baby daisy

She sighed, rolling her eyes. “Fine, you owe me big time!” You sent her a wink with a wide grin.

You caught a trolley home and immediately began working on dinner. You knew she had a unique group of friends from all over, so you decided to make dishes from their respective homes.

From vegetarian dishes to beef stew, with a few dessert choices on the side. You smiled, satisfied with the feast you made. Just like clockwork, a knock was heard at your door.

“Coming!”

As you made your way to the door, you could hear a groan. “Ugh, hurry up, my feet are killing me and I’m starving.” You rolled your eyes, knowing that voice belonged to Sokka. You unlocked the door and swung it open with a big smile. “Hi!”

Katara engulfed you in a hug, squeezing you with all her strength.

“Ow, Tara please— can’t breathe.”

“Oh— oh, I’m so sorry, I’m just so excited. We haven’t seen you in so long.” You grinned, fixing your clothes.

“I know—”

“Yeah, yeah, nice to see you. I smell food where is it?” You rolled your eyes, pushing him out of the way.

“Sokka, don’t be rude. She’s welcoming us into her home,” Aang chimed in as he made his way in. You always adored him he was so sweet and such a perfect partner for Katara.

“Thank you, Aang. It’s nice to see you again.” He gave you a wide grin, pulling you into a quick side hug before following behind Katara. You looked outside for the last two, but no one was there. You frowned, closing the door.

“Expecting someone?” Sokka appeared behind you with an egg tart stuffed in his mouth.

You rolled your eyes, nudging him away. “You’re going to spoil your dinner eating sweets first.”

He shrugged, mouthing “so,” as crumbs fell from his mouth.

As you sat down to enjoy dinner with everyone, a knock came a few minutes later quieter this time, not nearly as impatient as before. You wiped your hands together, ridding them of any crumbs, and smoothed out nonexistent wrinkles in your clothes as you made your way to the door.

“Coming—”

The door creaked open, and your words caught in your throat. He stood there handsome, tall, and… buffer than you remembered way buffer. 

He was slightly turned, like he had just knocked and immediately regretted it, shoulders tense, hands tucked behind his back like he didn’t know what to do with them. His eyes flickered to yours for a split second before darting away.

“Oh uh… hi.” His voice was low, almost careful, like he didn’t know what his next words were going to be.

Your brain short-circuited, your tongue completely tied.

“Hi! You made it…obviously. Because you’re here.” You winced internally. 

Geez, just stop talking.

Behind him, Toph snorted.

“Wow. This is painful already,” she muttered, stepping forward and nudging past Zuko like she owned the place. “Are you gonna let us in, or are you two just gonna stand here breathing weird at each other?”

Of course she’d point out the obvious and make things weirder. Your face burned with embarrassment as you glared at her.

“Right sorry, come in!” Zuko stepped inside carefully, like he was entering somewhere important. His gaze flickered around your home for a second before landing back on you then quickly away again.

“It smells good,” he said, almost too quiet.

You blinked a few times. “Oh thank you! I tried to make a little bit of everything since, um, everyone’s from different places and I didn’t know what you’d like and—”

You cut yourself off, heat creeping up your neck. Toph leaned against the wall, arms crossed, a slow grin spreading across her face.

“Yeah,” she said flatly, “I can tell you put a lot of thought into it.”

Zuko stiffened, shooting her a look. “Toph—”

“What?” she shrugged, completely unbothered. “I’m just saying. Girl cooked like it was a royal banquet.”

Your eyes widened. “It’s not that serious—!”

“It kind of is,” she cut in, smirking. “Twinkletoes didn’t even get this treatment.”

From inside, Sokka yelled, “HEY—WHAT DOES THAT MEAN?!”

You laughed nervously, fidgeting with your fingers. “Ignore them, please. Do you want to sit? Or I mean, food’s ready, so—”

Zuko nodded quickly. “Yeah. I mean whatever you… yeah.”

Spirits…

Toph walked past you, bumping your shoulder lightly as she went.

“Relax,” she murmured just loud enough for you to hear. “He’s worse than you.”

You blinked after her. “…that doesn’t make me feel any better Toph.”

Across the room, Zuko hovered awkwardly near the table, like he wasn’t sure where to stand or if he should touch anything. His eyes flicked toward you again—softer this time, lingering just a second too long before he looked away.

•••

The last of the dishes were set down with a soft clink, the room still warm with the remnants of laughter and full stomachs. The lanterns you’d lit earlier flickered gently against the walls, casting everything in a soft amber glow.

“I’ll help clean,” Katara said, already rolling up her sleeves.

“No, no, you’re guests—” you started, but she waved you off. “It’s the least we can do.”

From the table, Sokka leaned back with a satisfied groan as his bloated stomach poked out from under his clothes. “I’ve done my part. I ate everything.”

“You didn’t do anything,” Katara snapped as she threw a hand towel at her brother. 

“I supported morale.” A soft laugh slipped from you before you could stop it. You truly missed being around your cousins they were like siblings to you. 

“I’ll help too,” Aang chimed, already stacking plates.

You turned to grab the basin, only to nearly run into Zuko.

“Oh— sorry!”

“I— no, it’s my fault,” he said quickly, stepping back, hands hovering awkwardly at his sides before settling on the edge of the counter like he needed something to ground himself. 

“I can… help. If you want.” You nodded, a little too fast. “Yeah. That would be nice.” From the doorway, Toph let out a quiet snort.

Aang lingered for a second, glancing between you and Zuko with a small, knowing smile before Katara grabbed his sleeve and tugged him away.

“Come on, I need help with uh— something.”

“You just said—” Aang started, confused, but let himself be pulled along.

Sokka popped his head in, already chewing on something he’d definitely stolen from the table. “If you need me, I’ll be—”

“You’re not needed,” Katara and Toph said at the same time.

“Rude,” he mumbled, disappearing anyway.

And just like that It was quiet.

The water in the basin rippled softly as you dipped your hands in, the warmth grounding, familiar. You focused on the dishes, on the rhythm wash, rinse, pass. Zuko took them from you, drying them carefully, like each plate might shatter if he held it wrong.

For a while, neither of you spoke .Your fingers brushed when you handed him a bowl sending a jolt through you, you both pulled back quickly.

“Sorry,” you both said simultaneously.

You both froze then let out quiet, embarrassed laughs that died just as quickly as they came.

The silence that followed felt… different.

From the other room, voices carried faintly through the open doorway. You focused on them to try and ease your awkwardness but that made it worse. 

“…I’m telling you,” Sokka’s voice said, low but not low enough, “if they don’t figure it out soon, I’m locking them in here.”

“You can’t just— Sokka, that’s not how feelings work,” his sister combated.

“It’s been years,” Toph cut in, blunt as ever. “They’ve been pining for each other since...well forever.”

Silence.

Your hand stilled in the water, across from you, Zuko went completely still.

As much as you wished you couldn’t unhear it. You didn’t look at him at first, the water had gone still around your hands. Your chest was tight from anticipation, you glanced at him as he was still at work. 

“…is that true?” Your voice came out quieter than you meant it to.

For a moment, there was nothing. Then her softly spoke “I didn’t think you knew.”

You looked up, he wasn’t looking at you his gaze fixed somewhere over your shoulder, jaw tight, like the words had been pulled out of him against his will.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” you asked before you could stop yourself. He let out a small, humorless breath. “Because… I didn’t think you felt the same.”

You wanted to scream, you were so obvious how could he have not seen!?

“I thought you didn’t either,” you admitted, the words slipping out.

His head snapped toward you “You— what?”

You shook your head, a nervous laugh escaping you. “You’re always so… closed off. I didn’t want to ruin anything, we’re good friends.”

“I wasn’t trying to be…” He stopped, exhaling, shoulders dropping slightly. “I just didn’t know how to say it.”

“Neither did I,” you said, softer now. The space between you felt smaller all of a sudden. Your heart began to race, beating against your ribcage.

He stepped closer without thinking closing the space between you two and you didn’t step back. For a second just a second it felt like something might finally happen. His hand twitched at his side, like he was debating reaching for you.

Your breath hitched in your throat, waiting, hoping something happened, anything. 

“Hey!” Sokka’s voice rang out suddenly. “We’re heading to the festival before all the good food’s gone are you two coming or— oh…”

He leaned against the doorway, eyes flicking between you and Zuko, a slow grin spreading across his face.

“…I see I interrupted something.”

“You did?!” Toph said from somewhere behind him, sounding far too pleased.

Your face burned as you stepped back, grabbing the nearest towel like it could shield you.

“We’re… we’re coming,” you said quickly.

Zuko cleared his throat, stepping away as well. “Yeah. We’ll be there.” Sokka’s grin widened. “No no take your time.”

“Stop it,” Katara hissed, dragging him away.

•••

The streets of Republic City were alive by the time you all arrived. Lanterns hung overhead in long, glowing strands, swaying gently with the evening breeze. Music drifted through the air flutes and drums blending with the hum of voices, vendors calling out from their stalls, the scent of roasted meats and sweet pastries curling through the crowd. Keila waved excitedly from a kite stand she stood near, already mid-conversation with a group of people.

“You made it!” she called.

“Told you I would,” you shot back, smiling.

The group lingered together for a moment but not for long.

“I’m getting food,” Sokka announced immediately, already disappearing into the crowd. You’d never understand how’s he’s always so hungry…

“I’ll go with him,” Katara said quickly. “He’ll spend all our money.” Aang naturally followed practically bouncing along.

Toph tilted her head slightly, a smirk tugging at her lips with a knowing look in her eye. “I’m gonna go win some money,” she said. “You two…” she gestured vaguely between you and Zuko, “…have fun” before you could respond, she was gone.

And just like that It was you two alone again. 

Zuko stood beside you, shifting slightly, like he wasn’t sure what to do with himself now that there was no one else to hide behind. “they did that on purpose,” you said, glancing around.

“Yeah I figured ,” he muttered. There was a pause then, “…do you still wanna walk around?” he asked, a little hesitant but still holding a hopeful look in his eyes.

You looked up at him, meeting his gaze fully for the first time that night. His amber eyes flickered, reflecting the warm glow of the festival lights. He had always been handsome to you but tonight, it felt different. What once was a silly childhood crush had deepened into something heavier, undeniable. He wasn’t a boy anymore…he was a man. And a very fine looking one at that.

“…yeah,” you said softly. “I do.” His shoulders noticeably eased and a slight smile tugged at his lips. 

You sat beside each other on a low wooden bench, the lantern resting between you along with small brushes and pots of ink. For a moment, neither of you touched anything then you picked up a brush, dipping it carefully into the ink. 

“…what are you supposed to write?” you asked admiring the empty lantern. 

“I think it’s whatever you want?” he said, though he didn’t sound entirely sure.

You smiled a little. “That’s not helpful.” A faint huff of amusement left him quiet, but real “…sorry.”

You began to paint anyway small, careful strokes, your focus narrowing as you worked. Every so often, you glanced over Zuko, meanwhile, looked like he was overthinking it.

Brush hovering, brow slightly furrowed. Like this one small thing carried too much weight.

“You’re thinking too hard,” you murmured.

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

He glanced at you, a little defensive then paused when he caught the small smile on your lips, “…maybe a little.”

You laughed softly, returning to your work. “It doesn’t have to be perfect.”

“…I know,” he said, quieter this time. After a moment of thought, he finally started.

The two of you stood near the water’s edge, lantern cradled carefully between your hands. The surface of the canal shimmered with reflections dozens of glowing lights already drifting slowly away.

You hesitated then came up with an idea “…you should light it,” you said.

Zuko blinked turning to you. “Me?”

You nodded with a small smile. “Yeah.” For a second, he just looked at you. Then slowly, he stepped closer one hand steadying the lantern, the other lifting slightly.

A small flame sparked at his fingertips. Warm and controlled but gentle— well gentle as a flame can be. It flickered against the paper, catching the wick inside without burning it, casting a soft glow across both your faces.

For a moment, neither of you moved, the flame danced in his eyes as you watched.

“…ready?” he asked, voice low. You nodded, together you lowered it to the water. It drifted slow at first, then carried gently by the current, joining the others. You watched float in peaceful silence.

“what did you wish for?” you asked softly watching the beautiful lanterns float together side by side. He didn’t answer right away.

“if I tell you, it won’t come true,” he said. You smiled faintly. “That’s not how that works silly.”

“…still.” You glanced at him.

You gave him a faint teasing smile “Okay then…don’t tell me.”

But something about the way he looked at you steady, quiet, certain it made your chest tighten. Zuko had never looked at you like that before…no one’s ever had. It sent a rush of warmth through you, your stomach fluttering uncontrollably as your legs weakened beneath you, like your body had suddenly forgotten how to belong to you.

•••

The walk back felt different. It was quieter, but not in a bad way. Your shoulders brushed more often now but neither of you pulled away. At one point, his hand found yours he was hesitant at first. Like he was giving you time to pull away if you wanted but you didn’t. Your fingers curled around his gently and that was it. 

By the time you reached your home, the night had settled deep and calm around you. You lingered by the door neither of you moving to open it.

“…I had a nice time,” you said, softer now.

“Yeah,” he replied. “Me too.”

There was a pause, not awkward just a thinking. 

“thank you for dinner and… this.”

Your lips curved into a shy smile. “Of course, It was nothing” He nodded, like he had more to say but didn’t know how to start, so you did.

“…I didn’t make a wish,” you said softly, fingers fidgeting with the edge of your sleeve. Zuko blinked, caught slightly off guard. “You didn’t?”

You shook your head, glancing down for a moment before forcing yourself to look back up at him.

“I wrote something instead.”

He stilled seeming as if was trying to guess what you wrote “…what did you write?”

Your heart began to pound again harder this time, louder, like it was trying to speak for you. “It’s kind of embarrassing,” you admitted with a small breath of a laugh.

“That’s okay,” he said quickly, stepping just a little closer. “You don’t have to—”

“I wrote your name.”

There was a small pause.

The words settled between you, heavier than anything you had said all night. Embarrassment began to engulf your entire body, you knew you shouldn’t have said anything. 

Zuko froze, his expression unreadable for a split second. “…mine?” he asked quietly.

You nodded, heat rushing to your face. “I didn’t know how else to say it. I figured… if I couldn’t say it out loud, I could at least send it off and pretend it was enough.” You let out a nervous breath, shaking your head slightly. “It sounds stupid out loud I —”

“It’s not,” he cut in immediately.

You looked up meeting his warm ember eyes for the second time tonight. There was something different in his expression now something steady, something certain.

“…I didn’t make a wish either,” he said.

Your breath caught, your mind racing trying to guess his next words.  “…you didn’t?”

He shook his head slowly, gaze never leaving yours. “…I wrote yours.”

Your chest tightened so fast it almost hurt. There was something to humorously relieving about this situation. 

“You’re serious?” You let out a breathy laugh he lowered his head letting out a chuckle “I am.”

“I didn’t think you felt the same,” he admitted, quieter now. “So I didn’t say anything.”

“I didn’t think you did either” you said, almost breathless. “I do, in fact I always have I just didn’t know how to tell you” he said, firm.

His words made your heart beat faster, “Zuko…”

He stepped closer closing the distance this time without stopping. “I’ve felt this way for a long time,” he continued, voice low but steady. “I just… didn’t want to ruin what we had. I thought if I said something and you didn’t feel the same—”

“You wouldn’t have ruined a thing,” you whispered.

“I could have,” he insisted, softer now. “I didn’t want to lose you.” Your expression softened completely.

“You weren’t going to.” There was a small pause between you two then, gentler “…you won’t.”

Something in him eased at that. You could see it the tension leaving his shoulders, the way his breath steadied. For once, he looked sure. His hand lifted slowly, like he was still giving you time to stop him but you didn’t. His fingers brushed yours warm and grounding. You stepped closer, close enough that your breaths began to mix. Close enough that neither of you could pretend anymore, not like you wanted to. 

“Can I—” he started quietly.

“Yes,” you eagerly answered. He didn’t hesitate this time. He leaned in lips hovering above your, you could fill the warmth radiating off of him, finally you’d get a taste of—

“SPIRITS ABOVE—”

You both jumped apart like you were caught doing something you shouldn’t have been doing. The door to your house was wide open , Sokka stumbled forward, eyes wide, hands thrown in the air. “FINALLY! Do you know how long we’ve been waiting for that?!”

Your eyes widened. “SOKKA?!”

“Don’t even act surprised,” Toph said, stepping out behind him, arms crossed and smirking. “We heard everything.”

“You were listening?!” you exclaimed, mortified.

“Obviously,” she shrugged.

“This was PRIVATE!” Zuko snapped, face burning.

“Oh please,” Toph replied. “You two were practically confessing to the whole street.”

“You weren’t exactly quiet,” Sokka added helpfully. “Oh my—” Katara rushed out, grabbing Sokka by the back of his tunic. “I told you not to interrupt!”

“You said don’t force it, you didn’t say don’t celebrate it there’s a difference” he argued.

“This is not celebrating, this is embarrassing them,” she shot back, dragging him away. From behind her Aang peeked out, offering you both a bright, apologetic smile. “We’re really happy for you though.”

You covered your face with your hands. “I’m never leaving my house again.”

“That’s fine,” Toph said casually, already walking off. “We’ll just come to you…again.”

“Please don’t,” you groaned.

“Also you’re welcome!” she called back.

“For what?!” you yelled beyond frustrated with the friend group. 

“For saving you from another ten years of this!” Katara finally managed to drag Sokka back in, Aang following with one last cheerful wave.

And just like that they were gone…you hoped. 

Silence settled again, thick and warm and different now. You slowly lowered your hands, still flustered.

“…well,” you muttered.

“…yeah,” Zuko replied, a hint of amusement slipping through.

A pause and then you both started laughing off the embarrassing situation. Soft, breathless, a little disbelieving because of course that’s how it happened. After a moment, the laughter faded but neither of you stepped away this time.

“Well let’s not waste the moment…where were we?” you asked quietly.

Zuko stepped closer again, eyes soft, voice lower now. “…right about here.” His hand lifted slowly, fingers brushing beneath your chin as he tilted your face up toward his. The touch was gentle but hesitant.

Your breath caught as he leaned in, the space between you finally closing after what felt like a lifetime.

Your lips met, soft at first. His lips were slightly chapped, but warm against yours, grounding in a way that made your chest tighten. For a second, neither of you moved, like you were both afraid the moment might disappear if you did too much.

Then he exhaled quietly against you, and everything eased. Your hand instinctively found the front of his tunic, fingers curling lightly into the fabric as you leaned just a little closer. His grip shifted, not tight, just steady like he needed to be sure you were really there. The kiss deepened, not rushed, not overwhelming but just right.

When you finally pulled back, it wasn’t far. Your foreheads nearly touched, breaths still uneven, the warmth of him lingering in a way that made it impossible to ignore.

 And this time thankfully there was no one left to interrupt.

©hon3y0logy 2026 — any reposts or translations of my works are strictly prohibited unless granted permission. Do not feed my work into any AI programs

Your mother lied to you, you would never see home again.

“Are you sure that’s a princess?”

“Who cares?”

Guards each took an armpit and dragged you out of the cell that had been home for an amount of time you could no longer account for. The air was a different kind of stale smoke but you choked nonetheless until the dark of prison disappeared and you gagged on sunlight.

Outside.

You were going outside.

“How long has it been down there?”

“Since before Ozai got locked away just like her, keep up!”

Ozai was gone?

Everything hurt and as feeling returned to your legs and arms the longer the dragging took, you heard your voice, nothing more than a whimper at first, then a groan. There was a painful nudge to keep you quiet but it wasn’t working, words kept trying to form, lips too dry and bloody to succeed.

“Aren’t we supposed to take her to the hospital first?”

“She’s a bloodbender, that’s too good for her. Fire Lord Zuko won’t care and I’m starving!”

“Where’s the rest of them?”

That you didn’t need an answer to.

You were the very last one.

They stood you up and walked you forward with searing hands on your shoulders, no time to sink into the sights of the palace that you had been brought to so many years ago with so many others, so much death between then and now.

“Why am I outside?”

There you go, words finally sprung from your ragged mouth and were met with a sharp burning push forward and no answer.

“When we get inside, you will kneel before Fire Lord Zuko, you will not speak unless spoken to, you will keep your eyes to the floor, you will not under any circumstances, move. Is that understood?”

There was a hush when the doors of the throne room opened and you were led through the whispers and quiet jeers, head down, limping until a guard pushed you down to your knees.

The chatter died as a pair of heavy boots entered the room and you did not need to look to know the Fire Lord had entered.

“Fire Lord Zuko, this before you is the bloodbender. As you already know, she is from a lost sect of that Foggy Swamp Tribe that chose to defect from the swamp some time ago and your father-

“She’s hurt.”

A voice silken and stoic stated the obvious, a trace of concern threaded through the voice that you were not a fool enough to believe could have been for you.

“Your Highness, her father was found guilty of conspiring against our great nation.”

“Yet her father is not here, she is. I do believe my orders were to find the princess my father imprisoned for years on end and bring her to me, unharmed and looked after first. Is this how you act with honor under my orders?”

“We thought it would be best to bring her with haste Fire Lord Zuko-” The guard at your right fumbled out.

“You paraded her with shame, that was not your orders.”

The kneeling turned to a limp slump forward, too tired, too dizzy, too everything to keep upright. The same rough hands that held you reached forward to yank you back up but there was a crack of heat that made you curl in on yourself, eyes closed.

When you opened your eyes again, smoke began to a clear and you could see a perfect circle of ash around you. The guards, shaken, immediately backed up.

There was a sound of footsteps, quieter this time as if not to scare you and the boots were in front of you now and someone knelt in front of you with the same gentility.

“No one in this room touches her again, perhaps that order will be followed if I am the one who says it.”

Two calloused hands on your shoulders treaded carefully around the ripped and burned flesh, tenderly tilting you back up until you were face to face with Fire Lord Zuko.

To look at the fire lord was an attempt to gaze into the majesty of flame, bright and clear, warmth and terror, and beauty, such unyielding beauty.

“Can you hear me? Will you speak and tell me what hurts?” Zuko asked, one arm around you to hold you steady, hair like shining ink brushing over your shaking body.

“Is it over, have you come to kill me?” You asked, coughing and the fire lord shifted positions so you could breathe better but did not break your gaze even when a sour faced man came forward.

“Fire Lord Zuko, with all due respect, this will not work! Perhaps in matters of policy yes, but matrimony is an entirely other matter. This girl was locked away for good reason, this is a bloodbender, a traitor to the other water tribes, an abomination-

“This is the very end of every horror my father has inflicted on other nations. This is a person, this, you old fool, is to be my wife.”

The quiet coughing had turned to wheezing, presently followed by choking and you could taste blood in your teeth.

“Get help, now!”

You felt weightless and suddenly very far away from your body and could not react when your head was suddenly in the fire lord’s lap, shouting and chaos above you but you only saw him.

“Look at me, you’re safe now, but you can’t go to sleep yet. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

Was the leader of The Fire Nation apologizing?

The world went quiet with an eased slowness but you remained in the strong arms of the son of the man who took everything from you.

As the darkness crept back in and Zuko’s concerned face faded from your sight, the last thought you had was actually a question.

The afternoon sun hangs heavy in the sky, casting a warm, golden glow through the dusty blinds of the trailer. The air inside is thick with the scent of smoke and stale beer, a heady mixture that clings to the walls. It’s the kind of smell that seeps into your clothes, your hair, your skin. It should leave you feeling slightly suffocated, especially considering the oppressive humidity also clinging to every surface, but somehow, there's a measure of comfort in the acrid scent.

You’re sitting on the threadbare couch, the fabric worn with age creaking as you shift restlessly, trying to find a more comfortable position in the heat. The fabric scratches your soles as you prop your feet up, leaning against the couch arm, fanning the neck of your thin tank top to peel the dampness from your chest. Beneath the old coffee table, your flip-flops lay forgotten, abandoned on the threadbare carpet. A beer bottle sits nearby, sweating rings onto the surface of the table, a testament to the lazy haze of the afternoon.

On the other side of the couch, your dealer lounges against the cushions, his movements fluid and practiced as he rolls a joint with deft, inked fingers. You look over at Eddie as he watches the TV, his head lolled back against the couch, his eyes heavy-lidded, relaxed. He looks good. You can’t help but spend a long moment staring at him: the angles of his face, his big brown eyes and puffy lips, his long, shaggy curls that frame his high cheekbones. He’s pretty, and he’d look downright innocent if it wasn’t for the long nick of white scar tissue kissing the edge of his lip and the scruff darkening his cheeks and jaw. Your gaze dips lower over his tight black jeans, lingering where they meet his rust-colored tank. The shirt is caught up around his hip, revealing a strip of pale skin and a tattoo that you can just see the bottom of. You want to run your tongue over it, then keep mapping all his ink until your mouth has touched each bit of darkness on him.

This thing with Eddie started when you broke up with Trevor and lost your go-to source for getting high. When you’d asked around, a friend of a friend recommended Eddie Munson, saying he was the best you could come by in the area: decent product, reasonable prices, and not a total creep. The first couple times were quick transactions, and then you started hanging around because the girl who hooked you up also told you Eddie would likely offer to smoke you out if you did. He let you hang around because he didn't much care either way, and he didn't find you hard to look at. That led quickly to casual sex whenever you saw each other, usually when you'd come by a couple times a month to restock your supply. And the sex is great– better than the weed, and Eddie's weed is always high quality. He just has this ability to make you feel special in the moment without having any expectations about whatever-you-and-he-were as soon as you pull your panties back on, leaving you free to date whoever you wanted when you left his trailer.

It’s ecstasy to have all of his attention focused on you in those moments because, though Eddie looks like a mean bastard, he gets off on your pleasure. He's not one to make you feel used or neglected; he's a thorough lover. And he has a knack for straddling the perfect line between sweet and sour. He'd praise you then humiliate you in the next breath, and it drove you wild. Kept you coming back even though he never expressed interest in taking you out or doing anything with you other than just getting high, watching TV, and fucking you 'til you screamed.

And then, at some point, you find yourself declining guys' offers for dinner or drinks. You just don’t feel like going out anymore, because trying to find Mr. Right was getting exhausting— at least, that's what you tell yourself. And Eddie starts calling you sometimes to let you know he had a new strain he thought you'd like, some of Rick's fancy shit. Soon enough, you go from seeing him twice a month to twice a week, sometimes more. And slowly but surely, you begin to notice a change in yourself. You start staring at all his tattoos and wondering what the stories are behind them. Feeling an odd flutter when you flop down next to him and he'd sling his arm around your shoulder without a thought. Laying tangled in his musty bedsheets, and when he leaves to go to the bathroom, secretly burying your nose against his pillow because the smell of him has suddenly become... comforting.

Things are changing for you, and you really hope they are for him, too. 'Cause if not, it seems your traitorous heart has determined you'll be in for a world of hurt.

"Y'want some of this?" Eddie's voice cuts through the haze, drawing your attention away from the television. You glance over to see him holding up the joint, a lazy smirk playing at the corners of his lips. The glow of the joint illuminates his features, soft against the curve of his cheek.

You nod, a small smile tugging at your own lips as you shift closer to him. He pats his thigh, a silent invitation, and you don’t hesitate to straddle his lap, the heat of his body seeping through your pajama shorts. His jeans are rough against your tender inner thighs as you shift, grazing the hardening bulge pressing against his zipper; your stomach tightens with the first whispers of arousal as you feel it brush against you.

"Gimme a show then, kitten," he murmurs, his voice low and husky, making that arousal bloom fuller as you grow excited. It’s a playful taunt, a challenge, but beneath the teasing facade, you can sense something more—a hint of possessiveness, maybe even of longing. That could just be your wishful thinking, but nonetheless, your heart races at the prospect as you meet his gaze, accepting his challenge.

With a coy smile, you slip off the couch, settling on your knees and running your nails up his thighs on your way to his lap. You take your time unbuckling his belt, keeping your movements slow and unhurried, though you secretly throb as you begin to unwrap him. It’s crazy how quickly he turns you on— how all he has to do is smirk and pin you with a look, or murmur a few words in that low, husky tone, and you’re already wetting your panties for him. 

Eddie waits just long enough for you to shimmy his jeans and boxers down to his knees, and then he catches you by the jaw with a broad, rough palm. You look up at him as he guides you back up with his light grip on your face. His eyes flick down to your mouth as he leans forward, curls swinging to kiss his jaw. You brighten, eager to feel his mouth on yours, wondering what kind of kiss he’ll reward you with— something slow and sweet, or wet and filthy. But he leaves just a peck on your lips before drawing back, tightening his hold on your jaw to keep you firmly in place when you instinctively go to chase him.

You fall immediately into a pout, slumping back on your heels as he breathes a chuckle at you. Eddie bends to lightly pat your cheek a few times in consolation before settling back into the cushions, his posture relaxed yet commanding. He must know the gesture would rile you up, and it does— you feel your disappointment churn in your belly, turning to petulance. In retaliation, you clamber up to your feet, abandoning your position kneeling before his boots. With narrowed eyes, you drop your shorts and panties together without ceremony, stepping out of them and kicking them to the side, denying him the chance to enjoy watching you strip. You cross your arms when your bratting only makes him smirk even wider at you. He quirks an eyebrow as if to say, “Well?” 

You resent how much you like his stupid face.

The couch creaks its protest as you climb up onto it, slinging a leg over his lap again, this time with nothing separating your skin from his, which is hot and slightly sticky with the humidity. His cock kicks subtly when your pussy grazes him, and you bite your lip, feeling an answering pulse of desire within yourself. When you mount him, reaching behind to grip him at the base and notch his fat head at your entrance, Eddie prepares for your performance: draping his arms casually over the backrest, fingers idly tapping against the worn fabric, his other arm hinging to bring the joint lazily to his lips. 

He looks like such an asshole, waiting for you to service him. And you might've goaded him more because of it, but you forget about being bratty the second you sink down on his lap, taking him all the way into you. 

A quiet moan sighs from between your cracked lips when you sit fully on his cock, your eyes slipping closed as you get lost in that initial stretch. He's not the only guy you've fucked— far from it— but there’s just something about the way he slots inside, nudging against the end of you, that always leaves you feeling more perfectly filled than anyone else. Eddie watches with a sly glint in his half-lidded eyes as you start to grind on him, letting yourself drift into the space he always brings you into. With him, you can be soft, sensual, and needy, but also desperate and pathetic. You can act out all your secret desires, know that Eddie will flay you open and force you to acknowledge them, and let the shame of it get you off all at once.

Eddie lets you be a freak, and better yet, he likes it.

Desperate to earn his approval, you run your hands up your body, dragging over your hips and up to your neck as you ride him. Your abdomen rolls as you grind with fluid, sensual movements, doing your best to put on the show he’d requested. You look at him through your lashes as your wandering fingers catch on the hem of your tank top, dragging it slowly up to reveal your soft belly. You hold it just below your breasts so Eddie can watch the way your curves bend and move while you work his cock. 

In some respects, the dance is for you as much as it’s for him because the way Eddie watches you with rapt attention, his eyes devouring every inch of your body, really turns you on. You bite your lip, your clit swelling with anticipation as you tease him with a glimpse of the underside of your breasts. He hums approvingly, taking a leisurely hit from the joint. As the smoke curls around him in a tantalizing haze, you give in sooner than you’d been intending and ruck up your top to let your breasts fall out. You start to play with them, squeezing and kneading as you rock your hips harder, your own need mounting.

Gradually, your performance ceases being a performance. Your nipples begin to ache, begging to be touched, and a moan spills unbidden from your lips as you tweak and pinch them, sending pleasure zinging straight down within you. You close your eyes, a tiny frown forming as you try to concentrate on the low flame of your arousal, but it remains at a frustratingly low simmer. You rock faster, grind harder, pinch harsher, your movements a silent plea for the sweet relief only Eddie can give. You’ve built your own pleasure as much as you can on your own, and now, you need him. The coyness is wiped from your expression, replaced with a begging pinch in your brow, a needy, wet shine in your eyes as you blink unseeingly at him, all pretty and pathetic on his lap.

At the border between satisfaction and desperation— that’s where he wanted you. 

A hand at your hip stills your movements, and as your eyes snap to focus on Eddie's face, you see he’s leaned forward, his nose scant inches from yours. His other elbow is planted on the couch arm, the joint poised tantalizingly nearby in his ringed fingers. Eddie squeezes your hip firmly, then again more gratuitously, and when you obediently fall still to sit motionless on his cock, he lets his palm slide up the curve of your waist in a drag that makes you gasp, you're so wired and ready for his touch. You watch, rapt, as he brings the joint toward his lips, salivating as a swipe of his tongue moistens them.

“Look at me.” 

Your eyes snap up to his, captured completely by his unwavering gaze. As he inhales, those brown eyes glitter in the orange that flares bright at the joint’s end. And he keeps that point of contact between you as his broad palm travels up, up, up— over the supple heft of your breast, grazing the hard peak of your nipple, skimming the thrumming pulse in your neck, his thumb catching on the underside of your jaw as he cups your cheek. He closes those scant inches between you, and when the bulb of his nose nudges yours, your mouth falls open as your eyes slip closed. 

He exhales, you inhale. When the warm rush of Eddie’s breath kisses your lips, you take it into you, your chest expanding as your lungs fill with smoke. The taste of him mingles with a heady rush of arousal, and you continue to take, even through the twinge of discomfort as your lungs stretch to accommodate it all. As Eddie gives you the last of his smoke, you close your mouth, keeping it all inside.

“Hold it,” he murmurs against your skin. His lips trail kisses along your jaw as you obey, fighting your diaphragm as it hitches, wanting to cough. You make a little noise in the back of your throat when he nips you, the brief sharp sting soothed soon after by the flat of his tongue. You hold as long as you can, and when you finally exhale, Eddie rewards you by taking hold of your hips, pulling you into a slow, sensual grind as he kisses you sloppy, wet lips wide and devouring. The friction and fervor crash over you in an intense wave of pleasure, one that has you whining, twisting your fingers in his hair, pressing your tits to his chest, ready to ignite—