Hey Babes

Hey babes💕

Can u please write a sequel to "To give you what you need" where she gets pregnant. I really wanna know what would Steve do!

Hiya, luv!!💝

Oh lord yes, here it comes!!

Keeping you

Pairing: Soft!Dark! Steve Rogers x reader

Word count: 4k

Warnings: non-con, dub-con, pregnancy anxiety, forced pregnancy, explicit sexual content, explicit language, oral (female recieving), vaginal sex, mild violence, lots of crying. 

Summary: After Steve’s meticulous work and your lack of choice, you're pregnant. His reaction has you finding yourself in a whole new predicament. 

Note: This is the third installment following Taking what he wants and To give you what you need. These have all been quick scribbles without much editing, so please forgive any jarring character changes, kink swaps and general plot holes. Not beta-read either, so I'm living on the edge here.

Your media consumption is your own responsibility, but I advise you not to engage if the content of the warnings trigger you.

My work is not to be distributed outside this blog.

It felt like your stomach dropped clean out of your body and through the floor. You could hear the blood rushing in your ears like a raging river during spring floods. 

On the bathroom counter in front of you, the test was mocking you. 

Positive. 

“Oh god,” you whispered to yourself. You’d just sat there crying for about an hour, miserably holding your own shoulders in an attempt at self-soothing that seemed to have no effect. 

You’d been suspicious for a few days now, carrying the sneaking, gnawing feeling that something was different inside you. But you were hardly surprised. Barely two days had gone by between Steve’s visits after he’d caught you taking Plan B. You wondered how in the hell he had the time and resources to hound you so insistently.

It had always been inevitable, of course. Since that first night, you had been completely at Steve’s mercy, and now you could feel the bonds of his control tightening, making it hard to breathe. 

Pregnant. Fucking hell. You didn’t even know what he did for a living. He’d told you once he was a secret agent, whatever that entailed. Like James Bond? CIA? KGB? Was he a good guy? Who the fuck knew, it certainly didn’t feel like it. He felt like a dangerous, reckless maniac. And now his child was growing inside you? Like a parasite. You could barely support yourself. 

You took a deep, fortifying breath. 

No, you couldn’t. You wouldn’t. There was no way. You needed to find a way out of this, whatever it was, this thing with Steve had gone too far. 

You took your phone out with shaking fingers and typed in a search for the nearest abortion clinic. Next state over, 14 hours drive. Fine. You had the day off tomorrow anyway, and it wasn't like anyone ever noticed you at the yarn store anyway. 

Getting a small bag packed in a matter of minutes, heart in your throat, you threw the test inside - in case you needed to check on the way and make sure you didn’t imagine things. Adrenaline pumped painfully in your chest as you slipped out into the night and got into your car. You looked over your shoulder all the while, paranoid Steve might lurk in any shadow. You got out of your driveway and took the highway heading south. Steve had been there the night before, so it was early for him to return, but you had learned the hard way never to assume anything about his behavioral patterns. 

“Oh god, your mouth,” he’d sighed, stroking your hair softly as you took him in, the weight of him on your tongue anchoring you as his scent made you light headed. Everything was so wet, your pussy pulsing as he slid into your throat, a breathy moan on his lips. 

You nearly reared into another vehicle. “Shit,” you exclaimed, and clung to the steering wheel as the thoughts whirled around in your head. 

You’d driven for about an hour when the road cleared, and you were all alone, surrounded by thick forest. Glancing at the clock, it read 01:03 am, and you stifled a yawn. There was still a long way to go. Outside the street lights passing by shone a warm, yellow hue, and glancing up you saw the stars shining bright in the night sky. 

Glancing back to the road, your eyes nearly popped out of your head. Ahead, a figure stood in the middle of the road, and you stomped the breaks hard. The wheels screeched. Your stomach surging, the car ground to a full stop and you slammed back into your seat with a grunt, knocking the wind out of you. Panting, you looked up. 

It was him. 

Instant tears pricked your eyes and you felt faint with the sudden horror of the situation. He’d found you. How were you going to explain this?

Stay calm, stay calm, stay calm. 

You sat still, not really able to move, stiff with fear. He slowly moved forward, almost tauntingly as he walked up to the car. 

Don’t run, he’ll know for sure then that you’re hiding something. 

But your fear won out, and your mind went blank as you tore your seatbelt off, ripped the door open and bolted off the road, running into the ditch on the side and through the bush, into the treeline. Your sweater snagged on a branch, and you stumbled over a stump, feeling drunk as you stumbled through the night, not seeing a goddamned thing. You just needed to get away, die falling off a cliff if necessary. 

It was futile, of course. Deep down you knew it was all futile, you were never going to escape. 

Sure enough, Steve caught up to you, grabbing your arm in a steel grip. He spun you around and pulled you tight to him, his other arm wrapping around your waist to secure you to him. 

You shut your eyes, a whimper escaping your clamped shut mouth, mind whirling as you started to prepare for your punishment. This will hurt, you thought miserably to yourself, preparing for it the best you could, trying to cool your frantic breathing. 

But nothing happened. Above you, you heard the wind rustling the trees softly. You noticed how cold it was, shivering with it now, and Steve was breathing so soundlessly, he might as well be made of stone. 

You cracked an eye open and looked up at him. His eyes were steady on your face, his lips in a neutral line. He didn’t look angry, he didn’t even look upset. He looked…guarded, thoughtful. 

You opened your other eye, studying him closer for any trace of emotion, opening your mouth to say something, finding you had nothing to say. You stuttered, blinked, frowned, dumbfounded by his lack of reaction.

“You’re coming with me,” he said then, his voice brooking no argument, his look steely. He turned and started to tug you along by the arm, back the way you came. But you didn’t go back to your car, just walked straight past it on the still empty highway, and then into the treeline on the opposite side. 

“M-my car,” you started

“I’ll come back for it later,” he cut you off, not even looking down at you.

Coming up through a clearing, tumbling awkwardly behind Steve’s confident walk, your eyes landed on what looked like a private jet, just sitting there, in the woods. A moment later, you realized Steve was walking straight up to it, and confusion scrambled your mind. Did he own this? Where was he taking you?  Who the hell was this man? 

§

The jet jolted as it touched whatever landing spot you’d come upon. This was kidnapping. No one would find you now. Not that anyone would come looking. You had no family left and your social life was practically none existent. Except for Steve’s visits, ironically enough - which was probably why he’d kept you through these last months. No one to tell, no one to miss you. 

Steve walked intently to the back of the jet where you sat, unstrapped you from the intricate safety straps and hauled you firmly, though more gently than you’d expected, to your feet. The jet plane opened at the back, a flash of wind making you squint painfully before you saw the house in front of you. 

Well, not house, mansion. With a distinct cabin-like aesthetic, but there was no mistaking that this was the home of someone powerful and wealthy - even in the dark of night. Your jaw fell slack as you took it all in. There was a small pathway dotted by spot lights leading from the landing patch, through an elaborate, though wild garden trimmed with lanterns and into the huge, three story building cluttered with tall windows. Your apartment looked like a broom cupboard compared to this, and you almost felt embarrassed over it if this was where Steve lived. 

The inside continued the lavish display. Huge, expensive looking furniture, walls lined with art depicting urban New York-esque motifs and row upon row of diplomas and awards, medals and honorary memorabilia. No pictures of family, nor any clutter. Every surface was shining and spotless, not even a carelessly strewn magazine or a lone standing coffee cup to be seen. If this was where Steve lived, it didn’t seem like he lived here. It didn’t feel like a home. 

Steve hurdled you through a large living room as fast as your shaking feet could keep up, up a grand staircase in the main entry hall, down a long hallway and in through a set of double doors at the end. It was a bedroom, though not recently slept in from what you could tell. The immaculate made up bed must have been a double king size with about fifty pillows on it. Steve pushed you down almost rudely, and you bounced on a mattress that felt like a floating cloud. 

Steve dumped your bag next to you. You hadn’t even noticed he’d brought it with you. 

He stood before you, hands on his hips, stance wide, that same, undecipherable, neutral expression on his face. Your defiance sparked, you were irked and annoyed and tired of being panicked. 

He didn’t say anything, clearly expecting you to growel, and you refused. The silence stretched on. He cocked a brow, so arrogant, so entitled, and fury rose high in your throat like bile. 

“Fuck you,” you snarled under your breath, immediately fighting the urge to wince as you realized what you’d said. This would get you in trouble. 

Steve didn’t react at all. 

“Do you have any idea how unsafe that part of the state is at night?” he asked, and the infuriating irony of him lecturing you on danger had you scoffing in frustration. 

“How did you know where I was?” you asked back. 

He reached into a pocket and pulled out your mobile phone. Your jaw went slack as realization hit you. 

“You tracked my phone!?” you asked, horrified.

“I track everything, including your search history,” he said matter of factly, putting your phone away again.  

You felt a pang of nausea, mind swimming momentarily as you mulled that over. All those months of googling how to prevent pregnancy naturally, how to escape abusive relationships, how to get away from stalkers. And he’d seen it all. Heat rose on your cheeks. 

The abortion clinic. 

You’d never even stood a chance. You sighed defeated and put your face in your hands, vehemently despising feeling so exposed. 

“Show it to me,” he said then, bringing you back from your thoughts. 

A beat of silence, the night completely soundless.

“What?” you asked, not following. 

He made a pointed look at your bag. 

The test. 

You didn’t want to show him. Couldn’t bear it. 

“I left it at home,” you lied. 

“No, you didn’t.”

“I threw it out,” you lied again. 

“No.”

“I don’t-”

“y/n, you do not want to try me right now,” he said, and the downright ice in his voice made you shiver, fear settling a cold sting in your chest. You wanted to cry. 

Slowly, you bent down and unzipped the bag, searching past your joggers and toothbrush to that familiar shape and feel of the pregnancy test. You pulled it out slowly and held it out in your hand, eyes down on the bright orange, lush carpet on the floor, not able to meet his eyes. 

The test was taken from your hand and you let it fall to your lap. What were you going to do?

The silence droned on again. You briefly wondered how he would react. How smug he would be, how mean and condescending, how possessive and objectifying he would act, how he would torment you with the knowledge that he had done it. The thing you’d fought so hard. Marked you as his, made you pregnant with his kid. With his seed as he liked to call it in his throws of passion. You ignored the memory of how feral that had made you sometimes. 

You heard a shaky exhale, so small that if it wasn’t for the crushing silence in the room, you would have completely missed it. Confusion had you looking up before you could think, and your mouth fell open again. 

His eyes were glossy, wide as they stared down at the test in his hands, his brows in a small frown. It was the first time he’d looked anywhere near vulnerable in all that time you’d known him, and it tipped you off your axis, warped your mind with confusion. 

He looked up to meet your eyes and instantly got down, sat on his knees in front of your sitting form on the bed. His hands, searingly warm through the fabric of your pants, landed so gently on your thighs, pinning the test, the herald of your doom, firmly to your thigh as his eyes didn’t leave yours. 

There were tears there, making the blue shine so bright it caught you.

“You’re a miracle,” he whispered, and you almost recoiled with the shocking sincerity in it. 

He stared into your eyes for so long, and you wanted to break eye contact, but couldn’t. Just couldn’t. 

He took a large breath, again slightly shaky. 

“I’ll never let anything happen to you, I swear. From now on, I’ll always keep you safe,” he said then, a hand moving up to press so tenderly to your belly, the warmth seeping into your core, almost too hot. “You…and our child,” he continued after a beat, his breath hitching as he breathed in again. 

You didn’t move. Were too shocked too. This must be a dream, you thought helplessly as Steve broke the eye contact to stare lovingly at your stomach, his fingers stretching and curling slightly against it. This must be a weird dream, this isn’t my life. 

But it was. And there was Steve. Moved to tears at the truth of you being pregnant with his kid. So tender and sweet where he’d been so unrelenting and harsh before. He’d never let anything happen to you he’d said, completely glossing over the fact that he had happened to you, and now sealed your fate. 

He leaned forward, slowly, bending over your legs and pressed his face into your belly, his breath warming the fabric of your sweater. He pulled the fabric up to reveal the skin underneath and pressed a lingering kiss there, slick with spit. He kissed it again, slowly, and then again, slightly more urgently. 

The tension grew hot and fast like it always did, and you could feel it like air right before a summer storm - sparking with electricity and premonition. Steve gently pried your legs apart to shuffle between, still pressing wet kisses to your stomach. 

“So good,” he murmured against your skin. “You’re a miracle. So good to me. So good for me,” he continued, as if to himself, as if so overwhelmed by his emotions, the words bleeding from him like blood from a cut. His kisses almost felt like cuts, overwhelming you with contradicting, heart wrenching confliction. 

Maybe you should just give in. Give in to him. Let him have you, possess you like he was determined to do. Maybe you just needed to take comfort in him now, to let him soothe away your anxieties with his conviction. That this was a good thing, could be a miracle like he said, and not the utter demolition it felt like. 

His hands slowly moved to unbutton your pants, gently prying them off you, and you let him. What choice did you have? At least this was familiar. You could lose yourself in this, let yourself be obliterated by his hands, mouth, body and cock like you had so many times before. 

Discarding your panties with your pants, Steve stayed on his knees  on the floor by the bed, draping your legs over his shoulders as he lowered his head between your thighs. He devoured your cunt, tongue mapping it out with his spit, and you fell backwards on the mattress, letting your mind go blank with the sensation. 

Despair slowly enveloped you, tears blurring your eyes before trailing from the corners and into the hair at your temples. He moaned into your mound, growing incessant, his hands grabbing your hips tightly. It felt like the world was spinning away slowly, sinking, bleeding out of oxygen and leaving you aching. 

You came with a keen, convulsing quietly on the bed, thighs clamping down around his head as he groaned, sending vibrations through you. The tears kept coming, a silent river flowing down your face. 

He slowly got to his feet, crawling up over you and pulling you further up the bed with an arm around you. He saw the tears and your face and raised a warm, calloused hand to wipe the wet away. 

“Shh, no, no. Sweetheart, I know this is scary, but it’ll be alright. I’m here,” he said low and soothing, bending down to kiss your eyelids as they slid close. A small sob broke from you. 

Yes, exactly.

You didn’t move as he slipped between your legs, sitting back on his haunches. He unbuttoned his plain, blue shirt. He was wearing regular clothes, you noted, not able to care. As his skin was unveiled, sculpted muscles rippling elegantly under smooth skin, your hands absentmindedly reached up. You stroked up his stomach, feeling the muscles twitch under your touch. He panted softly as you caressed him, but you felt nothing. Couldn’t care. It was like every feeling you had was muted, had bled out along with your tears. 

There was no point either way. Your life was over. What is freedom, integrity and autonomy good for anyway, when I can live to be underneath Steve’s body, you thought sarcastically and bitterly to yourself. 

His eyes followed your hands, wide and intent, and you could see how hard he was, the bulge in his jeans obscene. 

Yes, fuck me. Fuck me til I can’t even remember my own name. Make me forget everything. 

“Make me feel good,” you whispered out loud, pleading, eyes meeting his, body lethargic, heavy and dull. 

He didn’t even seem to notice, his pupils blown wide, breath picking up as he hastily unbuttoned his pants, sliding them down just far enough to free himself. He lowered himself down, leaning on one hand as his other guided him inside you, slipping in in the most subtle way, like two puzzle pieces linking together in a chain of a thousand others. You gasped slightly as he bottomed out, the sting of his girth welcome as everything else was just numb. 

Oh, who were you kidding. It felt good. In spite of everything, when Steve did this, it always felt good, and the guilt of making this an escape, cowering away inside this one respite, this silver lining, stung along with new tears in your eyes. 

He started moving slowly, rocking you softly on the mattress as his body lowered to lay flush against yours, warm and heavy. You wrapped your heavy, limp arms around his neck, just letting the movement rock you, letting him do as he wanted. 

He turned his lips to your ears. 

“You’re gonna stay here from now on. We’re gonna raise it here. Together. Be a family, you, me, and our child. Our baby,” he murmured, interjected by soft grunts. “You’re mine. Finally, completely mine.”

His hips picked up speed, moving more frantically, his cock spearing you with the pulse after pulse of pleasure. You felt the distinct need for it to be harder. More painful. Not tender and intimate like this. Like you were lovers, in love, married, about to have a kid together. You wanted him to choke the life out of you, hit you until your skin turned raw and red, bend you til your bones protested and pound you like he was punishing you. Until he drew blood. Like he had done so many times before. But no, he chose this moment to be sweet. 

He leaned up on his arms again, staring into your eyes as he grinded inside you, the way slick and easy for him. 

“I love you,” he whispered, so genuinely and achingly gentle. 

You came, back arching off the bed, a strangled noise catching in your throat. Your whole body stiffened to the point of pain, and Steve fucked you through it, slowly, eyes boring into you, taking in every minute detail. He followed into his own orgasm as you came down from yours, groaning loudly as he jerked twice inside you, and you felt the warmth of his come as his cock pulsed familiarly against your trembling insides. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, panting hotly against the skin, his whole body slumping to pin yours down. 

The distracting pleasure faded away like a dull ache, and you were defenseless against the welling grief washing over you again. The anxiety that always sparked after he’d come inside you was gone now. The damage is already done, you thought bitterly. A little extra seed would make no difference now. He had thoroughly claimed your body as his. 

Your body jerked with a sob underneath Steve. He raised his head and looked at you, hand coming up to wipe at your tears again. 

“Hey now, what’s this?” he asked softly, brows drawing up in a fond expression. 

You couldn’t even muster enough strength to be provoked by his ease, his audacity to play ignorant to what he was doing to you - what he had been doing for months. 

“Just let…let me go,” you whispered. 

He looked at you, and his brows twitched, delicacy starting to bleed away from his afterglow. 

“What?” he asked. 

“Please. I don’t want this,” you said, voice small and frail. 

He blinked a few times and you could see his mind warring against your words. This was not what he wanted to hear. He never wanted to hear those words. 

“I do-”

“No,” he said, quickly pulling out of your body and sitting up on his haunches. You stayed lax on the bed, legs spread, his come leaking out of you, your arms slung out on the mattress at your sides. 

“I don’t want this. I don’t want you, I don’t want the child,” you said, and you sounded so dead, so lifeless and muted, speaking the words to the room more than anything. You just needed to say them out loud - to have given this last, defining defiance. To protest out loud - if only for the symbolic meaning of it. 

You heard Steve’s breath pick up again, and knew this wasn’t wise, was not going to save you - was probably going to come back and bite you in the ass later. He wasn’t pleased. But you didn’t care. If he was going to steal your life, you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of playing house with him willingly. Not just yet.

“You don’t mean that,” he said, voice steely, but you detected that small undercurrent of anxiety. 

“I’ve never meant anything else,” you countered, still staring up at the ceiling, not moving save for your steady breaths, tears still falling silently from the corners of your eyes. 

Silence. 

“We’ll see,” he said, or rather, gritted out through his teeth, and you felt the mattress dip as he got off the bed. “You’ll stay here, eat and sleep. I’ll get your things soon, including your car, though you won’t be needing it. This place has everything you need - fully stocked pantry, a cinema, pool, good outdoor grounds and a library. If you want any other books, let me know and I’ll get them for you. Food as well. Though I don’t want you to be unhealthy, I suspect whatever cravings you get can’t be helped.”

He talked as if discussing a matter of business, not mapping out your prison for you. The ceiling turned blurry as you stared, exhaustion starting to seep into your bones. 

“Oh, and y/n,” he said, bringing your eyes to him as he lingered in the doorway, pants and shirt buttoned again, “if you do anything to harm yourself or the child, you will never leave this room again.”

§

Note: I'm thinking of maybe continuing this as a series. Possessive, unhinged and slightly yandere Steve always gets me going<3 Lmk if you'd be interested in reading more of these two<3

the bad stuff never stops happening

summary: You don’t want to be alone anymore. Not when Sy lives in the same house as you.

“The bad stuff never stops happening: it lives in its own dimension, repaying itself over and over.” –Tim O’Brien, The Things They Carried

warnings: angst. cursing. severe military-centered PTSD issues. marital problems. shouting/arguing/miscommunications. 

words: 2k-ish

pairing: syverson x you

A/N: yall tired of me yet? This is completely standalone…just something I’ve been working on off-and-on.

For a long time, you wait. With a wine glass in your hand full of alcohol you haven’t even sipped, you sit on the couch and stare at the black rectangle of the television mounted on the wall. It’s not even turned on. You just stare ahead.

After long and heavy minutes pass, you turn your head to the spot beside you and stare at that. Like most nights, it’s empty.

He might choose to join you tonight. He might sit down next to you. He might choose you for once. If he does that, maybe instead of getting larger, the void inside your chest will close a little bit tonight. Maybe instead of causing more wounds, he’ll begin to heal them. Maybe he’ll begin to heal his own wounds, too.

Keep reading

Tears in the Rain

other Eddie Munson Hanahaki Disease fics: Cherry Blossom Colored Kisses (read now) Gone with the Sin (read soon)

prompt: feelings are confessed and a decision is made; the only thing left to do is heal and be okay.

pairing: Eddie Munson x female!reader

show: stranger things

note: Eddie's 19, reader's 18+, and Chrissy's 17-18 years old. and yes - The Book of Unholy Mischief was published in 2008, but i still use a quote from it, oh well - roll with it!

second note: we know the drill - i'll edit as time goes but i actually think it's pretty okay...

word count: 8.4k

warnings: Hanahaki Disease AU, cursing, unrequited love, y'all know the drill - angst! potential for part two! hospitals, and minor description of surgical procedure. again - angst! please proceed with maturity and caution. is this a happy ending? depends on your mental state idk anymore.

🔞 none of the following content is appropriate for minors 🔞

It started in the 8th grade, spitting out bits of petals and scraping them off your tongue when nobody was looking; subtly wiping your hands on your jeans and pretending you hadn't. Your child's mind was overwhelmed and confused by the sight but figured it had to be normal, never asking any questions, because who would ever believe your symptoms?

You kept this secret to yourself like you did many others, never sharing with anyone the pain that was slowly creeping through your veins. You didn't even tell him - the boy who made your heart race and palms get sweaty. The boy who made your mind go blank and simultaneously race with thought. He's been your friend since the 1st grade, best friend since 3rd, you thought you could share anything, but after the talent show in 7th grade and you saw the way he was held hostage in his seat while watching Chrissy Cunningham do her cheer routine, you knew things couldn't stay the same.

His eyes were wide, his mouth slightly agape, and it was the first of many star-struck looks Eddie would give the strawberry blonde. A look you'll come to understand would never be directed at you.

Everything around you was changing but you refused to be left behind, so, you changed with the times; you changed with your friend. Your hair was cropped short as his grew out in unruly curls; you wore black almost everyday (like he did), you might've even learned how to play guitar so you two could have another bonding experience, and you even joined his stupid fucking Hellfire Club because you thought you could impress him with your Dungeons and Dragons knowledge that you didn't spend all summer studying over.

When you got to high school, your symptoms changed - just like you did. It wasn't fair, but you never tried to fix what was wrong; Nancy Wheeler spending hours with you in the library as you feigned a personal project you needed to research, searching for any solution. Your friend didn't know you found answers the summer before high school, the summer puberty hit you like a bullet train; the summer everything changed.

You knew something was terribly and fatally wrong yet never bothered to fix it, because why bother putting forth effort into an inevitable end? Your options were limited and neither sounded better than the last.

Option One: you succumb to your symptoms and suffocate. Two: you got a surgery to remove the blooms growing in your lungs - but it would in turn take away all known thought and memory of your beloved. And Option Three: confess your feelings and pray to any and every known God, Goddess, Deity that he would return them.

However, you worried that if he did return your affections - whether he verbalized them or not - you wouldn't be in this predicament to begin with. So, you sucked it up and kept quiet because having him as just a friend was better than forgetting him, or losing his friendship. You were never good being alone but found being alone with him was better than being by yourself. You chose to remain strong and silent, despite the way you withered away inside; you chose to stay close, even though his proximity made your heart crack. You chose to borderline torture yourself because you knew walking away would take more bravery than sticking around.

But in the words of Ellie Newmark, "Unrequited love does not die; it's only beaten down to a secret place where it hides, curled and wounded. For some unfortunates, it turns bitter and mean, and those who come after pay the price for the hurt done by the one who came before."

You positively refused to turn "bitter and mean", so, you plastered a smile on your face and never gave anyone reason to think anything could be wrong. You never thought there'd be anyone after him, because you were enamored with everything he did and the very idea of being in love with anyone except him drove your heart into your throat. The idea was unimaginable.

The first semester of high school, your chest got heavier with meat but also pressure, causing a terrible tightness that left you feeling as if you were breathing through a sauna; your lungs constricted with tendrils of prickling pain, and soon, those bits of petals were fully intact, giving you first sight to what was being hacked out of your body - white chrysanthemums.

After a bit of research, you discovered these particular flowers were used in European funeral bouquets - but not many others. You discovered white chrysanthemums were a symbol of death, grief, and mourning in some Asian cultures, and it did little to quell the worry in your chest.

Yet, how oddly beautiful to suffer through this; where your own body betrayed you but produce something pure, innocent even, despite being slathered with a halo of tacky blood.

However, you feared life without him and even if it meant your heart would permanently weep, you would sign yourself up for a lifetime of pain if it meant he stayed close. If it meant he stayed in your life. If his hand would continue to hold yours. If his smile would grace your sight, if those pillowy lips would form precious nicknames that always made you feel on top of the world.

You'd mourn yourself, in order to preserve and celebrate all he was.

For years, you persevered through the unimaginable pain in body and mind, and for years, you and he grew closer than ever before. In the 10th grade, things changed again - but this was only because you caught yourself about to confess your feelings for Edward Munson. Panic-inducing fear halted the words before they could slip out, and instead, it caused a violent coughing attack.

One so intense that it made you turn away from Eddie and get back in your father's car, driving away from his trailer as your palm was slathered in a slick, sticky mixture of blood and limp white petals.

You felt immense guilt when you glanced in the rearview mirror, Eddie's shocked, confused, and concerned figure standing on his porch - watching you drive away, and wondering what had gone wrong. You two had been smoking, sure, but Eddie often thought that you could smoke him under any table, any day. Maybe he had indulged you too much, and maybe your lungs and throat were going raw from it all - spurring a bud of guilt to sprout in Eddie's gut.

He didn't let you smoke going forward.

You accepted the new limitation because you couldn't handle telling him the truth. You chose to suffer for him, you chose to remain close and depend on him more than you should've. It became increasingly painful to live through your days, and to your heart-stopping fear, the pain was tenfold when you were nearest Eddie.

Eddie, who was oblivious to your pain.

Eddie, who couldn't pick up a fucking hint.

Eddie, who you've been in love with since you were a kid.

Eddie, who you spent every birthday and holiday with.

Eddie, who only ever wanted the pretty, popular head cheerleader... And not you.

Still, his friendship was better than nothing at all and you dealt with the staggering pain that soon left your limbs weak. Surely, the pain of losing him wouldn't match the pain you had now, so, you stuck it out.

You and Eddie hung out every weekend. You went to his shows at The Hideout, you helped him do his homework and study. You defended him against bullies, you'd wipe his tears, hold his hand through tattoos, you brought him new customers to up-charge his drug sales. You loved him, and you did what you could to show that without needing to verbalize it.

You laughed with him, cried, watched movies; went to concerts, checked out books in the library on how to fix automobiles to help him tune up his van. You remembered his Uncle Wayne's birthday and got him a new mug each year, you taught Eddie how to bake, you both would raid the music store and spend his drug money - and he'd always buy you a new record, even if it "wasn't real music".

Because that's what best friends did - they loved each other unconditionally.

And for years, you'd watch him stare after the pretty captain of the cheer team; her oblivious to his staring and him oblivious to yours. It was like a never-ending circle, watching the three of you idiots tiptoe around feelings and truth. Yet Eddie was focused on what was in front of him in the form of Chrissy, never bothering to ever check to see what was behind him - in the form of you.

Because you were always there. A constant presence tethered to his soul, forever being a safety net during the times he pushes himself too far.

The stake in your heart drove deeper when he'd ask your opinion on his hair - wondering if Chrissy would notice the trimmed dead ends (like you did). He'd ask you what flower was your favorite, because he wanted to impress the pretty strawberry blonde with a pretty bouquet. He asked you for a mixtape of your favorite love songs - learning a few of them on his guitar in the hopes of serenading the girl who you'd never be.

Thing was, Eddie was the only constant in your life and you felt it was impossible to walk away from him; some kind of chain keeping you from ever wondering too far. He was there from Day One, never leaving your side, and always knowing when something was wrong - until now.

When your symptoms graduated to coughing out blood daily, he didn't notice. When your chest was ready to cave in, making your breaths ragged and wheezy, he didn't notice. When your eyes became dull and lifeless due to the consistent pain that didn't let you rest through the night, he didn't notice.

What he did notice, was how Chrissy Cunningham was paying him slightly more attention since she and Jason Carver broke up. He noticed when her hair was different, he'd rave about how good she looked in the color green, gush to you in excitement when Mr. Lang had assigned them as project partners, and how Chrissy told him how funny she thought he was.

And the first day they decided to hang out together outside of educational purposes was the day you coughed out a full bloom. Floating on the surface of the water plugged in your bathroom sink was a white chrysanthemum, speckled in bright red blood; a string of red-stained saliva dripping from your mouth as you stared in shock. The face scrub popped lightly on your cheeks and fingertips, but your skincare routine was forgotten as you registered the newest symptom change.

This was new, this was much more painful. The usually beautiful flowers slowly grew in your lungs, sprouting thorns the longer you fought against your feels - refusing to admit defeat, and confess your deepest, longest kept secret.

For the following days, you were excusing yourself every single class period to retch into a toilet bowl, the blooms now sopping wet from your blood due to the shredded rawness of your throat and lungs.

Eddie didn't notice because Chrissy's perfume was still in his nostrils. Her swaying ponytail still behind his eyes. Her beaming smile painted in his mind, and fingers tingling from the ghostly memory of her hand in his.

Thorns sliced your throat, stabbed your tongue, and shredded the inside of your cheeks when you tried to spit them out as quick as possible. It was like your blood was made of glue, keeping the blooms and thorns stuck to your mouth and lips - no matter how your river of tears tried to wash them away. Or how your sobbing breath tried to force them out into the toilet - they just wouldn't budge.

Petals and flowers and thorns stuck to you, like your love for Eddie.

And Eddie didn't notice because Chrissy was wearing that skirt today, and he was telling you all about how beautiful she was instead of focusing on spending quality time with you; instead of noticing how you visibly shrunk into yourself in an effort to quell the pain throbbing in your chest and head, in an effort to block out the pain of hearing the boy you love gush about the girl he loves.

Breathing became harder, as if something were blocking your lungs. Blocking the passageway air needed to travel; blocking you out of your life. It took a physical toll; color of your eyes dulling, hair drying of any moisture, bones protruding from the harsh symptoms that refused to ease in severity. You felt fear for the first time since the 8th grade and this had all first started; trying to weigh your options over what to do.

Three options...

Eddie didn't notice your turmoil to make a decision because Chrissy agreed to a date with him.

Before you know it - years have passed since your first indication of symptoms. You prayed for deliverance, but God couldn't hear you through your gargled cries; coughing petals and blooms out between blobs of thick clots. Your pillow cases were all soiled, yet you couldn't replace them - it was futile with the way blood shot from your mouth and nose. You ran through tissues more than tampons, and your bedroom became something akin to a hospice room.

Eddie didn't notice when you dulled of life.

Being as you were now seniors, you figured showing up at Eddie's trailer in the middle of the night wasn't totally weird. After all, you both had sought refuge with the other since before you really understood what friendship meant. With worry and fear dropping your heart to your feet from the weight of your panic, you hopped in your beat up Toyota and drove through town to reach Eddie's home; used tissues scattered across the passenger seat - all saturated with blooming drops of blood.

You had no idea how to explain what was happening, but you needed to tell him. You needed help, and if there was a chance all of this could be over if you just told him the truth, you were willing to let down your walls. Eddie had always told you he'd do anything to help you, and you just banged your hands on the steering wheel as you tried to rid the idea from your mind that that, too, had changed.

When you got to Eddie's front door, the lights were on and you prayed he'd answer despite the late hour. You knocked, waited; knocked again, waited some more. After 4 minutes, you were pounding at his front door until it was shoved open - forcing you back a step - and to your horror, there stood Chrissy Cunningham... In Eddie's favorite Metallica shirt.

And only his shirt.

"Oh, hey," Chrissy smiles awkwardly, shifting her weight over her feet. Her shining strawberry blonde hair is strung off her neck in a messy bun that makes her look fucking ethereal. "Um, Eddie's in the shower... Do you want me to go get him for you?"

But the small blemish poking out from the collar of the shirt she wore made you shake your head through tears; trying to offer a small smile. "No, oh, my God, I'm so sorry, I-I didn't mean to interrupt. Shit, my bad, Chrissy," you backed away down the stairs, needing to use the railing to save yourself from falling over.

"You weren't," she assured. "We were, um... Done. H-He's in the shower, why don't you come in?" Her brows pulled together as if a string was threaded between them, offering sweetly, "I was gonna make some tea, do you want some? We could, um, hang out? Until he's out of the shower, i-if you want?"

FUCK! You knew Eddie didn't have fucking tea, so, the sweetheart must've brought it with her and now, she's offering to make you some? God damn it. Why'd she have to be so nice!?

"Oh, yeah, um, no, no thanks, Chrissy, that's really nice of you, but it's really nothing. I should just get going, I'll talk to him later, um... H-Have a nice weekend, and I'm sorry, again."

"Are you sure? You look kinda upset - I don't think you should drive right now."

Eddie didn't notice - but one look from Chrissy Cunningham and she had. If your heart wasn't broken before, it was now.

You nodded despite the pain swelling in your chest, "Yeah, no, no I'm fine - I should've just called. It's not a big deal, I'm sorry again, um, good night, Chrissy, um, yeah - just, yeah, have a nice night."

She nodded, "You, too. I hope you feel better, I'll tell Eddie you stopped by."

You trusted that she would, returning home and with petals still sticking to your tongue, charged into your mother's room. She sat up in her bed in shock - late night shifts taking their toll and leaving her sleep deprived. This was her first weekend off in months, and you felt terrible for interrupting her, but you couldn't hold it in anymore.

You needed your mother. You needed her more than ever before because your fear was tangible, and you weren't ready to die.

See, thing is, your mother was borderline your best friend (besides Eddie, that is). She and your father had been high school sweethearts, married, and he died in a tragic car accident on the night your mother was going to tell him she was pregnant on their first wedding anniversary. She never dated, she never brought a man home, she only focused on you. When you got older, she figured she could work more and you were happy to support her; taking up more house chores to save her from any unnecessary stress.

It was just you and your mother... Until Eddie, then, he was a constant presences at your dinner table. He had his own Christmas stocking your mother knitted. His favorite snacks kept in a stocked up supply for whenever he chooses to visit. And you and your mother would spend an entire day baking a cake for his birthday before hosting a full meal for him and his Uncle Wayne.

Your mother never had an issue with doing any of that because she was grateful for Eddie being in your life. It made her feel as if you'd never be alone.

However, you now felt like a burden, but the moment your mother clocked your tears and trembling hands clutching bloody tissues, she was beckoning you to her chest and begging you to tell her what was wrong as she rocked you soothingly.

So, you confessed. Everything.

From that night in 7th grade when you saw Eddie mesmerized by Chrissy Cunningham for the first time. That being the night you coughed out petals... And how everything changed and got worse from there on, and you didn't understand what was wrong, why you were suffering.

You told her about how you were now coughing out the full thorny blooms, how the bleeding wouldn't stop; how the pain was festering, spreading, and suffocating your heart, mind, and soul.

You told her about tonight... What you saw... How nice the cheerleader had been, how you couldn't find it in your heart to hate her, and how you didn't know what to do anymore.

You told her how Eddie didn't notice anymore - he couldn't see you - because he could only see Chrissy, and it was slowly killing you.

It took all night to explain, and your mother sat you at the kitchen table. She made you hot tea and plated a few cookies - talking well through the night and into the morning. She wanted to understand everything and as the sun breached the horizon, she was encouraging you to tell Eddie how you felt after reading the same book you had that explained the disease you suffered from.

You told her she was crazy, but she begged you to at least try. She validated that you had the right idea in going to his trailer; she thought that you and Eddie had always been cute, that you'd make a great couple; and though your sense of style had changed again (after it didn't get Eddie's attention, like you'd hoped), she still thought you two complimented each other well. "You balance each other, my dove," she whispered. "Tell him. Please, for your own sake."

So, you bucked up the courage to tell him on Monday. You'd see him at school and couldn't back down, leaving it neutral grounds for you both to be honest and open in. Or, so you hoped.

That morning, you caught Eddie before he could enter the school and asked to talk to him. "Shit, I meant to call you, doll," he breathed, looking at you with concern. "Chrissy said you were upset and showed up at my door - are you okay? What was wrong? I'm sorry I wasn't there."

So, when Chrissy points it out, he pays attention. Instead, you just answered, "It's okay, I'm okay. Um, c-can we go talk? Privately?"

"Of course, yeah, c'mon," he agreed, leading you to the lesser-populated hallway to slip into the old drama classroom that now posed as the Hellfire Club room. Eddie sat on his throne but leaned forward on his knees to hold your hands as you took time to think over in your mind what you wanted to say.

"Eddie," you whispered. "I-I just really need to tell you something, and you have to promise not to hate me after."

He nodded, "I could never hate you, pretty girl, and you know you can tell me anything."

"Right," you sniffled. "Well, um, listen, I just want you to know that I-I value this friendship more than anything, and never want to jeopardize it..."

"Okay, now you're scaring me," Eddie chuckled. His hands squeezed yours, encouraging, "C'mon, sweetheart, what's going on in that pretty little head of yours?"

You nodded, blurting, "I'm in love with you."

Only the silence stretched between you two like an oversized bubble of Hubba Bubba - popping as your words registered in his mind. His eyes just shot between both of yours, mouth opening to form a word before sighing and shaking his head. Panic and fear gripped your heart, lungs, and mind in a tighter vice than the white chrysanthemums' roots.

"You can't be," he finally whispered brokenly.

A record scratched in your head, "What?"

"You can't be in love with me," his head shook as he repeated his statement. "No, no, you - you can't be."

"Why can't I be? Is it that hard to imagine?"

"Because you're my best friend - you're supposed to be my best friend!" He looked spooked, startled, unsure, and like he was going to have an anxiety attack. "You can't be in love with me, you're just - no!"

"Well, I didn't exactly plan it."

"Just - stop!"

"Stop what?"

"Stop loving me!"

"You don't think I've tried!?"

"Try harder!"

"For fuck's sake, Eddie! You don't think this is hard enough?"

"Well, it'd be easier if you had some kind of restraint!" He snipped, wiping a hand down his mouth. "Shit, I mean, what the hell am I supposed to do about this?"

"I-I don't know!"

"Well, why tell me?"

You gulped, fearing telling him the truth now. Instead, you just whispered, "I-I take it you don't feel the same?"

"Shit, sweetheart," he sniffled, shaking his head, "y-you know I love you but... But no, I-I'm not in love with you."

You nod slowly, blinking even slower, "No?"

"I'm so sorry - fuck, God damn it."

"It's not your fault," you promised. "I-I didn't mean for this to happen, okay? I swear, I didn't want to do this, I never wanted things to change between us."

He nodded sadly, "I get that, I do, but I think I need time to think."

"Wait, what? Think about what, Eddie? L-Like - you need to think about us? You need time to think about us?" You squeaked, panic swelling. You started to cough lightly, that sticky feeling clogging your throat again.

"Yeah," he whispered. "Because I'm with Chrissy and I don't think she would like... This."

Now you understood... "So, because you're dating Chrissy, you can't be friends with me? We've been friends forever, Eddie, why does this have to change things?"

"Because you're in love with me! I didn't want you to be, you were supposed to be my friend. Just my friend!"

"I'm sorry it happened, but why does this mean we can't still be friends? I've dealt with it this long, I can go longer - "

"Because I'm in love with Chrissy, and can't do this to her! For fuck's sake, why'd you have to do this, huh? Why'd you have to fall in love with me right when I got a girlfriend - "

"It didn't just happen, Eddie, I've been in-love with you since middle school! But notice how we stayed friends! Please - please, we can stay friends, this doesn't have to change anything."

He shook his head, standing abruptly, "It changes everything. I gotta go - I just can't be here, I'm sorry."

"Eddie! Please! Wait, just wait, please, let me explain!" You begged, watching him flee the room; the door slamming in an echo around you and forcing the tears teetering in your waterline to fall pathetically. You felt your heart nailing you to the floor, tears falling numbly down your cheeks; hands shaking and coughing getting worse. Your hands finally found feeling again and rose, covering your mouth and nose to catch the splatter.

You hacked as your lungs shriveled to expel whatever clogged them, falling to your knees and needed to use two fingers to reach in the back of your throat to pull a full floral bloom out; blood dripping off of it and from your mouth to soak into the old, dingy carpet. The thorns pierced your finger pads when you rolled the short stem between them, the flower falling into the puddle of blood you'd spat out.

Stumbling to your feet, you kept a tissue in hand and covering your mouth; the material slowly saturating as you punched your mother's number in the outside payphone.

"Mom?" You begged into the receiver, wheezing and sobbing through the pain. Everything had changed, again. "I-I need you to take me to the hospital. Please, Mommy, i-it's hurts. 'S blood everywhere, an-and the pain - Mommy, please, it hurts so bad."

Your mother was pulling up in a skidding halt within 6 minutes. Her rubber tires burned over the pavement, slight smoke wafting into the air to indicate not just her speed, but her harsh stop when she saw your body bolting towards her.

From the side of the school, moments before the first bell rang, Robin Buckley and Nancy Wheeler watched you fully sprint for the car and how fast your mother pulled off, sharing an uneasy look before darting for the same payphone and calling Steve Harrington.

But they couldn't find you all over town, opting to wait at your house instead. They only waited for about an hour before your mother's car was pulling into the driveway.

"You gonna tell them?" Your mom muttered, smiling and waving at the three teenagers.

"Yeah," you whispered. "Doctors said keeping it a secret doesn't make it easier, right?"

She nodded, "For whatever it's worth, my dove, I think you're making the right decision. This took a lot of bravery, but you're going to get better, and you're going to feel better, too."

"I know," you whispered with a watery smile. "Just gonna suck until Thursday."

"I'll call the school, you're gonna be out for recovery for at least 2 weeks."

"Don't forget my post-op appointment," you nodded.

"Right," she agreed, opening her door and triggering you to follow suit. "Hey, kids," she beamed at your worried friends.

They greeted her politely (but enthusiastically) before she was excusing herself and heading for the house. It left you to stand before the three people, who, up until a few years ago, you wouldn't have imagined being real friends with.

Technically, you and Nancy Wheeler had been friends since before Eddie; Robin and Steve coming into your life through inter-dimensional circumstances before choosing to stick around.

"Are you okay?" Nancy asked first, looking the most worried. "We saw you running from school and thought something was wrong."

"So, you blew off school to stalk my house?" you teased lightly, trying to alleviate the pain settling on your heart after leaving the hospital.

"Exactly," Robin crossed her arms. "You ran like something was chasing you - we knew something was wrong. What is it? A-Are you okay? I mean, you looked pretty spooked, we were afraid something else came back - you know - "

"Okay, Robin, yeah," you chuckled lightly, interrupting her rapid words. "Um, I appreciate the concern, but it could've waited."

"Not when you've been acting funny for months now," Nancy shook her head. "Don't think we haven't noticed; you're skinnier, you look like you haven't slept in weeks, you carry tissues around like you're paid for it... What's up with you?"

"And I've clocked the constant nose bleeds," Steve nodded, arms folding against his chest. "Look, if something's going on, you're going to need friends through it, and we're willing to take on the job."

Your heart swelled slightly and you nodded, blinking quickly to keep the tears down. "Um, yeah... Yeah," you sniffled, looking up at them as the emotion couldn't be kept out of your voice, "something's going on, and um... I-I think I would like to tell you guys about it. Do you mind waiting in the backyard? I've gotta grab a book from inside, trust me, it can explain some things better than I can."

Nancy looked nervous as her fingers twisted together; Robin nodding before nudging her along. Steve shifted on his feet and dropped his arms, clearing his throat, "You sure?"

"Yeah," you nodded with a whisper. "Just hang tight."

He nodded with crinkled brows of concern, heading off behind the two girls as you bolted for the front door. Your mother was heard in her room, on the phone, and you dropped your school bag on your bed, snatched up the library book you checked out every year, and made for your backyard.

As kids, you and Nancy loved hanging out here because it was spacious, and your mother had a beautiful garden with patio furniture nestled amongst the greenery. At the white-washed table, Steve, Nancy, and Robin waited together, muttering quietly, and left you to take your seat.

Sighing, you opened the book and slid it forward; Nancy's hands darting to pick it up and read swiftly as you began your tale. After voicing everything to your mother, you had a better idea of how to word it all; starting with when you realized you had a crush on Eddie in the 5th grade, how it festered in middle school, and when you realized you'd only be friends - so, you kept it that way.

You told them about the tiny bits of torn up petals, then how they became intact. Next, you explained how things got worse for you; blooms being coughed out with blood, how Eddie crushed majorly on Chrissy, and then to how everything hit rock bottom.

You explained the petals changed into full blooms, sprouting thorns as you stuffed your feelings deeper inside your cracked heart. You explained the constant pain, the confusion, the sleeplessness, showed them the cuts on your lips and in your mouth; even picking a leftover petal from the inside of your cheek to prove your point.

Steve's hand deftly reached out to examine it.

You explained the mental anguish of loving someone who couldn't love you back; the anguish of being so close - yet so far; and the anguish of knowing you were being killed from the inside, out because you couldn't let go of your overwhelming feelings for Eddie 'the Freak' Munson.

Then... You told them about Chrissy and Eddie at his trailer when you went to tell him the truth. How you confided in your mother for the first time in years. How you were encouraged to tell Eddie - and how it royally backfired, which lead you to today.

To your decision.

To your appointment at the hospital that your mother bullied administration into giving you last minute.

To meeting the cardiothoracic surgeon that diagnosed you with, as the library book highlighted, Hanahaki Disease.

Steve had tears in his eyes; elbows bent on the tabletop to keep his folded hands in front of his mouth, like he was physically suppressing his emotion with the petal laid to the table. Robin stared at you the whole time, never once making you feel as if you were talking to thin air; brows crinkled and perked at appropriate moments, never interrupting.

Nancy had read the entire passage before slamming the book down and letting her tears fall. She listened intently as you explained to the three that you had to choose one of three options, and immediately after that, you told them you had come to a decision.

You'd made the appointment and you were to under the knife that Thursday before returning in two weeks for a post-op check-up that would ensure all of the blooms were cleared from your lungs. And after today, you had discovered the plants were creeping up your esophagus and if you waited, soon, it would kill you.

"Well, why're you upset?" Robin asked gently, reaching for your hand. "This is good, right? Y-You'll be cured!"

You nodded in agreement, but it was Nancy voicing, "She'll forget Eddie completely."

"What?" Steve asked, looking between you and Nancy urgently. "Are you serious?"

"It's the only contingency in exchange for my life," you nodded.

"You've been friends forever," he shook his head, leaning back. "No, I just - I can't believe him. He doesn't love you back? That's just bullshit - c'mon!"

"Steve - "

"No, seriously!" he cut Robin off, her hand tightening in mine. "We've all seen how he looks at you, how he behaves! It doesn't make sense, it's not possible. He's just scared," his head shook still, looking angry with pinched brows. "He's scared and he's not thinking."

"No, Stevie," you whispered, "he understands, and trust me, he doesn't feel the same. It's okay."

"You'll forget your best friend," Steve shook his head. "That's not okay."

"It's a small price to pay, right?"

Nancy nodded, "If it means you're out of pain, and you won't die, yeah, I'd say it's a reasonable price to pay."

You agreed, "It's gonna be okay, but I'll be in recovery until the surgeon okay's me to return to school and normal activity."

"Will you remember why you need the surgery?" Robin wondered.

"Apparently not," you shrugged.

For the next few days, you remained at home and prepared for your operation. Your mother worked extra shifts because she was taking Thursday through TBD in order to take care of you, and your friends visited you everyday.

Nobody spoke of Eddie, who had asked Robin that Wednesday where you were - only to receive a fierce glare and slammed locker in his face. Chrissy's brows furrowed at the aggression, worrying something was wrong with you if your friends were shunning Eddie. She reminded him of how upset you'd been when you showed up at his trailer, his mind flashing to when he found a bloodied white chrysanthemum in the Hellfire room after he left you when you confessed your feelings for him.

He knew that was why you showed up at his trailer that night, and his heart constricted as he grew cold in your absence. He had to admit, if you've had these feelings since middle school, you never let it interfere with your friendship and he was a fool for blowing up at you.

Could it really be that hard to love you? Was the idea that far fetched?

The day of your surgery, your mother and you pushed out of your front door at 4 am to make it to the hospital for pre-op; blood work; all the standard procedures that needed done before you were sliced open and roots carved out of your lungs. And to your honest shock? Steve Harrington was waiting on the street, leaning on his car, dressed in a pair of jeans and an old hoodie.

"What're you doing here?" You wondered, oblivious to your mother's knowing smirk.

Steve shrugged lightly, "Figured you'd want a familiar face around, and Nance and Robin have tests in school today - otherwise, they'd be here, too."

"'Too'?" You repeated with a soft smile.

"Yeah, well, I-I'd still be here," he nodded. "Is that okay?"

"Yeah," you breathed, nodding with a soft smile. "I think I'd really appreciate the, um..."

"Support? Comfort? Seeing my pretty face when you wake up from anesthesia?" He grinned.

"All of the above, Harrington, c'mon," you chuckled, waving him with you. In your mother's car, she kept conversation light as a distraction when your nerves flared the closer you drove to the hospital; the boy in the back doing his best to chime in charmingly. Steve was allowed to stay with you once in the pre-op procedure room (again, your mother bullied hospital admin into letting him stay), and cracked a few really poor jokes while needles were poked into your skin.

Medicine was administered, your hair stuffed into a surgical cap, vitals taken for a final time - and then it was time to go.

When you were wheeled away, Steve squeezed your hand and your mother kissed your forehead; both wishing you luck, reminding you of your brave decision, and sent you down the sterile hallway. While staring up at the blinding, florescent lights of the operating room, a gas mask was placed over your mouth and the anesthesiologist instructing you to count backward from ten... And your heart begged you to change your mind.

Begged you not to erase Eddie. Begged you to jump off that table.

But your mind told only your tongue to move, and you counted, "Ten."

Eddie's soft hair through your fingers, "Nine."

Eddie's stupid grin when he's showing you a new guitar riff he'd mastered, "Eight."

Eddie's laugh, "Seven."

The warmth of Eddie's hugs, "Six."

His hands holding your cheeks, thumbs sweeping to clear your tears as he would coo to you, trying to calm you down, "...Five..."

"She's out," the doctors nodded to one another; scalpels clinking over the sterile table, machines beeping to indicate vital readings, and rubber gloves snapped into place as your hospital gown was peeled away, and disinfecting betadine squirted over your skin.

Across town, in the hallways of Hawkins High, Eddie was pacing by your locker. He looked disheveled, not himself; confused and scared, by what Robin could judge.

"What're you doing here?" she shot venomously, using her hand to push his chest and force him back a step from your locker.

"Where is she?" he begged. "Please, Robin, I know she's hurt - I know I hurt her, but I have to talk to her an-and she hasn't been at school all week. Please - I have to talk to her."

She used your combination to open your locker and set the packet of missed work inside for her to pick up at the end of the day, sneering, "It's too late."

"No, it's not - "

"No, seriously, Eddie," she snapped, the locker slamming in an echo. "It's too late for you. She's let you go, time for you to do the same."

For two weeks, Eddie repeated the last words he'd said to you, how broken you looked when he said he didn't love you. The words you said to him, then how you weren't seen again, to that bloody flower he found, and how Robin, Nancy, and Steve were all giving him the cold shoulder. He thought over what went wrong and every single way he was going to make it up to you, because while he might be in love with Chrissy Cunningham, there was never replacing you - and he needed you.

Eddie needed you.

And his heart sunk to his stomach as he realized how bitter he's turned; shunning Chrissy, becoming testy, canceling Hellfire, and missing you to the point he was tugging his hair out of his scalp and chain smoking cigarettes.

Loving you was easy and maybe he's loved you longer than he's known - longer than he ever wanted to admit. But missing you was hard, and Eddie wasn't accustomed to it.

It was supposed to be easy between you two, but when you confessed your feelings, Eddie felt everything become messy and change. Eddie Munson wasn't very good with change. He missed your laugh, he missed your comfort, a few times he'd even looked up to his bed when he mastered a new guitar riff - and feeling his heart sink in disappointment when he only saw Chrissy.

Granted, she was smiling at him, but it wasn't your smile. Tears filled his eyes when he realized he spent every Friday with Chrissy, finding new ways to impress the cheerleader, and feeling crushed when he remembered he never needed to impress you. You were always proud of him, you always encouraged him, and with a single look, you could say more than ever opening your mouth.

Eddie needed you, and he had ruined any chance of loving you properly. But Edward Munson was stubborn and not willing to give up, not until you were beating him off with a stick. The two of you had been friends forever and he knew you had some fights, but one way or another, someone was always apologizing and together, you could move past the issue. So, until you were telling him to fuck off, he was going to try - because you had never given up on him.

Two weeks of nothing. Two weeks of your home's voicemail. Two weeks of nobody answering the front door. Two weeks of confusion, heartache, and stress. Two weeks of smoking packs of cigarettes, of snapping at Chrissy, of praying to a God he's never prayed to before.

When he saw you that Friday, Eddie's heart leapt into his throat and he gave a strangled gasp before sprinting across the carpark to make it to your side. You were surrounded by Nancy Wheeler and Robin Buckley, all three piling out of Steve Harrington's car - who now leaned on his driver's door, mid-conversation - and he thought you looked more beautiful than ever.

The weight you've lost had slowly built back up now that you weren't constantly vomiting. Your head had cleared, your heart feeling lighter than ever before, your veins racing with helium, and the bags under your eyes had cleared. In fact, your eyes looked clearer than they ever had, and your skin was practically glowing.

God did you look good.

Eddie panted your name, coming to a skidding halt as Steve pushed off his car and looked at you with worry.

Why would Harrington need to worry about you?

"Oh, uh, hi there?" you nodded at him, tugging your binder closer to your chest and sending a cautious look to Robin.

But Eddie's heart was in his throat, "I-I need to talk to you, please."

To his horror, you shook your head, "Um, I don't think we actually have anything to talk about."

"What? No, we have so much to discuss, please, I know I was a jackass and you don't deserve that - "

"Wait, hang on, I-I'm sorry. You don't understand, we don't have anything to talk about," you chuckled weakly, "because I don't know you."

Ice shot into Eddie's veins, stuttering, "W-What? Th-That's not funny, doll, don't joke like that."

You looked at Nancy for support, whispering in a small, panicked voice, "I don't know him, do I, Nance? I don't think I know him."

"No, honey," Nancy assured, smiling softly at you before glaring at Eddie. "He's just a classmate."

Eddie knew Nancy was protective of you but what the hell was going on? What kind of a sick prank was this? Look, Eddie knew he's pulled some mean jokes in his life but this? This wasn't mean, it was cruel, and he didn't find it funny in the least bit.

"What? No - what the hell are you guys talking about?" Eddie begged, looking between the four teenagers. "Sweetheart, it's me - it's Eddie. It's your Eddie, please, what do you mean you don't know me - what's going on? This isn't funny, sweetheart, please, okay? Look, we've known each other a decade, right, how can you - how can you not know me?"

"I'm really sorry, um... Eddie? Was it Eddie?"

His heart shattered, shards stinging as they were pumped through the rest of his body. "Sweetheart, no, please, I just... I'm so sorry, but this isn't funny - "

"Look, I'm really sorry, but this isn't a joke, I really don't know you," your head shook. "And I would remember someone I've known a decade - right?" You asked Nancy again, looking nervous. "I-I don't know him, but he knows me. Nancy, I-I don't understand, I don't know what's wrong. Is something wrong with me?"

"No, honey," she rushed to speak, sending Steve a pointed look when stress made your eyes shine. "You're okay, you're okay, it's okay."

"Okay, hey, hey, hey, okay," Steve stepped in, pushing Eddie back a few steps. "You need to back off, you're upsetting her."

"I'm upsetting her?" he repeated, tears collecting as his feet tried to plant against Steve's force. "She doesn't remember me - "

"Back off, dude," Steve warned.

"I'm really sorry," you called to him, genuine look of distorted pain over your face. "I'm sorry," you repeated to Robin and Nancy, "I-I don't know him, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I-I don't know what's wrong, I'm sorry - "

"Hey, hey, breathe, okay? It's all fine, it's all good, you're okay, I promise, just try to focus on breathing," Robin assured, hand rubbing circles over your back.

"No! Baby! You do know me!" Eddie begged over Steve's shoulder as Nancy turned you away. "Please! No! You know me, baby! Don't do this, please, please, I need you! Sweetheart - please! I need you, and I'm so sorry for what I said! Don't do this! No, please, I-I'm sorry!"

His heart glued itself back together just to shatter once again when Robin took your books to let your hands slap over your ears to block him out as Nancy directed you away - Steve still pushing Eddie back.

"Dude!" Steve snapped with anger coloring his iris' a darker shade, "You're fucking upsetting her!"

"Steve, please - "

"No," Steve shook his head. "You had your chance, and it's too late. Okay? Leave her alone, she doesn't remember and doesn't need you trying to 'remind' her when it's already done, dude. Okay? It's done."

"What the hell does that mean? Please, Steve, I need her - she's my best friend and I can fix this," Eddie begged.

Steve felt fleeting compassion for the other boy, seeing the distress and heartbreak over his face. Steve sighed, glancing back to see you being spoken to softly by Nancy and Robin, assuring you it was okay not to remember the boy with long hair, before turning to look into the eyes that had broken your heart on too many occasions.

"She doesn't remember because you were removed from her memory, Ed, you were just... All of you was removed from her, okay?" Steve sighed finally. "Look, it's hard to explain, but do yourself and her a favor?"

"Anything."

"Go to the library and look this up," he pulled a torn piece of paper from his pocket, handing it over. "It'll explain what was wrong, and you should hopefully be able to piece together why she can't remember you. Don't make this harder, all right? She's finally okay, and you were so sure you didn't want her that it's time for you to be okay without her, too. Don't do this to her, man, you get me?"

"What did I do?" Eddie whispered.

Steve gulped, shaking his head, "You couldn't love her back."

Eddie stood there, piece of paper clutched in his fingertips like the petal of a flower, as Steve turned and headed for you three girls. He lifted his arm to bring you in for a side hug, assuring you that it was okay not to remember - while Eddie stood there, like you had so many times, watching with tears and heartbreak in his eyes.

He didn't go to classes, he obsessively searched books for the Hanahaki Disease Steve told him about; finding his answers, and never finding peace. He had to live everyday watching you really bloom into your own person; becoming more radiant by the passing second, realizing he was draining you of your life before, and how there wouldn't ever be room for him with you now.

When you graduated with an acceptance to your first choice college, you returned home in your cap and gown with a giggling Robin and Nancy; planning on changing and getting ready to hit a few grad parties already. The girls were so excited that you were feeling (and looking) better now that they didn't want to waste anymore time and insisted you all hit a few parties. However, before you could hop up the stairs to your room, a large bouquet of flowers caught your attention.

Sat on your kitchen counter was a thick bouquet of white chrysanthemums. There was no note, no signature, but something in your gut twisted with knowledge. Your fingers reached out to gently stroke the petals before smiling lightly, leaning in to sniff them, and then turn for the stairs to rush up to your bedroom.

All the while across town, a long haired metalhead in a matching green cap and gown, tipped a bottle of Irish whiskey to his lips; a single stemmed white chrysanthemum rolled between his fingers; old polaroid photos scattered around his body on the floor, tears sliding down his cheeks, and regret echoing across his mind.

•

Modern Lee Bodecker! Reader Valentine’s Day date!

Valentine’s Day

+18 ONLY

Pairing : modern!Lee Bodecker x reader

Word Count : 506

Warnings : explicit language, fluff, public groping

Notes : Thank you for sending this in! I had a lot of fun with it! Much love ❤️

________________

“I’m gonna beat your ass.”

“Oh, really?” Lee smirked, “‘Cause it looks like you’re strugglin’.”

“Better save room for dinner for the words you’ll be eating,” she quipped.

Sirens rang and the game announced the winner.

“Goddamnit,” Y/N slammed the plastic gun down, “I was so close!”

Lee threw his head back with a hearty laugh, “I warned ya, darlin’. No one can beat me at shootin’.”

Y/N grabbed his belt buckle and pulled him close, “And I warned you. I’m gonna beat your ass one of these days.”

Lee gripped her chin with his fingers as he tried to bite back a smile, “Over my dead body.”

“Sheriff, food’s ready,” the bartender called out over the loud noises of the game sound effects and children laughing.

Y/N patted his chest, “After I fuel myself with sustenance, we’re playin’ again. And I’m gonna win.”

“I’m paralyzed by a combination of fear and awe,” Lee said sarcastically.

As she turned away from him and headed back to their booth, Lee slapped her ass. She smacked his hand away as she tried not to grin, “Lee, children are present.”

Lee’s hands returned to the globes of her ass, “Don’t give a shit. This is an adult arcade.”

His hands remained low on her hips as they reached their booth and sat down. Their food was steaming hot and waiting for them. They cuddled in the seat as they ate their appetizer before moving onto their meals. Once their bellies were full, Y/N leaned back against his chest, her head resting on his shoulder.

“M’stuffed,” she grumbled.

Lee hummed as he kissed the crown of her head, “Still ready to beat my ass?”

She let out a deep sigh, “Yeah, I think so. Better prepare yourself.”

“Shootin’ or air hockey?”

Y/N pursed her lips, “I’m totally gonna beat your ass at air hockey.”

Lee chuckled, “Alright, let’s go. If I stay sittin’ any longer, I won’t wanna get up.”

Her hand rubbed over his belly as she batted her long lashes at him, “My sexy old man.”

“Alright,” he grumbled, sliding out of the booth, “Lemme get a beer first.”

“Get me one, too,” she stretched once she stood back up.

“There wine is half off,” he said, “Valentine’s Day special.”

“Oh, okay,” she beamed.

Lee went to the bar and added the drinks to their tab, returning with an amber bottle of beer and a clear glass of wine.

Y/N took a large gulp and smiled at him, “This is the best Valentine’s Day ever.”

“I’m glad you approve,” Lee smirked. He had surprised her by bringing her here to the adult arcade for a special night.

“I’m actually having fun,” she continued, “So much better than sitting at a quiet dinner and pretend that we’re boring adults.”

“We’re certainly not boring,” he agreed, leading her over to the air hockey table, “Now, prepare to lose. If I win, we’re doin’ that thing I like.”

“And if I win, we’re doin’ the thing I like,” she smirked.

“Deal.”

Thanksgiving

+18 ONLY

Pairing : Lee Bodecker x reader (Give In)

Warnings : fluff

Word Count : 2.4k

Notes : This is a repost of a snippet into the future! Here’s their first Thanksgiving together!

________________

“I’ll be home in time for dinner,” Lee pressed a lingering kiss to her temple as he leaned over her, gently stirring her awake from her deep sleep.

Y/N hummed as she rolled onto her back, her hands going to his face. Her heavy eyelids fluttered open, fighting the sleep, “Love you. Be safe,” her voice was thick and words slurred.

A smile spread across his face and kissed her lips, his smile widening as she moaned into him. When they parted, her hands slid down his neck and rested on his chest. He was already dressed in his uniform, his badge chilled to the touch.

Lee hated leaving, today of all days. But being the Sheriff, he had to show up to work on the holidays. Though, he’d make sure he was on time for dinner. He wouldn’t miss their plans for the world. It was important for the both of them.

This was the first Thanksgiving Y/N was having with the Sturgill’s in years. She hadn’t celebrated any holidays since her grandmother died. To share this with Lee was just as important. While she couldn’t spend the entire day with him, she was grateful that he’d make it in time for dinner.

“Be ready when I get home, okay?” He gave her another kiss.

She hummed as she gave a sleepy nod, “I will. Don’t be late.”

Lee chuckled, “I won’t.”

He gave her one last kiss, one that didn’t last long enough for either of them, and made he way out of the bedroom. She heard the jingle of his keys in the living room and then the shutting and locking of the front door. With a sigh, Y/N pushed herself out of bed. She couldn’t lounge around today. She had much to do.

Y/N was in charge of bringing a casserole for dinner. She couldn’t decide to bring a green bean casserole or a sweet potato one. She didn’t know if sweet or savory would be better, not knowing Margret Sturgill’s spread this year. Unable to make a decision, Y/N bought ingredients for both.

She started prepping the beans and potatoes, peeling and boiling. She made the creamy sauce for the green beans and the crunchy nut topping for the sweet potatoes. After popping them into the oven, she ironed Lee’s outfit for tonight, hanging it on the door when finished. After, she showered.

It was only noon by the time she finished and she realized she didn’t have anything else to do. Becoming antsy, she decided to swing by the station and surprise Lee with lunch. She quickly made him a sandwich, something that wasn’t too filling.

Taking Lee’s Cadillac, she drove up to the station. There was a skip in her step as she entered the building. Griggs was at the dispatch desk as usual and they only had one receptionist. The lobby was decorated for the holiday, honeycomb tissue paper turkeys, a cornucopia with fake pumpkins and gourds, and imitation leaves on garlands. She imagined the Sturgill’s home looked similar.

“Hey’a, Y/N,” Griggs greeted, tossing down his newspaper, “What you doin’ here?”

She raised the brown paper bag in her hand, “Here for Lee, as always.”

“He’s in his office,” he nodded down the hall.

“Thanks,” she nodded back and made her way past him down the hall.

She rapped her knuckles against the glass window of the door, staring at his name on the glass.

“Come in,” Lee’s gravelly voice was muffled behind the closed door.

Y/N opened it and stepped inside. Lee’s eyes widened in surprise and sat back in his chair.

“Honey, what you doin’ here? Is everything okay?” He stood up from his seat and walked over to her.

She smiled softly, “Nothin’s wrong. I just came by to give you some lunch. I know you wouldn’t eat if I didn’t.”

A lopsided smile spread across his face. She knew him too well. His hands went to her arms and pulled her close so he could kiss her, “So sweet to me, baby. Thank you.”

She kissed him back and handed him the brown bag, “It’s not much. But it’ll hold you over till dinner.”

“Thank you,” he said again, taking the bag and placing it on his desk, “Will you stay?”

Y/N shook her head, “I need to stop at the store.”

“What for? You went yesterday,” he noted, his brows knitting together.

“I think I’m gonna make a dessert too,” she shrugged, “I want to make sure there’s enough food to go around for my boys,” she rubbed her hands down his chest and over his belly with a smile.

Lee chuckled, “Definitely too good for me.” He kissed her forehead, “Thank you.”

“How’s work?”

He shrugged, “Paperwork today. Was able to get out of patrol duties.”

“Hm, good,” her smile widened, “That means you’ll be home on time, right?”

He nodded, “That’s right.”

“I’ll let you get to it then,” she gave him one last kiss before turning to the door, “I’ll see you at home, Sheriff.”

“See ya, darlin’,” he escorted her out, “Love you.”

“Love you,” she waved and made her way to the grocery store.

She decided on apple pie, figuring Margret would have pumpkin. She bought the apples and more flour for the crust. Once she got home, she followed her grandmother’s recipe. While it was in the oven, she got dressed and did her hair. Setting the pie out to cool, she places the casseroles in to stay warm and did her makeup, finishing just in time.

The cruiser pulled into the driveway and she head there door slam shut. Her heart flipped in her chest from excitement. He arrived exactly when he said he would. Opening and closing the front door, Lee hummed as the smells hit him. His stomach growled and he wet his lips.

“Honey, I’m home,” he called out.

He heard her heels on the wooden floor first. She appeared from the kitchen with a beautiful smile, all dolled up for him. His posture fell slack as his eyes trailed up and down her form. She was exquisite. She was perfect. Everything was perfect.

He closed the space between them, cupping her cheeks in his hands, “So beautiful, baby.” He placed a gentle kiss to her lips, not wanting to smear her lipstick, “You look amazing.”

Her smile widened as she held his wrists, leaning into him, “Thank you.”

He groaned as he kissed her again, “Let me change really quick.”

Y/N nodded, “Your suit is hanging on the bedroom door.”

“Thanks, baby,” he loosened his tie and made his way to the bedroom.

Fifteen minutes later, Lee came out dressed. His tie matched her dressed, something he didn’t miss. A grin was plastered to his face. This was the first Thanksgiving he got to spend with anyone since his mother and sister passed. He usually worked all major holidays because of it, not wanting to be home alone. Now, he has the perfect person to spend it with.

“You ready?” He asked.

Y/N nodded, grabbing the casseroles out of the oven, “Yeah, can you help me carry these out?”

“Of course,” he took one while she took the other, coming back for the pie. “This all smells amazing, honey. You really out did yourself.”

Her smile hurt her cheeks and tried to play it off, “You think so?”

“Oh yeah,” he nodded, placing everything in the back of the Cadillac, “I thought you were only gonna make one thing.”

“I couldn’t decide on what I wanted to make so made it all,” she smirked.

“You never fail to impress me,” he complimented as they both climbed into the car.

Her heart soared and she held his hand the entire drive to the Sturgill’s. When they arrived, Rob was on the porch smoking a cigarette with his dad, chatting.

“There they are,” Dink greeted with a smile, “You got food?”

Y/N smiled as her and Lee opened the backseat doors, “I brought food.”

Dink smacked his eldest son’s arm, “Go help ‘em.”

Rob took one last drag of his cigarette before he flicked the butt in the yard and went down the porch steps. He grabbed a casserole while Y/N grabbed the pie, Lee grabbing the other casserole and carried them inside. Dink held open the door for them, following them into the house.

“How are ya, Dink?” Lee playfully slapped the older man’s back.

“Ah, can’t complain,” he grumbled, “I mean, I could, but I won’t.”

Lee chuckled and Margret’s excited squeal filled their ears.

“Oh, you made it! I was afraid you would get held up at work,” she gave a kiss to Y/N’s cheek and hugged Lee, “Oh, Y/N, honey! You made all of this?”

“I did,” she chuckled, “I felt like one thing wasn’t enough.”

“You are so sweet,” Margret took the pie from her hands, “This is perfect. I also have a pumpkin pie.”

Lee placed the casserole on the counter next to the succotash and German cabbage. Other sides included were collard greens, roasted Brussels sprouts, and cranberry sauce and stuffing. For the main dish there was the option of brown sugar-glazed ham or a marinated turkey.

“Oh, my god,” Y/N stared bug eyed at the large spread, now even bigger with her dishes, “Mrs. Sturgill, this is amazing.”

“Been savin’ up this year!” She clasped her hands together, excitement sparkling in her eyes, “The boys helped me. That’s the only way I was able to make this happen in a timely manner. Gravy is still cookin’.”

“You did great,” Y/N reiterated, “Thank you for having us.”

Lee nodded, mouth watering, “Yes, thank you very much.”

“I made cider,” she pointed to the punch bowel by the cheese ball and ambrosia salad, “Dink talked me out of doin’ a pecan pie so I’m glad you brought an apple pie.”

Footsteps suddenly barreled up the basement steps and the door swung open.

“Aye-oh!” Dan announced himself, “Finally you’re here.”

Willie came up from behind him, “That means we can eat now.”

“Hey, guys,” Y/N smiled, “Where’s Roy?”

“Pickin’ up Hank,” Rob answered as he placed the casserole down, grabbing a celery stick and dipping it into the cheese ball, “Guess they’re cool now.”

“I’m glad he’s coming,” Margret spoke up, “He doesn’t have anyone to spend the holiday with. God bless him.”

Rob and Dan bit their tongue, for the sake of the holiday.

“Once he gets back, then we can eat,” Margret added, narrowing her eyes at Rob.

“I’m starvin’,” he defended himself.

“He’ll be back soon,” she batted her hand. She turned to Lee, “So, how do you usually spend Thanksgiving?”

Lee shrugged, “Work.”

“Every year?” Her brows puckered.

He nodded, “Didn’t have anyone to spend it with ‘til now.” His arm wrapped around Y/N, smiling down at her.

Y/N’s cheeks flushed as she smiled back at him. She knew what that was like. Growing up, her mother put on a show, making her perform to be the best daughter. She held her to an unachievable standard and Y/N was never able to enjoy the holiday. That was until she met Lee. She could be herself and truly enjoy spending time with her family.

“Well, I’m so glad you made it this year,” Margret smiled at them, “We’ll make this a tradition. You two are always welcome here.”

The front door open and closed and Dan rolled his eyes, “Finally.”

Roy and Hank Bell strolled into the kitchen, all eyes on them. Roy’s face grew hot and frowned, “What?”

Y/N waved to him, “Hey, Roy. Hi, Hank.”

Lee gave them a nodding welcome.

Roy swallowed hard, “Hey.”

Willie’s head whipped around to his mother, “Can we eat now?”

“Yes, we can eat now,” she sighed in defeat.

The brothers swarmed the counter top, snatching their plates from the stack. Their mother’s eyes widened, “Start a line! Don’t act like animals.”

Lee chuckled and made his way to the end of the line, pulling Y/N along with him. They both piled their plates full of food, trying every single dish. Once everyone got their preferred portions and sat at the table, hush fell over them.

Margret turned to her husband, “Shall you say grace?”

Dink grumbled, setting down his utensils he had just picked up, “Sure.”

Everyone bowed their heads in respect, most not truly praying.

“We are here to celebrate what we are thankful for. What am I thankful for? I’m thankful for this family… I am thankful for my good health, the wellbeing of those I love. I’m thankful for each and everyone of you’s sittin’ here today. I’m thankful to have my sons here with me, successful and thriving. Have my beautiful wife’s love. To have the best daughter. Thank you, God, for blessin’ me. Thank you, God, for blessin’ everyone at this table. And I’m thankful for this food my family slaved after today. Thank you, Lord. Amen.”

“Amen,” came scattered voices in unison.

Y/N blinked back tears and felt Lee squeeze her thigh. She looked up to him and he smiled at her, kissing her forehead.

“Dig in!” Margret beamed.

The food was as delicious as it looked. Everyone helped themselves to second servings. Y/N’s casseroles were a hit. When it came to dessert, Lee had a slice of each, wanting to try his girl’s baking. And it did not disappoint. He couldn’t wait to have Thanksgiving at their house for the first time. He wanted to eat all of her cookings.

They chatted amongst themselves, the conversation always lively until the men had to undo their belts. They settled their food with cigarettes outside. Y/N later joined the brothers in the basement to get high, while Lee entertained their parents.

It was late by the time they left. The food has their mind in a haze and they went home with plenty of leftovers. Lee and Y/N held hands the entire ride back.

“I had a great time today, Y/N,” Lee said as they changed out of their clothes.

A sleepy smile tugged at her lips, “I did too.”

They climbed into bed and Lee kissed her once she settled against him.

“You’ve made this day perfect,” he whispered against her lips, “I want this every year with you.”

“Me too,” she smiled against him.

Both of their bellies full of food, they relaxed in their bed, cuddled in each other’s arms.

Modern Lee Bodecker and a baker!hobbyist reader. (Reader doesn’t own a bakery but she likes baking and Lee likes eating :3 )

Sweet Thang

+18 ONLY

Word Count : 363

Warnings : tooth aching fluff

Notes : Thank you for sending this in! Much love ❤️

________________

As soon as Lee stepped into her house, he was greeted to the pleasant smell of baked goods. He inhaled deeply, the mixture of her scent and sweets making his mouth water. A smile instantly spread on his face and the stress from work began to dissolve.

“I’m here,” he called out, taking off his jacket and hanging it on the coatrack.

“Perfect timing,” he heard her voice sing from the kitchen, a sweet melody to his ears.

As he rounded the corner and came into the kitchen, Y/N was pulling out a tray of muffins. She spun around at the sound of his heavy footsteps, a smile wide on her face. Her oven mitts dwarfed her hands as she held onto the hot metal tray.

“Look what I made,” she she held out her latest creation proudly.

Lee strolled over and took in a deep whiff, the scent of lemon and blueberries wafting into his nose. He hummed in delight and he grinned.

“You plan on sharin’ those?” His blue eyes flashed to her, sparkling eagerly.

Her smile widened, if somehow possible, “They’re actually for you, so yes.”

He smile fell lopsided and he leaned around the tray and kissed her cheek, “You spoil me.”

Y/N’s cheeks warmed under his tender stare. She stepped away from him only to place the tray of muffins on top of the oven to cool. She turned back to face him as she pulled off her mitts.

“Only doin’ what you deserve, my love,” she said sweetly.

“‘My love’,” he repeated and cocked a new smile, “I like that.”

Her brows perked, “Yeah? Wanted to try it out… Just like this new recipe,” she waved back to the muffins.

Lee chuckled, “Well, I doubt they’ll be as sweet as you,” he wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her close.

“I don’t know, they’re pretty sweet,” she giggled, resting her hands on his chest.

“We’ll see,” he smirked and leaned down, pressing his lips against hers.

She hummed against him and he pulled away too soon. She almost pouted.

Lee pursed his lips, “I don’t know. It’s gonna take a lot to beat your kisses.”