“Ready.” I take his hand in mine and we both start toward the venue.
Anon request. Shawn x reader. Prompt: “We’re best friends, we made out…we’re practically married.”
Word Count: ~2k
Notes: Another request that took me too long to write! Idk who you are, anon, but I hope you like it. I hope you all like it! 💗
Warnings: None. Pretty much all fluff. Hot make-out, leading to smut, but no actual smut. Sorry, lovies. Don't hate me.
~ * ~
You close the door behind you, making sure the lock engages, and set your clutch on the entryway console table, sighing deeply. Tarzan sprints toward you in greeting and looking for scratches. You oblige and ask, “Is Daddy still up?” He chuffs. “I’ll be there in a minute.” He shoots back off to Shawn’s room.
After changing into your pajamas, washing your face, and brushing your teeth, you make your way to Shawn’s bedroom. He is leaning back against a mound of pillows, in only pajama pants and his wire-framed glasses, MacBook open on his lap, tousled curls falling in his eyes. You lean your shoulder against the doorframe, tender smile on your lips. You always breathe easier in his presence.
Shawn closes his laptop and turns to look at you, removing his glasses and reaching over to set them on the night table. “You’re home early. What, no fireworks?” He had tried not to think about you being on a date, it had made his stomach sour. But still, you’re his best friend and he wanted to be supportive. He taps the bed beside him.
“No fireworks.” He hands you his laptop and you set it on his dresser before crawling into his bed and snuggling into his side. “Not even a spark. It was just...weird.”
“What was? Your date or your date?” he chortles.
You gently thump his stomach. “He was attractive, charming, genuine, a perfect gentleman.”
“Well, then what was the problem?”
You sigh and sit up again, crisscrossing your legs, facing him. He does the same. Your knees are touching. “You.”
“Me??”
“You’re crimping my style,” you mutter.
He snorts. “I am not taking the blame for whatever was weird about your date.”
“I guess I’m just used to being around you, and out with you, where everything is comfortable and easy and fun. We’re best friends, we made out...we’re practically married. You know all my quirks and insecurities; I don’t have to hide those with you.”
He snickers. “How did we go from best friends who make out to practically married?”
“Made out. Once.”
“I’m not opposed to doing that again, you know.” He places his hands on the outsides of your thighs and starts to stroke your skin with the pads of his thumbs. “I like the way you kiss.”
“Do you even remember what it was like to kiss me?” you giggle.
“I remember,” he declares.
You raise an eyebrow, smirk on your lips. “You were pretty wasted, bub.”
“I’m pretty sure I liked it.”
“Mmhm. I don’t even know what possessed me to let you kiss me in the first place.”
“I’m irresistible,” he grins.
“That’s open to debate,” you snark.
“Ha ha,” he scowls. “So, let me try again. Sober this time.”
“No.” You drop your eyes. “It took me a week to even get past that.”
“What do you mean?”
“Nothing,” you say quickly. “Never mind.”
“We’ll circle back to that.”
You wish that hadn’t slipped out. He absolutely would circle back to that; he wasn’t just going to let it go. You think, maybe subconsciously, you wanted to say it, that you actually meant to.
He taps beneath your chin, effectively drawing your eyes back to his. “Tell me how we’re practically married,” he chuckles.
“We live together and are constantly in each other’s space. Sometimes annoyingly so. I have meals ready for you when you get home from meetings or the studio. Truthfully, I do most of the cooking. And why do I do most of the cooking?”
“Because I can’t be trusted alone in the kitchen,” he mumbles, rolling his eyes.
“But you clear the table and run the dishwasher, bub. You also carry heavy grocery bags, kill all the spiders, investigate odd noises, and try to fix things that get broken.”
“Hey!” he scoffs.
“Name one time we haven’t had to call maintenance or a repairman.”
He tries, nose scrunched, eyes showing the thoughts tumbling in his mind.
You simply laugh.
“I also take out the trash.”
“Yes, you do, sweetie.”
“And who takes Tarzan for walks on the coldest days of the year?” Tarzan’s head cocks and ears perk up from the foot of the bed. Shawn chuckles. “Sorry boy,” he says, placing a hand on his rump. “Settle.”
“He’s your dog.”
He puts his hand over his heart and gasps. “If we’re practically married, he’s our dog.”
“I take care of our dog when you’re on business trips. I keep the house nice for when my bub comes home from appearances, events, and tour.” His cheeks pink when you say, ‘my bub’. “I even keep track of your schedule,” you continue. “You’re lucky you have me as your faux-wife. No one else could keep you on task or generally put up with your shit or your moods.”
“You’re not being a very nice faux-wife right now,” he pouts.
“I’m about to not be very nice again,” you caution. “It’s your weekend to do laundry.”
He groans dramatically. “You know how much I hate doing laundry.”
“Offer me a trade then.”
“What chores are on your list that you still have yet to do?” he asks.
“Changing the sheets and making the beds-”
“I’ll do that!” he interrupts before you can add anything more.
“That’s not a fair trade because stripping the beds creates more laundry.” To be honest, you don’t mind doing laundry, you just get a giggle out of his moaning and grumbling on his laundry weeks. He always sulks and complains like a petulant child. It amuses you.
“Fine. What else?”
“Cleaning your bathroom.”
He smirks. “And why is my bathroom on your chore list?”
You wrinkle your nose. “Because I use it more than you do.”
“Mmhm.”
“I like your tub better,” you say, with a slight shrug.
“And who runs your baths for you?”
“You do.”
“Who never complains about your lotions and scrubs and creams all over every available surface of his bathroom?”
“You,” you acknowledge.
“Who goes to the store at odd hours to get you whatever you’re craving when you’re on your period?”
“You do,” you admit.
“Who packs your lunch for you every night so all you have to do is grab it and go in the morning?” By now it’s all rhetorical. “Who reminds you to eat and hydrate in the evenings or on weekends when you’re working towards a deadline? Who always gives you the bigger half, the last bite, or the better piece of anything we share? Who leaves little notes all over the house with words of affirmation on them?”
“Are you done?” you huff. He can see the little smile you’re trying not to let show. He truly is the best boyfriend you’ve ever had and he isn’t even your boyfriend.
“You’re lucky you have me,” he parrots back at you, immensely pleased with himself.
“If I agree, will you stop?” you grumble.
“Agree to what?” he teases.
“Shawn,” you whine.
“Agree that I’m the best faux-husband ever and you’re lucky to have me.”
“You’re a good faux-hubby,” you concede.
“Not just good.” A swift maneuver puts you on your back on the bed and he is suddenly hovering over you, smirking. “Come on, wife.”
You know if you don’t say what he wants to hear he’ll tickle you mercilessly. “Fine!” You attempt to push him off of you, laughing, but he’s strong and stubborn. “You’re the best faux-husband ever.”
“And?”
“And I’m lucky to have you.” You are. Shawn falls onto his back, pulling you on top of him across his chest. “You take good care of me,” you breathe.
He places a kiss on top of your head. “We take care of each other,” he says softly. He absentmindedly traces shapes against the strip of bare skin at the small of your back.
After a few silent moments, he asks, “Can we at least have a conversation about it?”
“About what?” you wonder quietly, content as you are. Shawn is always so warm and smells so good.
“Making out.”
You start to push out of his arms. “Can we not?”
“Circling back.”
“Let it go, bub,” you exhale, sitting up, turning your back on him.
You make a move to leave his bed but before you can, he encircles your wrist with his large hand. “What did you mean?”
You glance at his hand around your wrist. “Shawn...”
“You said it took you a week to get past it... Am I really to blame for how your date went?”
“Don’t worry about it,” you try to assure him, briefly meeting his eyes. He’s propped himself up on his side.
He gives your wrist a little tug. “Talk to me.”
Your eyes close. “He wasn’t you,” you whisper. “No one is ever you.”
“Babe,” he breathes, sitting up against the pillows again. You allow him to pull you back into bed. “Look at me.” You try, cheeks bright red from your admission. “Why do you think it’s been so long since I’ve been on a date of my own? My darling, no one is ever you.”
Your heart starts thumping wildly and finally you’re able to meet his eyes again.
“I want to remember what it was like to kiss you,” he murmurs, brushing the pad of his thumb along your bottom lip. “We’re practically married, after all,” he smirks, breaking the awkward anticipation.
You snort and he laughs, which makes you laugh.
“What do you say? Come on, honey.” He pulls you closer to him. “Make out with me.” He continues to draw you nearer still, until you’re almost in his lap.
“It’s going to change everything,” you express, thoughtfully. Yet you move to straddle him, which you can tell he likes with the little growl at the back of his throat and shift of his hips. You drape your arms over his shoulders and wrap your hands around his neck.
He grips your hips and tugs you even closer. “Let it,” he hums.
He brushes his lips across yours. You gently capture his lower lip between yours. You kiss him, tentatively at first, reveling in how it feels to have his mouth fully under yours. Drunk and messy had been enough to make you lightheaded. This is something else entirely.
The tip of his tongue nudges the seam of your lips, encouraging them to part. Sparks of fire race and settle in stomach and inguen as tongues touch and explore and kisses turn deep and hungry. The mint of your mouths dissipates until all you can taste is each other.
You break apart only enough to breathe, hearts thudding, bodies buzzing, throbbing where you are pressed closest together.
“Yep. I knew I liked it,” he mumbles through a dopey grin against your lips.
You giggle. “No babe...” You inhale. “This is different,” you breathe on the exhale.
“We should’ve done this a long time ago,” he whispers.
Your lips touch again and you lose yourselves in one another until he hears the little moan you hadn’t meant to express.
“Yep,” he shudders, affected more than he ever imagined he could be from such a small sound. “We’re gonna have sex now.”
“Are we?” you hum, dragging fingernails lightly across his upper back.
“Mmhm.” He gives a sharp whistle and points to the bedroom door. The golden retriever jumps off the bed and leaves the room.
He pulls your camisole up, over your head, and off, tossing it aside. “You know, like married couples are prone to do...” His eyes fall on bare breasts he’d only imagined ever seeing. He cups one and lowers his mouth to its pink-tipped peak. He focuses his attention on your breasts until you’re whimpering.
“And then I’ll change the sheets and make the beds.” He flips you over and settles himself between your legs. You impatiently push his pajama bottoms down and he wriggles out of them, throwing them aside as well. “Maybe I’ll even clean my bathroom.”
You laugh throatily, which turns him up another notch. He eagerly slips your panties over your hips, down, and off, dropping them over the side of the bed. Hands on either side of you to support his weight, he lowers his lips to yours again.
Between licks and tugs, he murmurs against your mouth, “But you have to do the laundry.”
~ * ~
@mendesblurb @benito-mi-vida @shawn-is-my-giant-jellybean @silverswallow @hiding-behind-a-flower @weedangel-x @monikamendes @mendesficsxbombay (I wish my taglist was longer!)
A/N: I have never loved an AU more than this one.... tagging: @waspswidows, @mothdruid, @redroomproperty thank you for the endless inspiration and motivation for this au
B A R R Y
Barry was smitten the first time he laid eyes on you
walking into the gym with the owner, your laughter cutting through the noise of ceiling fans, music, and sweaty men grunting
he pants as he looked past his trainer, his blue eyes following your every step
"What's got you so distracted," the taller man asked
Barry walked to the ropes, leaning on the side of the ring
"Who's the girl?" he asked in a daze
his trainer rolled his eyes and stood next to him, inspecting the shiny black pads on his hand
"New medic Boss hired for the fights."
"She's pretty," Barry smiled, leaning further
his trainer hit him over the head with the glove
"Focus, man."
Barry ignored him, his eyes still pinned to you
you turned towards the ring, instantly making eye contact with the boxer
a chill of excitement ran through him as you smiled in his direction
his gloved hand shyly waved at you
"Hi," he mouthed
smiling brighter you responded with the same greeting
you bashfully ducked your head, your eyes still peering up at him
"You ready to train, or are you going to stare at her all day?"
"Both."
you on the other hand couldn't focus on the rules your boss was giving you
the handsome man with soft brown hair and shining blue eyes in the right captured your attention
it wasn't hard when he looked like that
or when he played it up just to get you to notice him
you finally walked up to the ring, him and his partner shit-talking with one another
"Are you always like that?" you joke
"Only if it keeps you around."
D R U I G
Druig didn't like to be jealous
he just wanted to show up, fight, go home
then Ajak hired you as her second in command
and all the guys wanted you to patch their wounds
Kingo even went around asking people to punch him harder in the ribs so that she'd have to touch him
Druig just rolled his eyes and watched you from afar
he didn't like to admit that he wanted you to fix him after fights
whenever he got the slightest cut, he'd make his way over to you only to be countered by Ajak
"I'll fix that cut, Druig," she would say with a motherly tone, ushering him away
he was jealous of all people you got to help and those who got a few minutes extra of your time just to talk to you
"She's a real guardian angel," Ikaris joked, showing off the bandage you put over his nose
Druig's blood boiled at the thought of your fingers on Ikaris' skin
Druig threw his bloody towel roughly in the hamper, leaving the other guys speechless as he huffed out of the locker room
you were packing up your first aid kit at the end of the night, the cold air biting at your fingers as you placed the kit on the trunk of your car
the back door slammed and you turned to see Druig's bleeding face
"Druig!" you call out, trying not to wince at the sight of his bleeding brow
"Let me clean that up," you tell him
the boxers heart almost stopped as he walked up to you
next thing he knew, he was leaning up against your car
your delicate fingers touching his face
they felt so comforting
"I'm surprised we haven't met like this," you say as you clean his cute
Druig chuckles, "Ajak always gets in my way," he smirked
you rolled your eyes "I'm not surprised," you sigh
he winces as you place a bandage on him
"Oh?"
you exhaled "She didn't want me fixing up guys I might fall for, conflict of interest or whatever," you chuckle
he was the only one you hadn't helped after a fight
a blush crept to his cheeks, his fingers touching his now painless cut
"It feels better."
"Well just call me your guardian angel," you joke
"I would like to call you... if that's alright with you?"
you grin at his cheesy play on words, a warmth spreading throughout your body
May I make a request for Druig? An angsty one with a happy ending (👀Or not, I live for it) Druig wanted to ask mortal!reader if she wanted to marry him with the help of their kid (boy or girl) as a surprise but when he turned around, they were gone. Nothing but dust was in their spot. Panics sets in and he went crazy looking for them. So of course after five years once everyone came back, he looks for them again and finds them.
A/n: Omggg loved writing this, beautiful ask. Thank you!!! I'm separating it into two parts - here's part one! Pt2 on its way. Hope you enjoy :)
****
Druig tried to bite back the nervous bile in his throat, his hands shaking as he held the small black ring box in one hand, your daughter Lyla’s small hand clasped in his other.
“Daddy, what’s wrong?” Lyla asked, looking up at him with gentle trusting y/e/c eyes. Druig never got over those eyes; they were y/n’s eyes, after all.
He smiled indulgently, patting her lovingly on the head and tousling her honey colored curls.
“Just nervous, petal,” he replied honestly. She nodded knowingly, which prompted a soft laugh to escape his lips. ‘Far too wise for her age,’ he thought, smiling internally as he thought of the countless times he’d said the very same to y/n out loud. ‘Only because her father is literally the oldest man on the planet,’ y/n always laughed back, usually giving him a teasing pinch on the waist followed by a quick peck on the cheek.
Druig always felt a thrill run up his spine when y/n called him ‘father’. He wasn’t the little girl’s father biologically - Druig was fairly certain that was impossible, given his status as an Eternal - but he had been in Lyla’s life since before her birth. She, like her mother, was the source of his daily joy.
It felt foolish to be nervous at this point. After all, y/n and Druig had been together for years. Druig chalked his nerves up to his perpetual disbelief that he’d found her. After thousands of years watching humans stumble through life, killing each other and maiming Earth with their inventions, he’d never thought he’d be capable of standing them, let alone loving one.
Then he’d met y/n. Gentle, thoughtful, exuberant, uncomplicated y/n. He loved her for her charm, her trusting nature and optimism, her soft smile and sharp wit. The breathtaking smile and bottomless eyes didn’t hurt either. He found y/n’s presence was the only place he felt relaxed, at peace. She was his oasis.
He’d always found the human idea of marriage laughable at best, barbaric at worst. He’d seen too many human love matches dissolve into disloyalty and bitterness. But he’d do anything for y/n, and when he’d found her coyly leafing through a bridal magazine at a book store, trying to nonchalantly hide it from him, he’d first confronted the thought that, even though marriage seemed unnecessary in his mind (as if he’d ever give his heart to anyone else anyway), it was a right of passage that y/n longed for. And, despite his initial grumpiness at the whole prospect, he’d found himself secretly relishing the proposal planning. Sersi and Sprite’s excitement seemed to be rubbing off on him.
He’d asked y/n to let him take Lyla out for breakfast so y/n could catch up on sleep. If she was suspicious at his suggestion that she treat herself to a relaxing manicure and join them for lunch in the park, she didn’t let it show.
And Druig’s day had started out with breakfast for two, just Lyla and him. Just like her mother, she gave Druig a peace in his soul he’d never known. She was more and more like y/n every day, in the way she quirked her lip when she was deep in thought or in her picky food choices. He’d never get tired of watching Lyla grow into her own woman, but he secretly loved how much like her mother she was.
And, just like her mother would, Lyla tugged on his hand happily as the two made their way across the manicured green lawn to the picnic spot, already prepared by the loving hands of Sersi and Sprite.
“When’s mama coming?” Lyla asked, looking up at Druig and squinting through the noonday sun.
“Any minute now, little one,” Druig replied, crouching down so he was eye level with her. “Remember what I asked you to help me with?” Druig handed her the velvet ring box; she took it with a serious expression on her face, holding it with both hands. She nodded intently.
“As soon as Mummy gets here, I’m going to ask her to close her eyes. Auntie Sprite is going to help keep Mummy from spying our pretty picnic spot, so when she opens her eyes she’s going to see it!”
Lyla laughed giddily. “She’s gonna be so surprised!”
Druig nodded, hoping that Lyla’s predictions would come true. “Yes, I think so,” he assured her, a grin spreading across his face as he watched Lyla beam with the simple joy of surprising her mother.
“Once Mummy sees the spot, I want you to come over with these flowers and hand me the box, ok?” Druig handed Lyla a bouquet of irises - y/n’s favorite. Although the bouquet was ostentatiously large (Druig made note of that, wanting to remember to roll his eyes pointedly at Sersi for intentionally ordering the biggest arrangement she could find) and nearly swallowed Lyla whole, she took it in her arms with admirable determination.
“I remember, Daddy,” she announced. Druig winked at her and gave her a kiss on the forehead.
“Thank you, petal. Here comes Mummy.”
He spotted y/n in the distance. Still, after all these years, she took his breath away. Walking calmly through the park, gazing around with a pleasant smile on her face. Druig knew exactly what she’d say to him if he was walking beside her: “Oh Dru, what a gorgeous day! I can almost taste the sunshine!” Y/n loved this time of year, and this park.
Sprite, who had remained unobtrusively on a park bench nearby, saw y/n approaching. Druig recognized the subtle glint of gold around her hands as she used her powers to trick y/n’s eyesight into seeing nothing more than an unadorned patch of grass where Druig, Lyla, and the picnic blanket sat assembled. Although y/n generally groused at having the Eternals’ powers used on her, Druig hoped she would forgive him this one indulgence.
Sprite nodded at him. That was the signal. With a deep breath in, Druig walked out to meet y/n.
“Hello, my love,” he announced softly so as not scare her. Y/n startled a bit, but realization quickly spread over her features.
“Dru! What is this?” she laughed as Druig caught her hands in his, pulling her knuckles to his lips. “Where’s Ly?”
“She’s here, don’t worry. We planned a little surprise for you.” Druig lead y/n through the park. He marveled at how trusting y/n was; even after having the powers of sight rendered entirely useless, she followed Druig without a moment’s hesitation. He felt a surge of protectiveness wash over him as he pulled her close.
Lyla backed away, still holding the irises (although struggling to see over the top of the dark purple blooms, he noted) and the ring box. She took retreat behind an oak. Druig smiled at her; her commitment to the element of surprise was commendable.
Druig lead y/n the last few steps, angling her body so she would have the most breathtaking view of the picnic blanket and the pond beyond, sunlight glinting off it in beautiful beams.
“Y/n, I love you. I wanted to bring you to here to remind you of that. You deserve this, and more.” Druig nodded to Sprite, who let her powers recede, pulling away the facade. Y/n squealed delightedly as the reality of her surroundings hit her. She threw her arms unabashedly around Druig’s neck, pulling him into a soft, sweet kiss. He held her there for just a moment, relishing the feel of her smile against his mouth. But he couldn’t let himself get distracted. He pulled away, sinking down to one knee, holding y/n’s left hand in his. He looked up at her, marveling at the intensity of her y/e/c eyes. Y/n’s unoccupied hand flew to her mouth as realization set in. It was so stereotypically human, but so genuine and pure, Druig couldn’t help but laugh a bit. He felt his nerves wash away, replaced by a fullness and a warm content.
“Y/n…” With a pointed look, Druig turned to the tree Lyla had hidden behind. His smile slackened just a bit when he realized Lyla wasn’t there. He waited for a breath, thinking perhaps she would come out.
“Dru, what’s happening?” you asked. At first, Druig thought she was referencing his hesitation, but in the next moment he recognized a new pitch to her voice: fear. His stomach knotted at this realization, and suddenly he felt time slow to an agonizing crawl.
He turned back to y/n, catching Sprite’s eye in the process. She had stood up from the bench and was running towards y/n and him. Horror and confusion and shock written all over her face. Arms reaching out as if bracing to catch falling glass sure to shatter. The knot in Druig’s stomach tightened as he looked back to y/n.
At first, he didn’t notice anything awry. Then he saw it: the way y/n’s eyes were widened in shock, the terrified squeal that escaped her lips. Seeing it was nothing like feeling it: y/n’s hand disintegrate in his grasp. What had once been soft, warm skin turned to papery ash in his hands.
Druig’s mind reeled. What was this? Panic rose in his throat. He looked into y/n’s eyes, his mouth opening and closing futilely. What was he trying to say? What was happening?
“Dru-” He watched in horror as those enormous y/e/c eyes, terrified and pleading, turned to the same papery ash as her hands. A soft breeze blew the ash away with the softest, cruelest sigh.
Then, silence.
Deafening silence.
It felt like years before Druig felt Sprite’s frantic hands on his shoulders. He blinked, feeling as if moving through pine sap, trying to will himself to breath. Sprite’s voice called to him as if from the surface of water he’d sunken into.
“Druig! DRUIG!” She was shaking him.
As quickly as time had slowed, in a similarly agonizing fashion it suddenly sped up. Adrenaline pulsed through his body. Where was y/n? Lyla? What happened? He began to hear the far off sounds of screams, crying.
“DRUIG, look at me!” Sprite’s eyes met his. He saw his own confusion and dread mirrored in hers. “What happened? What was that?”
Druig sprang to his feet. He hadn’t realized he’d still be on his knees.
“Y/N!” he said. It was soft at first. His voice felt strange and cracked. He strained against the tears threatening to overtake him. “Y/N!” Louder this time, but not nearly loud enough. His fists shook, his heart pounding. Hot tears pooled in his eyes. “Y/N! Y/N!” He screamed so loud he meant to shatter the sky. His lungs seemed to be both overwhelmed by the sheer amount of air they were taking in and miserably unprepared for the job.
Druig wasn’t sure how long he screamed for, but it was dusk before he’d stopped. He’d wandered through the park once if he’d done so fifty times. He was hoarse and his entire body hurt, as if he’d been fighting Deviants for the last ten thousand years. He’d cried as many tears as his body could produce, there were none left. Suddenly, as if the weight of reality had been dropped on him from the heavens, he crashed to his knees. The bouquet of irises he’d been clutching all day slid from his grasp. It had started raining - when? Druig passively realized he hadn’t noticed when - and his jeans quickly soaked through on the knees. He welcomed it. For some indescribable reason, he wanted to be as uncomfortable as he could make himself. He let silent, tearless sobs rip through his body.
Recognizing her friend had exhausted himself, Sprite gingerly stepped forward. She’d followed him all afternoon as he’d wandered through the park as if in a fever dream. Unlike him, she’d stayed completely silent, the shock seemed to have completely absorbed her voice. She had pieced together from the fractured conversations of passers-by and from the report that Sersi had given her when they’d frantically made contact a few hours ago that this had happened everywhere. People, gone. Just vanished, like dust.
Sprite’s ribs felt as if they were crushed by a vice. The sheer size of this event was incomprehensible. And as she watched her fellow Eternal and friend quake under the weight of his own grief, the understanding that billions of people across the world were feeling something similar took her mind in a stranglehold, paralyzing her.
After a few moments, Sprite felt her arm reach out, grasping Druig’s shoulder. He let out a pitiful sob in response, his hand flying to tangle with hers as if holding on for dear life.
“She’s gone, Dru,” Sprite whispered. There wasn’t much else to say. Druig knew it. Part of him wished he could stay in his grief-ridden delirium, but he slowly felt his logical mind reawakening. Starting to connect the dots was sure to be a more excruciating process, but there was nothing for it.
He nodded once, unable to speak. He let Sprite lead him home. It wasn’t until he was there, sitting in the darkness, staring aimlessly at the wall, that he realized he’d left the irises in the park.
