#sorry about your boyfriend..yeah..i ate him..yeah no like..whole. yeah. sorry.

[orphanheirs]

Love this regency cartoon. Me when I have a crush on someone. Love is to devour core. RIP to whoever drew this you would've loved tumblr dot com

{x}

[lvl1l1]

“BABY!”

what happens when he convinces himself you’re pregnant?

Xavier, Zayne, Rafayel, Sylus, Caleb x AFAB!Reader

Xavier

The apartment smells like burnt toast and coffee because Xavier tried to “make breakfast in bed” and forgot to time the toaster correctly. He’s sitting on the edge of the mattress now, knees bouncing like he’s about to launch into orbit, staring at the pregnancy test on the nightstand like it’s going to start talking to him.

Two lines?

No. wait- one line.

Wait- two?

He squints. Tilts his head. Picks it up. Holds it to the window light. Turns it sideways like maybe the angle will change the answer.

You’re in the bathroom brushing your teeth, completely unaware that your boyfriend is currently experiencing a full mental breakdown over a stick you peed on five minutes ago because you felt bloated after too much food last night.

Xavier’s already three steps ahead.

He’s mentally redecorating the spare room. Pastel yellow walls? No- soft lavender. Better for naps. Crib in the corner by the window so the baby gets morning light. He’s calculating how many stuffed animals is too many (answer: there is no such thing). He’s wondering if he can convince Jeremiah to be the godfather or if that’s too much pressure.

He’s vibrating.

When you finally walk out wiping toothpaste from your lip, he’s standing in the middle of the bedroom holding the test like it’s a holy relic.

“Babe,” he says, voice cracking on the single syllable. “We’re having a baby.”

You blink.

“Xavier… it’s negative.”

He freezes.

Looks at the test again.

Squints harder.

Turns it upside down.

“…It’s negative?”

“Yeah,” you say gently. “I’m not pregnant. Just ate too much spicy food and my period’s late. False alarm.”

His face does this thing where it goes from euphoric to devastated to embarrassed in 0.8 seconds flat. The test drops from his fingers. He stares at it on the carpet like it personally betrayed him.

“Oh,” he says very small.

Then he just… deflates.

Shoulders slump. Eyes get big and shiny. He looks like a golden retriever who was told walkies are canceled forever.

You step closer. “Hey-“

“I already picked names,” he mumbles. “And paint colors. And I was gonna ask Jeremiah to build a crib. I had a whole plan. I was gonna be good at this.”

You bite your lip to keep from laughing.

He looks up at you with those big, wounded puppy eyes.

“I was excited,” he says quietly. “Like… really excited.”

You pull him into a hug. He wraps both arms around you immediately, face buried in your shoulder like he’s trying to hide.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, rubbing his back.

He shakes his head against you. “Don’t be. I just… got ahead of myself.

A beat.

Then- muffled into your shirt:

“…maybe this is a sign to start trying,”

Your eyes widen and you start laughing.

He pulls back just enough to look at you, still a little shiny-eyed, but smiling now.

“I mean with the house now,” he adds hopefully. “There’s nothing holding us back, right?”

You kiss his cheek.

“We can talk about pets,” you say. “But maybe let’s wait until the food digests before we commit to anything.”

He nods solemnly.

Then he picks up the test again, stares at it for a second longer, and sighs like a man who’s accepted his tragic fate.

“Fine,” he mutters. “But I’m getting the paint swatches. Just in case.

You snort.

He grins, it’s small, sheepish and hopeful.

Zayne

The living room is dead quiet except for the hum of the fridge omitting from the kitchen and the occasional beep from Zayne’s phone. He’s sitting at the small table, white coat hanging over the arm rest, his sleeves rolled up, staring at his notes app like it holds the secrets of the universe.

He’s been compiling evidence for three days.

Exhibit A: You’ve been napping every afternoon. Not just dozing, full-on, drooling-on-the-couch, “wake me in an hour” naps.

Exhibit B: You cried at a dog adoption ad on his phone last night. Actual tears. You don’t even like dogs that much.

Exhibit C: You ate an entire jar of pickles in one sitting. With peanut butter. He walked in on you double-dipping and nearly dropped his coffee.

Exhibit D: Your breasts hurt. You winced when you hugged him yesterday. He noticed immediately (he’s a doctor, he notices everything).

Conclusion: You’re pregnant.

He’s already mentally rearranged his schedule. Reduced OR hours starting next month. Found three different prenatal vitamin brands and cross-referenced their reviews. Bookmarked a crib he likes in matte white oak. Even googled “best changing tables” at 2 a.m. last night. He has a color-coded spreadsheet open on his laptop right now titled “First Trimester Checklist - Preliminary.”

When you finally walk in, yawning, hair messy, still in his hoodie, you freeze at the sight of him hunched over his phone, looking like he’s planning a military campaign.

“…Zayne?”

He looks up. Eyes bright. Almost manic.

“You’re pregnant,” he says. Not a question. A statement of fact delivered with the calm certainty of a man who’s already bought the baby shoes.

You blink.

“What?”

“The symptoms line up perfectly.” He turns the phone toward you. “Fatigue, emotional lability, unusual cravings, breast tenderness. I’ve tracked it. Statistically significant.”

You stare at the screen. Then at him.

Then you start giggling. Softly at first, you try to cover your mouth with your hand.

Zayne’s face falls. The excitement drains out of him like someone pulled a plug.

“…You’re not?”

You shake your head, still giggling. “No, baby. I’m not pregnant. My period’s just late because I’ve been stressed about that upcoming mission. And I always eat weird food combos, you know this.”

He looks down at his meticulously organized spreadsheet. Then back at you.

“Oh.”

You step closer. Take the phone from his hand. Close the app gently.

“You were really excited,” you say softly.

He exhales. Rubs the back of his neck, ears pink.

“I… may have gotten ahead of myself.”

You wrap your arms around his waist. Rest your cheek on his chest.

“I thought it was sweet. A little terrifying, but sweet.”

He lets out a small, embarrassed laugh. Wraps his arms around you. Presses his lips to the top of your head.

“I already ordered prenatal vitamins,” he admits quietly. “Express shipping.”

You laugh again, muffled against his shirt.

“Cancel them?”

“…Maybe I’ll keep one bottle. Just in case.

You pull back just enough to look up at him.

“Zayne.”

He sighs, grin still on his face.

“Fine. I’ll cancel them.”

A beat.

Then, smaller, almost shy:

“…But if it ever does happen… I already know which crib we should get.”

You smile. Kiss the underside of his jaw.

“One day,” you promise.

He nods. Holds you tighter.

Rafayel

Rafayel had been rifling through your bag for that tube of lip balm you always "lost" (he knew you hid it just to make him look), when his fingers brushed something unfamiliar. He pulled it out: prenatal vitamins. The label stared back at him like a prophecy from the previous sea gods themselves.

His heart stopped. Then exploded.

"Oh my god," he whispered, clutching the bottle like it was a sacred relic. "She's… we're… I'm gonna be a dad."

He didn't waste a second, he bolted to the studio, grabbing his sketchpad and flipping to a blank page. "Okay, first: nursery. Underwater theme? No, too on-the-nose. Pastel corals and stars. And a mobile with glowing fish!"

He started doodling furiously, tiny crib, little onesies with flame motifs, a high chair shaped like a seashell. "Names! If it's a girl, Artemisia. Boy? Something strong, like… Rafayel Jr. Wait, no, that's narcissistic. Fine, Chaim. Perfect."

By the time you got home, the place was a whirlwind. Mood boards pinned to the walls, fabric samples scattered on the couch, and Rafayel on the phone ordering "organic seaweed supplements for expecting mothers" in bulk.

You walked in, blinking. "What… is all this?"

He spun around, eyes wide and manic, bottle of vitamins thrust at you like evidence. "You're pregnant! I found these! We're having a baby! I already planned the nursery. And names! Artemisia for a girl, Chaim for a boy. And I ordered a stroller that floats. Okay, it doesn't float, but it could if I mod it-“

You stared. Then burst out laughing.

Rafayel's excitement deflated like a popped balloon. "What? What's so funny? This is serious! We're parents now!"

You wiped tears from your eyes, still giggling. "Rafayel… those vitamins are for my iron deficiency. Dr. Zayne prescribed them last week. I'm not pregnant."

He froze. Blinked once. Twice.

Then he collapsed onto the couch, face in his hands. "Oh gods. I just spent three hours designing a floating high chair."

You sat beside him, still chuckling. "A floating high chair?"

He peeked through his fingers, cheeks pink. "It seemed practical at the time."

You ruffled his hair. "Well, save the sketches. Maybe one day."

He groaned, but pulled you into his lap, burying his face in your neck. "One day. But next time, warn a guy before you stock up on vitamins that look like baby prep."

You kissed his temple. "Deal. But the names are cute."

He huffed. "Of course they are. I came up with them."

Sylus

Sylus had been keeping mental notes for weeks.

You were late. Not just a day or two- five, going on six.

You’d been napping more, falling asleep on the couch mid-conversation, waking up groggy and confused.

You’d snapped at him over nothing yesterday (he’d asked if you wanted tea and you’d said “why are you always hovering?” before immediately looking guilty and hugging him).

You’d eaten an entire jar of spicy pickled radishes straight from the fridge at 2 a.m. while glaring at him like he’d personally offended the jar.

And this morning you’d gagged at the smell of his coffee, his coffee, the one you usually steal sips from.

He hadn’t said anything. Just watched. Tracked and hoped.

By the time you came home that evening he’d already mentally renovated the east wing of the penthouse into a nursery.

Soft gray walls (calming but not boring).

A crib with black wood and silver accents (elegant, not tacky).

A rocking chair upholstered in velvet (making sure it would offer utmost comfort for you).

He’d even looked up“non-toxic baby-safe paint” and ordered three different brands “just in case.”

When you walked in he was on the couch, legs crossed, looking far too casual for a man who’d spent the day mentally planning his child’s future.

You dropped your bag.

Kicked off your shoes.

Looked at him suspiciously.

“Why are you staring at me like that?”

He tilted his head. Voice smooth. Too smooth.

“You’re late.”

You blink. “Late for what?”

“Your cycle.” He says it like he’s reading a weather report. “Six days. You’ve been fatigued. Moody. Craving strange things. Gagging at coffee you usually like.”

Your mouth opens. Closes.

He leans forward, elbows on knees, eyes gleaming.

“I’ve already ordered the crib. And paint. And a changing table that doubles as a dresser. Black walnut. Modern. You’ll like it.”

You stare at him for a solid five seconds.

Then you avoid his gaze, eyes looking everywhere but at him.

Sylus’s face falls like someone cut the strings.

“…You’re not?”

You shake your head, exhaling a laugh. “No, you absolute lunatic. I’m not pregnant. My period’s late because I’ve been stressed about work and I skipped a few pills last month. The gagging? I’m pretty sure I ate expired yogurt yesterday. And the moodiness? That’s just me dealing with you.”

He blinks once. Slowly.

Then he drops his head into his hands.

“…my mistake,” he mutters into his palms. “I got ahead of myself.”

You shake your head, laughing, the overexcitement he showcased was endearing.

He peeks through his fingers.

Looks wounded.

Pathetic.

Adorable.

“I was even thinking of names.” he says mournfully.

You crawl onto the couch. Straddle his lap. Cup his face.

“You’re so stupid,” you say fondly. “And I love you for it.”

He groans. Drops his head back against your shoulder. Arms wrap around your waist automatically.

“I’m canceling the cribs,” he grumbles. “But I’m making the twins pick up paint buckets.

You kiss his cheek.

His nose.

His pouty mouth.

“I wouldn’t mind having kids,” you whisper against his lips.

He opens his eyes. Looks at you, soft, hopeful, right eye glowing.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

He exhales. Pulls you closer.

Buries his face in your neck.

“Whenever you’re ready,” he mutters. “we can start planning.”

You laugh into his hair.

“We could start trying right now...”

And somewhere in a warehouse, three very expensive cribs are already en route, needed maybe sooner rather than later.

Caleb

Caleb was in the kitchen making protein shakes when your phone lit up on the counter.

He wasn’t snooping.

He just glanced.

Reflex.

The preview text from Tara popped up like a neon sign:

Tara: “Cribs aren’t even that expensive! I guess now is a pretty good time to get knocked up. Luckyyy”

Caleb froze mid-scoop.

The protein powder container slipped from his hand and exploded across the floor in a cloud of chocolate dust.

Knocked up?

You.

Him.

A baby.

His brain immediately blue-screened, then rebooted into overdrive.

He pictured it instantly:

You waddling around the apartment in his hoodies with his baby.

Him building a crib at 3 a.m. because he couldn’t sleep thinking about tiny socks.

A little girl with your eyes and his stupid cowlick.

Or a boy who’d inherit his outgoing nature.

Names already formingx something strong but soft-

He didn’t even finish the thought before he was sprinting to the living room, phone clutched like evidence in a murder trial.

You were on the couch, eyes glued to the TV when he burst in, wild-eyed, covered in protein powder like he’d been in a cocoa explosion.

“Baby.”

You looked up. “Yeah?”

“Are you-“ His voice cracked. He cleared his throat. Tried again. “Are you… pregnant?”

You blinked.

Brows furrowing, visibly looking taken aback.

Caleb’s face went from hopeful to devastated in record time.

“…No?”

Your mouth curled up into a grin “No, Caleb. I’m not pregnant. My period’s literally due tomorrow.”

He stared at you.

Then at the floor.

Then back at you.

“Oh.”

You could see the exact moment all his mental Pinterest boards of baby onesies and nursery inspo imploded.

He sat down hard on the coffee table. Looked like a kicked puppy.

“I… was mentally preparing,” he said quietly. “And I was thinking about how we’d need to baby-proof the balcony. And I was gonna look into knitting classes to attend.”

You crawled over and climbed into his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck.

He buried his face in your shoulder like he was hiding.

“I got excited,” he mumbled into your shirt. “Really excited.”

You kissed the top of his head. “I know.”

A pause.

Then- small, hopeful:

“…it’s not off the table though, right?”

You laughed against his hair.

“I’d love to start a family with you. Eventually.”

He exhaled, long and dramatic.

“Okay. How do 5 sound?”

He looked up at you, sheepish.

You kissed him hard, laughing into his mouth.

He kissed back, arms locking around you like he was never letting go.

[icybarness]

Your Love Language

Pairings: Clark Kent x reader | Wc: 425

Notes: Inspired by this TikTok! So Clark Kent coded, am I right?! Check out my masterlist as well! <3

Summary: Your love language ever so happens to be in your husband's hair

Warnings: Fluff! Maybe angst if you squint super hard enough

You've grown to be shy and reserved your whole life, until Clark came around.

He was your first boyfriend after all; your first person that you let your walls down to.

Clark has always been an attentive man. From your words, mood, and actions, he catches the smallest things. Like the way you gravitate towards his hair.

Sometimes you don't even catch yourself doing it, but he does. The way you gravitate to his hair during a conversation with him, whenever you're watching movies, comforting him on his hard days, and even sometimes when you're stressed.

To you, it grounds you. It also gives you a way to tell him how much you loved him. The way you comb your fingers through his unruly curls, anytime of the day, your hand is always there.

Waiting in line at the grocery store, Clark rambling about the chaos of Jimmy and Lois at work today, your hand ever so naturally lands behind the back of his head, twirling the curls in your fingers from his neck and up.

“Hmm—yeah honey. It must have been chaotic at work today, huh?” 

----------

Clark realises that it's just a little trait of yours. He would almost call it your type of love language. Always reserved to yourself, never too flashy with pda in public, so your hands resorts to his hair.

On your bad days, when you shouted at him, you immediately felt guilt consuming you. 

He let you have your space as he was in the living room, letting you have the bedroom for the night. But the thoughts of guilt ate at you, where sleeping wasn't an option.

Tip-toeing out of the room, you catch Clark on the couch, feet up on the oak table, typing away on his laptop that sat on his lap.

“I–I’m sorry,” you mustered up ever so quietly, eyes brimming with tears.

Setting his computer on the side table, he opens his arms up to you, welcoming you in. ”Sweetheart, it's okay. You're just stressed, no need to say sorry, cmon-" as he ushers you softly to come over to him.

You crawled into his chest, quiet tears escape you, soaking his white tee, but he couldn't care less. Out of instinct, your hands land on the nape of his neck, twirling his curls with your fingers, as it helps ease you, grounding you back down to earth slowly.

Clark softly smiles at your affection, rubbing your back in the quiet midnight of your apartment, just you and him.

He’ll always be at your service. If it helps you, it ultimately helps him at the end of the day. 

[beasbrain]

Over My Head

description: eddie munson: menace to society, terror of hellfire, professional instigator. also eddie munson: brings his girlfriend lunch, calls her “sweetheart” in public, and gets clingy when he’s drunk. literally the best boyfriend ever imo.

pairing: eddie x you (fem!reader)

tags: boyfriend!eddie, established relationship, nauseating fluff omfg, not ashamed of PDA, sweethearts you to death, brings you food & flowers, forehead kisses!!, hands on you at all times, sleepy cuddles, drunk eddie is clinggyyyy, always checking if you ate, wearing his clothes, scoops ahoy shenanigans, whole friend group calls him out but he simply doesn't care, your mom loves him

TW: ur face is gonna burn from the amount of blushing, sorry!!

WC: 4.5k

A/N: here's a spoonful of sugar on this fine Wednesday night!! requested by @eddiemunsonsimpp i hope you love it!! reblogs are always appreciated!! <3 i have a craving for angst after writing this LOLOLOLOLOL sorta. enjoy my loves🤍

The table rattles when Eddie slams his hand down, rings clinking sharply against the wood, eyes wild under the dim glow of the theatre room lights.

“No—no, you don’t get to second-guess now,” he snaps, leaning across the board like he’s about to climb into it. “You made your move, Henderson, you live with the consequences. That’s how this works. That’s how life works.”

“Dude—” Mike starts, already half-defensive.

“Nope!” Eddie cuts him off, pointing a dramatic finger like a dagger. “No take-backs. No rewinds. The goblins smell fear, and right now?” He grins, all teeth, all chaos. “You reek of it.”

Dustin groans. “You’re literally evil.”

“I am a merciless god,” Eddie corrects, spreading his arms like he’s about to summon lightning. “And you—”

The door creaks open. 

“Hey,” you say softly. And it’s like someone flipped a switch.

Eddie freezes mid-rant.

Hand still in the air, expression still intense for a half-second too long before it melts. Into something soft, something that has absolutely no business existing on the same face that just threatened fictional teenagers with death-by-goblin.

“Hi, sweetheart,” he says, voice dropping instantly, like it was made just for you.

The boys at the table all groan in unison.

“Oh my god,” Dustin mutters. “There it is.”

“Thank you,” Mike says, pointing at you like you’re a savior. “Your boyfriend is being EVIL.”

You glance at Eddie, eyebrows lifting just slightly.

“Evil?” you echo.

Eddie scoffs, already pushing his chair back, completely abandoning the campaign like it never mattered. 

“Slander. Absolute slander.” He moves around the table toward you, all easy smiles now, reaching for your hands like it’s instinct. “I was being firm. There’s a difference.”

“You told him his character was going to die alone in a ditch.”

“He is going to die alone in a ditch,” Eddie says lightly, then immediately softens again, brushing his thumb over your knuckles. “But that’s not important right now.”

It’s ridiculous, honestly. One second, he’s theatrical doom incarnate, the next, he’s looking at you like you hung the damn moon.

“You came,” he adds, quieter, almost like it surprised him.

“Yeah,” you smile. “I said I would.”

Behind him, Gareth makes a gagging noise.

“Can you at least pretend we’re still here?” he calls out.

Eddie doesn’t even turn around. Just lifts a hand and waves him off lazily. “Campaign’s on pause. Critical emotional moment happening.”

“OH MY GOD—”

“Watch your tone,” Eddie shoots back automatically, then softer, without missing a beat:

“You want to sit? I can grab you a chair. Or, wait, did you eat? I brought snacks, but I can get you something better if—”

“You’re doing it again,” you tease.

He blinks. “Doing what?”

“This,” you gesture between the two of you. “The—” you lower your voice, mimicking him, “‘sweetheart, did you eat, do you need a chair, do you need the world handed to you on a silver platter’ thing.”

Eddie grins, completely unapologetic. “Yeah. And?”

You huff a quiet laugh, shaking your head.

Behind you, Dustin leans toward Mike. “It’s like watching a rabid dog turn into a golden retriever.”

“I hate it here,” Mike whispers back.

Eddie ignores them entirely, already shrugging off his jacket and draping it over your shoulders like it’s second nature. 

“It’s cold in here,” he says, softer now, fingers lingering for a second too long at your arms. “You always say it’s cold.”

“Thank you,” you murmur.

“Always,” he says.

From the table: “ARE WE PLAYING OR NOT?”

Eddie sighs dramatically, finally turning halfway back toward them.

“Fine, fine, everyone chill, I’ll be back in two seconds.” Then, quieter to you, leaning in just enough that it feels like a secret: “Stay? Please?”

As if you were going anywhere. You nod, immediately. 

“That’s my girl.”

Gareth makes an even cruder gag leave his mouth, “That’s it, I’m going to hurl.”

You tilt your head, peeking around Eddie’s shoulder. “Do it away from the table, please. I don’t think that’s in the campaign notes.”

Eddie grins, obnoxiously proud, like you just proved a point he didn’t even have to argue. “Hear that? Even she’s got table etiquette. Take notes, freaks.”

“Oh, we’re the problem?” Mike scoffs. “You literally just abandoned us mid–near-death experience.”

“Character development,” Eddie shoots back. “Builds resilience.”

“You said he was going to die in a ditch.”

“And he is, Henderson, keep up—” Eddie starts, already winding back into it before he catches himself, glancing at you.

Immediately, his tone softens again.

“You sure you’re good?” he asks, quieter, thumb brushing your wrist like he can’t help it. “Not too loud? I can kick them out.”

“Hey—!” the table protests in unison.

You laugh, shaking your head. “I’m okay. Promise.”

He studies you for a second like he’s making absolutely sure, then nods. “Alright. But if they get annoying—”

“Oh! We’re annoying?” Dustin cuts in.

Eddie points at him without looking. “You’re first to go.”

You bite back a smile, leaning in just slightly. “You’re very protective for someone who was just threatening fictional murder.”

Eddie leans closer too, conspiratorial, voice dropping like it’s just for you. “Two very different skill sets, sweetheart.”

“Oh, clearly.”

You roll your eyes, but your smile gives you away. “Go play your game, Munson.”

He hesitates for half a second like he actually might argue, then sighs, dramatic as ever. “Fine. But if I TPK them, it’s because you distracted me.”

“You don’t need help with that,” you shoot back.

Dustin slams the table. “THANK YOU.”

Eddie points at you again, delighted. “See? She gets me.”

“Sit down!” Mike snaps.

Eddie leans in one last time, quick, pressing the softest kiss to your temple.

“Don’t go anywhere,” he murmurs.

You huff a quiet laugh. “I won’t.”

The bell above the door jingles lazily as it swings open, letting in a wave of warm air that immediately clashes with the artificial chill of Scoops Ahoy.

You don’t look up at first. You’re halfway through scooping mint chocolate chip for a kid who cannot, for the life of him, decide if he wants sprinkles or not.

“Sprinkles,” Steve says flatly from beside you. “You want sprinkles. Everyone wants sprinkles. It’s not a personality trait, kid.”

Robin snorts from the register.

“Steve Harrington, bully of small children,” she mutters.

“Hey, I’m helping—”

The bell jingles again. Eddie stands just inside the doorway, a little flushed from the heat, hair wild from the wind, Hellfire shirt slightly wrinkled like he threw it on in a rush. 

There’s a brown paper bag in one hand, carefully folded at the top.

His eyes find you immediately. And then, there it is. That soft, stupid, completely gone look.

“Hi, sweetheart,” he says, like there’s no one else in the room.

Steve physically recoils.

“Oh my god,” he whispers.

Robin’s eyes go wide. “No, no, I need to see this up close.”

You bite back a smile, handing the kid his cone before wiping your hands quickly.

“Hey,” you say, stepping around the counter. “What’re you doing here?”

Eddie shrugs like it’s nothing, but he’s already walking toward you, opening the bag. 

“Wayne made chili,” he says, voice softer now, like he’s letting you in on something special. “Saved you some. Said, and I quote: ‘Don’t let that girl eat mall food all day.’”

Your face lights up instantly. “You’re lying.”

“Would I lie about Wayne’s chili?” Eddie gasps, offended. “That’s sacred ground, sweetheart.”

He pulls out the container, still warm, and hands it to you like it’s something fragile.

You take it carefully, grinning. “Tell him I love him.”

“Already did,” Eddie says easily. “He told me to tell you to stop forgetting to eat.”

Robin makes a noise that is somewhere between a squeal and a choke.

Steve just stares. “I’m sorry, who are you?”

Eddie glances over, unimpressed. “Still me, Harrington. Relax.”

“No, because this—” Steve gestures wildly between you and the chili and the entire situation “—this is not the guy who told Dustin he was going to emotionally devastate his character last night.”

“I did emotionally devastate his character,” Eddie corrects. “This is unrelated.”

Robin leans over the counter, chin in her hands, watching like it’s live entertainment. “So, what, you just… bring her food now? That’s a thing you do?”

Eddie shrugs, like it’s obvious. “Yeah.”

“You bring us anything?” Steve cuts in.

Eddie doesn’t even hesitate. “No.”

“That’s insane.”

You laugh, nudging Eddie lightly with your shoulder. “You didn’t have to do this.”

“I know,” he says, softer. “Wanted to.”

Behind you, Robin grabs Steve’s arm. “I’m telling you right now, she’s the reason he hasn’t committed at least three felonies this week.”

“Low estimate,” Steve mutters.

Eddie rolls his eyes, but there’s no bite to it. “You guys done, or—?”

“Oh, we’re just getting started,” Robin says sweetly. “Seriously, what did you do to him?”

You blink. “What do you mean?”

Steve leans in, conspiratorial. “He’s like, domesticated.”

Eddie makes a face. “I will leave. I will take the chili, and I will go.”

You immediately clutch it closer. “Don’t you dare.”

“See?” Steve points. “Proof. She’s got him trained.”

Eddie scoffs, but his hand finds your wrist anyway, thumb brushing lightly like he can’t help it.

“No one’s training me, alright? I just...” he glances at you, something softer flickering there “...like taking care of her.”

Robin softens for half a second at that, then immediately ruins it.

“Gross,” she says.

“Deeply gross,” Steve agrees.

You laugh, shaking your head. “Ignore them.”

“Gladly,” Eddie says, eyes still on you.

“Oh!” Robin suddenly straightens. “Wait, speaking of gross, Jonathan’s having people over tonight.”

You raise a brow. “Gross?”

“Not like that,” she waves it off. “Joyce is out with Hopper, so it’s basically free house privileges. Music, drinks, the usual.”

Steve perks up. “Yeah, it’s actually gonna be fun. You should come.”

Robin grins at you. “And bring this one. I wanna see if he can survive outside of a dungeon setting.”

Eddie scoffs. “Please. I thrive in all environments.”

“You almost got kicked out of a movie theater for yelling at the screen,” Steve reminds him.

“They were making bad decisions!”

You laugh again, looking between them before glancing back at Eddie. “You wanna go?”

He doesn’t even pretend to think about it.

“If you’re there?” he says, easy. “Yeah.”

Robin clutches her chest. “I can’t do this. I can’t watch this happen in real time.”

“Too late,” Steve mutters. “We’re witnesses.”

Eddie ignores them entirely, nudging the chili gently back toward you. “Eat first,” he says, softer. “Then we’ll figure it out, yeah?”

You nod, smiling. “Yeah.”

Your room smells faintly of perfume and hairspray, and the window is cracked just enough to let in the cool evening air. 

It’s a mess in that very specific, I tried on five outfits and rejected all of them kind of way. Clothes draped over your chair, shoes kicked off near the bed, a half-open drawer that you absolutely meant to close ten minutes ago.

You stare at yourself in the mirror, tilting your head slightly.

Before you can overthink it again, you hear the familiar rumble of his van outside; loud, unmistakable, and a little obnoxious. Your lips tug into a smile before you can stop them.

The doorbell rings a second later.

“Got it!” your mom calls from downstairs.

You freeze for half a second, then immediately move, smoothing your hands down your outfit as you step into the hallway.

“Well, there he is!” your mom says, bright.

“Hi, ma—” Eddie starts, then grins, already holding up the messy bundle of wildflowers. “Brought peace offerings.”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that every time,” she says, but she’s smiling like she absolutely expects it.

“Yeah, I do,” Eddie shrugs easily. “I’ve got a reputation to maintain.”

“You really do,” she laughs, stepping aside to let him in. “Come in, come in. She’s still getting ready, shockingly.”

“Hey!” you call from the stairs.

Eddie looks up immediately.

“Hi, sweetheart."

“Hi,” you smile, starting down the stairs.

Your mom gestures toward the flowers. “You see what I mean? Every time.”

“I’m consistent,” Eddie says proudly.

“You’re extra,” you correct.

“Only for you.”

“Mmhm,” you hum, but you’re smiling as you step closer.

He holds the flowers out to you like it’s second nature now.

“These are for you.”

“Wildflowers again?” you ask, taking them.

“Best kind,” he says. “Low maintenance. Survive anything.”

Your mom points at him. “That’s exactly what I said.”

You narrow your eyes. “You two have been talking about me?”

“Extensively,” Eddie nods.

“Eddie.”

“Kidding,” he grins. “Mostly.”

You roll your eyes, but you’re laughing, setting the flowers down carefully before turning back to them.

Your mom leans casually against the wall. “I was just telling him you used to take twenty minutes to pick an outfit when you were ten.”

“That is not—”

“It absolutely is,” she cuts in.

Eddie’s eyes light up. “No way.”

“Do not encourage her.”

“I’m fascinated,” he says. “Please, continue.”

You point at him. “You’re supposed to be on my side.”

“I am,” he says easily. “I just also want the full story.”

Your mom nods approvingly. “Smart man.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

You groan. “Unbelievable. I’m being teamed up on in my own house.”

Eddie steps closer, nudging your arm lightly. “Hey,” he murmurs, softer, “if it helps, you still look better than anything ten-year-old you picked.”

You glance at him, fighting a smile. “Barely.”

He grins. “Debatable.”

“So, where are you two off to tonight?”

“Jonathan’s,” you say. “Joyce is out.”

“Ah,” she nods knowingly. “One of those nights.”

Eddie raises a hand. “Respectfully, ma’am, I will be keeping an eye on things.”

You blink at him. “Oh, you will?”

He shrugs. “Someone’s gotta be responsible.”

Your mom laughs. “This is true.”

You look between them. “I’m right here.”

“Yeah,” Eddie says, glancing at you, grin softening. “Exactly.”

You shake your head, grabbing your bag. “Okay, before I lose all authority in this situation, we’re leaving.”

“Bye, Mom!”

“Have fun!” she calls. “And Eddie—”

He pauses, turning back.

“Drive safely, please.”

Eddie grins. “Always do.”

You roll your eyes as you step outside, the cool air hitting your skin.

“Unbelievable,” you mutter. “You’ve completely won her over.”

Eddie squeezes your hand lightly. “I didn’t win her over,” he says.

You glance at him. “Oh yeah?”

He smiles. “She already liked me.”

You bump your shoulder into his. “Cocky.”

“Accurate,” he corrects.

Then, he opens the van door for you, bowing his head with the usual dramatic flair.

"M'lady."

"Thank you, kind sir."

That earns a quick, satisfied smile before he closes the door gently.

The Byers’ is already buzzing when you pull up.

Music spilling out into the yard. The lights are on inside, silhouettes moving past the windows, laughter drifting out every time the door opens.

Eddie cuts the engine, glancing over at you.

“You ready?” he asks, but his hand’s already finding yours, thumb brushing slow, absentminded strokes.

You smile. “Yeah.”

“Cool,” he nods, then leans over and presses a quick kiss to your temple before he even gets out of the van. “Just checking.”

Your heart does that thing again.

You shove him lightly. “We literally just got here.”

“Yeah, and?” he grins. “Gotta set the tone.”

The second you walk in:

“OH MY GOD," Robin yells.

She barrels over like she’s been waiting by the door.

“You made it, and you brought him, amazing,” she says, grabbing your arm before immediately clocking Eddie’s hand at your waist. “Yep. Still attached. Good to know.”

Eddie snorts, unfazed. “Hi to you, too, Buckley.”

Steve appears behind her, drink in hand. “Alright, I give it… ten minutes before he calls her ‘sweetheart’ in front of everyone.”

Eddie doesn’t even hesitate. He pulls you a little closer, pressing a kiss to your hair.

“Hi, sweetheart.”

Steve throws his head back. “I wish I were deaf.”

You laugh, tucking into Eddie’s side as he keeps his arm wrapped around you.

Nancy smiles as she walks over.

“Hi,” she says to you, then glances at Eddie, who’s now rubbing slow circles into your hip without even thinking about it. “You weren’t exaggerating.”

You blink. “About what?”

Nancy just raises a brow. You don’t even get the chance to respond before: 

“EDDIE! PONG!” A chorus from across the room.

Eddie groans dramatically, dropping his head to your shoulder. “They’re animals. All of them.”

“You love it,” you say.

“Okay, I’m coming,” Eddie sighs, but he doesn’t let go of you right away.

Instead, he presses another quick kiss to your temple, then your cheek, like he’s collecting them. “Stay right here?”

“Go,” you laugh, nudging him. “Before they riot.”

You end up leaning against the kitchen counter with Nancy, watching the chaos unfold.

Eddie’s at the pong table now, already loud, already animated: shouting, laughing, pointing at Robin like she personally insulted him.

“You’re aiming wrong!” he yells.

“I am NOT aiming wrong, you’re just bad!” Robin fires back.

“Blasphemy!”

You can’t help smiling. Nancy watches you for a second before speaking.

“He’s really different with you.”

You glance at her. “What do you mean?”

She nods toward him.

“You know him,” she says. “He’s always like that.” She gestures; wild, loud, over-the-top.

“But with you?”

Right on cue, Eddie looks up and finds you instantly, like a magnet. His entire face softens completely, and he flashes you that notorious Munson grin.

“That,” she says.

You laugh a little. “He’s just… like that.”

“No,” she shakes her head. “He’s not. Not with anyone else.”

“OH MY GOD HE MADE IT—”

Eddie jumps, arms up, Robin yelling with him as the ball drops into a cup.

“LET’S GO—!”

He spins immediately, scanning the room again until he finds you, points, and grins. Like he did it for you.

Nancy leans closer. “See?”

You bite back a smile, shaking your head.

A little while later, he’s back. Slightly flushed now, a little looser, eyes brighter.

“Told you I’d win,” he says, sliding right back into your space like he never left, hands immediately finding your waist.

“You were gone for like, five minutes,” you tease.

“Longest five minutes of my life,” he sighs dramatically, then drops his forehead to yours.

You laugh softly. “You’re tipsy.”

“I am charming,” he corrects.

“You’re clingy.”

“Only with you,” he murmurs.

His fingers trace along your arm, like he just needs to be touching you somewhere. Nancy watches, fully invested at this point.

“Does he always do this?” she asks you.

Eddie answers for you, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “Yeah.”

You roll your eyes, but you lean into him anyway.

“He’s worse when he drinks,” you say.

“I’m better,” Eddie argues, nuzzling slightly into your hair.

Robin walks by, gagging loudly. “You’re a nightmare.”

“Jealous,” Eddie shoots back lazily, not even looking at her.

“Of what?!” she demands.

He sticks his tongue out in response, squeezing you a little tighter. 

Nancy laughs under her breath.

“I’ve never seen him like this,” she admits. “It’s kind of… cute.”

“Don’t encourage him,” you say, even as your fingers curl into his shirt.

Eddie hums softly, pressing another kiss to your temple.

“Too late,” he murmurs. “She loves it.”

Nancy smiles. “I do.”

You stare at her. “You’re supposed to be on my side.”

“I am,” she says. “This is just surprisingly, really entertaining.”

Across the room, Steve shouts something about a rematch, and Eddie groans.

“Do you have to go back?” you ask, teasing.

He looks at you, at them, then back at you.

“…No,” he decides.

You laugh. “Eddie.”

“I’m serious,” he says, softer now, thumb brushing your cheek. “I’d rather stay here.”

Your chest tightens just a little. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Yeah,” he smiles. “But you like it.”

You, in fact, do. 

And when he leans down, pressing another soft, lingering kiss to your forehead, arms wrapped around you, holding you close like there’s nowhere else he’d rather be, it’s enough to make anyone watching roll their eyes.

By the time you get Eddie into the passenger seat, he’s all loose limbs and soft laughter, head tipping back against the seat.

“You’re not allowed to tell anyone you’re driving,” he mumbles as you reach over to buckle him in. “Ruins my reputation.”

You snort. “Your reputation is already in critical condition.”

“Hey,” he murmurs, catching your wrist before you pull away, eyes half-lidded but still locked on you. “You look really pretty tonight.”

You smile despite yourself. “You already told me that.”

“Yeah,” he says, like it’s obvious. “Doesn’t stop being true.”

You gently pry your hand free. “Sit back, Munson.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he says instantly, then giggles at himself like it’s the funniest fucking thing he’s ever heard.

The drive is quiet. Eddie hums along to the radio, occasionally reaching over just to rest his hand on your thigh like he needs to make sure you’re still there.

Every red light, he looks at you like he forgot how he got this lucky.

Wayne’s still up when you pull into the trailer. The porch light’s on, casting a soft yellow glow, and when you help Eddie out of the van, his arm slung heavy around your shoulders. The door creaks open.

“Well, well,” Wayne says, leaning against the frame, amused. “Looks like someone had a good time.”

Eddie lifts his head just enough. “Hi, Wayne.”

“You’re drunk,” Wayne replies easily.

“Allegedly.”

You laugh, adjusting your grip on him. “He lost that argument about an hour ago.”

Wayne’s eyes soften as he looks at you. “You alright, sweetheart? He didn’t give you too much trouble?”

You shake your head, smiling. “No, he’s been good. Just, uh, very talkative.”

“Always,” Wayne chuckles.

Eddie tightens his arm around you like he’s proving a point. “I’m fine.”

“Mhm,” Wayne hums. “You want some water before you pass out on the lawn?”

“I’m not—” Eddie starts, then immediately stumbles a little as you guide him up the steps.

You snort. “Inside. Now.”

Wayne laughs, stepping aside to let you in. “You got him?”

“I got him,” you nod.

“Good,” Wayne says, then softer, to you, “Appreciate you getting him home.”

“Always.”

Getting Eddie down the short hallway is… an experience. He’s clinging now, fully, all weight and affection, face tucked into your shoulder.

“You smell nice,” he mumbles.

“Eddie. Walk.”

“I am walking,” he argues weakly.

“You’re leaning.”

“Strategically.”

You laugh, finally managing to get him into his room.

“Okay,” you say, easing him down onto the bed. “Stay.”

He flops back dramatically. “I live here,” he informs you.

“Not the point.”

You turn to grab him a glass of water from the little table, but before you can even take a step, his hand catches yours again.

“Don’t go,” he says, softer now.

You glance back at him. “I’m just getting you water.”

“Stay,” he repeats, thumb brushing over your knuckles, slower this time. “Please?”

That please…You sigh, but you’re already smiling.

“I’m not leaving,” you promise. “I’m right here.”

He relaxes instantly, like that was all he needed. “Okay.”

You grab the water quickly anyway, pressing it into his hand. “Drink.”

He makes a face but listens, taking a few slow sips before handing it back like he’s completed a major task.

“Good?” you ask.

“Great,” he nods, then squints at you. “You sure you're staying?”

“Yeah.”

His whole face softens. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Cool,” he says, like he’s trying to play it off, but the way his hand tightens around yours gives him away completely.

You move around the room like you’ve done it a hundred times, probably because you have. Kneeling down to the bottom drawer of his dresser, your drawer, where he keeps all the things you need for when you stay the night. 

You pull it open, fingers brushing over your skincare, your “spare clothes”, which are just a jumble of his shirts, and various boxers he said looked “Sexier on you.” 

You change quickly, slipping into one of his worn t-shirts, soft from too many washes, smelling faintly like him.

When you turn back, he’s watching you. Already half-asleep, but still watching.

“C’mere,” he mumbles, lifting an arm.

You laugh softly. “You’re impossible.”

“Mm,” he hums. “You're impossible.”

You crawl into bed beside him anyway. Immediately, he curls into you, arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you close like it’s instinct. 

“Hi,” he murmurs, voice quieter now, softer with sleep.

“Hi,” you whisper back.

He presses a slow, sleepy kiss to your shoulder. “You drove me home.”

“Someone had to,” you tease lightly.

“Thanks,” he says.

You tuck a hand into his hair, smoothing it back gently. “Anytime.”

“You’re staying, right?” he asks again, eyes barely open.

You smile, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. “I’m staying.”

He exhales, completely content now, nuzzling closer.

“Good,” he mumbles.

Your fingers trace lazy patterns along his arm, the room quiet except for the soft hum of the night outside.

“Eddie?” you whisper.

“Mm?” he hums, voice thick with sleep, face tucked into your neck.

Your fingers trace lightly along his arm. “You’re very… affectionate when you drink. Like, more than usual."

“‘Cause I’m obsessed with you,” he mumbles, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

You blink in the dark. “…Eddie.”

“No, I am,” he insists, shifting just enough to look at you, eyes barely open. “Like, real bad. It’s kinda embarrassing.”

You let out a soft laugh. “You think?”

“Yeah,” he nods weakly, already nuzzling back into you. “Like, I see you and I just—” he makes a small, frustrated sound “—forget how to act normal.”

“You’ve never acted normal a day in your life.”

“Not the point,” he murmurs. “You make it worse.”

You smile, brushing your fingers through his hair. “Oh, I’m the problem?”

“Yeah,” he says immediately. “You’re too pretty. It’s distracting.”

“You’ve said that already.”

“I’ll say it again,” he mumbles. “You’re really pretty.”

You huff a quiet laugh. “Okay.”

“And nice,” he adds. “And funny. And you let me talk a lot.”

“I tolerate it.”

“You love it,” he corrects.

“…Yes, I do.”

He hums, satisfied with that, tightening his arms around you like he’s proving a point.

“I like taking care of you,” he says after a second, softer now. “Makes me feel like I’m doing something right.”

“You are,” you whisper.

“Yeah?” he asks, voice quieter, almost unsure for a split second.

“Yeah.”

He relaxes completely, pressing a slow, sleepy kiss to your shoulder.

“Good,” he murmurs. “Don’t let me mess this up.”

“You’re not going to.”

“You promise?” he mumbles, words slurring just slightly now.

You shift just enough to press a soft kiss to his forehead. “I promise.”

He exhales, long and content, like that settles something deep in him.

“Okay,” he whispers.

His fingers trace lazy, uneven patterns against your side, slower and slower until they stop completely. But even as sleep takes him, he doesn’t let go. Not for a single second.

AGHHHHH i hope you all loved it!! Just something simple and sweet to cleanse the palate. my cheeks hurt from smiling...but i can't say i'm too mad abt it

taglist is open!

myloves:

@bitterestwillow @kozume-ko, @obsessed-eddie, @doomdabss, @julxsxx, @leelei1980 @hexqueensupreme @ches-86 @plaidamoosette @bobiverses@meadows-ofasphodel @whitakerstorm @dreamerjj @sariahs-stuff @serendipdipity01 @hypersexytoptobottom @m-art000 @sisteramycatherine @walleloveseve @camsmunson101 @flavorfullstevepeachpuffs25 @abirdinthehouse @m-art000 @enne02

[hotelcalebfornia]

makeup shopping with bf!sukuna (part 2)

sukuna pissed you off for the whole week. first, he smooshed your brand new plushie like a pancake when he carelessly threw himself on your bed. second, he ripped an expensive underwear during freaky time when you specifically told him not to. lastly, he ate the ramen cup you’ve been looking forward to eating tonight.

you were certain that sukuna’s only goal in this world was to ragebait you everyday. he wasn’t usually one to care so there are times when he let himself get too careless and end up angering you. he apologized each time but three times in one week was too much for you.

“i said i’m sorry,” he said through gentle kisses on your neck. “i really didn’t mean to eat your last cup of ramen.”

you sighed and rolled your eyes. he bought you a box filled with said ramen when he saw how angry you got over his actions. it doesn’t really take a lot for you to forgive your boyfriend, especially since you know that he means it.

but that doesn’t mean you were gonna let him off the hook that easy.

“okay, fine,” you sigh. “but you have to be punished.”

“and what would my punishment be?” he squints his eyes.

“you have to go shopping with me.”

“okay, that’s easy.”

“in sephora.”

he felt his face go pale. you love makeup and anything that makes you feel pretty. he loves seeing you happy and enjoy yourself but that doesn’t mean he enjoys following you around like a puppy in a giant store full of stuff he barely cares about.

“ohhh, this is so cute!” you squealed while eyeing a new collection from a brand you like.

he could sit down or go to a shop he enjoys but he needs to make it up to you. and who’s gonna hold your shopping bag?

“kuna, give me your hand.” you commanded.

“why?”

“ugh, just give it?” you rolled your eyes.

he gave you his left hand and watch you open his palm. the look on face was comical when he realized what you need his hand for. a strip of light pink sticky substance was smeared on the back of his hand.

“that’s such a pretty shade!” you said, moving his hand around to inspect the shade in different angles and light. “what do you think?”

“yeah, it’s pretty.” he replied with the most monotone expression on both his face and voice.

this went on for minutes and it’s not long before his hand was covered in lip gloss, foundation, and concealer. it took an hour and a half before weariness settles into you and you decide it’s time to check out.

as you and sukuna line up at the checkout counter, you brought out a makeup remover wipe to clean his hand.

“thanks for being my human palette, kuna.” you said, smiling at him while you clean his hands with soft, gentle touches. “there, all clean!”

he tangled his fingers onto yours before bringing the back of your hand to his lips. he doesn’t mind being covered in sticky lip gloss, just as long as your hands are clean and comfortable.

when it was your turn to checkout, he gave you his card. he always offered to pay for you, regardless of what it was, and he also hoped that this was enough penance for his sins.

“that would be $350.” the cashier said.

sukuna’s face was drained of blood when he heard what the cashier said. his heart slowly breaks as he watched you hand his card over to the cashier.

it’s okay, i deserve this. he repeated the sentence in his head over and over.

“that was a bit too much, huh?” you said. “i’ll pay you back.”

“it’s okay, baby.” he reassured.

“are you sure?”

“100%.” he pressed a sweet kiss on your temple.

he watched you beam the sweetest smile as you exit the store. that same smile was enough payment for the damage done to his bank account. he leads you to the car, excited to see you check if all the lip gloss were kissproof.

a/n: i write sukuna so out of character but idc i love softkuna

buy me a coffee | ko-fi

[friendsliehella]

Jealousy ( Mike Wheeler x Reader)

theme: the new guy in town hits it off with dustin lucas, will and… you (much to mikes dismay)

warning: angst to fluff

“ oh come on mike hes super cool and he could do wonders for our rep” says lucas exasperated. all four of you guys have been trying to convince mike to let the new kid,Ben, into the party. he was a football player, well liked, and was well versed in d&d, much to everyones surprise. he came up to you guys to compliment dustins hellfire shirt and it was history after that. now when you all see him in the hallway, excited chatter goes on. that is, if mike isn’t there. he just stands there, staring, until ben gets uncomfortable and leaves. which was weird for mike, sure, he could be awkward but he was never rude. not until now.

“son of a bitch, why do you hate ben so much?! wouldve thought he ate your dog or something” dustin says exasperated. “ i don’t have a dog” mike rolls his eyes causing you to sigh. his eyes shoots to yours and you can see the annoyance swimming in them. “i don’t like him. sorry if that bothers you. if you want to hang out with your boyfriend, your gonna have to do it alone because hes not joining the party” he says coldly, straight at you.

“who said anything about boyfriend” your eyes furrow in confusion and anger. who is he to tell you how you feel about someone. and whats worse, he is wrong. you’ve only ever had eyes for one person, and it was him. but he is too blind to see it, and now he is taunting you cluelessly. why did he care so much about what you thought about ben anyway?

“idk ive seen the way you look at him. looks like you’d let him fuck you in the hallway if he asked nice enough. wait, who am i kidding?! he probably wouldn’t even have to ask” he says, his cold tone unchanging. will, mike, lucas, and dustin gasps in unison and all look at eachother with wide eyes before mumbling something about needing to get to class leaving you and mike alone. you couldn’t see your face but you knew if looks could kill the look you were giving him would have him 10 feet in the ground. “how dare you talk about me that way. you just made me out to be some kind of slut in front of the party” you hiss. you feel your eyes brim with tears and you could kick yourself. you hate how much of an effect his words have on you. you hate how he thought so little of you. how careless he was with his words.

hes not even looking at you, even as your about to cry in front of him. he turns his back walking away slowly with his hands in his pockets, not a care in the world. “i mean i didn’t say that but if the shoe fits!” he says loud enough you can hear as you watch him leave. tears finally roll down your cheek and you leave to go to class with his words rolling around in your head.

——————————————————————

after school, mike, dustin, you, lucas, and will usually all bike home together. much to the other boys dismay, you’ve already left without them. “you think she left because of what he said?” will asks concern etched into his voice. “yeah probably, i mean, shit, i wouldve left too if someone talked to me like that” lucas declares. mike only rolls his eyes for the hundredth time that day. “ don’t give us that eyeroll bullshit. what you said was really messed up. i know you know this mike, your better than this.” dustin said patting him on the shoulder only for mike to push his hand off. “ i mean did i lie! do you see the way she looks at him. its disgusting!” mike exclaims. the boys only respond by giving him a knowing look. “mike i think its time for you to face the fact that you like her and thats why this whole ben situation is pissing you off so bad” lucas starts slowly. “uh-“ uncharacteristically will quickly cuts him off, “ its true, everyone knows it. your so caught on the idea of losing her to some guy that your pushing her away. fight for what you want, not against it.” he says in the same wise tone he always uses in moments like these.

“ i couldn’t have said it better myself, will.” dustin looks to mike now. “you need to go find her and fix this.” he jams his finger on his chest. mike opens and closes his mouth like he wanted to say something but ends up just not saying anything at all. he quickly gets on his bike, pumping his legs fast in hopes of catching up to you.

———————————————————————

your riding your bike down the street to your subdivision. your eyes were so raw from crying that you could barely see. lucky for you, you’ve rode home so many times you don’t need to see to know where your going. “still sucks tho. screw mike” you whisper to yourself.

“Y/N” you hear an all to familiar voice approaching from behind you. you couldn’t handle talking to him right now. you also didn’t want him to see you crying and so instead of slowing down, you sped up. you pumped hard until you were at your house. you threw yourself off your bike and made a run for your door. hard footsteps pounded after you and within seconds warm hands whipped you around.

“you didn’t- didn’t hear me calling you?” mike questions in between his ragged breathing. “yeah but i don’t want to talk right now” you say shooting him a glare. instead of matching it, his eyes soften. his hands reach to your face unconsciously. “shit. have you been crying?” he says guilt etched all over his face. “what does it look like asshole? just leave me alone mike” you push his hands off you and turn to walk to your door.

mike stops you for the second time, hands firmly grasping your shoulders.“ no, no i can’t leave.” he pauses and looks down at his shoes before looking into your eyes, an emotion you’ve only ever see every once in a while. a look reserved for late night talks when the rest of the party asleep, a look only for you alone. “ i can’t lose you” he whispers as if he scared you’ll disappear in front of his eyes.

much to your disapproval, your tough act starts to melt. its been chipped away at ever since he called your name 10 min prior. all the rage you felt, is slipping away with how hes looking at you now. “mike, your not gonna lose me. im just upset. what you said-“ you start but mike cuts you off “i know what i said. and im sorry” his hands move to your face again and this time you melt into his touch. his eyes scan your face, lightly smiling at the way you respond to his touch. “maybe i was just worried that you might actually see ben that way. and i took it out on you. i won’t ever do that again. hell, i’ll even let him into the party if i have too.” he says, saying the last part with a little bit of difficulty. you can’t help but laugh. mike smiles at your reaction, falling back into his usual light banter with you. “im sorry, do you find my discomfort funny?” he teases.

his joke doesn’t have time to marinate because you grab his face in your hands and peck him on the lips. you pull away but mike instantly grabs your hips and pulls you flush against him, one hand traveling back up to your face. he pulls your face to his and your lips meet again. this time the kiss is deeper and more meaningful. when you pull back both of your eyes are clouded and your breathing is heavy.

“ if i take you upstairs to my room and we…. you know… would you be willing to be a little nicer to ben. for everyones sake” you joke half hazardly, eyes still glued to his red lips.

“ your wish is my command”

and with that he grabs your hand pulling you with him.

[cinnamon-toastiie]

self control — choso kamo

when boyfriend!choso finds out about reader's insecurities

tags: angst!!, graphic depictions of disordered eating, b.e.d., extremely insecure!reader, reader's pov is inspired by my personal experiences w binging and weight, i personally dont have an ed but have a tumultuous past w disordered eating behaviours, implied chubby/overweight reader, choso is unfamiliar w human norms/beauty standards, choso likes curvy/bigger ppl truther!!, uhh i think that's it but lmk if i missed anything, second person pov (1.0k words)

“My love?” Choso called from the doorway of the flat, toeing off his shoes and walking with socked feet down the hallway. He was so excited to see you, he always was; like a puppy waiting for their owner to come home, but this time, he was the one coming home. He headed to your shared bedroom, his favourite place in the world, expecting to see you slipping into PJs or reading a book or doing your skincare, something he likens to a nightly ritual for you two: you doing one of those many tasks, and him watching you in awe.

That being said, he was rather confused to see the lights were only out despite it being barely a quarter to 9 PM. “Hey?” he called once more, cracking the door open and seeing a thin strip of hallway light settle upon your form. At first he assumed you were sleeping, curled into a foetal ball under a heavy blanket, but he realized you were in fact awake when he heard the subtle hic-sob-hic-sob-sob pattern coming from your faintly shaking form.

“Hey, hey, hey, what’s wrong??” He immediately bolted to the side of the bed, hands raised as he felt he should do something but didn’t quite know what that “something” was.

You whined, trying to speak but being able to. It was almost embarrassing, how your timid cries turned into full-on sobs the second you registered that your beloved Choso was home. Crying alone, in private, in the warmth of your own bed was one thing, but your shame and humiliation being broadcast for the person whose opinion you valued most in the world? “No, no, no, go, Choso. Go back out. Go back out with Yuji,” you pleaded through the wails.

“No, I’m not gonna leave you alone, what’s going on?” he half-pouted. He crouched by the edge of the bed, getting down on your level, brushing a gentle hand over your chubby cheek in a feeble attempt to soothe you.

“The cake you brought home earlier,” the words spilled from your mouth like vomit that you just couldn’t hold back any longer, a heavy weight on your shoulder.

“Mm hm?” He encouraged you to continue.

“I—” you stuttered, swallowing the metaphorical frog in your throat, “—I a-ate it all, the entire cake, in one sitting.”

He didn’t mind the word vomit, he just wanted to know what had made you so upset. So he could help. “Yeah?”

“I didn’t even wait for you to come home, it’s like I wasn’t even me, I was just stressed out and wasn’t thinking and it’s like I woke up from a waking daydream and I had eaten the entire cake without even waiting for you.”

“And?”

Your brows furrowed despite your crying, confused. “W-what do you mean ‘and’? It was, like, three thousand calories, Cho!”

“But if you eat healthier for a few days, a little less snacking and more whole foods, isn’t it fine? I don’t see the problem, my love. I’m sorry,” he explained. His voice was hesitant and shaky—worried he was misunderstanding a major human norm. It wouldn’t be the first time he was overcome with that sort of ‘culture shock’ and it certainly wouldn’t be the last.

“No, you don’t get it,” you sobbed harder, shaking in your place (half from the sobs and half from the fear seizing you that Choso would be ashamed of your body if you were to unfurl and he saw your bloated body). “With you or Yuji or someone muscular like you guys, it doesn’t matter. It’ll just become muscle anyway. Or you can just start bulking and binge as much as you want. But I can’t. I’m fat. And now I’m just fatter.”

“Don’t say that,” he snapped, but not angrily. His tone was upset, offended, as if depressed you had the gall to insult his beautiful loved one like that! You wouldn’t talk about Yuji or Eso or Kechizu like that, nor any of his other beloved brothers, so why would you talk about someone else he loves so dearly like that? “Please? Don’t say that,” he repeated, somehow softer (though you previously thought that impossible).

“Why? It’s true,” you mumbled, buying yourself further in the blanket.

“I don’t care what’s true or not, you’re saying it like a bad thing. I don’t know what… what humans would consider “fat,” or really why you care if you’re healthy, but if fat is what you are then it’s clearly not a bad thing,” he soothed. “You’re beautiful.”

You started crying harder once more, but this time less of sadness and more of guilt. God, what had you done to deserve him? Choso stood up before adjusting, sitting back down but now on the bed and next to you, pulling you into his muscular arms. “Do you want a drink? Maybe a smoothie, or decaf tea? To feel better?” he offered.

You considered it for a moment, rolling it over in your mind before remembering Choso always adds a spoonful of honey by habit to either whether you tell him to or not. “Mm-mm,” you shook your head against his chest.

“How about a bath together, does that sound good?”

Again, the thought of Choso seeing how bloated you looked right now, especially without the barrier of clothes, was another no-go. You shook your head once more.

“Hmm… cuddles?” he offered, still looking for a way to soothe you.

No extra food (since you had already eaten past the point of full), and no one to point out how you looked? Plus the added bonus of a boyfriend who was effectively a space heater and teddy bear? Ding, ding, ding! You smiled, nodding ‘yes’ until he matched the same smile you wore but twice as wide.

authors note: genq how do people write when they have stress sickness this SUCKS

taglist: @mischivana

[santithegooner]

10 Things I Hate About Munson

Chapter 1 <—Chapter 2—> Chapter 3

.☘︎ ݁˖ Synopsis: Mike has a crush on Eleven, but she can't date him until her blunt, hardheaded, spit fire sister gets a boyfriend. So, why doesn't he help her out?

A hate to love to hate to love again story where Mike gets Steve to pay Eddie "the freak" Munson to date

Hopper! reader. What could go wrong?

‧₊˚♪𝄞₊˚⊹

A/N: Woah 3,225 words?! That's crazy to me! Also I did try to sneak in the fact you still think about Hoppers first child aka your first sisters death. In the future I do want to explore more into that tbh, hope I improve enough to do that plot some justice when it comes to it. Also sorry for the slow updates I've just been getting so off track I'm really sorry I made yall wait this long🙁 Anyways, I hope you Like it!!!

Also follow me on @SantiTheGooner on Wattpad and Tiktok

(also @Santithegooner_ on insta!!)

Word Count: 3.2k

Series Master List

Mike felt his whole heart shatter.

When Jane broke the news to him he felt like she locked him out of heaven and threw away the keys. And all because of what? A stupid rule her crazy father made up to keep her from growing up and exploring adolescence? I mean, who would date that psychopath Jane calls her sister?

The group ate lunch outside this time. Dustin and Lucas tried to cheer him up while they sat on a bench by the soccer field, but he wasn’t listening. 

“Come on man, I’m sure there are lots of guys who would be willing to date your girlfriend's sister!" Lucas smiles resting his hand on Mike’s shoulder. “I mean, if people jump from airplanes or eat bugs then I’m sure someone would date your girlfriend’s sister.”

Dustin nods, “Yeah! Think of it as, uh, extreme dating!” Mike straightened his slouched back, the two boys noticed a little spark of hope in his eyes.

“You think so?” Mike mutters, looking at both his friends.

“Yeah man, I’m sure if we ask around we’ll find someone who at least would date her for her looks, come on!” Dustin says, standing up, “I have a plan”.

The trio first asked the hippie kids, they said she’s too aggressive. Then they asked the choir kids, they said her voice was too annoying. Then they asked the nerd boys, they said she’s not nerdy enough. As a last resort, they asked the jocks. But, before the boys could finish saying your name they laughed straight in their faces.

Defeated, Dustin goes to his third period class, science. 

𝄞⨾💿✮˚.⋆

“So, you’re telling me you’re trying to convince someone to go out with Jane’s sister? And it's because their dad won’t allow Jane to date Mike until her sister gets a date?” Will questions as the duo sit down in their assigned lab chairs, “but no one will date them because they’re ‘crazy’?” Will adds making imaginary quotes with his fingers.

“Yes!” Dustin nods, putting on his lab coat and goggles 

“Well, what about Munson?” Will asked. Eddie Munson, known as the ‘freak’ of Hawkins was the opposite of a regular student. His wild hair, love for D&D, and the fact he's a not so secret drug dealer does not help him fit in. Especially in the standards of an average student that attends Hawkins high.

Dustin raises a brow, “Eddie? No way! look man, he’s my friend in all but I heard he bit a live bat’s head clean off, like Ozzy Osbourne style. I don’t think girls would be into that,” Will scoffs. “I'm being serious! He may be my friend, but even I can’t tell if some rumors are fake or not, when I ask, he sat there and smile! He smiles!” Will sighs, standing up Will starts to make his way towards Eddie. Who was trying to light up a cigarette using the fire from a Bunsen burner the science teacher let them use.

“Hey, Eddie-" Will greets, fidgeting with his fingers out of nervousness. Eddie raises a brow, his brown eyes boring into Will’s hazel one’s. “Never mind” more embarrassed than scared, Will sat back down head hung low.

“Actually, Yeah he’s perfect” Dustin says, smirking.

𝄞⨾💿✮˚.⋆

“So, you’re telling me you’re going to try to set up Eddie ‘the freak’ Munson with the most stuck-up girl in school?” Mike says in disbelief as he grabs his things out of his locker, “How would we even get them to be in the same room as each other? Let alone date.”

“We could always pay him,” Dustin shrugs

Will sighs, “Yeah? With what money?”

Lucas snaps his eyebrows raised in excitement, “What we need is a backer.” The trio of boys looks at Lucas with a raised brow, the dark-skinned boy rolls his eyes, “someone with money. It means someone dumb with lots of money.” 

Dustin smirks, “I know the perfect guy.” The group glances at a familiar Farrah Fawcett hairspray-wearing boy. Who was talking to his good friend Robin a few feet away.

“Hey Steve! Can you do us a big favor? I mean, like a huge favor!” Dustin grins, walking up to Steve. The boy rolls his eyes as Robin giggles. 

“Steve, I didn’t know you had kids!” she teases. Steve rolls his eyes at the girl’s comment, “What do you want, Henderson?” 

Dustin chuckles as he leans against Steve’s locker. Dustin was hoping to seem less nervous and more 'cool', “Well, what if I told you that I need you to pay my friend Eddie around..." Dustin trails off trying to think of a reasonable price. "Let’s say around, $25 so he can date Jane’s sister so Jane can date Mike would you be willing to do it?”

A moment of silence passes.

“No,” Steve shrugs. 

“No?! Come on Steve, this is for a good cause! I mean, aren’t you rich!” Dustin throws his hands in the air in disbelief.

“Hey, come on, don’t you love playing matchmaker! We have nothing else to do anyways!” Robin butts in, nudging Steve’s shoulder.

Steve crosses his arms, “First, I never said I loved- or even liked playing matchmaker. Second, I have better things to do with my time. And third, ‘good cause’ my ass!” Robin scoffs, rolling her eyes. “I mean, this ‘cause’ only benefits Mike! And if he wants to date someone so bad, then why doesn’t he date some other desperate chick!” 

Mike crosses his arms. He knew this plan was bullshit. “She’s not some desperate chick!” Before he could protest more his eyes light up, almost like a light bulb that had turned on.

Mike had an idea.

“You know her dad is Chief Jim Hopper, right?” Steve raises a brow and nods, telling the boy to continue, “well that man is a huge drinker, and a smoker too! I will ask Jane to smuggle ‘daddy’s little stash’, and boom!” Mike exclaims making dramatic gestures with his hands.

“Free smokes and alcohol for life! Jane wanted her dad to quit, anyway. So it's a win win situation!" Robin looks at Steve a smirk threatening to show on her face.

Rolling his eyes, “ok fine, do I have to pay him now?” All four boys nod in unison. 

𝄞⨾💿✮˚.⋆

Steve and Eddie weren’t friends. If you asked Steve, he’d say he disliked the boy. But beer is beer, and he could go for a free cigarette.

Steve spots Eddie sitting on the hood of his car in the school’s parking lot, smoking what Steve can assume is a blunt. 

“Hey, Eddie,” Steve says, placing himself right next to Eddie. Eddie glances at Steve, eyes full of confusion.

“Well! Didn’t think I’d see the day the great King Steve would be buying from a druggie like me! What do you want, princess?” The wild-haired boy exclaims, throwing his arms around Steve. Usually, Steve would call him a idiot and push his arms off him, but today he was craving some free cigs.

“Yeah, and you will never- and don’t call me that. I’m here because I have a proposition for you.” Eddie’s eyebrow raises.

“proposition?” Eddie repeats, “What is it?”

“Y’know Jane’s sister, the crazy one, daughter of Chief Jim Hopper, right?” Eddie nods, taking a puff of his blunt. “Well, I need you to go out with her,” Eddie scoffs, “In your dreams, Harrington.”

Steve sighs, rubbing his forehead. “Look man, this kid I babysit. Mike- he- he loves this girl, and she can’t date unless her sister does. I guess it’s some stupid rule their whacked out dad made up-, kinda like a Romeo and Juliet kind of situation. But, I don’t wanna deal with him moping and-“ 

Eddie puts out his blunt, a stupid smirk plastered on his face. “Such a touching story, Harrington!” the wild-haired boy leans in, “But, how is that my problem?” 

Steve pauses for a moment before he smirks, “What if I make it your problem?” the fluffy haired boy pulls out a crisp $20 bill. Eddie looks up at him, unimpressed.

“Only $20?” Eddie says, standing up and placing himself right in front of Harrington. “Let’s think about this, we go to the movies, that’s about what- 15 bucks? Then She asks for popcorn, that’s 53, and she’d want a drink, right?” Eddie looks at Steve, “So, 75 bucks and we have a deal, sound good to you, princess?”

Steve stares at Eddie in sheer disbelief, god he hates this guy “hell no! 25 or no deal” he states now chest to chest with Eddie.

“75.”

“20.”

“80.”

"25."

"85."

“30!” 

“50 or no deal.”

Steve’s patients were running thin, he sighs in defeat “fine, deal, take your stupid 50 dollars!” he exclaims showing the money into Eddies chest.

Eddie smirks, happy he got 50 dollars from Steve ‘the hair’ Harrington. “Thank you sweetheart! I won’t let you down!” he says placing a dramatic kiss on the 50 and hopping into his old rundown van. The dark brown haired boy leans out the window, “I'll start my mission first thing tomorrow! Don't worry that pretty little head off!”

It wasn’t until after Eddie’s van disappeared down the street did Steve noticed his jaw clenched. He lets out a slow and steady breath as his shoulders relaxed “god, Mike owes me so many cigarettes.”

𝄞⨾💿✮˚.⋆

Laying on his back Eddie stares at his ceiling, the $50 Steve gave him sitting heavy in his pocket.

As much as he tried he couldn't get Steve's 'proposal' out of his mind, I mean, how is he supposed to swoon you? Has he ever talked to you? Has he ever seen you smile before? Hell, he didn't even know your favorite color! Eddie groans resting his forearm over his eyes.

"I need a distraction" Eddie mutters to no one in particular, "I need some weed".

chuckling at how ridiculous he's acting the boy continues to spiral. "why do I care so much anyways, It's not like I'd actually date her".

The wild haired boy glances at the guitar hanging in his bedroom wall. It looked almost sad, over the years the strings and paint had changed in color. A once bright, beautiful, lively guitar had now turned into a dust collector. The poor thing seemed to be rotting away on his bedroom wall. All he needs to get supplies to fix his dear 'Miss Metallica' is some money. Thanks to Harrington he's now $50 short of, what he assumes, is a $100 repair.

All he needs to do is hold up his end of the deal, it cant be that hard.

Right?

𝄞⨾💿✮˚.⋆

Eddie never knew you share two classes together. Thanks to Steve who had gotten this information from Dustin. he was now hyper aware of the fact you even go to the same school as him.

One class you shared was math, which was actually his first period of the day. Eddie had never been on time when coming to class. Usually he'd skip and smoke in the football field, but today he had an objective.

"Oh, Eddie, look who finally decided to be present!" Mrs. Kate said, her voice a little too sweet. She'd never liked him and he knew it.

"Felt like learning" Eddie nods taking a seat next to you.

"Well I hope you feel like having a test!" Mrs. Kate smiles.

A chorus of groans fill the class, but Eddie wasn't paying attention he was too busy looking at you. You didn't seem nervous or annoyed at all. Yes, you did look mad, but when didn't you?

After Mrs. Kate passed out the packets the whole class went quiet. Eddie was pretty sure if he dropped a pin the whole class would be able to hear it. God, he hated quiet. Quiet left room for thought, and right now the boy had a lot going on in his head.

The curly haired boy glances at you for what had felt like the tenth time this period. You were laser focused on your test, he knew you'd most likely get an A even if you didn't try. You've always been smart.

Eddie didn't believe in a higher power.

If anyone asked him before he'd say the only thing he believed in is heavy metal. But as he sneaks glances at you he finds himself praying whatever dumb plan his brain came up with would work. Taking a deep breath Eddie made his 'move'.

"Psst."

You ignored him.

"Psst."

Your eyebrows furrow.

"Psst!"

You sigh in annoyance, stopping all movements to turn and glare at him.

"What? What do you want!" You whisper trying to stop yourself from yelling.

"Woah! no need to be hostile, I'm wondering if you're interested in going out with me?" the boy smirks trying to hide his nervousness.

You roll your eyes at Eddie's sad attempt at 'flirting', "and go where? The 7/11 near your rat infested trailer park? No thank you, shouldn't you be paying attention to the test? Do you even know my name druggie?"

"I could get to know you."

You stare at Eddie. Fist clenched so tight around your pencil he thought you were going to jump out your seat and stab him.

But, for a moment Eddie thought he saw a smirk forming on your lips. Instead of stabbing the boy you shoot your hand up catching the attention of Mrs. Kate. The older lady glances up from her computer to look at you, "Yes?" You place your hangs in your lap, "Eddie keeps trying to cheat off me" you say glancing at the boy next to you.

Mrs. Kate looks at Eddie with furrowed eyebrows, "I know, I know" Eddie sighs throwing his hands up in defeat. He already knows Mrs. Kate wouldn't believe any attempt at defending himself. So, he gets up and walks out of the class without a sound. Before he leaves he steals one last glance at you.

You were grinning at him, you almost seemed like you were holding back a laugh.

After he left Eddie realized that was the first time you ever smiled at him.

𝄞⨾💿✮˚.⋆

"we're screwed." Mike says in a defeatist tone.

The young boy decided to meet Eddie in the cafeteria so he could ask how plan 'Beauty and the Bitch' was going. His friends decided to stay in the outdoor soccer field. Something about not 'wanting to deal with his relationship issues on their time off'. The laughs of friends filled the lunch room, Mike felt almost envious of how happy everyone seemed to be. Eddie slings his arm around Mike pulling him out of thought, "Hey! I don't wanna hear that depressing attitude I wanna hear you upbeat!"

Mike turns to the older boy forcing an exaggerated fake smile, "we are screwed!" Mike exclaims with false cheer.

"There we go!" Eddie smiles patting Mike's back harder than needed. "That was my first attempt anyways, I have plenty of time! She'll come around, no woman can resist my charm!" Eddie attempts to comfort. But as always his words of encouragement went through one ear and out the other.

In reality Eddie was nervous, more nervous than he needed to be. He had never flirted with any girl ever since he was in the 8th grade, and to be honest you did intrigue him a little. But, he knew your 'don't care' attitude was a wall you built to hide something. He knew if he pushed and poked hard enough you'd let him in.

𝄞⨾💿✮˚.⋆

You sigh splashing your face with sink water. Even though your bathroom is small you still have to share it with your dad and sister. You don't mind as long as Jane doesn't hog it. Usually when you bang on the door and tell her to hurry up you’d hear the muffled excuse of 'needing to look pretty for school'. You never cared about how others think you look, as long as you think you look good that's all that matters. You couldn't blame her though, because you were that age once. And unfortunately you were the exact same.

God, you couldn't get that stupid curly haired boy out your head. Seeing the image of his stupid smirk that was for some reason burned into your brain makes your blood boil. You were getting ready to 'retreat to your brain fortress' as Jane called it. Jane named it that because anytime you zone out she said it 'looked like you're trapped in your own head'. Jane reminds you so much of her it sometimes makes you sick.

The old bathroom door creaks open.

Jane walks in looking at herself in the mirror, fixing her hair before bed. It wasn't long before she decided she wanted to talk your ear off.

"Maybe you need a new look" she says in thought. You glance at Jane raising a brow in confusion, "I see potential under all your meanness." the younger girl adds earning your signature eye roll. You turn the sink water off, "I'm not mean, it's not my fault people act like idiots all the time." Jane giggles moving behind you to play with your hair, "why don't you try being nice, people like nice people." You shrug, "I don't care if people like me or not, I especially don't care what people think of me." For a moment you feel her hand stop fidgeting with your hair.

"Yes you do."

A beat of silence passes, "No I don't. Y'know you don't have to be what everyone wants you to be."

Jane peaks over your shoulders, because of the height difference she has to stand on her toes. "Well, I like who I am. Do you like who you are?"

The room goes silent. It's so quiet all you could hear is your heart beating. Because if you were being honest, you didn't know how to answer that question. Did you like being 'mean'? Did you like having no friends? Did you actually not care about your reputation around the school?

You stare at yourself in the mirror. The heat of embarrassment makes your whole body tingle. All you wanna do is sleep and never see the light of day again.

With a huff in response you stomp out the bathroom. You don't care what people think, you never will. You never did then so why do you now? Why did your chest feel so tight? Why are you so mad?

You weren't actually angry at Jane for asking the question but more at yourself for not being able to answer it. For acting the way you do. For being so quick to respond with anger. For being a bad sister both back then and now. For not knowing how to be nice. The thing that angered you the most wasn't the actual question. Or how your brain kept spewing a stream of thoughts and questions you wanted to avoid.

No, what angered you the most was even though you try so hard to distract yourself. Your brain still has Eddie's stupid smirk engraved into your head.

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