#it's nice to see people noticing the drawing

[haikyu-mp4]

Classroom duty

word count; 1317 – f!reader

Iwaizumi was on classroom duty this week and he used to hate that. It meant that he got to volleyball practice late and didn’t even have time for a healthy snack. In addition, he had to make some kind of small talk with whoever he was paired with. It goes by the pairs in which the desks are placed and he was never the best at socialising outside of the athletic world.

However, classroom duty wasn’t so bad this time around, because ever since last break, he was paired up with you. Iwa didn’t notice you that much before, he just knew you were bright and kind. And of course, he couldn’t deny to the universe that you were nice to look at, but he would still keep trying to deny it to his friends. 

He knew he was fond of you. You with the cartoonish drawings of the teacher on the sides of your notes so you could make him smile in class. You with the lipgloss that looked like it might not taste good, despite how it made your lips look so biteable. You with the evil little laugh every time your paper ball would hit the trash and his didn’t. Yeah, Hajime Iwaizumi was very fond of you.

“Iwa?”

“Sorry,” he shook his head and chuckled awkwardly, glancing around at the pristine classroom. “What did you say?”

You snorted a laugh and turned around pointing to the garbage bags collected by the door and ready to be thrown away. “I said, let’s go?” Hajime spurred into action, happily finishing up here and putting those muscles to good use.

Usually, there was this thing where the people on classroom duty did rock paper scissors for who took the trash, letting the other off. No one knows who started it, but it stuck. Oikawa seemed to believe you and Hajime were the only ones who didn’t follow tradition.

“Why does she even go with you when all she does is hold up the lid on the trash can while you do all the heavy lifting?” Oikawa complained now that his best friend was finally back in his volleyball uniform. Some might say he was jealous.

Iwaizumi shrugged, about to answer when someone else did from behind him, making him turn around and causing Oikawa to lift a brow at the interruption.

“Sounds like she likes you.”

“Mad dog?” Oikawa exclaimed dramatically with a gasp. Kyotani glared at the setter.

“No, we just do it that way, you know?“ Iwaizumi said, sounding a bit like he was fishing to hear it again. Hear that you might like him.

“Okay, whatever,” Kyotani grumbled. Charming as ever. His two per cent of extra respect for Iwaizumi went into that effort and now it was spent.

They went back to practice, and Oikawa forgot about the interrupted gossip as soon as the practice game started, leaving Iwaizumi to mull this over himself. When this week was over, would you stop talking to him so much?

The next morning, you’re both there early to prepare the classroom, and Iwaizumi greeted you with a shy nod. “Last day!” you cheered. Iwaizumi’s eyes followed you for a few seconds as you skipped over to the teacher’s desk, where you picked up the note left by the teacher and then walked over to the chalkboard to prepare it. He liked how you were always so bright, even as you had to be there earlier than everyone else. And then he was happy to see you weren’t invincible, when you looked a little more tired in the evening while walking out with the trash, stubborn smile still directed at him like you refused to give up.

But for now, it’s still morning. “You sound excited, any plans this weekend?” he asked, leaving the mop in the corner after mopping the floors. Then he strolled up beside you, picking up the sponge to go wet it. You turned to glance at him exactly when he turned away. Maybe he’ll ask me out if I say no?

“Not much. Just happy it’s the last day we have to do these chores,” you said, seemingly carefree in adding little hearts and stars around what the teacher wanted. It made Iwa smile as he placed the wet sponge on the little edge beneath the chalkboard.

Wait, she’s happy we’re done? Maybe Kyotani is totally clueless. “Oh,” he said, not meaning to. “Me too.”

“That doesn’t sound very convincing,” you teased, putting the chalk down and turning to him. “You like taking the trash out?”

“Maybe…” he said defensively, clenching his fists and then unclenching them again. “I like hanging out with you.” There, at least he said something.

“Iwaizumi…” He looked at you hopefully but glanced away quickly when he realised his face was burning. “You know we still sit beside each other when the week is finished, right? It’s not like I’ll stop talking to you.”

Iwaizumi’s eyes widened, embarrassment sinking into every nerve of his body because he hadn’t much thought about that. “Of course,” he said first like it was instinctual. I just like hanging out with you alone. That’s what he should have said. Instead, he stuttered out meaningless sounds for a second before the bell rang and students started rushing to their seats, meaning you had to move too.

Oikawa sighed from the entrance to the classroom, in absolute disbelief at how his best friend, the ace of all aces, in his opinion, could fumble so badly for a girl.

“Iwa-chan!” Iwaizumi closed his eyes at the agitating, grating voice that interrupted his peaceful lunch on a bench outside in the sun.

“Shittykawa.”

“Hey! I’m here to help you.” He sat down beside his best friend, opening his bento and stuffing some food in his mouth. Iwaizumi was chewing slowly and waiting to hear more with a disinterested look on his face.

“With?”

“Your love life.”

Oikawa went on a rant about grand gestures, making some very grand gestures himself while explaining, and Iwa could just not figure out why the girls swooned for him when he looked so stupidly invested in his stupid plan for his stupid love life.

“Are you even listening?” Oikawa asked, angrily stuffing another spoonful of food into his mouth.

“Absolutely not. I will not be renting a horse and armour.” And even though that was evidence he had in fact listened, Oikawa was not pleased that his best friend didn’t seem to understand what an expert in love he was. “She’s probably not even interested.”

“Iwa!” Another voice said, making him turn around and almost knock over the water bottle beside his bento.

“That you listen to.” Oikawa mocked from his side, but anything he said went in one ear and out the other once again, when his eyes fell on you.

“Hey,” Hajime greeted you, somewhat awkwardly as you hadn’t chatted much outside the classroom or on the way to the trash containers. “What’s up?”

“Are you doing anything this weekend?” you asked, your words sharing space with a sigh as you had jogged over.

“He’s not,” Oikawa answered, and while that would normally make him annoyed, he just repeated it while still looking at you.

“I’m not.”

“Maybe we can go out for some ice cream? Or a coffee?” you asked further, and it was obvious that you were nervous despite trying to seem confident, not smiling like you usually did. He didn’t answer right away, so you involuntarily went into a word vomit. “I was waiting for you to ask, but then you didn’t and if you’re not interested then we can just forget this, but…” You stopped and looked at him hopefully, one hand on either hip.

“Take him, please.”

Iwaizumi didn’t even need to look to plant his hand over Oikawa’s face before giving you an endearing smile. “I’m interested. Coffee sounds perfect.”

masterlist

/a special thanks to @cottonlemonade for helping me with my writer's block for this one

[seramilla]

Sometimes Carmilla forgets Sera's as powerful as Lucifer, not that she undermines Sera, it's just that the latter uses her powers very scarcely. So at one of their dates when a crazed sinner(either incredibly high or just has personal beef with Carmilla) lunges at them Sera nonchalantly snaps her fingers, poofing the sinner away and continues to talk about whatever she was talking out earlier leaving Carmilla confused until she remembers her akwardly tall wife is literally the most powerful thing in the universe right after God themself.

Not many Sinners are dumb enough to ever challenge Carmilla directly, or even approach her on the street, for that matter. Unless they're another overlord, it's downright unheard of. Most of the people in Pentagram City who have been in Hell for any length of time understand the hierarchy; they know any of the overlords could remove their spines in the time it takes to blink if they step out of line.

The only exception to this being newly dead souls, or ones too stupid or under the influence of illicit substances to be able to think clearly. That's what happens one day when Carmilla and Sera are just out for an early evening stroll. They're close enough to Rosie's neighborhood that they should be relatively safe -- except the random person that tries to attack them must not have gotten the memo.

Maybe they have some of their faculties about them, at least, because they don't immediately go for Carmilla. Instead, they turn their attention to her companion: the tall, delicate-looking angel walking beside her, chatting nonchalantly without a care in the underworld, laughing at Carmilla's admittedly awful, corny jokes.

The vision of a body launching itself at Sera catches Carmilla's eye. In the time it takes to draw a breath, her claws are already out, ready to strike. Her instincts are honed and lightning fast, after years of battle and making a stand here in Hell; she's ready to defend her wife at all costs.

She almost does. Except, with a snap of Sera's fingers, the Sinner is suddenly gone, with a poof of silver cloud vapor, followed by a few sparkles of light just for effect. Sera's hair rustles from the air disturbed by this person's passing; that's how close they'd been before he disappeared. Any evidence of the Sinner's presence is simply not there, as if they'd never been threatened at all.

Carmilla blinks. She blinks again. There had just been a person there, fangs and claws out, not more than a hair's breadth from raking against Sera's supple skin. The fact that they are now nonexistent does not quite catch up with her brain for another couple of seconds. She looks at where the person had been, and then at Sera, and then at the blank ground again.

"What?" Carmilla squeaks.

"What do you mean 'what?'" Sera asks.

"Where did they go?"

"I teleported them, of course."

"Wait...that's something you can do? They're not dead?"

"Of course not," Sera responds, as if the answer should be obvious. "I didn't see any need for that. I teleported them to your friend Zestial. He can sort them out. We're busy having a nice time, aren't we?"

Carmilla blushes. "Yes..."

Carmilla looks at Sera, smitten. She really is more dastardly and diabolical than Carmilla gives her credit for. Zestial won't be happy when he learns what that Sinner had tried to do to them...they may have wished that they had died again, after all, by the time Zestial is through with them. He's good at giving his victims a fate worse than death.

"Carmilla? Are you coming?"

Carmila hadn't noticed Sera is farther ahead on the street than her now. She jogs to catch up.

As usual, her angelic wife is always so full of surprises. Carmilla can't wait to become more acquainted with how that beautiful, mischievous brain works in the years ahead. Oh, how she's missed Sera, so.

[sweetest-honeybee]

Some people do kinda suck but I find a lot of joy in giving people really specifics compliments at my job and it makes their whole day sometimes c: 💛

[theflyingfeeling]

...😭

[be-good-to-bugs]

you would think considering how much it loves sleeping that my body would, yknow, sleep when i ask it to. or even just when it has barely slept in days and im trying so hard to sleep

[friendofthecrows]

Gkxkhxkhxkydkyd so much stuff to do before I can travel to see my partner that it will probably happen in NOVEMBER but I can't think of anything else ♡

[forecast-rain]

in some ways, I've really taken the "be the type of person you'd wanna know! :)" to heart huh

[pucksandpower]

That’s Not My Name

Toto Wolff x wife!Reader

Summary: in which people assume you are everything except for your husband’s wife

Warnings: mentions of a significant age gap

The Daughter

You take a deep breath as you step through the paddock, clutching your pass tightly in your hand. The noise and energy of the Formula 1 weekend thrums around you. You’ve never been to a race before, and it’s all so new and overwhelming.

When Toto invited you to join him for the British Grand Prix, you were hesitant. This stage of your relationship is still so new — you’ve only been married a few months. But Toto was insistent. He wants you by his side.

Still, you feel out of place among the teams and journalists. You’re just a normal girl, plucked from obscurity by a man twice your age. What must they all think of you?

You arrive at the Mercedes garage and glance around nervously. The mechanics are bustling about, focused on their work. You spot Toto across the garage, talking intensely with his drivers. He looks stressed, his brows furrowed as he discusses strategy. This high pressure environment is his domain, but it’s foreign to you.

Toto glances up and notices you hovering near the entrance. His face breaks into a smile and he quickly excuses himself from his conversation to come greet you.

“Mein liebchen, you made it!” He exclaims, enveloping you in a tight hug. You cling to the solidness of him, drawing comfort from his familiar embrace.

“I wasn’t sure I should come,” you say softly, glancing around. The mechanics are staring curiously. You know how it must look — their team principal hugging an unknown woman half his age.

Toto cups your face gently, “I want you here. This is your world now too. Don’t worry what anyone else thinks.”

You bite your lip but nod, trusting in him. If Toto believes you belong here, then you do.

He tucks you under his arm and leads you further into the garage, introducing you to his team. They greet you politely, hiding any surprise or judgment. You know you’ll have to win them over, prove that you’re more than just Toto’s midlife crisis.

A sudden commotion draws your attention across the paddock. The Red Bull Racing team is gathered around the entrance, greeting their team principal enthusiastically as he arrives. Christian Horner is holding court, shaking hands and clapping shoulders.

You tense involuntarily. The rivalry between Mercedes and Red Bull is legendary, with Christian often attempting to get under Toto’s skin. You don’t know how he’ll react to you.

As if sensing your thoughts, Toto tightens his arm around you. “Don’t worry about him,” he murmurs. “I’m here.”

But you can’t relax as you see Christian look your way, his gaze sharp and assessing. He says something to his team and begins walking towards the Mercedes garage. Your heart sinks. There’s no avoiding this confrontation.

“Toto!” Christian calls out jovially as he approaches. “I see you’ve brought a special guest this weekend.”

Toto presses his lips together but forces a polite smile. “Yes, I wanted her to experience her first race weekend. Christian, meet Y/N, my wife.”

You extend your hand nervously. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Christian raises his eyebrows, blatantly looking you up and down. “Your wife? My, they do start young these days.” His tone is patronizing.

You blush deeply, humiliated. But Toto comes to your defense.

“I’d appreciate if you leave her out of our rivalry,” he says sharply. “She has nothing to do with it.”

Christian holds up his hands in mock surrender. “No need to get defensive! I just didn’t realize you had gotten hitched again. And to someone so … fresh faced. She could be your daughter!” He chuckles.

Your face burns. You hate Christian for putting voice to that thought. You know people judge you and Toto for your age difference. Hearing him joke about it so callously stings.

Toto steps forward angrily but you grab his arm, silently begging him not to cause a scene. He takes a deep breath, struggling to contain his temper.

“It was lovely to meet you, Christian,” you say as evenly as you can manage. “I do hope you’ll have a good weekend.”

Christian looks surprised by your composure. He nods farewell and heads back to the Red Bull garage, throwing one last smirk over his shoulder.

As soon as he’s out of earshot, Toto turns to you. “I’m so sorry about that,” he says earnestly. “Christian is an ass. Don’t let him get to you.”

You shake your head, swallowing back tears. “It’s fine, I knew people would think those things about me … about us ...” you trail off miserably.

Toto cups your face in both hands. “Look at me. None of that matters. He can think what he wants. But I know who you are. You are my heart, my present, and my future. No one can take that away, not even Christian bloody Horner.”

You give a watery laugh at his vehemence and he kisses your forehead tenderly.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you tell him, finding your courage again. “I want to be here.”

Toto smiles proudly and laces his fingers through yours. “Good. Let’s show them we’re not going to hide. I want you here, where you belong.”

Holding hands firmly, you walk with your head held high back into the bustling garage. Let them stare and whisper. You know your place is here with Toto. No judgment or rivalry can change that. This is your world now.

The Assistant

The day has been a whirlwind so far. After the confrontation with Christian Horner, you tried your best to settle into the hectic swing of pre-race preparations. Toto has been swept up in strategy meetings and sponsor obligations. You trail along behind him, clutching your paddock pass, trying not to get in the way.

During a rare free moment, Toto turns to you. “Why don’t you go exploring for a bit? Get a feel for the place. I need to take this call but I’ll come find you soon.”

You nod uncertainly. Venturing off alone makes you nervous, but you want to prove to Toto you can handle this new world.

You wander toward the garages housing the Formula 2 teams. The cars are lined up, mechanics hovering over them making final tweaks and adjustments. You watch them work, enthralled by their practiced movements.

“Are you lost?”

You turn to see a mechanic frowning at you. He’s from one of the backmarker teams, a lower budget operation.

“Oh no, just looking around,” you stammer self-consciously.

The mechanic’s eyes drop to your pass. “Ah a VIP pass eh? Who are you with?”

“Oh um Mercedes ...” you trail off awkwardly.

His eyebrows raise, impressed. “Posh. You must be Toto’s new assistant then?”

You freeze, the old insecurity rising. Assistant. Because why else would someone your age be hanging around the Mercedes garage? You want to correct him, but the words stick in your throat. You don’t want to make a scene.

So you just nod and mumble something noncommittal. The mechanic looks sympathetic.

“First race weekend is it? They can be chaotic. But don’t worry, you’ll get the hang of it. Who knows, if you impress the boss, you might get to travel full time!”

He means it kindly, but his words dig into your wounds. You give a thin smile. “Thank you, I appreciate the advice.”

You turn away before he can respond, a lump forming in your throat. No matter what Toto says, people will make assumptions about you.

Lost in thought, you wander toward the bustling fan zone. It’s a sea of colors, supporters wearing their favorite team’s kit. You pass unnoticed, just another face in the crowd.

The roar of an engine makes you glance up. The Formula 2 cars are being pushed out of the garage, heading for the grid. You hurry over, eager to get a closer look.

A harried looking engineer nearly runs right into you, focused on his tablet. “Oh, sorry, excuse me.” He does a double take. “Hey, you’re Toto’s new assistant right? I saw you with him around the paddock earlier.”

Your heart sinks. Word has spread. You open your mouth to correct him but he barrels on.

“Listen, I hate to do this, but any chance you can help me out? My usual assistant called in sick and I’m swamped. I just need someone to hold these and stand with the engineers during the race. You’ll get a front row view of the start!”

He looks at you pleadingly. You hesitate, but his need seems genuine.

“Um, sure, I can help,” you say.

“You’re a lifesaver!” He exclaims, piling several tire blankets into your arms. They’re heavier than you expected. “Just follow me.”

He leads you onto the grid and you get swept up in the controlled chaos, focusing on not dropping the blankets. The cars pull into position around you. The engineer directs you where to stand and you end up right against the barrier, the engines roaring just feet away.

Your heart races with excitement. The start is exhilarating, the cars peeling away in a blur. You forget your insecurities for a moment, lost in the thrill of the race.

The checkered flag waves and the engineer finally relieves you of the weight in your arms. “Thanks so much for your help! I really appreciate it ...” he pauses. “Actually I don’t think I got your name?”

You open your mouth but a familiar voice interrupts. “There you are!”

Toto appears through the crowd and pulls you into his arms. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you! Are you alright?”

He notices the engineer standing there awkwardly. “Can I help you?” Toto asks coolly.

“Nope, we’re all good here. Thanks again for your help,” the engineer nods at you and disappears into the dispersing crowd.

“What was that about?” Toto frowns. “Why was he giving you tire blankets?”

You sigh, feeling the weight of the day pressing down on you again. “He thought I was your new assistant. He needed help so I said yes.” You shrug helplessly.

Understanding flashes across Toto’s face and he swears under his breath. “I’m so sorry, I never should have left you alone. I should have made things clearer who you are.”

You shake your head. “It’s okay. I don’t mind helping out, really.” But your voice wavers, betraying your hurt.

Toto cups your face gently. “No, it’s not okay. You are my partner, my equal. Not my assistant. I need to show people the extraordinary woman you truly are.”

His faith bubbles up your own courage. You straighten your shoulders, looking him in the eye.

“Then let’s go show them. I’m not hiding anymore. Take me where I belong, right by your side.”

Toto kisses you fiercely. “With pleasure, meine liebchen.”

He tucks you under his shoulder proudly. You keep your head high as you walk back through the paddock, passes reflecting in the sun. Let them stare and whisper. You know where you belong.

The Trespasser

A few months later, you’re starting to find your stride. Each race weekend poses new challenges, but with Toto by your side you’re learning to navigate the hectic world of motorsports.

The Mercedes team has slowly warmed up to you as well. Seeing how happy Toto is has softened their skepticism. You pitch in where you can — bringing freshly baked pastries and trying to make yourself useful. Having a purpose eases your lingering insecurities.

The Singapore Grand Prix means a sweltering heat that makes the paddock sticky and humid. The stuffy garage offers little relief so you wander outside hoping for a breeze. You end up in the fan zone, mingling with supporters visiting the various team merch shops and activities.

You chat with a few enthusiastic young fans, gently deflecting their eager questions about Toto and the team. Despite the heat and crowds, their passion for the sport is contagious and you find yourself smiling.

Toto texts that he needs you back at the garage, so you reluctantly leave your anonymous conversations and make your way through the paddock. As you draw closer to the Mercedes garage, you realize your pass has gone missing from your lanyard.

Your heart sinks. The passes grant crucial access and you don’t want to cause problems. But the garage is just ahead so you decide to explain yourself once you’re inside.

Slipping through the open door, you immediately spot Toto in the back. As you weave between bustling mechanics, a hand grasps your shoulder.

You turn to see one of the newer Mercedes mechanics frowning down at you. “What are you doing in here?” He demands. “This area is restricted.”

Flustered, you try to explain about your missing pass. But the mechanic’s stern expression doesn’t waver.

“How did you get in? I know all the team members but I haven’t seen you before.” His eyes narrow suspiciously.

Other mechanics have noticed the confrontation and start drifting over. You shrink under their doubtful gazes.

“I, uh, I’m Toto’s ...” you stammer, but the mechanic cuts you off.

“A likely story. Every race some starry-eyed fan tries to sneak in for an autograph or photo. You picked the wrong garage for that. Come on, let’s go.”

He takes your arm in a firm grip. Your protests fall on deaf ears as he escorts you briskly outside.

To your dismay Toto is occupied with an intense conversation, his back turned. No one intervenes as the mechanic marches you away from the garage and into the paddock.

“I don’t know how you got in here, but I’ll be reporting this. We can’t have unauthorized people wandering around restricted areas.”

You tug uselessly against his hold, trying to explain it’s all just a misunderstanding. But he remains stoic, unmoved by your pleas.

Other teams and drivers are staring now as he parades you past. Your face burns with humiliation at the thought of causing a scene or being accused of lying.

In a stroke of luck, you spot Lewis heading towards the Mercedes motorhome ahead. He knows you, surely he can clear this up!

You call his name desperately. “Lewis, Lewis! Help, please!”

Lewis turns, confusion clouding his features. But then he recognizes you and his brow furrows.

“What’s going on here?” He asks sharply, striding over.

The mechanic snaps to attention, clearly intimidated to be addressed by Lewis directly.

“I caught this girl sneaking around the garage! She claims to know Toto but it’s obviously a ruse to get access. I was just escorting her out.”

Lewis looks incredulous. “This is Toto’s wife, mate. She’s supposed to be there.”

The mechanic gapes, his authoritative air dissipating. “His wife? But she’s so young ...” he glances at you uncertainly. “My apologies, ma’am, I didn’t realize. We have to be vigilant about security.”

You shrug off his now-slack grip. “It’s fine, just a misunderstanding,” you mumble, face still burning.

Lewis places a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “C’mon, let’s get you back where you belong.”

He leads you away from the shrinking mechanic back toward the Mercedes garage. You feel tears pricking your eyes.

“Thank you, Lewis,” you say shakily. “I tried to explain but he wouldn’t listen ...”

“Don’t worry about it. That guy is new around here, still learning the ropes.” Lewis pats your shoulder consolingly.

You nod, trying to brush it off. But the encounter left you rattled. Will there always be those who see you as an outsider?

Lewis seems to sense your swirling doubts. “He was just new. The team knows you well by now. Stuff like this will stop happening once the rest get used to you being around.”

You want to believe him. You’ve tried so hard to find your place here.

As you near the garage, Toto comes rushing out, scanning the paddock anxiously. His shoulders sag with relief when he spots you.

“Where have you been? I turned around and you were gone!” He exclaims, pulling you into his embrace.

Over his shoulder, you see Lewis mouth “tell him” before discreetly slipping away.

You take a deep breath and explain what happened with the mechanic. Toto’s expression darkens, his protective anger rising.

You touch his cheek gently. “It wasn’t his fault. It was just a misunderstanding.”

Toto sighs, anger melting away. “I should have been there. I should have introduced you properly to the new staff.”

You shake your head. “You can’t be responsible for how everyone sees me. I don’t need you fighting my battles. This is something I have to earn for myself. Their respect, their trust … I just need more time.”

Toto gazes at you with so much love and pride it takes your breath away. “You are so much stronger than you know. And if they can’t see that, well that’s on them.”

He kisses you softly. “Take all the time you need. I’m not going anywhere. We’ll get through this together.”

And wrapped securely in his arms, you finally believe it’s true. This is your world now. Your place is here, with him.

The Nanny

The warm early autumn breeze ruffles your hair as you wait outside the primary school, keeping one eye on the time. Any minute now the bell will ring, signaling the end of your son’s second day of preschool.

You smile thinking of this morning and his eager goodbye hug before practically sprinting into the building, too excited to look back. He has his father’s confidence.

Shifting the baby carrier holding your sleeping newborn daughter, you smooth down your dress self-consciously. Even after years with Toto, you still can’t help but feel out of place at posh schools like this.

The other mothers eye you curiously. No doubt wondering about the young woman with an infant waiting alone.

You know some of them recognized Toto yesterday when he dropped off and picked up your son. Your heart had lurched seeing him cradling Leon’s small hand, both your boys glancing back to wave goodbye.

But duty called for Toto today with important meetings at Mercedes’ Brackley Headquarters, so pickup fell to you today. Not that you mind another glimpse of that overjoyed grin when your son spots you.

The bell rings and a stream of children come pouring out the doors. You crane your neck, looking for a familiar head of tousled curls.

There! You wave eagerly as your son breaks into a run when he sees you.

“Mama!” He cries joyfully, slamming into your legs. You stroke his hair, hugging him tight.

“Did you have a good day baby?” You ask as he looks up at you adoringly.

He nods, launching into a story about finger painting that you can barely follow. But his enthusiasm is contagious and you can’t help but smile.

A polite cough interrupts you. An immaculately dressed woman is hovering nearby, eyeing your son curiously.

“Sorry to bother you, but I wanted to introduce myself properly. I’m Clarice, Emma’s mum,” she gestures to a girl clinging shyly to her leg.

“Lovely to meet you,” you say politely, shaking her offered hand. “I’m Y/N and this is Leon.”

You ruffle his curls and he gives a dimpled smile before hiding against your side. Clarice’s eyes flick between you and your son, a slight furrow in her brow.

“I hope I’m not overstepping, but I met Leon’s father yesterday during drop off. Is his mother … not around?” She asks delicately.

Your cheeks flush. Of course she would assume you’re the nanny, not the mother. Bracing yourself, you shake your head.

“No it’s okay! I’m his mother. Toto — Leon’s dad — had meetings today, so it’s my turn to do pickup.”

Clarice looks mortified. “Oh my goodness, I’m so sorry for assuming. You just look so young, I thought ...” she trails off, flustered.

You force an understanding smile. “Don’t worry, it’s an easy mistake. Our age difference does raise some eyebrows.” You punctuate this with an awkward laugh.

Clarice seems eager to change the subject. “What a beautiful baby!” She gushes, peering at your daughter sleeping in her carrier. “And so well behaved.”

Grateful for the redirected conversation, you chat politely about your little girl. Clarice coos over her sweetly.

Other parents begin dispersing with their kids and Clarice makes her goodbyes. “So lovely meeting you both. I’m sure I’ll see you around.”

You smile and take Leon’s hand to drive home, his chattering filling your ears. You know curious parents will likely gossip about Toto’s young wife. But it doesn’t sting as much as it once did. You’ve grown used to the assumptions by now.

Unlocking the front door, you’re greeted by the smell of cooking. Leon goes tearing off to the kitchen, shouting “Papa!” at the top of his lungs. Chuckling, you follow after, your daughter beginning to stir in her carrier.

Toto is there to sweep Leon into his arms, smothering his cheeks in kisses as your son giggles. The scene warms your heart.

Noticing your arrival, Toto sets Leon down to embrace you and peer at the baby. “How was pick up? Any tears today?” He asks Leon.

Your son shakes his head proudly. “I made a picture for you, Papa!” He runs off to retrieve it.

You meet Toto’s gaze over your daughter’s downy hair. “It was fine. Just the usual questions about my age from a school mum. She thought I was the nanny when we first met.”

You try to say it lightly, but Toto’s face tightens, protective anger flashing. Even after all this time, he hates when people judge you unfairly.

You touch his arm gently. “It’s okay, really. I don’t care what they think.”

And it’s true. The opinions of strangers can’t touch the beautiful family you’ve built together.

Toto lets out a long breath, anger melting away. “I know. But I still wish people could see you how I do.”

He pulls you close and you lean into him, breathing in his comforting scent. “As long as you and the kids see me, that’s all that matters.”

Leon comes barreling back in, brandishing his painting. “Look!!”

You both admire his abstract swirls of color dutifully. “A masterpiece!” Toto proclaims. “We’ll hang it on the fridge.”

Leon beams under the praise then dashes off again in pursuit of a toy.

You and Toto share a wry smile. “Never a dull moment with that one,” you remark. The baby begins fussing and you gently sway her.

“Here, let me.” Toto takes her expertly and she settles against his broad chest. Your heart squeezes at the sight.

Toto meets your gaze. “I know I’ve put you through a lot over the years. The stares, the gossip … you’ve endured it all with grace when you could have walked away.”

You stroke his cheek. “You and our family are worth any trial. I would do it all again without a second thought.”

Toto leans into your palm. “Having you by my side is the greatest gift.”

You kiss him softly, your heart brimming with love.

From the other room, Leon’s playful giggles reach you. The smell of dinner being prepared still fills the warm kitchen. And your baby girl doses off in her daddy’s arms.

This is your world. The only one that matters. And you know for certain you belong.

The Husband

The morning sun streams through the hotel window as you sip your coffee, scrolling absentmindedly through social media. Race weekends are always a whirlwind, but you’ve learned to carve out small moments of calm when you can.

Toto is already down in the paddock prepping for qualifying today. The room feels empty without him. Sighing, you click over to TikTok, hoping for a distraction.

Immediately a video pops up on your feed from a fan account, the caption “so cute!” catching your eye. You tap play, assuming it’s another clip of drivers’ kids or someone’s grid walk antics.

But you nearly spit out your coffee when the video loads. It’s Toto, standing by the circuit entrance, surrounded by a gaggle of teenage girls. They’re prodding phones toward him eagerly, voices babbling over one another.

“Toto, what’s it like being Y/N’s husband?” One asks boldly.

You freeze, breath caught in your throat. In all the years by Toto’s side, you’ve never heard anyone flip the script like that. It’s always been “what’s it like being Toto’s wife?” You’re an accessory to his fame, not the focus.

Toto looks momentarily surprised, then laughs good-naturedly. “She is extraordinary,” he proclaims sincerely. “Being with her is a privilege every day.”

The girls sigh dreamily at his romanticism. Another chimes in, “You must be so proud of everything she’s accomplished!”

Toto nods, his expression tender. “I am in awe of her strength and resilience. She has faced so much scrutiny with grace. And now people finally see her incredible spirit.”

You press a hand to your mouth as tears spring to your eyes. After years by his side, Toto’s steadfast faith in you still takes your breath away.

“So you’re proud to be Y/N’s husband?” The first girl presses.

“Absolutely.” Toto doesn’t hesitate. “She is my inspiration.”

The video ends and you sit staring at the screen, cheeks wet. Never did you imagine your own fans, separate from Toto. But these girls look up to you, see you as more than just “the wife.”

Your phone buzzes with a text from Toto.

Have you seen the video? The PR team says you’re trending on TikTok!

You type back shakily.

Just watched it. Made me cry happy tears 🥹

His response is immediate.

You deserve all the praise, meine liebchen. I meant every word.

Wiping your eyes, you get up and dress quickly. Down in the paddock, you spot Toto right away. He sweeps you into his arms.

“There’s my superstar wife.” His eyes shine with pride.

You kiss him fiercely. “Thank you for always believing in me. Even when I doubted myself.”

Toto touches your cheek. “You’ve earned every bit of admiration. Don’t ever forget your worth.”

As he walks you into the bustling garage, mechanics glance up from their work to smile and wave. The fans hover nearby, whispering excitedly when they see you.

You no longer feel out of place here. This is your world now, as much as Toto’s. You’ve claimed your seat at the table.

Standing confidently by your husband’s side, you wave back, ready to take on the day.

[magpie-murder]

okay we need to have an intervention.

i've noticed that people don't leave the same kind of unhinged compliments under fanfics that visual artists usually receive (eg, "i want to eat your art"), so i've come up with a list that you need to start employing when your friends send you their WIPs and when your favorites update on ao3 but you're having a hard time commenting something that sounds intelligent and you still want to support them

"you're like if [famos author] (eg, Victor Hugo if the fic is angst) was into [fandom]"

"well THIS has been added to my pre-sleep daydream schedule"

"this fic invaded my mind and consumed my brain like a spore"

"I'M LOSING SLEEP OVER THIS ONE, FOLKS"

"yOu'Ve AlReAdY lEfT kUdOs HeRe"

"this fic has me scratching at my yellow wallpaper, it's so good"

"this fic has me checking under my floorboards for the heart of a kind man i murdered, it's so good"

"i'm making my parents read this"

"i know only one chapter is out so far, but i'm going to print this out, staple it together, and put it on my bookshelf next to the canon material"

"this fic gave me another mental illness"

(you can only do this one once) "i made an ao3 account specifically to bookmark this"

"i'm going to print this out so i can eat the words on the paper"

and a couple that are just nice (without the feral nature):

"i made a custom playlist to listen to while i read this fic"

"this fic reminds me of [song]"

"i really liked the part where [x], it really stuck with me"

"i really liked this line, [quote the line,] it was so well-written!"

artists: draw fanart of the fic!! it doesn't matter if you think your art skills are good and it doesnt matter if it's just a sketch!! let the author see it!!

make a moodboard!! for the fic!! let the author see it!!

[bruisedboys]

jealous finnick?

jealous finnick will be the death of me!!!!!!

finnick odair x fem!reader

Breakfast in District 13 is an unusual affair. Nothing like you’re used to, being from District 4. It’s the same every morning — boring grey oatmeal with either honey or berries, depending on the day. It’s only as you take your seat next to Finnick that you realise you’ve forgotten the very crucial toppings.

“Oh no, I forgot to get berries,” you bemoan. They’re definitely all gone by now, seeing as they’re in popular demand — the oatmeal served in 13 tastes like cardboard without them.

“Here, have mine,” Gale says from across the table. You open your mouth to protest but he’s already spooning a big heap of berries into your bowl. They bleed red and purple into your otherwise plain oatmeal. “I don’t like ‘em, anyway. Too sour.”

“Oh.” You smile at him, flattered. Gale’s been nothing but kind to you since you arrived in District 13. You haven’t put it down to anything other than friendliness. Though it’s possible you’re too enamoured with the blonde next to you that you’re completely oblivious to other men’s advances. “Thanks, Gale.”

Gales smiles back and shrugs. “No problem, Y/N.”

Next to you and unbeknownst to you, Finnick scowls. He hates that Gale’s so nice to you. Loathes it. He knows it’s because you’re a ray of sunshine who draws even the coldest of people in (believe him, he’s experienced it), but the fact that Gale gave you his berries before Finnick could even offer his makes his blood boil. 

Who does he think he is? Everyone knows you’re Finnick’s girl, he’s made it very clear. It’s the whole reason you’re here, after all — Finnick specifically requested you be picked up from home before the Quarter Quell ended, to prevent anything from happening to you.

Breakfast passes without further incident. If you notice Finnick’s sour mood, you don’t mention it. You’re leaving the canteen with everyone else when Finnick grabs your waist and pulls you to the side, into an empty hallway. He peers over your shoulder to make sure Gale’s good and gone, watching the back of his head with a glare that could kill, before turning his attention to you.

“Finnick,” you say, clearly confused at his sudden manhandling. “What’s the matter with you? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Finnick says shortly.

“You look mad.”

“I’m not.”

You squint at him. “You’re definitely mad. Why are you—?”

Finnick forgoes restraint and yanks you forward, pressing his mouth to yours before you can say anything else. His chest burns with molten hot jealousy, it climbs up his throat and pours into the kiss, hot and sticky. The heat ebbs though, when you kiss him back just as fervently, replaced by a fuzzy warmth only you can make him feel. It buzzes in his chest and down his arms, flares out his palm as he takes your face into one hot hand.

He pulls back just as suddenly as he’d drawn in. “You know Gale’s flirting with you, right?” He says abruptly, thumb pressed to your cheekbone.

You blink up at him, still dazed from his kissing. “What?” You ask, half laughing. “No, he’s not.”

“He is. He gave you his berries. I was going to give you mine.”

You raise both eyebrows. “He was just being nice to me.”

“Yeah, well, that’s my job.”

Finnick supposes he sounds quite pathetic. He doesn’t really care, not when your eyes go all gooey and you reach up on your tiptoes to push a curl from his forehead.

“Are you jealous?” You ask him softly, tucking his hair behind his ear. Your breath fans over his mouth and your hand lingers at his throat. “You sound jealous.”

Finnick rolls his eyes. “So what if I am? Just— have mine next time, okay?”

You smile at him, pretty as starlight. “Okay. But you don’t have to be jealous, you know? I only want you.”

Woah, Finnick thinks. “I know,” he says, too quick, his voice a notch too high.

You raise your eyebrows at him. “Do you though?” You ask, definitely teasing now. He supposes he got off lucky, you could’ve done much worse finding out he’s so sickeningly jealous over Gale, of all people.

Still, Finnick narrows his eyes at you. “Alright, that’s enough.”

Your answering giggle is smothered as Finnick swoops in to kiss you again.

-

thank you for reading! please consider reblogging if u enjoyed 🤍

[azullumi]

a scripture on having a certain pretty gambler as your boyfriend ; aventurine

summary — radiant and gleaming, dating him feels like basking under the golden glow of the sun, with the promise of the serene and starlit night ahead.

pairing — aventurine (w/ gender-neutral reader)

tags — established relationship, fluff, him as your boyfriend basically, there are no spoilers dwww, i never proofread, 1.2k words ; headcanons

note — congratulations to honkai star rail for being the only game to have aventurine!! this is day 2 of writing for this man until i have him.

Aventurine couldn’t abandon the person that he used to be so he carried him in his hands. Always hesitant, afraid, and seemingly detached from everyone he meets—this is why he seems so distant and disconnected from you at first despite being in a relationship with him. Although he lives his whole life gambling, believing that everything happens and the outcomes gained are due to luck, he’s meticulously careful and cautious just to not get too attached to you lest he gets hurt in the end (he has dealt with the sight of people’s backs as they walk away from him multiple times).

It will take time for him to completely warm up and be vulnerable to you. Although there are moments that he lets the facade slip and he lays himself bare, moments where it’s just you and him in the silence, moments where you comfort him after a nightmare that disturbs his sleep; he doesn’t ask for comfort nor assurance often but you always seem to know when he needs it.

Aventurine loves it whenever you gently comb your hand through his hair. Even if he wasn’t vocal about the matter, you’ll know from the way he immediately relaxes under your touch as you rake your fingers through his locks. It just gives him a sense of comfort, finding serenity and affection in such a small act of intimacy; it reminds him of how simple everything could be (oh, how he wishes it was) with just the loving touch of your hands.

He’s not exactly a morning person but would always wake up early, occasionally before you do. It’s either because he has to leave for work early or it just so happens that he woke up just as the sun was rising. If he has to get ready soon, he’ll take a few minutes of his time to admire you as you sleep, to trace the bridge of your nose slowly and carefully so as to not wake you, to draw and follow the outlines of your features with his eyes. But if he has no plans for today, he’ll stay in bed with you and eventually, fall asleep once more. He holds you so close and so tight (but not tight enough to suffocate you) that it’s hard to slip away from his grasp.

You feel a pair of soft lips on your forehead, the kiss lingering for a moment until you flutter your eyes open. “Are you awake now, sleepy?” 

“Mmh…” You grumble, your vision adjusts to your surroundings as you blink multiple times. You could see Aventurine getting dressed, putting on his expensive tailored-coat.

“You’re leaving already? Why did you not wake me up?”

“You looked like you were having a nice dream.”

MATCHING PAJAMAS (heck yeah!!). The time when he saw you wearing one of his pajamas, it felt like something had been flipped inside of him and the thought of getting you one for your own that matches his fills each and every corner of his mind. Although all of the matching things you have with him are not just limited to pajamas—it can range from matching jewelry, matching charms, matching clothing, matching glasses, matching everything. God, he goes into a store, sees something that he likes and asks the staff if they have another one but in a different color that you like.

Perhaps you have never noticed (or maybe you have) but he never wears his glasses whenever he’s around you—when there’s only you and him. There was no need to hide anything from you, not when you adore all parts of his being. He melts whenever you compliment him (he’s a sucker for such words of affection) especially when it’s his eyes, loves the way you look at him as if he was everything you wish for.

He’ll often play games with you or initiate a bet but somehow, he has more losses than wins. “You’re cheating!” You’ll say, pointing at him as if you were an attorney from a game that objects to a statement. Aventurine, however, would stare at you in disbelief (though he’s just feigning innocence) and would answer with a raised eyebrow: “How am I the one cheating when you’re winning?” To which you’ll respond with: “That’s because you’re letting me win. You’re not playing fair, Aven.”

SPOILS YOU A LOT and when I say a lot, I mean A LOT. Everything you'll ask for or even just mention in passing, he'll provide. He randomly sends you pockets of money, a notification on your phone lighting up your screen and the text says: You have received 100, 000 credits. You have to get used to it—it’s one of the ways that he shows his affection to you. He wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer whenever he gives you something either, so, you have to take it or else you’ll have to deal with a sulky man the whole day. 

Don’t worry though as he ensures that everything that he buys and gets for you is something you would like—expensive meaningless gifts will always be meaningless, he would rather give you a cheap yet beautiful charm that is of your favorite color or flower than an expensive shiny necklace made out of gold and adorned with diamonds which you’ll never wear because it’s too heavy on your neck or it’s not your preference.

On that note, he also likes seeing you wear the things he bought for you. Maybe it’s obvious, maybe it’s not, but he likes to dress you up, likes to see you put on the clothes he picks for you. Dates where he brings you to a boutique to pick clothes together (for both you and him), dress up, and ask each other if they look good is not so rare between you two. It’s silly but the two of you would end up giggling like children when the other would strike a ridiculous pose to show off what they're wearing (and also, with the intention to make one another laugh); he lives for and craves these moments with you.

Brings you together with him to casinos and lets you watch him while he plays as he regards you as his lucky charm (when he’s actually the one who is lucky here). Whenever he wins a game or a bet, he asks for a kiss from you—he taps on his cheek as an indication of his request but he will not force you if you don’t wish to express such affections in public, rather he’ll ask for something else instead like maybe a smile or ask that you hold his hand. Sometimes, if you’re curious enough, he’ll teach you the fundamentals of the game and what you can do to win. The look of pride on his face says it all as he watches you win and your opponent falls to the floor (you just put someone in debt).

The amount of endearing names that he calls you. If ever you get flustered whenever he calls you with those affectionate endearments, he’ll take the chance to tease you, to repeatedly call you with such names until you throw a pillow or any object at him—he catches it though but will apologize while laughing, saying that he won’t do it again.

You have to be understanding and gentle with him, careful as you tread the light, lest you fall into the dark and see that the tall and strong walls he built around himself is nothing compared to the broken and fragile pieces that are sewn on his skin, and he will leave (out of fear, out of anxiety, out of grief, out of self-hatred). But it’s alright, everything will be, you’ll embrace him even in the abyss and you’ll guide him back to your warmth.

© azullumi — do not plagiarize, copy, repost, nor translate any of my works

[be-good-to-bugs]

2022

[say-al0e]

What Are Friends For

Rating: M | This is smut, no one under 18! Minors, DNI!

Summary: A conversation with friends reminds you that you're about to begin college as a virgin. It bothers you more than you care to admit so you consult your best friend, Eddie; is virginity really that much of a turn off? (Or, best friend!Eddie takes your virginity) Warnings: virgin!reader, PinV, some nerves about virginity and first times. Pairing: Eddie x fem!Reader Word Count: 7.2k

Eddie sat on his bedroom floor, one knee bent with an elbow resting atop it, in a rare display of quiet contemplation. With his back pressed to the dresser, cigarette in one hand and a pen in the other, he scribbled in the notebook he used to write lyrics and, occasionally, plan campaigns. 

Rain pattered against the roof of the trailer, heavy and loud and easily drowning out the tape Eddie had playing to fill the quiet. From your perch on his bed, yellowed paperback held open in your hands, you could see it falling in sheets outside the window. With the weather so dreary, there was little you could do other than sit inside - bored, miserable, rereading a book borrowed from Eddie’s shelf that you could practically recite in your sleep - and with him otherwise occupied, you were left alone with thoughts you preferred not to dwell on.

Though you’d read the book in hand a dozen times, could recite the notes Eddie’d scribbled in the margins by heart, if he asked, it would be impossible to relay where in the plot you’d stopped. The words that usually captivated you blurred into one, a mess of nonsensical characters in fading ink, so you dropped it into the sheets with a quiet sigh and rolled onto your side to glance at Eddie in hopes of finding a distraction.

The dark curls you loved were tamed into a low bun, hair swept away from his neck to provide some sort of relief from the oppressive summer heat, with a few strands framing his face. The plush of his lips were swollen, bitten in concentration over the course of the day as he stared intently at the paper. Those dark eyes were narrowed in concentration as he scribbled relentlessly and you could see the tip of his tongue as he pressed it between his lips.

Eddie’s leather jacket and battle vest were replaced by a cutoff Metallica shirt, cropped at the bottom to expose his lower stomach - the band of his shorts, the missing band of his underwear, the dark smattering of hair just beneath his navel between splotches of ink trailing into the band of his shorts - every time he shifted. Most of his tattoos were on display, save for the ones near his collarbones, and you wondered if he realized you could draw most of them from memory.

It would’ve been nice to be able to say that you were struck, just in that moment, by how attractive Eddie was. To confess that you’d never noticed how achingly beautiful your best friend was would’ve been a lie as his beauty was something you’d always seen.

Few things baffled you more than how people - closed-minded classmates, shallow girls who sought out pigheaded jocks - saw Eddie as anything other than breathtakingly beautiful. His personality was enough, a kind heart and a brilliant mind, but personality aside, you always thought he looked like someone out of a magazine. He was a rockstar stuck in tiny little Hawkins, a figure from your wildest fantasies brought to life.

The wild curl of his hair, the slope of his nose, the curve of his jaw, the bright glimmer of his eyes; it all made you giddy, a little lovesick in a way only Nikki Sixx had so far managed. With every glimpse of Eddie that you stole, you grew a little more enamored and as a conversation you’d had earlier that morning simmered at the forefront of your mind, you wondered if that was part of the problem.

A conversation with friends, the majority of whom rarely pressed about your love life - mostly because they knew there was nothing to share, in part due to your feelings for Eddie - that began as excited chatter about college, classes, and, ultimately, boys, sent you spiraling.

Somehow, the conversation went from playful fun to pressing for details about your lack of dates and, finally, a shared certainty that college would change things for you. However, an off-handed comment about inexperience being a turn-off made you question whether college would change anything at all.

Pulling yourself back to reality, reminding yourself that the only opinion that mattered was your own, proved impossible. Every thought that crossed your mind centered on your inexperience, a trait your friends acknowledged and giggled at, and you couldn’t stop yourself from calling out.

“Eddie?”

If he noticed the tremor in your voice - and, this time, he likely didn’t - he said nothing. Instead, he hummed his acknowledgement. “What’s up, sweetheart?”

The pet name was casual, something that slipped off his tongue easily, just as it had done a thousand times before without a second thought, but it never failed to set fire to your skin. There was something about the way his voice wrapped around the word, a little rough around the edges but dripping honey - a little darker, a little deeper - in a tone you’d never been privy to, that had your heart hammering in your chest. The thud of it was loud, drowned out the music and the rain, and you wondered if Eddie could hear it, too, as he glanced up at you for the first time in an hour.

Whatever expression you thought you’d hidden, however careful you imagined you’d been, Eddie saw right through you. With only a tentative glance at your face, his lips pulled into a frown as he dropped his composition book into a pile of laundry before shuffling closer to you. When he sat with his back pressed to the bed, arm lifting to rest on the mattress as his hand sought yours, you could see the concern clouding his eyes. “You alright?”

A brief thought of brushing him off, of pretending that you were fine - bored, or maybe tired, just for an excuse to have sought his attention - but Eddie knew you well. He’d seen your face, caught the glimpse of upset in your eyes, and wouldn’t settle for anything less than a real answer.

With a sigh, you wrapped your arms around your knees and spared him a sideways glance. “I… You know how I’ve never…”

An annoyed huff, bothered by how difficult it seemed to be just to say the words, escaped as you shook your head. Eddie tipped his to get a better look at your face and the weight of his gaze burning into your skin made it difficult to concentrate. Regardless of the knowledge that this was Eddie - someone who loved you, someone who wouldn’t judge you or laugh at you, despite how objectively stupid you imagined you were being - it was still difficult to string together a coherent sentence.

“Can you not look at me, please? I can’t think with you looking at me.”

Eddie was unfazed by your request. It was one he’d grown used to over the years, one you threw at him every time you wanted to discuss something serious - or embarrassing or simply vulnerable - and couldn’t find the nerve. So, instead of questioning you, he simply pushed himself up and climbed onto the bed to join you. He shifted his body to press his back to the wall, stretched his legs across the mattress, and held out a hand.

“Alright, c’mere.”

When you placed your hand in his, shifted onto your knees to shuffle a little closer, Eddie twined his fingers with yours and tugged. With little effort, he hauled you onto his lap. A soft hand pressed to the back of your head and guided your face to hide in the crook of his neck - a position you’d been in a thousand times before, a position that made you feel safe to bare your soul.

This time, however, you felt your heart begin to hammer against your ribcage as you grew overwhelmingly aware of the heat of Eddie’s body pressed to yours. Everything seemed too clear, too loud, too real; the green apple scent of his shampoo, the herbal hint of weed that always seemed to linger, the softness of his skin as your hand rested against his bicep, the firm press of his body as he held you in place, the callous of his fingers as his hands slipped beneath the hem of your shirt to brush at the bare skin of your back.

It was almost too much.

Rather than comforting, you felt Eddie’s touch set your skin alight. It needled at your nerve endings, hastened the pace of your already spiraling thoughts, and you nearly lost your train of thought as he hummed to regain your attention.

“Talk to me, sweetheart.”

The rasp of his voice in your ear, warm and soft and concerned in a way he only ever seemed to be for you, cut clear through the hammering of your heart. It filled your chest with a sticky warmth and you inhaled as deep as you could in an effort to steel yourself for the conversation you weren’t certain you wanted to have.

“You know how I had breakfast with my friends this morning?” Eddie hummed, acknowledging the plans you’d had before the day devolved into rain and quiet. “We were talking and I know it’s stupid, but I just… I started thinking about it and I couldn’t stop.”

Eddie hummed, acknowledging and encouraging you to continue, as he waited patiently. “I’ve never really been on a date and guys don’t really like me. That’s fine, I guess. I mean, it’s not,” you amended, huffing slightly as you traced his tattoo idly. “But there’s not a lot I can do to change it. Anyway, they were kind of laughing about it. They were talking about college changing things and then Amanda said it would be a major turnoff and I… Well, she’s right. I don’t want to go to college a virgin who’s never even held hands with someone romantically. It’s not a major deal but I haven’t even had my first kiss yet and I really don’t want to have some cute college guy ask me to make out and have to tell him that I’ve never done that and him think I’m a total loser and lose interest in me.”

The entire confession spilled past your lips in a rushed whisper, mumbled against Eddie’s skin in a hurried huff as you wasted no time thinking. Thinking about it, agonizing over how to express your concern, would only make it harder and you knew that getting it all out in the open would be the easiest option.

Still, that did little to calm your racing heart as Eddie’s hands stilled against your skin.

“Sweetheart.” He sighed, understanding and just a little gentler than you were accustomed to, as he lifted one hand to cup your cheek. “Look at me, please.” With great effort, you allowed him to tip your head so that he could search your face. After a beat of silence, he assured you. “There’s nothing wrong with still being a virgin and it’s not a turnoff. If some asshole college guy thinks any different of you, that’s his loss. Just means he’s not the one for you.”

Rationally, you knew that.

That was something you’d told yourself a thousand times over, a reminder repeated every time the topic arose. But rationality had little place in the whirlwind of emotion the conversation drudged up.

“I know,” you promised him, dipping your head to focus on the fading letters of his t-shirt. Tracing the nearly destroyed ink, you hummed. “I just… I don’t want to be pressured into it and I don’t want it to be a bad memory. I know it’s not going to be perfect but I just want it to be good. I want it to be like something from a movie.” Though you didn’t really want to know, though you knew it would only curdle the already sour thoughts in the pit of your stomach, you allowed yourself to ask. “How was yours?”

Eddie laughed quietly as he resumed his soft stroking of your skin. “Nothing is like the movies,” he declared, pausing only when you huffed. “Not to rain on your parade or anything,” he teased. “But all of my firsts were pretty shitty. My first kiss was under the bleachers in junior high and she laughed at me after because it was just a dare. And my first time was over in, like, three seconds. I was high and horny and came the second she let me inside. I’m just glad she never told anyone. But shit happens, sweetheart. It gets better, easier. Just find someone you trust.”

Without thinking, you said, “I trust you.” For a split second, it felt as if the world stopped spinning. You willed a hole to open in the floor and swallow you whole as you immediately lifted your hand to cover your mouth. “I don’t… I don’t know why I just said that. Fuck, I’m sorry, Eddie. I-“

Instead of allowing you to pull away, to put a considerable amount of space between you both, Eddie held you tight to his chest as he tipped your head once more. “It’s okay,” he assured you, dipping his head to meet your eyes. There was no hint of anger - no disgust or annoyance, no amusement; none of the negativity you imagined you’d see - and you swallowed your rising panic as he urged, “Calm down, sweetheart. Take a breath.”

“I’m sorry, Eddie,” you repeated.

“For what?” Eddie’s question was honest, uncertain as to why you were apologizing, and you could only shrug as you withered beneath the weight of his gaze.

“I don’t know. I just… felt like I needed to?”

A beat of silence passed as Eddie studied your face. You weren’t quite sure what he was looking for but he seemed to find it as his thumb brushed your cheekbone.

“Complete honesty, alright?” It was a request Eddie made rarely as he always trusted you to be honest. It was only made in moments like this - moments of unrivaled vulnerability, moments that saw you both struggling to speak normally - and you granted it readily.

“Alright.”

“Is this… Do you want me to be your first?” The question was blunt - maybe more so than Eddie intended - but you appreciated his directness even as you inhaled sharply.

“I think so,” you admitted, unable to shift your gaze even as his warm brown eyes set your skin alight. “I mean, I trust you, more than anyone else. You’re… You’re Eddie,” you pointed out, smiling softly. “You’re my best friend. I don’t think there’s anyone better.”

“This isn’t something you have to do, sweetheart. You don’t have to lose it right now,” he reminded you, soft but certain. “There’s no shame in being a virgin. Whoever you end up choosing, if they’re the right person, they won’t mind. I know you trust me but you don’t have to choose me just because you want to get it over with.”

“That’s not why I’m choosing you.” Eddie tipped his head, an uncertainty few others were allowed to see flickering across his face as he awaited your elaboration. “I know that this will change everything,” you admitted, voice a whisper behind the rain.

“It doesn’t have to,” Eddie interjected, voice as quiet as you’d ever heard it. “Whatever happens, or doesn’t, is entirely up to you.”

“But I want it to!” He blinked, surprised by the conviction in your voice, but kept quiet as you continued. “The reason I’ve had so much trouble finding someone else, someone I want, is because I want you. I have for a long time.”

Though you’d known how you felt about Eddie for a long while - swallowed it down, hid it for fear of ruining the best friendship you’d ever had - admitting the words aloud felt final. It felt heavy, sinking to the pit of your stomach like a stone, but you knew that the only way out was through.

There were only two options. The first, Eddie would reject you - never harshly, soft and sweet in the way he seemed to only be with you - seemed most likely to you. But the second, that was the option you wished for.

Eddie returning your feelings, wanting you just as you wanted him, seemed plausible some days. When he held your hand in crowds, when he lounged in his bed and spent hours discussing books and movies and music with you, when he threw an arm around your shoulders and grinned brighter than the sun every time you made it to one of his shows; you saw a future in which he loved you, too.

But insecurity, irrational and loud, told you that you were imagining the softness of his touch or the gentle tone of his voice. It made you uneasy, kept you from admitting your feelings for fear of the worst, and you nearly wished you’d allowed the insecurity to win as silence stretched around you.

Until Eddie spoke and destroyed any remaining shred of insecurity.

“I’ve been in love with you for a while, sweetheart.”

Soft fingers brushed across your cheek, tracing the slope lightly as Eddie watched you blink owlishly. There was a moment of stunned silence, a beat in which you wondered if your dalliances with the supernatural had damaged your hearing more significantly than you’d realized, before you inhaled deeply.

“Are you… are you sure?”

The soft smile on Eddie’s face was reassuring. “Very sure. Remember when we first met?” A spark of memory - a flash of the past, the moment you nearly bowled him over on your way to find Steve before facing yet another supernatural threat - as your brows furrowed. “I started going to history after that, just ‘cause I knew you were in that class.”

“That’s been a while.” It hadn’t, not really - not in the grand scheme of the misery of Hawkins - but it felt like forever as Eddie shrugged.

“Time flies,” he declared with a half-shrug. The soft brush of Eddie’s fingers across your rapidly heating skin continued, easily mapping the features you occasionally caught him studying with an intensity you now recognized as love, and he smiled as you inhaled a shaking breath.

“I don’t know if I remember a time before falling in love with you.”

The admission was quiet, a whisper in the still of Eddie’s room, but it felt as if you’d shouted it. Vulnerability was not new, not with Eddie, though baring your soul so completely was terrifying. He accepted it easily, however, and smiled as he cradled your jaw.

“You don’t have to butter me up, sweetheart,” he teased - an effort to lighten the mood, not downplay your emotions, and ease the deafening thundering of your heart. “I’m already yours.”

With that, he leaned in and bumped your nose with his own. He waited, giving you the final choice - whether you truly wanted to take that step or not - and allowed you to make the first move.

Though you knew Eddie would never make fun of you - not for something serious, something that meant so much to you, anyway - there was still a sense of hesitance as you studied him. Up close, you could see the tiny imperfections, the little lines and freckles and spots that made him, him, and you knew that this was what you wanted.

Before he could reassure you, tell you that it was fine if you weren’t sure, if you needed more time, you leaned in and pressed your lips to his.

The kiss itself was not perfect. It was not something out of a film, with fireworks and an immediate, instinctual understanding of what to do. It was clumsy, a little tentative, and curious, but it was good. The warmth of Eddie’s palm bleeding into your skin, the brush of his curls as his bangs tickled your forehead, the soft exhale he released as you pressed closer, just a touch relieved you felt comfortable enough to trust him with this; all elements you would’ve never considered important before the moment at hand.

But all too soon, it was over.

In what felt like the blink of an eye, Eddie broke the embrace, pulled away just enough to allow you to draw in a deep breath, and smiled. “You gotta breathe, sweetheart,” he teased, thumb brushing your cheekbone as he took in the sight of you - glazed eyes, parted lips. “Don’t want you passing out on me.”

With anyone else, it would’ve felt like a slight - a jab, rude and mean-spirited - but you knew Eddie. You knew that it was light, fond, and rolled your eyes in response. “Breathe, got it,” you nodded, serious in your study. “Any other notes?”

“Nah. For a first kiss, it wasn’t too bad,” he hummed, after pausing a moment in faux thought. There was a dramatic air of seriousness, though you could tell he was still teasing. “Technique could use a little work, though.”

There was a twinkle in his eyes, a glittering mirth that told you he wasn’t poking fun at you - not really, not maliciously - and you couldn’t help but smile as you nodded. “I suppose someone will have to teach me,” you reasoned, fingers twisting in his curls when he hummed as if it was the most rational thought. “I learn through experience.”

That grin returned, bright - pleased that you seemed to have relaxed; and, truly, you had, as there was nothing to fear in Eddie’s embrace. He’d proven that time and time again. “Lucky for you,” he hummed, tipping his head to brush your lips with his own, “I’m an excellent teacher. Very committed. Willing to spend all night here, if that’s what it takes.”

Then, his lips were on yours once again.

This kiss was more certain, a little more eager, as Eddie took the reins and guided you. He used the hand cradling your jaw to tip your head, to turn it just the way he wanted, and hummed encouragingly as you melted into him. It was still a little clumsy, still exploratory in a way you’d never experienced, but to you, it was perfect. 

And as Eddie’s free hand began to drift down your shoulder, careful not to move too fast, you broke from him just long enough to speak.

“It’s okay,” you promised him, breathless - chest heaving, lips parted, eyes half-lidded. “You can touch me. I want you to.”

With that, you returned your mouth to his.

Every press of Eddie’s mouth to yours, every swipe of his fingers over your heated skin, should’ve made you more nervous. This was farther than you’d ever gone, a complete deviation from the norm in which you were overlooked - only heard about experiences such as this from friends - and you worried there would be an overwhelming anxiety in the pit of your stomach as you attempted to gain some of that experience. 

However, as Eddie’s hands began to wander and his tongue traced the seam of your lips, you found that it was the exact opposite.

Eddie made you comfortable, set you completely at ease.

The idea that this would be the culmination of every experience you’d dreamt of having didn’t make you nervous. The rapid thundering of your heart was not from fear but an excitement, a gratitude that your firsts were being taken by someone you’d loved for so long.

There was an eagerness, not to get it over with but to experience it - to understand you’d been missing. And Eddie seemed to realize that as his hands began to dip beneath the hem of your shirt.

“Tell me, sweetheart,” he urged, pulling away just enough to meet your eyes - grinning when you blinked slowly, attempting to regain your sense of reality. “How’d you imagine your first time? Bet it was romantic, maybe some candles or something. Not here, with Metallica playing in the background.”

“Sometimes,” you admitted, fingers playing with the strands fallen from his low bun. “But other times it was quick, in someone’s backseat with the radio playing, just to get it over with, I think. But, lately…” Eddie hummed, urging you to continue, as his hands drifted higher - fingers brushing the underside of your breasts, dragging back down your stomach and stealing your focus. “Lately, it’s been you and it’s been here and Metallica’s been playing in the background. You’re in my head but you’re prettier in real life.”

“Flattery, sweetheart,” he teased, grin bright as he tipped his head to nose at your jaw, though you could see the emotion glittering in his eyes. “You know, I’ve thought about this,” he admitted, hands lifting higher - cupping your breasts, earning a gasp from you at the warmth of his palms against your skin. “‘Bout you, here. What you’d look like, what you’d sound like,” he hummed, appreciative when you sighed contentedly as he began to knead the soft flesh. “Think I like the real thing more.”

From your position on his lap, you could feel him growing harder, pressed to your thigh as you shifted. He hid it well, his own desire, but you heard the sharp inhale he released as you reached for the scrunchie holding his hair back and brushed the tent in his shorts. 

“Can I take this off?” The question was breathed against your skin, nearly lost to the heavy thud of your heart, but you managed to nod as Eddie’s hands fell to the hem of your top.

Eddie had seen you in a bathing suit before, had seen you in just a bra after a torrential downpour left you both soaked and shivering, but this was different. Soon, he would see you completely and though you felt a bit of nerves, you knew him well enough to know that he wouldn’t judge. So, you shifted and worked to get rid of the soft fabric.

When your shirt joined a handful of others on his floor, he made no effort to ogle you - though you imagined that would come later, when he knew you were well and truly relaxed. Instead, he returned his mouth to yours and his hands to cup your breasts.

With you sufficiently distracted, Eddie easily maneuvered the pair of you so that you were on your back, lying pliant beneath him. When you hummed, laughed slightly at the bounce as you both settled into the mattress, he broke the kiss and pressed his mouth to your rapidly overheating skin. He started at the corner of your mouth, then your jaw, before beginning to trail a path down your throat. 

“If you change your mind,” he hummed, voice muffled against your skin, “just tell me. Tell me everything, okay? Don’t worry about being too loud. No such thing.”

“Not gonna change my mind,” you assured him, voice pitching higher as his teeth scraped over the sensitive spot just beneath your ear. “Want this, want you.”

At that, Eddie continued his descent. His lips left a trail of fire in their wake and you gave in to his urging to not worry about your volume. With each brush of his mouth, each tickle of his hair against your skin, you made no effort to hide the soft noises of pleasure. And with each one, Eddie seemed to grow more and more eager.

Those wide eyes lifted to meet yours as he reached your chest, one hand kneading soft flesh as he nipped at the sensitive skin of the opposite breast. He sucked a bruise into the skin, shooting you a wink as he did so, before dipping lower and capturing your nipple between his lips. And when you gasped, hands flying to his hair, he hummed in approval.

Eddie spent a few moments focusing on your breasts, moments in which you realized you couldn’t have chosen a better first partner - someone who loved you, someone who was more interested in making the moment good for you than he was in the act itself - before he began to dip lower.

“I’m totally down to eat you out,” he offered, glancing up at you with those wide eyes, “but if you’re not up for it yet, that’s okay. It’s up to you, sweetheart.”

For a moment, you considered his offer. The press of his body to yours, the weight of him atop you, the warmth of his hands and mouth; it was all overwhelming, in the most beautiful way. Still, you weren’t sure if that was something you wanted in that moment. It sounded fun, and he seemed very serious about his offer, but you weren’t sure how much you wanted so soon. So, you decided to decline his offer, for the time being.

“Next time,” you promised, fingers carding through his curls as he pressed soft kisses to your stomach. “I… Sounds nice, but feels like too much this time,” you admitted, not ashamed but almost.

Eddie, however, easily accepted your answer. “Might be,” he agreed, with an easy grin. “I’m pretty good with my mouth.” It was teasing, accompanied by another wink, and made you roll your eyes.

“You’re pretty good at never closing it,” you countered, squealing when he nipped your skin. 

“We’ll revisit this conversation when you’re comfortable,” he teased, grinning as he shifted up and pressed his mouth to yours once more.

As he distracted you with a kiss - this one messier, more eager than the last - his hands continued to wander. They trailed down your stomach, traced the same path as his lips, before dipping beneath the band of your shorts. His fingers brushed the warm skin, earning a sharp gasp.

“Still okay?” The question was breathed against your lips, and you nodded. 

“Yeah,” you assured him, though your heart felt as if it might beat out of your chest. “Still okay.”

Calloused fingers dipped lower, brushed over the fabric of your panties, and slipped between your spread thighs. There wasn’t a ton of room for him to move, and you realized that he was at least trying to get you used to the sensation as his fingers brushed the fabric covering your folds. If he felt the damp patch - he did, you could tell by the pleased grin he wore - he said nothing. He would tease you for it later. This time, he simply returned his mouth to yours.

Eddie gave you a few moments to adjust to his touch, his fingers brushing the fabric - teasing, soft - before he nudged the now soaked fabric aside and allowed his fingers to drag through the slick gathered there. His touch was light, not hesitant but conscious, careful, waiting in case you changed your mind.

It should’ve made you nervous, should’ve set you on edge, but there was only pleasure as you melted into his embrace and tugged at the curls framing his face as his thumb found your clit.

The touch was electric, filled your veins with a blistering warmth that seemed all encompassing, and you began to understand why your friends made such a big deal of it all. The touch itself was good, better than your own fingers, but knowing that it was Eddie, with his wide eyes and pretty smile, made it that much better.

Every press of his fingers grew more experimental, dragging through your folds and coating his fingers in slick. He teased, brushed lightly and swallowed every sigh and soft moan you released. And after a few long, torturous moments, he finally pressed a finger to your entrance and pulled away just enough to catch sight of your face.

“I’m okay,” you promised him, before he could ask. He hummed, acknowledging, and slowly began to pump his finger, getting you used to the motion. “I kinda get it,” you hummed, gasping as his thumb brushed your clit.

“Mm, get what?”

Eddie pressed a second finger in, then, and his fingers were larger than yours. It was a bit of a stretch, a little more than you were used to, but it was nice and you told him as much as you leaned in to nip his jaw. “Why people like this, why my friends talk about it all the time.”

A quiet laugh filled your ears as he began to work you open, careful to prepare you. “Good. Glad this hasn’t put you totally off sex forever,” he teased, before he brushed his thumb over your clit and earned himself another moan. “Glad you’re not totally questioning why the fuck you thought trusting me with this was a good idea,” he laughed.

“I trust you with everything,” you promised, gasping as he began to work his fingers a touch faster and pressed a spot that made your head spin. “Oh, fuck.”

“There?” Eddie grinned, pleased to have found that spot, and made certain to pay special attention to it as he pushed you closer and closer to the edge. “C’mon,” he urged, “make some noise for me, sweetheart.”

With Eddie’s encouragement, and with the quickening press of his fingers into you, you found it easier and easier to make the noise he was hoping to hear. Though his space was limited, he made the most of it. He paid close attention to what made you gasp, what made you sigh, what made you moan. And with each swipe of his fingers, with every brush of his thumb over your clit, you felt yourself falling deeper and deeper into him as the fire burning in your veins threatened to consume you entirely.

Though your friends warned you that much of it was over quick, you hadn’t quite anticipated just how fast Edie would be able to push you over the edge. But after only a few moments of his eager ministrations, the press of his fingers and his thumb and the brush of his mouth over your heated skin, you found yourself falling over the edge with a cry of his name.

“That’s it,” he encouraged, voice tight as he lifted his head to watch you - the part of your lips, the flutter of your lashes, the heave of your chest. “Look pretty, coming for me. Wanna make you do it again.”

The gravel in his voice, a rasp you’d never heard, made your head spin and your chest ache in a pleasant way as his fingers continued pressing, pushing you through the aftershocks. All that existed in your mind was him; Eddie, Eddie, Eddie.

Despite the difficulty you felt in catching your breath, it didn’t matter. All that mattered was pulling him close and pressing your mouth to his.

Eddie easily gave in, allowed you to take your fill of him, and only removed his hand from between your thighs when you grasped his forearm. However, he didn’t pull away entirely. He simply slipped his fingers beneath the band on either side and began to nudge the fabric down.

Without breaking the kiss, you shimmied out of the fabric - no longer caring about being entirely exposed, only caring about having him closer. In the midst of the kiss, Eddie shifted, arm reaching out blindly and swiping at his nightstand. He caught a few stray items, knocked them from the table with a clatter, and you laughed as you broke the kiss.

“What’re you looking for, Eds?”

With a bit of space between you, he eagerly pulled away just enough to tug his own shirt off - up, over his head, joining the fabric on the floor - before shoving his shorts down his thighs. He wasn’t wearing any boxers and you felt hesitant to glance down, despite the permission he gave you. No matter how comfortable he made you, some things still felt like too much for the first time, especially when you’d been half-certain you would lose your virginity in some dark room and now you could see Eddie all too well.

“Condom,” he answered, grinning when you flustered. “Don’t suppose you have one in your bag, sweetheart?”

“Can’t say I do. Wasn’t exactly expecting… this.” In fact, it was the last thing you’d been expecting from your visit to Eddie’s. However, you weren’t going to complain.

“Good unexpected?” He turned his full attention to the nightstand, then, shuffling through drawers and you laughed as you hummed your agreement.

“Totally.” 

A metallic jingle caught your attention and as Eddie shuffled through the items in the nightstand in search of a condom, you searched for the source of the sound. A pair of silver hoops, hanging on a hook near the bed, caught your eye and you inhaled a shaking breath.

“…are those handcuffs?”

Eddie laughed, the noise quickly covered with a triumphant hum as he found the foil packet, before his full attention returned to you. There was an easy amusement in his eyes, warm and bright, as he leaned in to press a kiss to your lips. “Don’t worry about those right now, sweetheart,” he urged. “Eyes on me, yeah?"

“Can I worry about them later?” The question was teasing, tinged with only a touch of nerves as Eddie settled between your spread thighs and allowed one large hand to softly grip the plush flesh.

“Haven’t even fucked you yet and you’re already thinking about next time,” he teased with a grin. “I’m creating a monster.”

“Your monster.”

That brilliant smile remained, bright and wide, as he leaned in to press his lips to yours. “My monster,” he agreed, words mumbled against your lips. He kissed you, stealing the breath from your lungs and leaving you boneless beneath him, before he breathed a gentle reminder. Those soft eyes met yours as he said, “We don’t have to do this. If you’ve changed your mind, if you wanna wait, that’s okay.”

“I want this. No one I’d rather do this with.”

Eddie shifted closer, then, rested more of his weight atop you and shifted so that the tip of his cock bumped your aching clit. When you inhaled sharply, fingers pressing harshly into his shoulders, Eddie shifted his hips and notched the head of his cock at your entrance. And with a final nod of your head, he pressed forward.

The immediate experience was almost expected - your friends told you that it would hurt, that the first time wasn’t much fun. Only, it wasn’t so much pain as it was discomfort. There was no blinding pain, no tears, just an odd sensation that made you squirm. There was a sharp pinch, a sensation you’d never felt before, but it was bearable.

And you told Eddie as much when he lifted a hand to your cheek and asked, “How you doin’, sweetheart?”

“Fine,” you assured him, still a touch breathless as he pressed closer. “Doesn’t feel good yet but it doesn’t hurt.”

Eddie leaned in, pressed a kiss to your cheek - to your nose, to your jaw, to your forehead - before pressing a kiss to your lips. “Sorry,” he said, though he didn’t sound very sorry at all. “It’ll feel good in a minute, when you get used to it.”

As difficult as it seemed, you believed him. You knew that he was right, and that he would do his best to make sure you were comfortable, so you simply tangled your fingers in his hair and buried your face in the crook of his neck to leave soft, open-mouthed kisses against the heated skin.

After a moment, Eddie was fully sheathed inside, body pressed to yours as he waited for you to give him the okay to move. As you adjusted, the kiss grew more heated and his hands wandered, returning to your core as his thumb found your aching clit.

When you jolted, clenched around him, Eddie broke the kiss. “Fuck me,” he laughed, tipping his head to bury his face in the crook of your neck. “Promise I’m not always ready to blow this quick. You’re just so fucking tight.”

“Flattery,” you teased, breathless as you tugged playfully at his hair. “’S’okay. You can move.”

With your permission, Eddie began to experimentally shift his hips. He moved slowly at first, pulling out only an inch or two, before he began to move in earnest. 

The pace was slow, easy, but with every shift of his hips, the better it got. The discomfort began to fade, giving way to a fullness that was more pleasant than you expected. And with his thumb brushing your clit, gathering the slick, you felt yourself enjoying it more and more.

“You know,” he hummed, lips brushing your skin as he continued shifting his hips almost experimentally, “it’s kinda hot, how much you trust me. ’S’like you’re in love with me or something.”

“Unfortunately, I am.” It was so soft, so fond, that Eddie couldn’t seem to find a teasing reply. The words were accompanied by a sticky warmth in your chest, so glad to have your feelings out in the open and returned.

The way Eddie treated you made the warmth that much more pleasant. He made your enjoyment a priority, eyes on your face as he watched for any signs of discomfort. Even as his pace grew faster, hips snapping into yours - driving deeper, pulling out farther - now that you’d adjusted, he still kept his full attention on you.

And when you felt yourself beginning to fall over the edge for the second time, he hummed in encouragement. “That’s it, sweetheart,” he breathed, only just beginning to show how affected he was, voice wavering and breath a little labored. “Come for me. Sound so pretty when you do.”

After a few more snaps of his hips, you fell over the edge and Eddie was quick to follow with a low curse.

The high was unlike any you’d ever felt. It flooded your veins with fire, scorched you from within, and you swore you saw stars as you rode out your high. Eddie buried his face in the crook of your neck to catch his breath and, after a moment of desperately attempting to catch your own, you carded your fingers through his disheveled curls. He remained atop you - weight not quite fully pressed into you but enough for you to feel - for a few long moments before pulling out and tying off the condom. He stood, disappeared into the bathroom to toss it into the trash, before he returned and fell back into bed beside you.

“So,” he hummed, bouncing onto the mattress with a laugh and tugging you into his side. “First time. Not some frat guy in the backseat of some fancy car, or in some shitty dorm room but, not bad?”

“No,” you agreed, tipping your head to press a kiss to his collarbone. “Not bad. Not some frat guy but I think this was better.”

“You think?” Eddie scoffed with faux outrage. “Okay, well, clearly we’re gonna have to do this again and again and again until you know that this was better.”

Though the night began with an insecurity, in that wonderful way of his, Eddie managed to turn it into a beautiful moment. And though you were starting college in the fall, you knew that you wouldn’t be starting a virgin or searching for some frat boy to help you gain the experiences your friends so often spoke of. You would be starting college with a boyfriend and the knowledge that your love was requited. And you loved the idea that Eddie would be with you for every next step.

After all, what are boyfriends for?

__________________________________________________________

Author's Note: Slowly but surely going through the WIPs I have had for months. :)

Taglist: @x-avantgarde-x, @thisisparadisemylove, @eddiesprincess, @slvdsjjk, @munsonlover, @tasmbestspdrman, @urofficial-cyberslut, @jxngwhore, @hopelesslylosttheway, @meaganjm, @lazuli-leenabride, @deiondraaa, @piscesmesss, @glowyskiess, @kiszkathecook, @missryerye, @solarrexplosion, @ofherscarlettwitchways, @lovedandleft-haunted, @trappedinlimbo15, @sweetiekitten, @bookfrog242, @gwendolynmary, @sage-bun, @zealouslibrariesparadiselight, @castiels-lilass, @tojis-little-brat, @emmah787, @theworldsendxx, @asuperconfusedgirl, @flores-and-sunshine, @passi0np1t, @laurathefahrradsattel, @hellf1reclub, @slut4yourmom, @niko-04, @hannirose-loves-you, @mrs-eddie-munson, @screambabe, @vllowe, @ryswritingrecord, @cheriebondy, @ryswritingrecord, @thewitchofthewilds140, @bootlegmothman420, @maruushkka, @honeymoonpython, @keenesbeans, @jess-bonn, @sammysinger04, @khaoticken21, @denkis-slut, @spiderman-berries, @lotus-es, @amortiff, @stardust-galaxies, @ure-a-sunflower, @1-800-ch3rry, @ladybeewritethings, @ynbutbetter, @hunnybunimdun, @breathinfive, @s-u-t, @s4ntacarlal0stk1d, @rae-iin, @pennamesgame, @stefans-wife, @voldieshorts, @frankie-mercury, @bbymochi1, @serendiipty, @saturnsworld01, @eddiemunson1sstuff​, @valthevalkyrie-main​, @crying-caro​, @inglourious-imagines​

[her-favorite]

QUIET; M. STURNIOLO

MATT STURNIOLO X F!READER

warnings: this is honestly my second time writing head-cannon thingies (and ive literally been writing since like 2020 ��) so i apologize if they’re not too good!

a/n: there’s a bunch of talkative!reader fics on here, so i thought i’d be a little self-indulgent and write something for the quiet matt girls 🫶🏻

SYNOPSIS: Matt with a quiet girlfriend <3

-

Matt Finds Comfort in Your Silence

- being out in public together, it was easy to get overwhelmed by groups of people. Matt tends to reach out for you and grabs your hand, for both of your benefits. Keeping you by him made both of you more comfortable, as you’re closer to each other and can stay by the other.

- Staying with you when you go quiet is comforting to Matt. He doesn’t grow overwhelmed by any loud noises or unnecessary sounds, his once tense body relaxing in the safe silence.

Speaking Through Silence is Easier

- whenever you get anxious, it’s easier to keep your mouth shut as to not draw attention to yourself. That being said, Matt always has an eye on you no matter the occasion. Being your boyfriend, he’s grown accustomed to your body language, noticing the way you fidget and when you get too overwhelmed by something. Some times communicating with each other through silence is easier, especially in public. As soon as Matt notices your anxiety rising, he’ll take your hand, say something quick to his brothers and bring you to an isolated area with him.

Matt Loves Knowing You’re Listening to Him

- if Matt ever goes on a random tangent, he loves that he doesn’t have to repeat himself several times just to get your attention. No disrespect to his brothers, but Matt enjoys not having to be loud to get you to listen. Listening comes naturally to you, given your more reserved nature, and it makes Matt feel appreciated knowing that you’ll always be there to listen and make him feel better when he’s anxious.

Being Alone with You Feels Safe

- lying in his room together, he loves the feeling of you with him. With the sounds of his ceiling fan and, maybe, his tv playing, he adores the physical intimacy of the situation, of you lying on him and relaxing. Occasional words are exchanged, but Matt likes to keep his voice down, just so he doesn’t bother you. In that moment, he feels like he could do anything or say anything and you’d still stay by him; the safeness he feels with you is comforting.

He Loves Having you Close to Him

- not being too chatty, it’s easier to physically gravitate towards Matt. He handles you with open arms, never turning down the opportunity to hold you. The feeling of you in his arms, whether you’re watching a show on their couch or in his bed, his body immediately relaxes with your touch. Matt could be having an extremely overwhelming day, but as soon as he comes home and sees you, all he needs to calm down is to be in your arms.

He Doesn’t Feel Pressured

- being similar in a verbal way, Matt never feels forced to talk when he’s around you. He knows that if he doesn’t feel like talking, he doesn’t have to; you taught him that it was okay. Hanging out with you was comfortable, a nice quiet that wasn’t awkward or bad, but one you both peacefully sunk into.

Matt Loves Hearing More About You

- being reserved, it took a little bit to get you to reveal more about yourself to Matt. He was patient with you, waiting for the right time you felt comfortable and paying attention to every word you say. Being a patient person, especially with you, he wasn’t bothered by the private things you kept to yourself in the beginning of your relationship. He understood the way you felt and let you take all the time you needed, enjoying hearing all the stories you revealed to him once you felt comfortable.

He Loves Your Relationship with his Brothers

- given, Nick and Chris are loud, talkative people, almost the entire opposite of you. But you loved them all the same. With their blathering nature, you find comfort in it, silently knowing that you don’t have to put on some performance because they somehow always have something to talk about.

- even with Chris’ periodic teasing, you’ve grown used to their random sentences, learning to love them more as days go by. Matt’s brothers liked the idea of him dating someone that was near the same page as him, whether you were closer or farther away from his situation, because he won’t feel alone in his problems and the way he feels. Besides, Nick loves gossiping about random guys to you and Chris loves making you listen to whatever new music he finds because they know you love listening to their random shit.

But He Also Loves Listening to you Ramble

- on days where you have more energy and feel your best, it’s easy to say whatever will come to your mind. And Matt loves it. Whenever those days do come, constant giggles are heard from your boyfriend as he enjoys the stupid things that leave your mouth.

No Matter the Day, loud or quiet, lazy or energetic, Matt loves you all the same.

[munsonsmixtapes]

Guilty as Sin?

Inspired by the Taylor Swift song because it has been stuck in my head and it’s just so Eddie coded

mechanic!Eddie x fem!reader

summary: Because of a misunderstanding, people think that you and Eddie slept together and are quick to judge you for it even though the only sex with Eddie you’ve had has all been in your head.

word count: 4.2k

cw, MDNI 18+ smut (p in v) hurt/comfort

Rain pattered against the building as you sat that the front desk, doodling on your little notepad, humming along to the song that was playing from your Walkman. The car repair shop where you worked had very little customers considering that it was morning and raining. You never minded when it was slow, though. You liked being able to just sit there and get paid to surf the internet or work on your drawings. In your mind, it was a win-win.

You could hear commotion coming from the back and could just tell that everyone’s favorite employee had showed up for their shift. You turned in your chair and watched Eddie Munson push through the door that led to part of shop where you were. He had yet to change into his uniform, dressed in a muscle tank and a pair of jeans. It was almost unfair that someone could be that attractive.

You turned back to your drawing and continued to doodle, trying to not make your attraction obvious. Sure, the two of you had been flirting for months, but that didn’t mean he needed to know just how much you wanted to be with him. He was just so cool and hot and you didn’t think that he felt the same way.

You felt Eddie’s hand rest on your shoulder as he leaned over to get a glimpse at what you were working on. He always complimented your skills and had even kept the little drawings you had given to him in his wallet, a reminder of his adorable coworker.

“What are you working on this time, trouble?” His mouth was right by your ear, the breath coming from his lips, tickling your skin. You closed your eyes, imaging what it would have been like having him whispering the dirtiest things into your ear while he pounded into you.

Your dirty thoughts had been getting out of hand as your crush on Eddie had progressed. Anytime you were around him, it was as if your mind had flipped a switch, the most impure thoughts taking over it.

You could practically imagine how it would all go; him saying the sweetest thing that juxtaposed the firm grip he had on your waist. Moans slipping past your lips as you left scratches down his back to signify your pleasure. Him thrusting into you fast and hard, claiming you as his and afterwards, he’d pull you into his arms, scrawling the letters M-I-N-E across your thigh to really signify that you belonged to him.

“Is that a turtle?” Eddie let out a chuckle and a chill ran down your spine at the feeling of his breath on your skin. “That’s so cute!” He gave your shoulder a squeeze and you finally turned to him, showing him the smile that he had grown very fond of.

You studied his face and noticed that he hadn’t shaved like he usually did. His facial hair was growing in quite nicely and you could practically imagine the way it would scratch against your skin as he kissed you roughly, taking exactly what he wanted from you as you were pliant underneath him.

“Even gave it a top hat.” You held the small piece of paper up to him and he took it, your fingers brushing as he did so.

You watched him hold the thing up to his face and chuckled at the fact that he never wore his glasses because he didn’t like the way they made him look. You supposed you could understand what he meant, but thought his need to see should have outweighed his want to look “cool.”

“This is really good. Mind if I keep it?” Who were you to say no when he was smiling at you, his chocolate eyes all warm and gooey?

“Of course I don’t mind.” He ripped the page from the pad then pulled his wallet from his pocket, carefully placing it with the cash he carried. He then closed the wallet before putting it back where he found it, patting the spot to make sure that it was safe and secure.

“So, what are your plans tonight?” He leaned on the counter, his face just inches from yours. You could smell the tobacco on his breath and even though you never liked the scent, it mixed nicely with whatever cologne he was wearing.

Eddie always asked what you were going to be up to after you got off work, but his tone sounded different…almost as if he was asking you out. But he couldn’t have been doing that, right? Maybe you were just reading too much into it.

You supposed that you would’ve never found out because right as you were about to answer, there was a lot of commotion coming from the shop. It wasn’t the usual yelling that you were used to, it was louder and angrier, tools clattering around as the screaming continued.

You rushed to the door that led to the shop, looking through the tiny window and you let out a loud gasp as you caught sight of Jason Carver. Eddie stood behind you and you turned to him, seeing his eyes widen in fear as he realized who you were looking at.

Jason’s head snapped in your direction and you grabbed onto Eddie’s shoulder, pulling him down with you as you ducked down out of Jason’s view. Despite your quick movements, he still caught sight of the metalhead, making a beeline for the door.

You didn’t know why, but you felt the need to protect Eddie. He had experienced so much shit in his life and you decided that he needed someone in his corner. Someone who would be there for him no matter what. And why couldn’t that someone have been you?

You grabbed hold of his hand and pulled him along, searching in panic for somewhere you could escape to. Your eyes locked on the supply closet across the room and you raced to it, opening the door as quickly as you could, pulling Eddie inside with you before shutting the door.

You pulled the string between the two of you and warm light spread through the room, showing you just how badly everything needed to be cleaned as dust covered every single surface and product that sat on the shelves behind Eddie.

You both stood there, catching your breath, trying to get your heart rates down. Your gaze locked on Eddie’s and your eyebrows furrowed, seeing that little sparkle of mischief in his chocolate eyes. Just by the look on his face, you could tell that he had been up to something. Something that had to with Jason Carver’s anger.

“You did something to Jason’s car, didn’t you?” You crossed your arms over your chest, raising one of your eyebrows. Eddie could never lie to you, but he was considering it, knowing that you wouldn’t be happy with what he had done. He couldn’t disappoint yet another person.

“Maybe,” he shrugged, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jeans. You stepped closer to him in an attempt to intimidate him even though both of you knew that you couldn’t do it even if you tried.

“Maybe I cut his brake line.” He shrugged again, speaking so causally as if he was telling you the weather forecast.

“Eddie!” You gave his shoulder a shove. If Eddie had done it on his own time, you wouldn’t have bat an eye since you didn’t like Jason either, but you really didn’t want him to lose his job because he let his anger get the best of him.

“Hey, he deserved it,” he pointed at you. “He was walking through the shop all smug because he had gotten your number and was rubbing it in my face.” You weren’t sure where Jason would have gotten your number since you hadn’t given it to him. He had asked, but you had politely told him to fuck off.

“I didn’t give him my number.” You shook your head and Eddie stepped forward so the two of you were toe to toe.

“You didn’t?” His head titled to the side to the side. He should have known you well enough that you couldn’t have been paid to give your number to the guy.

“No, of course not. He’s an ass.” Eddie let out a sigh of relief. He had thought he had lost you for a second. Considering how much you both had shit talked Jason, he almost felt betrayed. He should have known it was all bullshit and that you wouldn’t have touched the guy with a ten foot pole.

“Which is exactly why I cut his brake line,” he grumbled. You reached and grabbed onto his arms, pulling him into a hug. He rested his head on your shoulder while his arms wrapped around your waist. He gave you a squeeze while your hands moved up to give his head a scratch.

You hadn’t hugged before in all the months of friendship, but you both had to admit that you liked it. It just felt natural. It was like two puzzle pieces fitting together with the way his head perfectly fit in your neck, your bodies pressed together.

“C’mon, Eds, let’s get out of here before we-” your words were cut off by the door being ripped open, the pair of eyes staring at the both of you in shock. You pushed Eddie away from you as quickly as possible and turned to face Mike-the person who had opened the door-fully, your face getting hot as if you and Eddie had been caught naked. All you had done was hug, nothing inappropriate at all.

“Were you guys-” You couldn’t even believe he was asking. You were fast, but not that fast. And as if you’d fuck in the supply closet where you worked. That was just unprofessional-but maybe you’d throw all of your morals out the window if Eddie had asked if you wanted to have a quickie.

“No,” Eddie cut him off. “We were hiding from Jason.”

“But you were-”

“Just hugging,” you finished. You knew that Mike was young and didn’t know much about sex, but you had hoped that even he knew that that wasn’t what you and Eddie were doing.

You headed back to the desk as Mike spread the rumor like wildfire. You didn’t know why he felt the need to tell people, especially since it wasn’t true. You could see him whispering to people and wondered why they believed him since he was known to spread to misinformation just because he thought it was funny. This however, was not.

Throughout your shift, other employees would pat you on the back in congratulations while the customers judged you with glares and some even insulted you, asking you why you would do such a thing at your place of work and most importantly, why you would have done it with Eddie, who was obviously a devil worshipper.

You couldn’t see why it was seen as a bad thing. Eddie had been a friend to you and he also just so happened to be super hot, which you didn’t understand why more people weren’t trying to hit that.

Okay, maybe you did understand why, but that didn’t mean you agreed. You thought that Eddie was just misunderstood. You had done a campaign with the Hellfire Club and could confirm that there was no satanic worship nor any cult behavior going on. In fact, it was actually just a ton of fun.

You walked home after your seemingly never-ending shift in anger, thinking about nothing but Eddie. You wanted to talk to him, but he left not long after the rumor had spread. You hadn’t blamed him at all. The whole town thought he was evil and now they thought that he had corrupted sweet, innocent you. They wouldn’t have thought you were so sweet and innocent if they saw what you had been thinking about Eddie.

You just wanted to apologize since it had technically been your fault. You honestly wouldn’t have blamed him if he never wanted to talk to you again. You thought it was what you had deserved for all the pain you had caused him.

Just as you pulled your phone out of your pocket to give him a call, Eddie’s van pulled up next to you. He rolled the passenger window down and you were confused by the bright smile on his face.

“Need a ride, trouble?” He asked, his smile getting wider. You didn’t want to be around him, but you figured that being in the air conditioned van was better than walking home in the blazing sun.

You just nodded and hopped into the passenger side, letting out a huff as you threw your purse down into the floorboard. You then slammed the door closed, eating for Eddie to drive, but didn’t. He just put the car in park and sat there, facing you, concern written all over his face.

He had a feeling he knew why you were upset, but was almost afraid to ask. Was he so bad that you had been offended that people had thought that the two of you had fucked in the supply closet? He knew about his reputation around, but he at least thought you were one of the good ones. He thought you were different.

Eddie choked down his fear and scooted as close to you as he could. He then reached out, pushing some hair behind your ear so he could see your pretty face. Your eyebrows were furrowed and you were picking at the skin around your nails, something that he noticed you did when you were upset or anxious.

“What’s going on, hm?” He asked, his voice soft, no judgment behind it. His hand rested on your shoulder and he gave it a reassuring squeeze as you turned to look at him.

The truth was that you were pissed off on Eddie’s behalf. If he was upset, he didn’t show it and that made you mad. If anyone deserved to be pissed off about anything, it was his. He had been the towns punching bag, taking blow after blow because he was accused of being something that he very much was not.

“God, why the fuck does everyone think that it’s their business what’s going on between us?” You turned in your seat to face him, trying to keep your cool but it annoyed you that he was so calm. “Why are you so okay with this? They’re spreading this stupid fucking rumor and there you are with that dopey smile on your face. What the fuck, Eddie?” Eddie’s heart broke at your words. He thought you would have considered it a compliment that people thought you guys had fucked. Maybe he had misread everything and read your flirting very wrong.

“I didn’t know that the thought of us fucking pissed you off so much,” he spit and you leaned back in confusion. You honestly had no idea what he was getting at. “My apologies. Whatever,” he turned back to the steering wheel and put his hand on the gear shift to put the van back in drive. You put your hand over his not wanting him to drive you home without knowing the truth.

“What are you talking about, Eddie?” You asked and his head snapped to you.

“What are you talking about?” It had been a long day and he wasn’t in the mood for an argument, especially not with you. He had lost too many people in his life and really couldn’t risk losing you. He just needed some time to cool off before he could forgive you.

“Do you want to know the reason why I’m pissed? I’m pissed because the rumor isn’t true.” For once, Eddie had absolutely no idea what you were talking about. Why would you have been upset that the rumor wasn’t true? Unless-yeah, no that absolutely wasn’t true. He must have misheard.

“What are you talking about?” Apparently you were going to have to spell it out for him. You took a deep breath and licked your lips before leaning closer to him, wanting him to see the sincerity in your eyes when you told him everything.

“I’ve wanted to sleep with you since the moment I met you, Eddie.” The man’s eyes widened at your confession. So he had been right. He didn’t know why he had doubted himself when the truth had been right in front of him. The very pretty truth.

“You have?” He face lit up as he leaned closer to you, bringing his lips between his teeth as he tried his best to hide his boner that was forming at the thought of actually fucking you. God, he had wanted you just as much as you wanted him. For once, his feelings were reciprocated.

“Yes,” your word came out breathy as you inched forward, your lips ghosting over his. As soon as the word left your mouth, Eddie brought his hand up to the back of you and pushed your face towards his.

His mouth crashed against yours, the kiss messy and rushed, the cause of months and months of pent up want. His hand moved to your jaw, moving your head so he could get more of you, taking exactly what he wanted from you.

The scruff of his unshaven face felt just as good as you imagined scratching at your skin as your hands grabbed onto Eddie’s shirt as your tongue slipped into his mouth, swirling around his own. The two muscles tangled together as you both tried your best to get closer to each other, your desperation getting the best of you.

Eddie’s other hand slid up your shirt, over your bra, squeezing your breast before massaging it the best he could with the fabric in the way. You pulled away as Eddie tried to chase your lips but he stopped when he realized what you were doing. He moved his hand away as you unhooked your bra and took it off before letting the thing clatter against the floor board.

You then took his hand and shoved it back up your shirt so he could continue his task. You placed your mouth back on his and he went back to massaging your tit, his thumb moving to your nipple, giving it the affection he thought it deserved with how hard it had become.

“Oh,” you let out a soft moan into his mouth and his cock hardened even more at the sound. He needed to be inside you at that moment or he swore he was going to cream his pants.

This time, Eddie was the one to pull away, your chests rising and falling at your labored breathing. He looked down at the skirt you were wearing, hoping, praying that you were as wet as he was hard. He had never needed anyone as much as he needed you, ready to have his way with you already.

“Do you want to move things to the back?” He asked, and you nodded enthusiastically, your eyes filling with lust as you did so.

You climbed over the seats and Eddie followed you, both of you kicking off your shoes and socks as you did so. Eddie fell on top of you as he got to the back and you both let out laughs but they quickly died down as his gaze shifted to your lips, nothing but fire behind them.

He pulled you in for a bruising kiss, his tongue finding yours quickly as both of your hands hurriedly undressed each other. Your shirts were off and you both let out gasps, you at his tattoos that you had no idea about and him because your tits were just as hot as he imagined.

“Fucking beautiful,” he murmured as he brought his lips to yours once again. “The other women in town should be jealous. I bet they are.” Your cheeks burned at his compliments. They fell so easily from his lips and you knew that he always meant every word.

“Not true,” you scoffed as his mouth trailed kisses down to your neck.

“Very true,” he responded, peppering the spot with gentle kisses. “Want me to show you just how beautiful I think you are?” His lips were now by your ear and his hot breath sent shivers down your spine.

“Gonna be really mad if you don’t.”

“Good, because after this, you’re going to be mine.” He brought your earlobe between his teeth and gave irate a soft bite, causing a gasp to fall from your lips.

His mouth was on your neck again as his fingers intertwined with yours. He lowered his body down onto yours as he gave the skin a hard suck, eliciting a moan from you.

“Eddie.”

“That’s right,” he chuckled. “Wanna make that sound again?” He gave your neck another suck and you moaned his name once again, the sound making Eddie even more hard.

He grazed your neck with his teeth as one of his hands traveled down to your skirt. He unbuttoned it and easily slid the thing out from under you, tossing it to the side. He teeth grazed your skin and you gasped loudly, your fingers digging into any skin you could find in response to the pleasure.

Eddie removed his mouth from your neck, admiring the red color that adorned it, shining with his spit. He then pulled his wallet out of his pocket. He grabbed a foil packet from it then tossed it aside. He removed his jeans and underwear and you sat up, wanting to get a view of his cock that definitely didn't disappoint. Beads of pre were dripping from it as he rolled the condom onto out and you felt your underwear dampen even more at the thought that he was finally going to be inside.

You pushed him so his back hit the floor and he let out a yelp as his eyes widened at your eagerness. You pressed your lips to his, letting your tongue roam around his mouth before pulling away. Eddie look up at you, his eyes filling with lust at the thought of you taking the reigns.

"I'm on top," you told him, pinning his wrists to the floor. Eddie gulped, his mouth going dry in response at your words. God you were so fucking hot and he hoped you knew that.

"Yes ma'am," he nodded, his breathing labored. You straddled him, slowly settling yourself onto Eddie's cock, the two of you moaning at the sensation. You rolled your hip into him as you slowly rode him, wanting to warm up before getting up to the pace that you usually liked.

"Fuck, you feel so good," he whimpered as you bucked against him.

"I know, honey. I hope you have a lot of energy because we're just getting started." You picked up the pace, riding him faster, watching come completely come undone below you. His eyes were shut tight and his pretty hair was fanned out on the floor. He looked so fucking hot and that image was definitely going to be burned into your brain forever.

Sex with Eddie had been everything you had ever wanted. He made all the noises that you had imagined and treated you with so much respect even though he was saying the most filthy things to you. Even though he hadn't written "mine" on your upper thigh, you couldn't have asked for a better partner, hoping that you could make fucking him a regular thing.

Your hands moved to his shoulder as you leaned over so his dick could reach further into your pussy, rolling your hips into his as his hands gripped your waist roughly. Your were both moving fast and hard, moan after moan falling from your lips as you reached your climaxes.

You climbed off of Eddie and after you did all of the proper things to clean the two of you up, you both laid down on the floor of the van. Eddie took one of the blankets that was folded up in the corner and draped it over your bodies, pulling your to him so you were flush to him.

He grabbed hold of your leg and draped it over his hip, holding it there with his hand as his other one reached up and wiped the sweat from your forehead. He placed a kiss to it and let his other hand lazily trace patterns along your skin, his chocolate eyes filled with so much affection.

"Can you guess what I'm writing?" He asked and you focused, trying to figure it out. His finger lightly wrote the first letter and you used all of the brain power that you had left to try and figure it out.

M-I-N-E was what he had written. You were sure of it. You had envisioned it so many times, practically feeling his fingers on your skin every single time.

"Mine," you replied so confidently before pulling him into a sweet kiss, smiling against his lips.

"Yep," he nodded, pressing a kiss to your nose. "You're mine now."

"As long as you're mine," you said, snuggling further into him, resting your head against his bare chest.

"I always was," he said with a smile that you couldn't see as he pecked the top of your head, resting his chin on top of it. After years and years of being rejected and called every single name in the book, after years of torment and resentment, Eddie finally got the girl.

[eggroll-sama]

When Your Bikini Top Goes Loose

The Spider Society is hosting a beach party and you were invited. It was supposed to be a nice sunny outing with your lovely boyfriend, until an accident occurs with your bikini top…BASICALLY the stereotypical anime beach swimsuit trope. How would the boys react?

Miles

Tries to block the view with his body because he doesn’t want anybody else to see his girlfriend in such a vulnerable state, but his skinny stature doesn’t help, especially if you’re on the thicker side.

“O-kay! Everybody turn around! Just a little outfit malfunction, nothing to see here!”

Probably draws more attention by opening his mouth, but he didn’t mean it. Very protective boyfriend. Webs a random beach towel from the ground (apologizes later to whoever it belonged to) and hands them to you. He will help you hold it up while you fix your outfit malfunction. Very awkward but respectful. He would try to act cool and indifferent, but his mind is running 100 miles an hour.

99% chance he’ll get jealous and put off if someone saw you. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to tell it’s bothering him. If you ask him about it to tease him, he’s going to deny it to his grave.

Hobie

The most chill when it happens. Doesn’t get possessive if someone saw your chest since he’s a believer in normalizing public nudity, but will shoot web on their face if they were ogling or making you uncomfortable. The man just quietly saunters over to not make a big scene and helps you out. Afterwards he’d joke that his hands will be more trustworthy for your chest.

To make sure that the bikini bra doesn’t go loose again, he makes it more secure for you with his spiderwebs. 100% full proof and the bikini won’t ever go loose again.

“Okay, give a little twirl for me now. Damn, absolutely stunnin’.”

Gives you a little slap on the butt and a kiss on the cheek. Doesn’t care if anyone else sees.

Pavitr

As the ever observant boy that he is, he notices it going loose even before you. Quickly used his webs so that it covers your chest on time.

“Ay, that was a close one! Good thing your amazing boyfriend was there to help you!”

Might get creative when he’s tired out from swimming and playing volleyball, and starts crocheting you a bikini outfit while you’re laying on him. According to him, he’s a “talented, amazing, super cool, handsome” boyfriend like that. He’ll use your favorite colors and even asks you what type of design you’d prefer.

Miguel

Doesn’t have the spidey-sense to notice your bikini top going loose before it’s too late. His eyes instantly scan the area, landing on a few spider people that fervently shake their head in denial of seeing anything or acting like they were distracted.

Holds you in his arms bridal style, ignores you telling him to put you down, and takes you to the beach bathroom where you can fix your top.

He acts standoffish when you come back, and he would give you a half-baked answer if you ask what’s wrong. You get your answer when he starts to act clingier and protective over you. You catch him glancing at your bikini top’s strings several times to make sure it doesn’t go loose again and when you suggest doing anything physical like swimming or volleyball, he gets skeptical.

“What’s wrong with reading with me under the parasol? …dios, I’m just too worn out to go back into the water…(sees you running back to the water)…ay coño (chases you).”