#Let Me Call in A Favor (ask memes)

[grimgrinnr]

}THERE'S NOTHING ROYAL ABOUT THIS{

@coffeehousemuses asked: i've always thought of myself as a problem that deserved to stay hidden. ~Husk

" Well, it's a good thing I keep you hidden away in the back of my establishments then, hm? " He teased. After all, if Husk really thought that way about himself, he wouldn't go out and gamble as often as he did when he had the free time to.

" Go on. What is it this time that has you feeling down? Always interested to hear the sort of baggage the cat brings in! "

[no-144444]

too warm- f.colapinto

summary: franco finds a way to gain your favor... only it doesn't go as planned.

pairing: franco colapinto x fem! mclaren driver! reader

(i am once again running out of pictures to decorate my posts (pinterest only gives me so much inspo) so enjoy the seb vettel meme!) (also be thankful it wasn't that one photo of mark webber with his grippers out!)

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Franco watched with bated breath as you spoke to Oscar. He was much more your speed, much more calm than Franco ever had been. It made him crazy, you made him crazy. He was on a stage in front of thousands of people, thousands of cameras, and he was staring at the two of you with a scowl. Oscar was your teammate, he reminded himself. You’re just friends. But he didn’t know that. You two were close, too close in his opinion. He was in love with you, and you didn’t even know. 

“Are you alright, Franco?” Alex whispered, looking at him. 

Franco just nodded, his eyes trained on the two of you. 

“How are we feeling about the race tonight?” Laila, the woman conducting the interviews, asked. 

“It is so hot, for no reason,” you joked. “I’m feeling warm.” 

Franco smiled. He had a plan. He knew what he could do to gain your favor over Oscar. 

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ

He ran back to the Williams hospitality, grabbing a few ice packs from his cooler, then he ran to your driver’s room. 

Oscar opened the door. He scowled. 

“You alright?” Oscar yawned. 

“Where’s Y/n?” he asked. 

“Umm… I don’t know, maybe in my room? Maybe in the canteen? She said her aircon was broken so we switched rooms. I think she’s sick or something, it’s not that warm at all.”

Franco nodded, thanking him, then he turned to Oscar’s driver’s room. He knocked, but heard no reply, so he opened the door. You were sitting on the floor, vomiting into the toilet. 

“Qué quilombo, are you alright?” he asked. (What a mess.)

You groaned as you felt his hands on your back, holding your hair. He placed a cold pack on your neck and you moaned, your skin so hot that the cold felt like the best thing in the world. “Thank you Franco.”

He blushed slightly, a soft smile on his lips. “Anything I can do?”

You shook your head, standing. “I don’t want to get you sick,” you started brushing your teeth in your sink. “You shouldn’t be in here.”

He shook his head. “I’m alright. I just want you to be alright.”

You smiled, but your eyes looked sunken, you looked a little bit off, and in general, just not the person he looked forward to seeing every weekend. “Thank you Franco, but you should seriously save yourself. I doubt I’ll be able to race tonight.”

He shook his head, leading you over to your bed. “You should relax, I’ll wait with you until the race, ok?”

You nodded, mostly because you couldn’t do anything else, and you fell asleep against him, your head on his lap. 

Franco texted your reserve driver, Lando, to explain that you were sick and he’d take care of you, but that Lando would be in the car for the night. He waited with you until he was getting calls from James, then he had to leave you with your trainer. He got in the car, and somehow got into the points from his measly P19. When he got out of the car, he went straight back to you, not exactly hiding his feelings. He’d never been good at that, hiding his feelings. 

You sat in your driver’s room, a dazed expression on your face. 

“Franco!” you cheered, standing up to greet him. You were delirious. You outstretched your arms, wrapping them around him (more like falling onto him, but he caught you all the same). “My knight in shining armour!”

He chuckled. “You should sit down.”

“Don’t wanna sit down,” you mumbled against his neck. “You smell good.”

He blushed. “Let’s sit together, yeah?”

You nodded, letting him lead you back to your bed. He sat, letting you rest your head back on his lap. 

“You’re the best Franco, thank you,” you mumbled, falling asleep against him once again.  God, he was falling hard. 

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navigation for my blog :) (masterlist)

[stevieschrodinger]

Part One Two Three Four Five

“So Steve, I know you said that you don’t think you need anyone...” Eddie sighs, “do you think that implies that I think that what he thinks is wrong?”

“I think it implies you’ve lost your fucking mind.”

Eddie doesn’t even have the energy to glare at Dustin, it’s much easier to just pretend he hasn’t spoken, “okay, Steve-”

“Yeap, you’re really strong on establishing you know the guys name, which is like, a solid point in your favor.”

“I hate you,” Eddie says to the ceiling, neck at an odd angle where he’s flopped his head back over the arm of the couch, “so, Steve, I know you said you don’t need anyone, and you are totally right-”

“You’re a strong independent Omega who don’t need no Alpha!”

“So help me Henderson I will throw you out,” Eddie waits, but Dustin is finally silent on the matter, “Steve. I totally respect the fact that you are absolutely fine handling everything alone, and if you’re...happy with us, being friends, then I’m happy with that too. I did wonder, though, if you’d like to go on a date. With me. Maybe?” Eddie sighs, flopping his arms over his face, “I’m so bad at this. This is going to go so wrong and he’s going to hate me and never want to see me again and-”

“Eddie...has the Omega broken your brain? What the fuck is wrong with you man-”

“I don’t know! I don’t...I’ve literally never felt this way before, not about anyone. And Jamie, man, I know he’s not my pup, okay, Steve and I aren't dating, he’s literally my friends pup, that’s it but...I swear I would die for that kid, no question.”

“Okay...so just...ask him out? Steve I mean, not Jamie-”

Eddie huffs, “I don’t...I’m pretty sure I can’t. The more I think about it the more it feels...like Steve’s had a pretty bad run of Alphas, it sounds like, and I just don’t think he’d be interested. And he’s just literally had a pup, like Jamie is only just a month old, who am I to add to that, you know? Steve’s got enough to think about.”

“So...don’t ask him out?”

Eddie flops over onto his side, curling up so he can smush his face into the cushions, “but I really want to. I think it’s selfish though. I’m being selfish. I should just...be a good friend. Keep being a good friend.”

“And pine to death?”

“I mean. Seems like a reasonable way out.”

“Dude I do not know what to say to you,” the timer on the oven starts to buzz, “but at least you’re going to feed me, right?”

Eddie sighs, dragging himself out of the near suffocating safety of the gap in the couch cushions. He opens his message thread with Steve, scrolling back through the shared memes and screenshots and pictures. He reads little tidbits of conversation while he pulls out bowls and plates. The three dots appear, Eddie’s heart leaps a little because Steve is, right there. Right next door, with his phone in his hand, typing to Eddie.

‘I’d love some. I’ve made a banana cream pie if you want to take it back for your games night.’

Eddie sends back a shocked emoji, ‘I can’t take an entire pie.’

‘You won’t, my slice will be gone.’

Eddie smiles and slips his phone into his pocket. He slices two thick pieces of bread from the loaf he made this afternoon, wraps them, and then fills a bowl with casserole. Eddie’s pretty sure this bowl is Steve’s anyway; so many of their plates and bowls have been migrating back and forth it’s hard to tell any more, between Eddie’s dinners and Steve’s desserts.

He likes to bake something extra special for games nights though, he always says you can’t make just one cookie, or one slice of pie. He likes to make sweet things when he knows there will be people to give it to, otherwise, “I’ll just eat the whole thing Eddie!”

Eddie doesn’t see a problem with eating the whole thing, but he slips on his adventure crocs and heads out into the hall. Dustin doesn’t even tease too badly any more, even though Eddie’s sure it’s because he’s threatened to withhold Steve’s desserts.

Eddie knocks with the hand holding the bread, letting himself in when Steve calls, “it’s open!”

“Hey Steve, hey Jamie,” he sets Steve’s dinner on the little table, next to the juice and cutlery Steve’s already set out for himself.

“What do you have planned for them tonight?” Steve brings out a pie on a plate, a slice already gone, just like he said. It has real neat swirls of cream on top; it looks professional to Eddie, like you’d buy in a store.

“Destruction. Misery. Suffering. The usual.”

Steve hums, “uh hu. What color salad did you decide on in the end?”

Eddie sighs, “you say it Slaad. And I don’t know, what do you think?”

“I actually quite liked the idea for the dog shark thing, it was cute,” Steve hands over the pie, going on tip toes to kiss Eddie on the cheek as he hands it over.

“One home brew Bulette, coming right up,” Eddie replies absently. He’s pretty sure he’s gone at least a little pink, and Steve’s scent is fresh and bright in his nose for a moment, “I’d better…” Eddie gestures lamely with the pie, “you know.”

“Have fun!” Steve calls as Eddie lets himself out, “don’t go too hard on them!”

Eddie’s doing his best not too stare, he really is.

He has one foot on the stroller, rolling it gently back and forward. He has his guitar resting on the other knee, he strums, singing quietly to Jamie, “I'd rather be a forest than a street, yes, I would...if I could, I surely would.” Jamie burbles at him, waving his arms a little and making happy pup noises.

On the court, Steve laughs, and Eddie fails, and he looks. Steve’s wearing a tank top and those obscenely short shorts. Him and Chrissy are bouncing the ball at each other, catching it, doing a squat, a little jump, and bouncing it back. They’ve done all sorts of stuff like this, sweaty jock games. Steve’s short shorts riding up even further at the slightest provocation.

Jamie makes a noise, drawing Eddie’s attention back, “I'd rather feel the earth beneath my feet, yes, I would...if I could, I surely would,” Eddie sings, soft and slow.

Steve and Chrissy come over eventually, Steve lifting the bottom of his shirt to wipe at his sweaty face, fully showing Eddie his tummy in all it’s glory. It’s thick, but firm, decorated by a handful of stretch marks and a perfect dusting of happy trail, “thanks for keeping an eye.”

“Huh?” Eddie asks, feeling kind of dumb but still managing to strum along on auto pilot.

Next to him, Chrissy snickers around her water bottle.

“Thank you, for watching Jamie,” Steve says to him more slowly, smirking, his sweaty hair flopping across his forehead.

“Right, right, sure, of course. Anytime. Pleasure. Really.”

Next to him, Chrissy huffs. Eddie pointedly ignores it.

The knocking is awful. It’s relentless. It’s obnoxious. It’s definitely Robin.

“I know you’re in there!”

Yeap. Yeap that’s definitely Robin. Eddie groans into the couch cushion before dragging himself up. She’s speaking before he has the door fully open, “this is getting old.”

“And what might that be-”

Robin puts on the most obnoxious voice Eddie thinks he’s ever heard, she clasps her hands together, holding them to her chest and she bats her lashes coquettishly at the ceiling, “oh Eddie’s cooking is just the best ever. Did you know he plays guitar! He says he’ll teach Jamie when he’s old enough! And he’s so smart, he’s got so many books in his apartment-”

“Okay.”

“Did you know he’s artistic! He paints his little dungeon game miniatures and they’re so good-”

“All right.”

“You should just see him with Jamie-”

“Robin.”

“And he’s such a good Alpha! He’s so good to his friends, he puts in so much work-”

“And we are done,” Eddie goes to shut the door. He can’t handle this. He knows Robin probably means well, in her own meddling way, but he just...can’t. This has to be Steve’s choice, right? Steve’s been pretty clear why he went it alone, and Robin is just...teasing him. It makes Eddie feel all warm and bubbly inside, knowing that Steve says these things about him, that Steve...likes him. But...Steve has a pup, and just because he says these things behind closed doors, it doesn’t mean Eddie has any right to know them.

No matter how it makes him feel.

“Wait wait wait...can’t you just, ask him out? End all of our suffering?”

Eddie sighs, “Steve has enough going on without me making it more complicated, okay? Steve can...he’s perfectly capable of telling me this himself.”

“No he isn’t. Because Steve would never ask you to take on another Alpha’s pup.”

“He’s not another Alpha’s pup, he’s Steve’s pup,” Eddie tells her reflexively.

“Uh hu,” she has her hands on her hips now, looking at him expectantly.

Eddie swallows thickly, and he can’t quite look at Robin, “what if...what if I loose him?”

“You won’t. You know you won’t.”

“But-”

“Me and Chrissy are taking Jamie for the night, did you know that? Giving Steve a night off, and we’re getting some practice in for when we’re ready to have our own, you know?”

“I...did not know that.”

“Yeah.”

Eddie stands for a second, not sure what to say, down the hall, Steve’s door opens.

“-and it’s in the changing bag.”

“I got it.”

“Don’t forget to heat the formula to-”

“Steve,” Chrissy sounds exasperated, “we’ve got it,” she has Jamie in his car seat.

“Plus,” Robin whispers to him conspiratorially, “he’s going to have a heat at some point, so we gotta be ready for that. You know, wouldn’t be fair to which ever Alpha ends up helping him out-”

“I know what you’re doing,” Eddie growls, watching Steve fuss over the pup.

“Is it working?”

“Go away.”

Robin shrugs, and Eddie watches as she goes to Chrissy, taking the bag so Chrissy is just left with the car seat, “it’s going to be fine, and you can call us any time.”

Eddie ends up watching Steve, as Steve watches his pup and his friends disappear at the end of the hall. His shoulder sag a little, and Eddie can't help but go to him.

“Hey.”

Steve sighs, “would it be weird if we followed them?”

“Maybe. I’ll drive though.”

Steve smiles up at him, and it looks kind of watery, “what if we break into their place and take him back?”

Eddie shrugs, “pretty sure we could just ask but, whatever makes you feel better, I guess.”

Steve sighs, “I sound crazy,” and a tear finally escapes, sliding down his cheek.

Eddie can’t help but scoop him up into a big hug, “I think you sound like the best dad in the world. I’ll get you one of those mugs. You know, for fathers day.”

Steve sighs, and sniffles, “thanks Eddie.”

“You want take out? I’ve primed you a miniature, if you still want to try your hand.”

“Can we watch a shit film too?”

“Oh fuck me I’d love to watch a shit film,” Eddie says vehemently into Steve’s hair.

Steve laughs against his chest.

Steve doesn’t have it in him to try painting his owlbear tonight; he picks forlornly at his duck rolls, “I’m sorry I’m not very good company.”

“It’s okay, I get it...I miss him too.”

“Oh, so you admit I’m being shit company?” Steve smiles for the first time this evening.

“Oh, yeah, the absolute worst.”

Steve phone pings and he practically dives for it, but then he melts, face going soft as he looks at the message, “Jamie’s asleep,” he shows Eddie the picture.

“Safe and sound,” Eddie reassures Steve for probably the fifteenth time this evening.

“I didn’t...I mean I knew I’d love my pup but...I didn’t know it would feel like this, you know? It feels crazy. And I mean...Jamie’s happy, and healthy, and that just makes absolutely everything feel...right? Does that make sense? Like...fulfilled.”

“I...yeah. I think I understand,” Eddie tells him quietly, because he feels like that about the both of them, as long as Steve, and by extension, Jamie, are both happy and healthy then...yeah. Yeah, the whole world feels like it’s an okay place to be.

“Eddie I-”

“Steve-”

They speak over each other, and end up laughing, leaning closer together on the couch. The remains of Steve’s half eaten dinner get moved to the safety of the coffee table. They’re close enough then that Eddie can see the dim light from the TV reflecting in Steve’s eyes.

“You go,” Eddie whispers to him.

Steve shakes his head, but takes Eddie’s hand in both of his, rubbing his thumb over Eddie’s knuckles, Steve whispers back, “you first.”

“I...I really like having you in my life Steve. And I don’t want to...to fuck that up, by expecting more from you.”

“I...yeah. Same.”

“Same?” It comes out as a surprised laugh.

Steve’s laughing too now, “what do you want me to say I mean...you pretty much covered it.”

“I have spent ages agonizing over this and and and- all I get is- yeah. Same. I guess. I suppose.”

Steve is properly laughing now, “come here, I’m sorry, I’m sorry” he pulls Eddie close, and manages to stop laughing long enough to kiss his cheek, “okay,” Steve takes a deep breath, “I’ve just had a pup, and both me and that pup care about you so very much, and I did not want to mess it up by expecting you to take that on, okay?”

“You’re not a chore Steve, neither of you are a chore.”

“I mean he was sick on me the other day and that kind of felt-”

Eddie cuts him off with a kiss. It’s soft, a gentle press of lips that Steve...sighs into. Relaxes into. Lets Eddie take both their weight. Steve’s hands find their way into Eddie’s hair as Eddie gently wets Steve’s lip, and Steve lets him in.

It feels like coming home.

[omgfangirlland]

The Shadows That Nurture 20

This one is a bit shorter than the last 🫠

Masterlist || First || previous<< Chapter 20 >>next

The interaction between you and Nolan was still awkward. It was weird to see him this soft and you still felt on edge like you couldn’t quite believe all it took for him to try and do better was some talking to- Bruce didn’t even let you say more than a sentence in his presence, let alone get emotional about things and try to have a conversation about it.

Overall, the past week you’ve been kind of disassociating while working on rebuilding, occupying your time with that and helping Andressa take care of the baby, occasionally texting Debbie anything from updates to “I miss you”, to “I miss your food”, to cute pictures of the little menace being funny, kept you somewhat present-minded.

Your eyes drifted to Andressa, who has been aging more and more. Her movements were slowing down, she was getting more tired, and she was having more problems with her joints. You noticed that with everyone. The kids who helped you sometimes were now teens, the babies were slowly becoming toddlers, and yet your little brother was still in the baby range.

Andressa calling your name brought you back to reality. Your eyes meet as she sighs, sitting on an armchair while you keep playing with her baby’s hair, twirling it into spikes and horns. “I… I need to ask a big favor out of you and your family.” She starts softly, her finger tapping nervously. You stop and give her all the attention as she continues speaking.

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Debbie’s day has been… better. It’s all getting better. Slowly, but she’s getting there. She wanted to be petty and give Nolan’s things away, but she had a feeling he’d be coming back with you and Mark, so she did the next best thing and moved his stuff into the smallest bedroom. Well, it was more of an office with a beat-up couch; he didn’t deserve an actual bedroom.

And in hindsight, she was glad she did. “Well… he is cute.” She concedes while smiling softly as the toddler cooed up at her, all coddled up in her lap. Her hand gently ran across his small back. Andressa just smiles. “Thank you. And thank you for wanting to hear me out and for letting me into your home. I know I’m asking for a lot, for way too much even considering everything- but Nolan isn’t exactly the best at being present enough for a kid.”

Debbie laughed at that. “Yeah, I know. Can’t count the times I had to step in for things he promised Mark.” You smiled softly as the two women got along, laughing at Nolan’s actions and awkwardness towards raising the babies. “Well, I’ll leave you two to it. I’ve gotta go back and make sure the men don’t find us plotting against them.” You joked while opening a portal.

“Bye, sweetheart, make sure your brother eats lunch! Oh, was Nolan scared of holding him? Because he was terrified of holding Mark as a baby- you should have seen him- I think I have some photos-“ You snickered, finally leaving the two to their gossiping.

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Mark and Nolan were too busy helping rebuild buildings to notice you and Andressa being missing. Granted, some men are the biggest gossipers known to mankind. “Yeah, so your dear daughter took a plate of these mini cakes and just smashed it across Bruce’s face- mushing it around. Lex was having a field day. It was so weird to see him so genuinely happy.”

“Is there video footage of it? I would love to see that.” Nolan laughs along. “Dude, there’s so much footage- Lex has like fifteen to thirty cameras in a room, he made compilations of it!” Mark looks at the smiling man. “He even had a camera in the buttons of his suit. He gave that first-row view of the cake smash to the highest bidder.”

“And he still shares the memes on his social media.” Your voice cut through their laughter, making the young man snort. “No! He still does? Is he set on never making Bruce forget that?” Nolan looks at his cackling son. “Would you let the man forget that?” His smirk only gets wider as his son beams with a no.

Nolan gently nudged you away as he told Mark to take a break. “We need to talk.” You pouted at his words while landing on a rooftop. “We talked.” Your grumble was met with a raised eyebrow. “No. We fought, and then you interrogated me about the Justice League.” He chides. “We need to have a serious talk.”

The old Viltrumite could see the nervousness and doubt in you. So, he wanted to make sure you knew where you stood. “I know my actions hurt you in ways I don’t think will be fully salvageable. I won’t try to justify myself, I won’t try to tell you that you’re wrong for feeling any negative sentiments towards me. You have every right to because you are correct in your points. I was a coward, I should have gone to the guardians and faced their ire. I should have trusted that you and Mark had my back.”

“No matter what, if you hate me, if you don’t want to see me again, you’ll always be my daughter, my baby.” The hand he put on your shoulder was warm and slightly shaky, betraying how nervous he actually felt. “I’ll always be in your corner, no matter what, no matter how hard you try to push me away. I’ll make sure to repent for my mistakes towards you, Mark, and Debbie for the rest of my life.”

“Stop it.” You sniff. “You’ll make me cry again. And damn right you’ll repent for what you did. I’ll make sure of it.” He smiles as you gently slap his arm. “I’ll hold you to it.” His eyebrows furrowed, asking if you had seen Andressa since she hadn’t come to check up on them in a while. “She’s taking a nap. Don’t disturb your baby mama, ass.” You roll your eyes while lifting off the ground, flying away as the man pouts.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Harvey Dent raised an eyebrow at the message he received, a shit-eating grin overtaking his mug. “Looks like our little magic girl is coming back to the planet in a few days. With a few stowaways.” Two-Face shows the message to Jason. “How mad do you think Bruce will be?”

Jason just gives the man an evil smile. “Very.” The young man almost purrs as he begins giggling, laughing as if he was snorting Joker Gas. Roy Harper just looks at the scene with a shaky smile. “Ok… I think I need someone to spill some tea about what’s happening.” Harvey just scoffs. “Take a seat if you really want to know. It’s a long story.”

Roy just shrugs, pulling the chair out and dropping into it. "I think you're just exaggerating there, law man." That seems to only make Jason laugh harder, creating doubt into the young father. "Oh- you'll regret saying that by the time we're done." Our favorite crime lord counters, snickering as he pours his friend a glass of whiskey.

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[yapileon]

@TacklersCulers: The Chaotic Teen Serie pt. 3

fcb femení x chaoticteen!reader pt. 1 — pt. 2 2670w, it's kinda angsty, be warned<3 r gets nicknamed: "Diablilla" aka little devil in spanish as an endearment term "Skrulla" aka goofball/silly in norwegian for a mischievous child

17yo La Masia defender gets promoted to the first team. Will you be able to keep your fcb femení fan account hidden while slowly making your place in the team with your idols?

You lean your head back against the metal locker, a smug smirk tugging at your lips. Your eyes meet Pina's and you can't help but choke back a snort. 

You had called the forward in the morning, asking her to come pick you up since you wouldn't be able to walk to training like you had done for the past years. 

"You owe it to me after that whole mess you started about my phone wallpaper yesterday," you huffed. While you weren't actually mad at Pina, you were sure as hell going to milk every favor you could out of her. 

"Sure," she agreed without even needing a reason. This team was a family. If you needed a ride and she could help you out, she would do it, no questions asked. 

“Do you have space in the trunk for…” you trailed off, unsure if you could trust her now. If she said no, then your plan would fail.

“Sí, Diablilla, now tell me the plan,” you could hear her chuckle through the phone like she had read your thoughts. And just like that, you became partners in crime.

The both of you arrived at the training centre giggling like children, clutching at each other's arms from how much you were laughing. You had underestimated how mischievous Pina could be for a good joke. Coming up with an ever better plan than the original, you both go straight to work. 

The locker room is slowly filling, everyone realizing what you had done, most people figuring out Pina was in on it too with the glances you kept exchanging. Hushed whispers were heard around the room, everyone waiting for Mapi to come in. Pina had a phone propped up to capture it all.

You were doom scrolling your fan account, posting some more memes when the door opened again. You knew she had to arrive soon, almost everyone else was here already. 

Silence. 

You looked up to see Mapi walking in, smiling and in a good mood like usual, with Ingrid trailing behind. You bite your jersey to hide a smile you can’t camouflage. 

Mapi stood frozen, looking at her locker. Something was occupying her chair. The cardboard cutout of her doing her lion pose you owned. Fake Mapi was flexing and showing her teeth like an animal ready to fight. She burst out laughing, wheezing and letting herself fall on a chair. 

It was the cue for the whole team to explode. Pina’s voice shot up, barely hearable over the laughing. “Say hi for Instagram, Mapi!” she was moving around so much you were sure the video wouldn’t even be good.

Alexia had been standing on the side of the room, an eyebrow raised, “Of course it’s you two.” she spoke, shaking her head disapprovingly. But even serious Alexia couldn’t hold back a smile. 

“I gotta admit kid, I didn’t think you’d actually bring it,” the centre back wheezed, wiping tears away from her eyes. 

The joyful energy was only made more electric by Ingrid, who leaned into the joke. Ingrid looked alternatively between Mapi sitting on the chair and the cardboard. She posed, mimicking being deep in thoughts. 

"Mmh, which one is my girlfriend?" she had said, grinning. 

“Pina! Get this on the video!” you shouted, gesturing to whatever was about to happen, the woman happily nodded. 

She slid down next to the cardboard, throwing her arm around the fake Mapi "This one!" she exclaimed, sending everyone toppling over.

Mapi gave her a shocked look, still laughing. "Oh I see how it goes, everyone prefers that pale copy now" she feigned annoyance. Ingrid kissed the cheek of the cardboard while Mapi pouted, voice shaky as she added, “what does she have that I don’t?”

“This one doesn’t argue when I’m right.” Ingrid answered, the Norwegian might have become your favourite person in the world right now. The look on the Spaniard’s face was priceless, you could have rolled on the floor.

"El León stole the spotlight!" it was Jana who had chimed in. She was next to Pina and Patri, all three of them waving for you to get closer. You jumped to their side, hovering over Jana’s shoulder to look at the phone. 

They had posted the video seconds ago on the main Barcelona account and it was already shaking up the internet. As the team calmed down and finished getting ready, thousands of comments popped up, requesting more videos. So the four of you obliged. 

You posed Mapi and the cutout next to each other taking a picture and doing a poll in the story, which read “Which is the better Mapi?” You knew social media, you knew how to bring in numbers. 

Jana and Patri took the fake Mapi to the field while Pina and you ran to get some footballs. Both of you laughed when the cardboard had deflected a shot, still careful to keep it intact as you wanted to bring it back home safely. You all screamed “AND SHE DOES IT AGAIN, SAVING THE DAY!” zooming on it and then on Mapi, who watched with the biggest smile on her face. Mapi grabbed the phone to take selfies with the cutout. Everything was posted on the account, this would be the first thing fans ever got to see from you, and you weren’t disappointed. This was a masterpiece of an introduction to the world. 

In this moment, the bond that you had with this team felt invincible. Feeling more alive than you ever had previously. For some minutes, before Pina had arrived to pick you up, you had doubted. Maybe they wouldn’t find it funny, maybe it would make them realize how childish you really were. But even the older, more mature players had laughed at your banter. Pina had treated you like a little sister, Mapi and Ingrid played along. There was a warmth in their teasing that made you feel at home. 

So much so that you didn’t even try to argue with Alexia when she clapped, asking for everyone’s attention. “Everybody calm down, training now, chaos later.” she said firmly. 

When she saw you grinning, she approached, “Yes even you, Diablilla” she joked, ruffling your hair. “Show us what you can do, besides being a trickster.”

So you hopped off, starting to stretch, warming up your muscles. This left you some time to reflect on the whole situation. You inhaled deeply. The first training session that you had had with the team had gone well, but you were aware it was a chill one, to ease you in the team. Pere had warned you today would be “intense”, as he had said exactly. You felt ready for what they were about to throw at you. You could feel yourself getting more focused, though you were still up for a good joke if the opportunity was there. The team was currently doing sprints to activate their body before doing drills and scrimmages. 

Caro groaned after the last set, “Why do we even do this?” She was clutching her sides, trying to find her breath again.

‘So we can outrun the refs when they try to card us.” you mumbled, sprints weren’t your favorite exercise either. 

Except it seemed you did not say this as low as you intended. You looked up to see most of the team staring at you. Most veterans seemed shocked, the younger players not so much. In the corner of your eyes you could see Jana and Salma holding in a chuckle. 

“What?” you remarked, in disbelief, blush creeping onto your cheeks. Alright, it’s true that it wasn’t very smart of you to admit you were prone to getting cards so much you had to learn how to run away from the refs. 

“Dios mío!” Alexia exclaimed, putting her hand on her forehead, “Irene! You’re going to teach Cariño how to behave, sí?” she added with a sigh. 

“Not fair! Why is Caro even complaining,” you were interrupted by Irene trying to drag you away, but you persisted, “like she didn’t run at 32 km/h during the 2023 world cup?” you grumbled. 

Caro raised an eyebrow, looking at you with a proud expression. “You’re a fan now? I thought you only liked defenders.” she replied, voice full of playfulness. 

“I keep myself updated on statistics.” you attempted to say, trailing off knowing the team would, once again, never let you live that down. 

Salma came up next to you, “So you know statistics on everyone here?” she smirked, barking out a laugh when your eyes widened in horror. 

“Sorry! Can’t hear you I’m too far away getting ready for the drills,” you walked off with Irene, miming not being able to hear. 

“This isn’t over Diablilla!” screamed Vicky, “we’ll get all your fangirl secrets out of you later.” 

Oh, Vicky, if only you knew. 

As you made your way next to the other defenders, you let out a breath. Determination taking over your cheeky eyes, you touched the tip of both of your boots with your fingers. The last of your rituals, this meant the game was on. 

You threw yourself in all the tasks the coach had you do. While your inexperience showed on certain drills, your will to do well still pleased the team. In some ways, having spent so many years studying everything about that team helped you on the pitch. You could guess where Alexia would try to do a backward pass, or where Aitana’s ball control might be more problematic to intercept. You tried your best to mirror Mapi, bending your knee lows, trying to push attackers on the side you wanted. An interception you made earned you a wide grin from Mapi while Ingrid had her thumbs up toward the sky to congratulate you. A shy smile creeped on your lips.

You were putting up a solid fight, having done a few successful tackles during a particularly difficult scrimmage. Maybe it’s how you ended up messing up so bad. The confidence rushed through you when you decided to slide tackle Caro. She was doing a solo run, and you were feeling mixed, split between not wanting to lose if she scored an equalizer and wanting praises from your teammates. It was childish, really. Almost shameful. You weren’t here to be praised, you were here to work. But she was running, and you were shoulder to shoulder with her. It felt like the right timing, so you slid. The adrenaline rush was so strong that you didn’t use your brain enough. You knew she was a master at feints, but still for a second you thought you had it. 

You sensed the wet grass brushing against your skin, until the grass was replaced with a training cone you collided with. You froze, your whole body burning, watching in horror as Caro continued her run, chipping the ball over Cata, making her team come up to 2-2. And that was your fault, if you had accessed the situation for longer, you wouldn’t have dived head first into an unnecessary tackle.

Ingrid jogged over to you, “You alright, Skrulla?” reaching her hands to help you stand up. If your ears weren’t ringing so bad from the shame and confusion, you would have asked the Norwegian what it meant. 

You shrugged, wiping the grass from your shorts in embarrassment. 

You knew you didn’t do a good job hiding it when the green eyed woman added, “At least it wasn’t my back this time?” She was smiling brightly at you, so you forced out a laugh, the emotions stuck in your throat. 

You shook your head, going back into position. Any positive feeling from your earlier exploit long gone. You tried to brush it off, but you were so frustrated with yourself and still had half the session to go through. So you pushed yourself more, hoping to erase the bad memory. 

It didn’t work though. By the time training finished, you were exhausted. Letting yourself flop on the ground, you clutched at your chest in pain. Little by little your abilities on the pitch had faded away, each pass connecting less and less, your timing getting worse. Everyone could see it, and some of your teammates gave you questioning looks. You couldn’t deal with the attention on you, so you jumped up and made a beeline for the lockers. 

You showered quicker than you thought possible, but by the time you were done, multiples of your teammates were around you. The buzzing of the room annoyed you more than it ever had previously. 

You look up to see Ingrid and Mapi whispering, throwing glances at you. So, like the child you are, you grabbed your cardboard cutout and fled. Waving off a very confused Pina who thought she’d drive you back home. 

As you walk, you can’t help but feel increasingly stupid. You know you shouldn't be nearly as bothered with that tackle as you currently were. It was so stupid. But it was so badly timed and you were ashamed about it. Sure your teammates were nice to you, and you all laughed together, but with that awful move you had just pulled? There was no way they'd ever trust you on the field. How could they trust you if you couldn't even slide tackle an opponent? Why would Pere give you any minutes if you messed up so bad when there was no pressure on you. 

By the time you reached your dorm, you could feel tears rolling down your cheeks. You quickly wiped them with your sleeve, throwing yourself on your bed.  

That was the down side of your brain. The obsession over football, that one singular process who made you apart from other players but was also your downfall. The way you’d obsess over every single one of your flaws, needing to perfect them all. Needing to have as much information on players. You’d drive yourself crazy and sleep deprived watching footage until the birds would sing outside, signaling you it was early morning. It wasn’t healthy. But it was all you knew.

You had grown up with coaches who had screamed at you that the difference between an amateur and a pro was when they stopped their drills. An amateur does it right once and stops, a pro keeps going until they can’t get it wrong. So you just kept pushing. In some way, you hoped your brain would ease off having finally made the first team. It hadn’t.

You rolled over, looking at the fake Mapi, still deep in thoughts. Your eye caught sight of a black mark on it, making you jump in a hurry. Had you damaged it while walking back home? Or when Pina and you were using it for shooting practice? Frowning, you leaned closer trying to figure out what had happened. 

You gasped when you saw it.

You have the potential to be one of the greatest.

— Mapi 

You let the tip of your fingers brush over the writing. Your idol hadn’t only signed the cardboard without you even asking, she had written this. You felt a tug at your heartstring, and promised yourself to thank her profusely tomorrow. 

For now, the only thing you could do was calm down. You inhaled deeply, feeling the rise of your ribcage, and exhaled softly, trying to release any tensions in your body. Maybe it was fine, maybe nobody would be mad at you, maybe you’d be able to fix it during the next training. 

You needed a distraction, so you pulled out your phone to check the latest post from your fan account.

TacklerCulers

tacklerculers: Did you know? Attackers that trip in front of Mapi León are actually just nervous to be close to her.

barcafan11: @TacklersCulers Are you going to talk about the new signing we saw on the official barça page today?

alex1aa: I’m really disappointed, Barça does not need a clown.

b0nmat12: I hope she’s just a social media person and not a player, otherwise we’re doomed for the Champions League.

Your stomach twisted when you saw the comments. You threw the phone at the wall and buried yourself into the blanket on your bed. The weight of failure still crushing your chest.

pt. 4

[wisteria-lodge]

“Snape’s Head of Slytherin House. They say he always favors them — we’ll be able to see if it’s true”

An In-Depth Examination of Snape as a Teacher (Part 1 - Books 1-4)

All right, I’m game. Let’s do this properly.

(McGonagall will get her own companion breakdown after this, and maybe Dumbledore too - but he definitely sees his job as “prepare Harry to fight Voldemort” first and “Be a good headmaster” like. Fourth or fifth? I’ve heard the argument that he only hires Lockhart (who he 100% knows is a fraud) so Harry can learn some abstract lesson about the perils of fame. RIP to the fifth years taking their OWLs that year. He also makes Ron a prefect based on vibes. The eighty-billion-points-to-Gryffindor thing is part of the “mad” Wacky Dumbledore persona, and is just been memed to death.)

But Snape vs McGonagall - that's an interesting question, and I'm very interested in how it breaks down.

Snape's Reputation

In book 1, Ron and the Twins think that Snape favors Slytherin - it's one of the first things we hear about him - and Hagrid thinks that Snape just hates everyone (but Harry doesn't quite buy it.) Quirrell's position is that Snape uniquely hates Harry:

“But Snape always seemed to hate me so much.” “Oh, he does (...) Heavens, yes. He was at Hogwarts with your father, didn’t you know? They loathed each other.”

And Harry is inclined to agree.

At the start-of-term banquet, Harry had gotten the idea that Professor Snape disliked him. By the end of the first Potions lesson, he knew he’d been wrong. Snape didn’t dislike Harry — he hated him. - PS

[The expression] was beyond anger: It was loathing. Harry knew that expression only too well; it was the look Snape wore every time he set eyes on Harry. - PoA

By Book 2, Harry agrees with Ron that Snape hates everyone except the Slytherins (but hates him The Most):

Harry also happened to be Snape’s least favorite student. Cruel, sarcastic, and disliked by everybody except the students from his own House (Slytherin). - CoS

Oliver Wood also seems to agree:

"Snape’s refereeing this time, and he’ll be looking for any excuse to knock points off Gryffindor!" - PS

“We’ve just got to make sure we play a clean game, so Snape hasn’t got an excuse to pick on us.” - PS

"Finish the game before Snape can favor Hufflepuff too much.” - PS

We DO know that Snape likes to spam-book the Quidditch pitch to make it harder for Wood to schedule practice, and overwrite already scheduled practices with his teacher's authority. So it makes sense why Wood particularly wouldn't like him.

But that's the question isn't it: what do we see Snape actually DO?

Class #1 - "Little foolish wand-waving here"

Snape asks Harry three trivia questions he doesn't know the answers to. Harry's embarrassed, Draco thinks it's hilarious. Harry hasn't done anything to Snape at this point, but Snape has latched on to his fame and decided he needs to be... taken down a peg. Harry is "our new celebrity" and "Fame clearly isn’t everything.” Snape also doesn't call on Hermione - who hasn't had enough time to earn her know-it-all, why-don't-you-let-one-of-the-other-students-try reputation yet. So... the purpose of this little exchange isn't to move the class along, it is to embarrass Harry.

“Thought you wouldn’t open a book before coming, eh, Potter?” Harry (...) had looked through his books at the Dursleys’, but did Snape expect him to remember everything in One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi?

I'm on Harry's side here. Snape's being unreasonable. This is also the first point where Harry bites back:

“I think Hermione does [know], though, why don’t you try her?” A few people laughed (...) Snape, however, was not pleased.

This also loses Harry his first point, and... it's not over nothing.

"a point will be taken from Gryffindor House for your cheek, Potter.”

Class continues, and Snape goes around "criticizing almost everyone except Malfoy, whom he seemed to like," even "telling everyone to look at the perfect way Malfoy had stewed his horned slugs." Which is interesting: "almost everyone" probably includes some Slytherins, so so far Snape's bias doesn't seem to be house-centric: He dislikes Harry, and likes Malfoy

(In later books we learn that he is a friend of the the Malfoy family, and knows Draco outside of school. But in Books 1-4, the implication is more that he likes Draco because Draco is a suck-up.)

“Sir,” said Malfoy loudly. “Sir, why don’t you apply for the headmaster’s job?” “Now, now, Malfoy,” said Snape, though he couldn’t suppress a thin-lipped smile. (...) “I expect you’d have Father’s vote, sir, if you wanted to apply for the job — I’ll tell Father you’re the best teacher here, sir —” Snape smirked as he swept off around the dungeon - CoA

Then Neville manages to melt Seamus' cauldron, and Snape responds...okay.

“Idiot boy!” snarled Snape, clearing the spilled potion away with one wave of his wand. “I suppose you added the porcupine quills before taking the cauldron off the fire?” Neville whimpered as boils started to pop up all over his nose. “Take him up to the hospital wing,” Snape spat at Seamus.

So... he's clearly competent. He gets rid of the dangerous potion easily, knows exactly what Neville did wrong, and sends him off to the hospital wing. However... he's also insulting his students, which isn't great. And like, this is not a teachable moment. Neville's in pain, he's not paying attention. The time to correct his potion making would have been earlier, when you could have headed off the mistake. Or later, once he's physically in decent shape again and can like, listen.

Then Snape decides this is all Harry's fault. Somehow.

He rounded on Harry and Ron, who had been working next to Neville. “You — Potter — why didn’t you tell him not to add the quills? Thought he’d make you look good if he got it wrong, did you? That’s another point you’ve lost for Gryffindor.”

Snape. Snape. You're projecting. You have this little James jr. child-star version of Harry in your head that just isn't real. You've already established that Harry knows nothing about potions.

Also like - yes. Harry's fame absolutely gets him special treatment (in Book 3 especially, it seems to be why the Aunt Marge thing is completely covered up.) Snape picks up on this, and in his head is maybe trying to correct the imbalance?

“Ah, well, Snape . . . Harry Potter, you know . . . we’ve all got a bit of a blind spot where he’s concerned.” [said Fudge] “And yet — is it good for him to be given so much special treatment? Personally, I try and treat him like any other student." - PoA

But I think we've established that he absolutely does not treat him just like any other student.

STUDENTS INSULTED: 2

"Idiot boy" (Neville)

"Fame clearly isn't everything" (Harry)

POINTS TAKEN: - 2

Disciplinary Action #1 - Confiscating Harry's library book

This starts a recurring pattern: Harry and friends are doing something they're not supposed to do... so Snape picks up on a guilty vibe... and just finds some random way to punish them. Which Harry thinks is unfair.

The trio are in the courtyard using Hermione's portable flames to stay warm, something they don't think is technically allowed:

Unfortunately, something about their guilty faces caught Snape’s eye. He limped over. He hadn’t seen the fire, but he seemed to be looking for a reason to tell them off anyway. “What’s that you’ve got there, Potter?” It was Quidditch Through the Ages. Harry showed him. “Library books are not to be taken outside the school,” said Snape. “Give it to me. Five points from Gryffindor.” “He’s just made that rule up,” Harry muttered angrily. - PS

I think I believe Harry. Hermione will go out and read down by the lake and no one cares, and even if this is a rule - this is a 'go back inside' moment, not a 'confiscate the book' moment. Harry specifically goes to the staff room to ask for it back, because "Harry had an idea that Snape wouldn’t refuse if there were other teachers listening."

POINTS TAKEN: - 5 (TOTAL - 7)

Disciplinary Action #2 - Ron + Draco Fight

The first instance of the Draco Malfoy Special: Provoke someone else into throwing the first punch as a way to get them in trouble.

“WEASLEY!” Ron let go of the front of Malfoy’s robes. “He was provoked, Professor Snape,” said Hagrid, sticking his huge hairy face out from behind the tree. “Malfoy was insultin’ his family.” “Be that as it may, fighting is against Hogwarts rules, Hagrid,” said Snape silkily. “Five points from Gryffindor, Weasley, and be grateful it isn’t more.

Works like a charm. And Snape (as we see) is very happy to turn a blind eye to Draco's antics.

POINTS TAKEN: - 5 (TOTAL - 12)

Disciplinary Action #3 - Quidditch Fouls

Snape had just awarded Hufflepuff a penalty because George Weasley had hit a Bludger at him.

Fair.

Snape awarded Hufflepuff another penalty for no reason at all.

Possibly an instance of Snape being biased against Gryffindor in general... or else Harry not paying close enough attention.

Disciplinary Action #4 - The Flying Car

Snape generally goes to expulsion as a threat, even though if you take the series as a whole there's no way Dumbledore is ever letting that happen.

"Be warned, Potter — any more nighttime wanderings and I will personally make sure you are expelled." - PS “Most unfortunately, you are not in my House and the decision to expel you does not rest with me. I shall go and fetch the people who do have that happy power.” - CoS

But this is still the first time Harry is in real trouble. I do think he gets off kind of easy (detentions and letters home - Harry talks McGonagall out of taking away points.) But McGonagall and Dumbledore are not happy.

If Snape had gone to fetch Professor McGonagall, head of Gryffindor House, they were hardly any better off. She might be fairer than Snape, but she was still extremely strict.

There was a knock on the office door and Snape, now looking happier than ever, opened it. There stood the headmaster, Professor Dumbledore. There was a long silence. Then Dumbledore said, “Please explain why you did this.” It would have been better if he had shouted. Harry hated the disappointment in his voice. 

Disciplinary Action #5 - Mrs. Norris' petrification

This is actually a really interesting little interaction because like... everyone involved is half-right.

“I suggest, Headmaster, that Potter is not being entirely truthful,” [Snape] said.

Absolutely correct. Harry is hiding the fact that he found Mrs. Norris because he was following the basilisk's voice.

“It might be a good idea if he were deprived of certain privileges until he is ready to tell us the whole story. I personally feel he should be taken off the Gryffindor Quidditch team until he is ready to be honest.” “Really, Severus,” said Professor McGonagall sharply, “I see no reason to stop the boy playing Quidditch. This cat wasn’t hit over the head with a broomstick. There is no evidence at all that Potter has done anything wrong.”

McGonagall is also right - Harry hasn't done anything wrong - and even if he had, taking him off the quidditch team is an extreme punishment that won't even have the desired effect. When Umbridge tries this exact thing, it just makes Harry's behavior worse.

Dumbledore was giving Harry a searching look. His twinkling light-blue gaze made Harry feel as though he were being X-rayed. “Innocent until proven guilty, Severus,” he said firmly.

Dumbledore absolutely knows more than he's saying. But, he's going to let Harry come to him on his own terms ("Is there anything you wish to tell me, Harry?") - otherwise Harry is never going to trust him, and that is the most important consideration here. So... Severus gets low-key gaslit.

“Midnight,” said Harry. “We’d better get to bed before Snape comes along and tries to frame us for something else.”

The first time that the text *explicitly* gives us Unreliable Narrator Harry. We know that Snape didn't try to frame him... but that's still how Harry thinks about it.

Class #2 - Hermione Steals Ingredients  

During this class, Snape does seem to be coming for the Gryffindors in general, not just Harry:

Snape prowled through the fumes, making waspish remarks about the Gryffindors’ work while the Slytherins sniggered appreciatively.

We also get a causal "Snape turned and walked off to bully Neville." And he does continue let Malfoy get away with stuff - Malfoy is of course trying to start something to get Harry and Ron in trouble, like he does.

Draco Malfoy, who was Snape’s favorite student, kept flicking puffer-fish eyes at Ron and Harry, who knew that if they retaliated they would get detention faster than you could say “Unfair.”

Harry throws a firework into Goyle's cauldron to create a distraction for Hermione. Snape handles the situation honestly pretty well:

Snape was trying to restore calm and find out what had happened.  “Silence! SILENCE!” Snape roared. “Anyone who has been splashed, come here for a Deflating Draught — when I find out who did this —” “If I ever find out who threw this,” Snape whispered, “I shall make sure that person is expelled.”

He doesn't come directly for Harry, which is actually a little surprising. But this class (and this book) is more about the Slytherin/Gryffindor divide, so I guess that does make sense.

Class #3 - The Dueling Club

Snape showed up to cause problems on purpose. He's pairing up Harry and Draco because, it would be funny. The Slytherins are cheering him on during his one-on-one with Lockhart. We get one more snipe at "the famous Harry Potter." (again, fixated on that whole 'fame' thing.) And then he's able slide one more insult at Neville.

STUDENTS INSULTED - 1 (TOTAL - 3)

“Longbottom causes devastation with the simplest spells. We’ll be sending what’s left of Finch-Fletchley up to the hospital wing in a matchbox.”

Class #4 - Malfoy's "Broken" Arm + "Poisoning" Trevor

Malfoy staggers in late because of his "injury," and doesn't get in trouble.

Harry and Ron scowled at each other; Snape wouldn’t have said “settle down” if they’d walked in late, he’d have given them detention.

They're basically correct about this. Snape never gives out detention, but over the course of the series Harry will lose 70 points for being "late."

Then Snape has Ron cut up Malfoy's roots for him, trade roots when he does a bad job, and make Harry skin his shrivelfig.

Malfoy had always been able to get away with anything in Snape’s classes; Snape was head of Slytherin House, and generally favored his own students above all others.

But it's really Neville who is having a bad time in class today.

Neville regularly went to pieces in Potions lessons; it was his worst subject, and his great fear of Professor Snape made things ten times worse.

And I really don't blame him:

"Tell me, boy, does anything penetrate that thick skull of yours? Didn’t you hear me say, quite clearly, that only one rat spleen was needed? Didn’t I state plainly that a dash of leech juice would suffice? What do I have to do to make you understand, Longbottom?” Neville was pink and trembling. He looked as though he was on the verge of tears.

Making a student cry is... not great. And I don't think we ever get a reason for why Snape seems to hate Neville so much in particular. A little later on we're told "he was bullying Neville worse than ever" and when Snape's leaving the staff room before the Boggart lesson he's says - “Possibly no one’s warned you, Lupin, but this class contains Neville Longbottom. I would advise you not to entrust him with anything difficult.”

“Please, sir,” said Hermione, “please, I could help Neville put it right —” “I don’t remember asking you to show off, Miss Granger,” said Snape coldly, and Hermione went as pink as Neville. “Longbottom, at the end of this lesson we will feed a few drops of this potion to your toad and see what happens. Perhaps that will encourage you to do it properly.” Snape moved away, leaving Neville breathless with fear. (...) "If he has managed to produce a Shrinking Solution, it will shrink to a tadpole. If, as I don’t doubt, he has done it wrong, his toad is likely to be poisoned.”

Probably one of Snape's cruelest moments - especially the bit where he's forcing Neville to poison his pet. It's super plausible that he was always planning to save Trevor (he does have antidote in his robes). But Neville doesn't know that. And it's like... does Snape think this is motivating? Because it doesn't work, Hermione has to bail out Neville, and then gets punished for it. (Also, remember back in Book 1 where Harry got punished for not helping Neville? There's just no way to win with this guy.)

Five points from Gryffindor,” said Snape, which wiped the smiles from every face. “I told you not to help him, Miss Granger.

STUDENTS INSULTED - 2 (TOTAL - 6 )

"thick skull" (Neville)

"I would advise you not to entrust him with anything difficult" (Neville)

CRYING STUDENTS - 1

(Neville)

POINTS TAKEN: - 5 (TOTAL - 17)

Class #5 - Subbing Defense Against the Dark Arts

Harry starts off by losing points for being late, and I guess nosy? (or conscientious.)

"This lesson began ten minutes ago, Potter, so I think we’ll make it ten points from Gryffindor. Sit down.” “What’s wrong with him?” Snape’s black eyes glittered. “Nothing life-threatening,” he said, looking as though he wished it were. “Five more points from Gryffindor, and if I have to ask you to sit down again, it will be fifty.”

Then we learn that Lupin keeps bad class records. Which is honestly ... in character, and doesn't have anything to do with Slytherin/Gryffindor bias. I'm just throwing it in because it IS really annoying when other teachers don't leave you good sub notes.

Professor Lupin has not left any record of the topics you have covered so far —” “Please, sir, we’ve done boggarts, Red Caps, kappas, and grindylows,” said Hermione quickly, “and we’re just about to start —” “Be quiet,” said Snape coldly. “I did not ask for information. I was merely commenting on Professor Lupin’s lack of organization.”

Then... Snape makes another student cry:

"That is the second time you have spoken out of turn, Miss Granger,” said Snape coolly. “Five more points from Gryffindor for being an insufferable know-it-all.” Hermione went very red, put down her hand, and stared at the floor with her eyes full of tears.  “You asked us a question and she knows the answer! Why ask if you don’t want to be told?” The class knew instantly [Ron] had gone too far. Snape advanced on Ron slowly, and the room held its breath. “Detention, Weasley,” Snape said silkily, his face very close to Ron’s.

And Ron ends up in detention.

STUDENTS INSULTED - 2 (TOTAL - 6 )

"insufferable know-it-all." (Hermione)

CRYING STUDENTS - 1 (TOTAL - 2)

(Hermione)

DETENTIONS GIVEN: - 1

(Ron)

POINTS TAKEN: - 20 (TOTAL - 37)

Class #6 - Malfoy at it Again

Malfoy spent much of their next Potions class doing dementor imitations across the dungeon; Ron finally cracked and flung a large, slippery crocodile heart at Malfoy, which hit him in the face and caused Snape to take fifty points from Gryffindor.

That plausible deniability is cracking a little, Snape. Dementor impressions?

POINTS TAKEN: - 50 (TOTAL - 87)

Disciplinary Action #6 - Post-Hogsmeade Check-In

Malfoy tells Snape that Harry snuck into Hogsmeade - which he absolutely did do. Snape starts off pretty reasonable and then goes... off script...

“Everyone from the Minister of Magic downward has been trying to keep famous Harry Potter safe from Sirius Black."

Like this is the same point Lupin will make (more effectively) later:

"I cannot make you take Sirius Black seriously. But I would have thought that what you have heard when the dementors draw near you would have had more of an effect on you. Your parents gave their lives to keep you alive, Harry. A poor way to repay them — gambling their sacrifice for a bag of magic tricks.” He walked away, leaving Harry feeling worse by far than he had at any point in Snape’s office. “It’s my fault,” said Ron abruptly. “I persuaded you to go. Lupin’s right, it was stupid, we shouldn’t’ve done it —”

BUT Snape just starts spiraling about fame and James:

"But famous Harry Potter is a law unto himself. Let the ordinary people worry about his safety! Famous Harry Potter goes where he wants to, with no thought for the consequences.” “How extraordinarily like your father you are, Potter (...) He too was exceedingly arrogant. A small amount of talent on the Quidditch field made him think he was a cut above the rest of us too. Strutting around the place with his friends and admirers . . . The resemblance between you is uncanny.” “Rules were for lesser mortals, not Quidditch Cup-winners. His head was so swollen —”

Until Harry snaps at him, and Snape calls in... Lupin. I honestly have no idea why he calls in Lupin. He certainly doesn't believe "the dark arts are your area of expertise." It does lead to a very funny showdown over the map where Lupin knows he's "Moony," Snape knows he's "Moony," Lupin knows that Snape knows he's Moony... but isn't allowed to call him on it, so he just placidly lies his way through the interaction, and Snape gets nothing. Dumbledore actually hits him with a very similar sort of gaslighting at the end of the book:

“YOU DON’T KNOW POTTER!” shrieked Snape. “HE DID IT, I KNOW HE DID IT —” “That will do, Severus,” said Dumbledore quietly. “Think about what you are saying. This door has been locked since I left the ward ten minutes ago. Madam Pomfrey, have these students left their beds?” “Of course not!” said Madam Pomfrey, bristling (...) “Well, there you have it, Severus,” said Dumbledore calmly.

STUDENTS INSULTED - 2 (TOTAL - 8 )

"exceedingly arrogant" (Harry)

"[thought he was] a cut above the rest of us" (Harry)

Class #7 - Neville Melts Another Cauldron

The next two days passed without great incident, unless you counted Neville melting his sixth cauldron in Potions. Professor Snape, who seemed to have attained new levels of vindictiveness over the summer, gave Neville detention, and Neville returned from it in a state of nervous collapse, having been made to disembowel a barrel full of horned toads.

I do think the fact that Neville has a pet toad adds another level of meanness to this detention. Snape's detentions tend to be both sensorially and psychologically unpleasant. He has Ron scrub bedpans, he has Harry copy the files Filtch keeps about the Marauder's rulebreaking, at one point he schedules detention over quidditch practice on purpose, and has Harry pick out dead flobberworms without using gloves.

DETENTIONS GIVEN: - 1 (TOTAL - 2)

Class #8 - Hermione's Teeth Incident

Double Potions was always a horrible experience, but these days it was nothing short of torture. Being shut in a dungeon for an hour and a half with Snape and the Slytherins, all of whom seemed determined to punish Harry as much as possible for daring to become school champion, was about the most unpleasant thing Harry could imagine.

Harry is correct about Snape blaming him for being Champion. Snape absolutely thinks he puts his own name in the Goblet ("Don’t go blaming Dumbledore for Potter’s determination to break rules. He has been crossing lines ever since he arrived here —”)

He shows up, and Malfoy's outdone himself with the SUPPORT CEDRIC DIGGORY/POTTER STINKS badges. (Got to maintain that plausible deniability...) Then Malfoy provokes Harry - their spells meet in the middle and ricochet. Harry's boil charm hits Goyle, and Draco's teeth-growing charm hits Hermione.

Goyle bellowed and put his hands to his nose, where great ugly boils were springing up — Hermione, whimpering in panic, was clutching her mouth. “Hermione!” Ron had hurried forward to see what was wrong with her; Harry turned and saw Ron dragging Hermione’s hand away from her face. It wasn’t a pretty sight. Hermione’s front teeth — already larger than average — were now growing at an alarming rate; she was looking more and more like a beaver as her teeth elongated, past her bottom lip, toward her chin — panic-stricken, she felt them and let out a terrified cry. “And what is all this noise about?” said a soft, deadly voice.

Snape gets Malfoy to tell him what happened, and addresses him in a way that seems unusually harsh -

Snape pointed a long yellow finger at Malfoy and said, “Explain.” “Potter attacked me, sir —” “We attacked each other at the same time!” Harry shouted. “— and he hit Goyle — look —”

Which kind of suggests that Snape (who is very capable when it comes to magical accidents) is about to sort this out properly.

Snape examined Goyle (...) “Hospital wing, Goyle,” Snape said calmly. “Malfoy got Hermione!” Ron said. “Look!” He forced Hermione to show Snape her teeth — she was doing her best to hide them with her hands, though this was difficult as they had now grown down past her collar. (...) Snape looked coldly at Hermione, then said, “I see no difference.” Hermione let out a whimper; her eyes filled with tears, she turned on her heel and ran, ran all the way up the corridor and out of sight.

Presumably "I see no difference" is Snape making comment about the fact that Hermione has large teeth, normally. Which... isn't good. She's clearly panicking and crying, and he dealt with Goyle appropriately (and Neville, when he was also hit with splashes of boil-potion), so why not Hermione? Not one of Snape's best moments.

At which point, Harry and Ron start swearing at him.

“Let’s see,” he said, in his silkiest voice. “Fifty points from Gryffindor and a detention each for Potter and Weasley.

STUDENTS INSULTED - 1 (TOTAL - 9 )

"I see no difference" (Hermione)

CRYING STUDENTS - 1 (TOTAL - 3)

DETENTIONS GIVEN: - 2 (TOTAL - 4)

POINTS TAKEN: - 50 (TOTAL - 137)

Disciplinary Action #7 - Yule Ball Chaperone

Snape had his wand out and was blasting rosebushes apart, his expression most ill-natured. Squeals issued from many of the bushes, and dark shapes emerged from them. “Ten points from Ravenclaw, Fawcett!” Snape snarled as a girl ran past him. “And ten points from Hufflepuff too, Stebbins!”

POINTS TAKEN: - 10, -10

Class #9 - Rita Skeeter's Interview

Snape starts off reasonable, by asking the Trio not to talk about Rita Skeeter in class:

“Fascinating though your social life undoubtedly is, Miss Granger,” said an icy voice right behind them, and all three of them jumped, “I must ask you not to discuss it in my class. Ten points from Gryffindor.”

But then he finds the magazine, and starts reading "Harry Potter's Secret Heartache" aloud. This situation is just really well set up to ping all of the baggage Snape has around Harry being "famous." Unfortunately, once again it seems to be Hermione who is caught in the crossfire.

“You might be laboring under the delusion that the entire Wizarding world is impressed with you,” Snape went on, so quietly that no one else could hear him (...) “but I don’t care how many times your picture appears in the papers. To me, Potter, you are nothing but a nasty little boy who considers rules to be beneath him.” “So I give you fair warning, Potter,” Snape continued in a softer and more dangerous voice, “pint-sized celebrity or not — if I catch you breaking into my office one more time —”

Which (this time) Harry did not actually do. And then the class ends with Snape threatening him with Veritaserum.

So, final tally:

STUDENTS INSULTED: 2 (TOTAL - 11 )

"nasty little boy" (Harry)

"considers rules to be beneath him." (Harry)

CRYING STUDENTS: TOTAL - 3)

DETENTIONS GIVEN: TOTAL - 4)

POINTS TAKEN: - 10, -10, -10 (TOTAL - 147)

As things stand (stay tuned for part 2) - Snape has never punished a Slytherin, has never scolded or criticized a Slytherin - unless you consider Slytherins to be included in the single sentence "criticizing almost everyone except Malfoy." He also lets them get away with behavior like talking and laughing in class, being late, and general messing around that he does not tolerate from Gryffindors. So, as it stands I do have to conclude that yes, he does favor them.

I was surprised with how often this preoccupation with Harry being famous comes up, and how it's Harry, Hermione and Neville that get the bulk of his attention during class. (Ron manages to stay out of it - except when he's defending Hermione, or his family.) Draco's tactics are also EXTREMELY consistent, and he and Snape (Teacher and Teacher's Pet) seem to low-key reinforce/enable each other's bad behavior.

I think Snape might be a little fairer in this regard during books 5-7, but we will see.

[noorpersona]

author ive binged so many of ur works in the past few hours.. i was going through something and your writing cheered me the fuck up so thank u a lot!

i was wondering if i could make a request if its something you enjoy writing,,, could u make surprising the hq boys with lingerie a little series? i enjoyed the iwa one soso much and i feel like u could do a lot w the different personalities of each character and howd they react to such a surprise!! if not maybe just a version for suna or atsumu 👁️

BAEE THANK YOUU ❤️❤️

I've been like going thru it your message cheered me the fuck up 😩😩

Also I love your idea so much yes I am making it a series teehehe Enjoy <333

--

Laced Reactions: Atsumu

It had been a slow, unremarkable kind of day. The kind where time stretches in sleepy increments, and even your to-do list didn’t feel like it was in a rush. The apartment was clean. Dinner was already figured out. The sunlight pooled lazily across the kitchen counter, and your playlist drifted quietly in the background—muffled lo-fi beats and the hum of a city winding down.

You were curled up on the couch in one of Atsumu’s old jerseys, your legs tucked beneath you, flipping through your phone with a half-eaten bag of chips nestled at your side. Every now and then, you paused to scroll back and forth through the same three apps, rereading conversations or squinting at memes that weren’t funny enough to laugh out loud but too amusing to ignore.

When the door finally clicked open, you barely lifted your eyes.

“'M home,” came his usual singsong voice, warm with the weight of routine. The sound of it made your chest ease a little.

His footsteps padded in—socked feet against the floor, keys dropped into the bowl by the door, the thunk of his gym bag against the wall. And then came the rustling of a paper bag.

“I got somethin’ for ya,” he called, his voice light and teasing.

That made you pause. You glanced up as he approached, swinging a sleek black shopping bag by its gold ribbon handles. He dropped it next to you on the couch, and his grin told you he knew exactly what reaction he was about to get.

“You didn’t have to get me anything,” you said, side-eyeing him even as you reached for the bag.

“Didn’t say I had to,” he replied, kicking off his shoes. “I wanted to.”

You parted the tissue paper carefully.

And blinked.

Deep, vivid red gleamed up at you—lace, straps, sheer panels, and the soft glint of garter clips. A matching lingerie set, rich as blood and twice as dangerous.

You stared down at it, then slowly lifted the bra with two fingers, holding it like it might purr or explode.

“Seriously?” you said flatly, casting a look at him.

“You’re a pig.”

He let out a full, unapologetic laugh, already crouching beside you with a shameless twinkle in his eyes.

“I’m your pig,” he said proudly, placing a palm over his heart like it was a badge of honor.

You opened your mouth to roast him properly, but he leaned in—close enough that you caught the salt of his sweat, the spice of his cologne—and his voice dropped low, just for you.

“Wanna see you in it,” he murmured, voice rough around the edges, breath ghosting against your ear with a heat that raised the fine hairs at the nape of your neck. The scent of him—sweat still clinging faintly to his skin from practice, mingled with the citrusy spice of his cologne—coiled into your senses like smoke. His words sank deep, velvet-wrapped and deliberate, vibrating through your spine as his fingers traced a slow, teasing path beneath your jaw. The pads of his fingertips were warm, a little calloused from hours of drills, dragging lightly across your skin as if tasting it through touch.

“Bet it’ll be fun.”

The way he said it—low, lazy, laced with just enough amusement and hunger—made your stomach clench. It wasn’t even overtly dirty. It was suggestive in the most infuriating, devastating way. Like he wasn’t just asking for a favor. Like he was offering an experience, something slow and indulgent.

It pooled heat in your belly, crawled up your spine, lit your nerve endings with a hum. Your cheeks flared instantly, warmth blooming beneath your skin before you even realized it. Your breath caught, barely audible, and you swatted at his shoulder—not hard, just enough to make contact.

“Stop doing that.”

He leaned back slightly, blinking at you with mock innocence, though the glint in his eyes was anything but pure. His hand still rested at your waist, fingers curling ever so slightly into your side—warm and sure, like he knew exactly how much space he was taking up.

“Doin’ what?” he asked, his voice lilting up with faux confusion, but there was already a smirk tugging at his mouth.

Your glare barely held its form, shaky at best. “That thing with your voice.”

His smile broke into something slow and satisfied, like a cat stretching in the sun. He leaned in again without hesitation, and his lips brushed your throat—a kiss so soft, so maddeningly light, it felt more like a memory of touch than the real thing. Still, it left behind heat. Goosebumps.

You sucked in a breath as the warmth of his breath lingered. The scent of him—earthy, sweat-slicked from training and laced with that familiar, spicy cologne—wrapped around you like velvet. Every word he spoke settled low in your belly.

“What thing?” he whispered, voice a rough murmur that sent a tremor up your spine. “The one that gets you all red?”

As if to punctuate it, his thumb drifted just beneath your collarbone. You shivered. Audibly.

You groaned, the sound caught somewhere between protest and surrender. Your hand found his chest and pushed, but there was no force behind it.

“Just try it on,” he said, voice lighter now, but no less persuasive. His arms slid further around your waist, pulling you closer—his grip snug but gentle, like he was grounding himself with the feel of you. “Humor me, yeah?”

You grabbed the bag with a grumble, flushed to the tips of your ears, and stomped off toward the bedroom.

Behind you, his victory whoop echoed with shameless delight.

Inside, you shut the door and exhaled slowly.

You pulled the set out piece by piece, laying it on the bed. The red looked even more scandalous against the pale quilt. You stripped off the jersey and stood in front of the mirror, holding the bra up and narrowing your eyes.

One strap. Then another.

You clipped yourself in and stepped back.

It clung to you like it had been poured on. The fabric stretched and hugged every curve with sinful precision, molded to your frame like a second skin crafted from temptation. The lace was impossibly soft—whisper-light against your skin, intricate patterns etched in delicate swirls and scalloped edges that brushed your ribs and traced the slope of your hips. The cut was wicked—high, daring, unapologetically bold. It bared your thighs and framed your chest in fine filigree, the kind of lace that didn’t hide, but highlighted. The deep red shimmered under the overhead light, catching gold undertones in the delicate threads, demanding attention without even trying.

You turned slightly in front of the mirror. The garter straps stretched taut as your leg shifted, and you reached up to adjust one of the bra straps—fingers grazing your shoulder as you settled it into place. Then your hands drifted lower, thumbs resting briefly at the dip of your waist. Your fingers brushed the edge of the garters where they kissed the top of your thighs, soft elastic and polished metal clasps cool beneath your touch. Heat gathered in your face, your chest. Your reflection stared back—half incredulous, half mesmerized.

You looked powerful.

And very, very doomed.

“He’s gonna combust,” you muttered, and your voice sounded distant to your own ears. Your skin tingled, blood rushing hot through your cheeks as your toes curled into the carpet. Your ears were already burning, heat pooling at the nape of your neck. You hovered at the doorway for a heartbeat, one hand gripping the frame like it could anchor you to something real.

Then, with a breath dragged deep into your lungs, you stepped out.

The light in the living room was low and golden, casting soft shadows on the hardwood. Atsumu was sprawled on the couch like he owned it—one leg kicked over the back, his phone cradled lazily in his hand, expression half-lidded with contentment. He looked utterly at peace, his world uncomplicated.

Until you walked in.

The moment he sensed movement, his head lifted—and everything changed.

His jaw unhinged in slow motion. The phone slipped from his grip and landed on his chest with a dull thump, unnoticed. His mouth parted like he was about to speak, but no sound came. Just stunned, wide-eyed silence.

His gaze swept over you like a heatwave, dragging across the curve of your hips, the dip of your waist, the way the red lace caught the light and turned your skin to gold. His breath visibly stuttered, his throat bobbing with a swallow that sounded like it hurt.

"Oh my god," he whispered, voice ragged. His eyes flicked up to yours, glassy and awestruck. "You’re gonna kill me."

You crossed your arms, trying to ignore the way your heart was pounding so hard it echoed in your ears. "Well?"

He surged to his feet like gravity had reversed.

He was on you in a blink. One hand cupped your waist, the other slid reverently over your hip, fingers spreading wide like he was trying to memorize the exact feel of you under his palms. His touch was warm, trembling, desperate with restraint.

“You’re not real,” he breathed, eyes locked on your chest, then your legs, then your face. “You’re—babe, you can’t just walk around like that. This is illegal. You’re illegal.”

You raised a brow, trying to keep your cool even as his fingers threatened to make your knees buckle. “Hands off.”

He froze mid-lean, lips just shy of your collarbone. “Wait, what?”

“No touching,” you said, stepping aside like it was the easiest thing in the world. “If I have to be out here half-naked, the least you can do is look.”

The groan he let out was deep and strangled, like it had been torn from his chest. He dragged both hands through his hair, pacing a slow circle.

“You’re evil, that’s what you are,” he said, his voice half-laugh, half-prayer.

“You’ll survive.”

“I’m not so sure,” he muttered, staring at you like you were a myth that just stepped off the page.

You walked past him slowly, deliberately, aware of every sway of your hips, every squeak of the floorboard beneath your feet. His eyes followed you like he was starved.

When you glanced over your shoulder, he was still rooted in place, fists clenched at his sides like he was physically holding himself back.

Then the spell snapped.

He launched forward with a sharp, breathless curse. You shrieked and bolted, the hallway blurring around you as his footsteps thundered behind.

Laughter echoed down the walls—yours breathless and bright, his low and exhilarated. He caught you just outside the bedroom, his arms banding around your waist, lifting you clean off the ground with a triumphant, half-mad noise.

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” he growled, burying his face in your neck as you laughed, squirming in his grip.

“Then I better make it worth it,” you gasped.

“Oh,” he whispered against your skin, kissing just below your ear, “you are.”

[suku-enthusiasts]

Were Just Friends || s. ryomen - (one shots)

❛ ❜ Ryomen Sukuna x f!reader (one shot series) - Pain In the Ass

❝you asked your best friend to take your v-card. As friends. No feelings, no strings- Spoiler: it completely ruined your friendship. Now you're dodging each other, pretending nothing happened, while secretly nursing a years-long crush. From meme-filled silence to tearful confessions, jealous fights, and awkward flirting — somehow, you stumble your way into love, marriage, and a house full of sarcastic chaos. Turns out, “just friends” was never really the plan.❞

word count ; 2.1k

cw ; mdni • 18+ only. contains explicit sexual themes and content. use of alcohol. smut . anxiety. major fluff

main masterlist | series masterlist

Sukuna had been under your skin all day. From the moment you’d woken up and found him lying diagonally across the bed like some smug, inked-up starfish, to the way he’d loudly “critiqued” your choice of shirt while brushing his teeth (in a tone that suggested he was so above fashion, despite being the man who once wore socks with flip-flops “as a social experiment”), he’d been in peak form, and now, as you sat in the passenger seat on the way to Shoko’s place for a little get-together, he was still going.

“Just saying,” he said, casually adjusting the volume on the radio for the third time, “if you’re gonna make me hang out with people, the least you could do is bring me a snack or something. Emotional support boyfriend fuel.”

“You had two granola bars, half my sandwich, and my boba,” you said flatly. “Yeah. And look at me. Still suffering.” You turned slowly to look at him. He smirked without glancing away from the road. You inhaled through your nose, counting to three. Murder is illegal. Murder is paperwork. Murder is jail. By the time you arrived at Shoko’s, your patience was wearing thinner than the straps on Sukuna’s tank top. You stepped inside, greeted by warm laughter, the smell of takeout, and the chaotic warmth that came with this particular group of idiots. Toji was already half-sprawled across the couch, beer in hand, making some sarcastic remark about Suguru’s man bun. Utahime and Uraume were bickering over playlist control, Shoko looked exhausted but amused as always, and Suguru raised a brow at you in greeting as you entered. Sukuna followed close behind you, hands in his pockets, grinning like the smug bastard he was.

“There they are,” Shoko drawled, “the world’s most dysfunctional lovebirds.”

“Hey,” Sukuna said, mock-affronted. “I’m a delight.” You rolled your eyes. “He’s a walking noise complaint.” Toji barked a laugh. “Damn, she’s not even being subtle anymore.” You slipped off your shoes, moving to grab a drink, while Sukuna made a beeline for the couch — more specifically, the open space right next to Toji, where he immediately threw himself down with the flair of someone who thought he was doing the world a favor. “Babe,” he called to you, stretching his arms out across the backrest, legs spread obscenely. “Come sit. Your throne awaits.” You ignored him. He tried again. “Come sit,” he whined, drawing out the word. “I’m lonely. Your chair’s cold. Your warmth is vital to my survival.”

“You’ll live.”

“Debatable.”

You settled onto the floor instead, beside the coffee table. Sukuna narrowed his eyes. “Are you mad at me?” he asked, kicking your foot lightly.

“No.”

“You sure? You’re sitting all the way over there like I’m contagious.”

“To be fair,” Shoko said, sipping her drink, “you do have big contagious energy.”

“You’re not helping,” Sukuna muttered. “Maybe I just want personal space,” you said, flipping through a magazine you didn’t actually care about. “Wow,” he said. “A year together and you’re already bored of me. Tragic.” Suguru snorted. “It’s called growth, Sukuna. Let her sit where she wants.”

“Jealousy doesn’t look good on you,” Sukuna deadpanned. “You are the most dramatic man I’ve ever met,” you muttered. “And yet,” he said, smirking, “you’re still here. Cursed by my charm.” You chucked a napkin at his head. The night rolled on — drinks, banter, Uraume somehow managing to insult Utahime and compliment her in the same sentence, Toji loudly trashing everyone’s music taste, Shoko throwing popcorn at anyone who tried to talk over her murder documentary commentary, and through it all, Sukuna kept trying. He patted the empty space beside him every few minutes with big, sarcastic puppy eyes. He texted you from three feet away: “why u no sit w me 😢” followed by “my heart, she withers.” He even dropped your full government name in a fake scolding voice at one point, which earned a chorus of snorts and a very pointed “bro, she’s gonna smother you in your sleep” from Toji. You held strong for a good while. Until the popcorn-to-cheek incident.

You’d leaned over to grab a slice of pizza, and Sukuna, ever the menace, used the opportunity to flick a piece of popcorn directly at your face with sniper-level accuracy. Everyone stared. There was a moment of silence. You closed your eyes. Breathed. Then stood up, walked over, and dropped yourself squarely onto his lap. He made a noise like a smug cat who’d just caught a mouse. “Oh, now you want me,” he said, arms looping easily around your waist. “Congratulations,” you muttered, “you annoyed me into submission.”

“Hot.” You buried your face into his shoulder with a groan as your friends howled with laughter. “Blink twice if you need saving,” Shoko called.

“She’s beyond help,” Suguru added. “Look at her. He’s domesticated her.”

“She was so close to freedom,” Utahime sighed. Sukuna, of course, was loving every second of it. He leaned in, voice low against your ear. “You love it. Admit it.” You turned to him, deadpan. “I love pizza. You are a tax I pay to enjoy it in peace.” His grin widened. “And yet, you’re still in my lap.” You glared at him. He kissed your cheek. You looked away. He kissed your shoulder. You smacked his leg. He kissed the top of your head.

“God,” you muttered, “you’re like a needy golden retriever.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” Later, when the night wound down and the room dimmed to soft conversation and sleepy laughter, you were still in his lap, curled against his chest, his arms draped loosely around you. You felt his breath stir the hair at your temple, warm and steady. His voice was quieter now, no sarcasm, no teasing. “You’re my favorite person to annoy,” he murmured. You smiled against his neck. “You’re my favorite pain in the ass.” He kissed your hair, sighing contentedly. “Perfect match, then.” and somehow, in spite of — or maybe because of — all the chaos, you knew it was true.

The front door clicked shut behind you with a soft thunk. You didn’t say a word. Sukuna followed behind you, lazily tossing his keys into the dish by the door, still riding the high of his self-satisfaction — the smug curl of his mouth, the low hum of amusement vibrating in his throat. He kicked off his shoes, stretching, utterly unaware that you were already two steps ahead of him.

“You were annoying tonight,” you said coolly, turning toward him as he leaned back against the doorframe. His grin widened. “And yet, you stayed in my lap for over an hour.” You stepped forward, slowly, deliberately, until your fingers were brushing the hem of his shirt. “No more talking.” His brow lifted slightly, amused. “Excuse me?”

“I said,” you repeated, firm and low, your eyes catching his in the dim light, “no more talking.” Sukuna blinked. For a second, the cocky mask slipped just enough to reveal something flickering underneath — curiosity, heat, a flicker of surprised hunger. “Oh,” he murmured, the corner of his mouth twitching. “That kind of night.” You didn’t answer. Instead, your hands slipped beneath the hem of his shirt, palms dragging slow up his stomach, feeling the muscles tense under your touch. You lifted the fabric off him, over his head, and dropped it carelessly to the floor. He watched you with lidded eyes, letting you, letting you guide. You pressed your hands to his chest and walked him backward, one slow step at a time, through the living room, down the hallway, until the backs of his knees hit the bed. He sat when you pushed — just slightly — lips twitching like he was trying not to smirk. “Still no talking,” you warned, climbing onto his lap, straddling him the same way you had earlier, only this time there was no crowd, no laughter. Just you and him. Your hands on his bare skin. The silence pulsing between you like a second heartbeat.

Sukuna exhaled slowly through his nose, his hands coming to rest on your hips — firm, reverent, but not guiding. Letting you set the pace.

You reached for the hem of your shirt, slipping it off in one motion, letting it fall behind you. His eyes darkened instantly, sweeping over your exposed skin, his tongue pressing to the inside of his cheek.

“You’re not very good at listening,” you said, tilting your head. He held his hands up in mock surrender, but his eyes never left your chest. You reached for the waistband of his sweats, dragging them down slowly, just enough to reveal the thick line of him, already straining, heavy and hot under the fabric. “You always have so much to say,” you murmured, shifting against him, dragging your hips forward just enough to make him hiss through his teeth. “So many comments. Maybe it’s time you listened for once.” He let out a low sound — not quite a moan, not quite a laugh — and dropped his head back slightly, giving you full control. You ground against him, slow and deliberate, watching the way his jaw flexed, the way his fingers tightened on your thighs. You leaned in, brushing your lips along the shell of his ear.

“Touch me,” you whispered, “only when I tell you to.” His breath hitched. You reached between your bodies, wrapping your hand around him, stroking him slow, savoring the way his thighs tensed beneath you. When you lifted your hips and slid the fabric of your underwear to the side, guiding him to your entrance, he finally broke his silence. “Fuck,” he hissed, voice tight. “Baby—” You pressed your finger to his lips. “No talking.” He groaned, head thudding against the headboard. You sank down onto him inch by inch, the stretch making your breath catch, your nails biting into his shoulders. He was thick, hot, pulsing against your walls, and the way his hands flexed uselessly on your thighs — desperate to hold, to thrust, to do something — made heat curl in your belly. Once fully seated, you stilled, rolling your hips once — slow, purposeful — watching his throat bob as he swallowed back a groan.

“Poor thing,” you cooed softly, rocking again, a little faster now. “Can’t even complain.” His eyes snapped open, hooded and dark, fixed on your face like you were the only thing keeping him tethered to the earth. You found a rhythm — deep and slow, grinding your hips in a way that had you gasping now, the friction delicious, the control intoxicating. His mouth parted, and he let out a strangled noise, but still — no words. You leaned in, nose brushing his, breath mingling. “You’re doing so good for me,” you whispered, your own voice catching on the edge of a moan. “So obedient.” He shuddered. You cupped his jaw, guiding his head back to kiss you — slow at first, then deeper, wetter, messier. His tongue swept into your mouth like he was drowning in it, like kissing you was the only thing he could do without breaking the rules. When you started to tighten around him, your hips stuttering, he grabbed at your waist — finally, finally — and held you in place, thrusting up into you once, twice, deep, and you cried out, the orgasm cresting fast and sharp, stealing the air from your lungs. You trembled against him, face buried in his neck, still shaking when he whispered, voice wrecked and hoarse:

“Can I talk now?” You nodded, and he flipped you. Before you could even process the shift, you were on your back, Sukuna towering over you, pupils blown wide, mouth split into a wicked grin. “My turn.” And then — he moved. Fast, deep, relentless. All the teasing, all the self-restraint, all the withheld groans and quiet obedience — gone. He pounded into you with the full force of his need, his hands gripping your thighs, spreading you wide, your moans echoing off the walls. “Thought you could get the last word, huh?” he panted against your throat. “Thought you could control me?” You could barely respond, gasping, lost to the pace, the angle, the way he hit every spot like he owned it. “You do,” he growled, as if reading your thoughts, “but I’m still gonna ruin you.” And he did.

Again and again.

Until the sheets were damp and your voice was hoarse and neither of you could remember why he’d been annoying in the first place. Only that he was yours, and you? Were his favorite kind of trouble.

[libraryofgage]

Harlequin Prince (4)

Part of: Steve Deserves Good Parents, Actually

Debbie and Fester Addams One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six Rick and Evelyn O'Connell One | Two | Three Harley Quinn One | Two | Three | Four (you're here!) 10th Doctor and Rose One | Two Scooby Gang One Jedidiah and Octavius (from Night at the Museum) One | Two Queen Clarisse Renaldi One | Two | Three Leverage Crew One

This series was line jumped! If you'd like to learn more about line jumping, you can see this post

I meant to get this posted sooner but work genuinely became horrendously exhausting lmao

Anyway, here's some more Harley Quinn AU, now with three (3) memes at the end for your enjoyment

As always, if you see any typos, no you didn't ;)

------

"You're in my seat, squirt. Move."

The bar doesn't immediately go silent---this isn't some classic Western---but the chatter around them does die down. It still takes a few seconds and the man who spoke slamming his hand on the bar next to him for Steve to realize he's the squirt in question. He blinks, glances at Jason, receives absolutely nothing in return, and looks at the man standing next to him.

The work jumpsuit says dock worker, but the lift in his chin and puffed up chest scream newly-hired goon. If Steve had to guess, he'd say one of Penguin's. That's the only villain in Gotham who pays well and doesn't constantly fight Gotham's branch of the Union for the Rights of Henchmen and Goons (affectionately called Goonion by everyone in Gotham except the Joker).

"No, I'm not," Steve says, turning back to his drink.

"We gonna have a problem, kid?" the man asks. He leans in, towering over Steve. The sheer size of him would be intimidating if Steve hadn't grown up using King Shark and Killer Croc as his personal jungle gyms.

He sighs, knocks back his shot of tequila, and slams the glass on the counter. "We won't. You will."

The guy laughs, the sound echoing in the now-silent bar. Steve has never known his fellow drinkers to let something like conversation get in the way of watching a bar fight. Not that this is going to be much of one.

"Bring it on, little man."

"I'm bigger than you where it counts," Steve says, sliding off the stool. He only comes up to the man's shoulders, having to tilt his head back to see his face. "Did you know your mom's a size queen?"

He hears snickers from around them as the guy realizes the joke. The man's face twists into a scowl. He pulls his arm back and throws a punch. Steve snorts and ducks, looking up to watch Jason catch the guy's hand with his palm.

"My muscle's bigger, too," he says.

"Are you gonna make me fight all your battles?" Jason asks, looking down at Steve with a raised eyebrow. "You'll never learn this way."

Steve scoffs, popping up next to where Jason's hand is still gripping the guy's fist. Despite trying to pull away, he hasn't been able to loosen Jason's hold one bit. "I already know enough!"

"Prove it."

With a roll of his eyes, Steve gestures for Jason to let go. When he finally does, the guy turns on his heel and throws a punch at Steve. He ducks again, this time sweeping his leg out and up to jam his heel into the guy's knee. The crack echoes in the bar, followed by a pained grunt.

"You little shit," the guy growls, shifting to favor the injured leg as he reaches for Steve's shirt. Once he's got the material in hand, Steve grabs the guy's arm, turns, and throws the guy over his shoulder onto a table two feet away. The table buckles under the sudden weight, pint glasses shattering on the floor as it breaks in two.

"Aww, c'mon! I was still drinking those!" a woman at the table shouts, jamming her foot into the guy's side.

While he's busy with her, Steve turns around and smiles apologetically at the bar tender. "Sorry. We'll pay for the tables," he says, gesturing to Jason.

"B's gonna start getting on our asses if you keep busting tables every time we go out," Jason says as he pulls out his wallet and hands over a wad of cash to the bartender. "Let's go before you cause more damage I have to pay for."

"You're the one who likes drinking with me," Steve replies, grinning as he follows Jason out of the bar. "That guy kinda sucked at fighting, though."

"Of course he did. He's a goon. What'd you expect, a brawl with Cass?"

"More than two punches, at least!"

Jason snorts as he leads Steve over to his motorcycle. He tosses one of the helmets to him, grinning when Steve nearly fumbles the catch. "How about we visit a meta-bar next time then," he suggests, pulling his own helmet on.

"Is that a promise?"

"Sure...squirt."

----------

"Don't suppose you've got a sidecar somewhere," Robin says. She's standing by the handlebars, a dubious expression pulling at her features as she looks over the bike.

"Nope, don't carry those," Steve tells her, shrugging as he tosses his helmet to her. Robin barely catches it, holding the helmet close to her chest like it might try jumping from her hands. "Figured you could sit in front."

"In front?" Eddie asks, looking up from where he was inspecting a Nightwing logo sticker on the body of the bike. "I don't think you want Buckley driving."

"Who said anything about driving?" Steve asks. He gestures to the handlebars and says, "Robin sits here, I drive, and you sit behind me."

Before Eddie can respond to that, Robin waves Steve closer. "Is this some kinda ploy?" she asks.

"No clue what you mean, Robbie," Steve says, flashing a grin that immediately contradicts his innocence.

Robin scrunches her nose, disgust shining through. "That's not even safe," she says.

"Sure it is. You've got the helmet," Steve tells her.

"How will you even see?"

"By looking around you."

"We'll crash."

"Nope. I only crash when it's funny."

"You crash on purpose?" Eddie asks, sporting a frown when Steve looks at him. He's standing now, arms crossed and fingers drumming against his biceps.

"Only when I have an audience. And its comedic timing is appropriate. Jester logic is strict, you know."

"Jester logic? So, what, you're a clown?" Robin asks, amusement seeping into her voice like she's discovered the perfect teasing material.

Steve can feel a tension in the air, the held breath of the universe waiting to see something funny. His mother would be proud of the way he grabs the chance. Steve pulls out his wallet and procures a card he's just thought up. "Clown-in-training, actually. We take our profession very seriously," he says.

He turns the card around, showing Robin an ID with his photo, a comedy mask logo, and the words "Gotham Clown College Provisional Tomfoolery License" printed along the top.

"You can't be serious," Robin says, snatching the card and turning it over in her hands. "Gotham? What, are you a Joker wannabe?"

"The Joker is a disgrace to the profession," Steve tells her, taking the card back and sliding it into his wallet. The moment he stops touching the card, it disappears. The tension fades, a faint sense of satisfaction lingering and buzzing in Steve's ears.

"Wow. Strong clown opinions," Robin mumbles, rolling her eyes.

"Being a clown requires dedication and skill, Robin," Steve says, suddenly getting a nostalgic sense of deja vu. He's definitely had this conversation before with the bats. "You've gotta have a killer sense of humor, precise comedic timing, and unmatched adaptability. Not anyone can be a clown. Now, put on the helmet and get on the handlebars."

Robin blinks, her shoulders rising some. "I'm not sitting on the handlebars! I'm gonna die!" she says, immediately forgetting the clown argument, which means Steve won it by default.

He loves winning by default.

"You won't! Just trust me."

"Those are famous last words, dingus. Why don't you sit on the handlebars if you're so sure?"

"Do you know how to drive a bike?"

"Uh, guys," Eddie says, cutting through the argument before it can continue. "I have a van."

Steve blinks and looks in the direction Eddie is pointing. A nice van is sitting a few parking spots away. "Thank fuck," Robin says, shoving the helmet back into Steve's hands before walking over to the van.

"That's not nearly as fun," Steve mutters, hanging the helmet off the handlebars and nudging the kickstand up so he can start walking his bike over.

Eddie walks on the other side of the bike, keeping pace even as Robin turns to look at them with an impatient expression. "I wouldn't mind riding around later," he says, glancing at Steve and then at the bike between them. "Never been on one before."

Steve blinks and grins. "Doing anything tonight?" he asks.

"Well, as long as we don't get killed at this dangerous lab, nope, no plans at all."

"Don't worry, we won't get killed," Steve promises.

"What, it wouldn't be funny?"

"Exactly," Steve says.

Eddie blinks and laughs, but Steve doesn't try to convince him. He knows how unreal jester logic sounds, but Eddie will believe him when he sees it in action. Hopefully he'll laugh just as loudly then, too.

------

Tag list (there's definitely still room, so please let me know if you'd like to be tagged!)

@nectandra, @y4r3luv, @just-a-tiny-void, @dotdot-wierdlife

@midwestharpy,

@twilitdragoneye, @disrespectedgoatman, @lawrencebshoggoth, @gunsknivesandplaid, @sadisticaltarts

and now, some memes

[sugawarassoulmate]

no nut november - nov 15

making it halfway isn't so bad...

professor!sugawara & enemies to lovers!kita

word count: 353 & 429

cw: fem!reader, age gap relationship (reader is in their 20s/suga is in his late 30s), college student/professor relationship, oral (f receiving), hate sex, name-calling, minors dni

professor!sugawara

"so you don't want to have sex?" sugawara asks bluntly, confused by the weird challenge you were proposing to him

he's aware of the age gap between you two but it's never really come up before (except from explaining the occasional meme to him)

but when you came into his office to talk about some weird bet you made with your friends, his old man brain couldn't comprehend it.

"we can have sex, i just can't finish," you trail off, probably realizing how dumb you sounded. "i mean, i can just blow you or something."

that makes sugawara look up from the papers he's grading, hazel eyes staring at you once again.

"you can't cum?" he asks, quirking his brown when you nod your head. "what's the point then?"

you try to explain to him that it's a test of endurance, a fun game between your friends.

as you ramble on, sugawara clears the papers off his desk, putting them in a drawer where they wouldn't be tampered with

"are you done?" he asks when you finally take a breath. you nod once more and sugawara gets up and motions for you to sit on his desk.

"kou—professor...," you fix yourself before sugawara could reprimand you, remembering that he doesn't appreciate being called by his first name when the two of you are still on campus.

your words fall of deaf ears with sugawara sitting you down anyways, long fingers reaching for the button of your jeans.

"did you really think i wouldn't let you cum?" sugawara asks, swiftly tugging your pants down your legs. "you think i'd just let you take care of me without returning the favor?"

sugawara crouches before you, pushing your panties to the side to be met with your already wet cunt.

"when have i ever been that selfish?" sugawara's thumb easily finds your clit, making your legs shake and thighs clench. "look at this pretty, pussy. gonna make it cream on my tongue."

sugawara dives in and you're putty in his hands, cumming in a matter of minutes and completely forgetting all about the foolish bet.

enemies to lovers!kita

kita knew what you were trying to do and he wasn't going to fall for it

at least...he's trying his very best not to fall for it

when you heard that kita was thinking about participating in atsumu's dumb bet, you couldn't stop teasing him

"of course atsumu would come up with this," you snorted. "he cries when he gets a crumb of pussy."

but lately kita's noticed you've been trying to get his attention—trying to get him to break

from wearing that perfume he's mentioned somewhat liking in the past to bending down in front of him while wearing the shortest skirt you own

kita is above your tactics...for the most part, ignoring the small surges of pleasure he feels in his crotch

when you ask him to come over, he says yes without thinking

you don't ever invite kita to your place unless it's to fuck but he finds himself sitting on your couch watching a movie

of course, you couldn't let him off that easily as you wore the skimpiest camisole that had your tits practically spilling out

but then you're slightly grazing his arm or leaning over so kita can see down your shirt and it's so stupid.

kita would never fall for that, it's completely beneath him.

he has complete control over his emotions, he has discipline, he's not weak minded

but he's still just a man at the end of the day

"yer so fuckin' annoying," kita says finally, pushing you into the couch cushions and getting on top.

"i know," you smirk, your stupid ego absolutely buzzing

"i fuckin' hate you,"

"i know," you say again as kita tears through both of your clothes to push his cock inside you

kita whispers the most obscene insults in your ear, calling you things he would never say in public but you've royally pissed him off and he shows it by fucking harder than he ever has before

each stroke of his fat cock has your eyes rolling to the back of your head, your brain turned to mush

he has you creaming around him but he doesn't let up, fucking you through multiple orgasms

instead of cumming in you like he usually does, kita pulls out at the last moment to jerk himself off, sending hot, thick ropes of his cum on your stomach

your bliss quickly turns to disgust, shoving kita away as you bitch about the mess he left behind

"you're such a dick!" you whine, scurrying over to your bathroom

"i know," kita says, not too far behind you

©sugawarassoulmate 2023 all rights reserved - please do not repost/translate my work on other platforms!

[grimgrinnr]

}TALK NICE TO THE MUN, HE HAS ANXIETY!{

@arachn0philia​ asked: ♚♚

Thanks Gold! I’m glad you still enjoy this dump after all this time of only orbiting each other lmao

[partycatty]

Right hear me out on the new johnny skin

Please can you write something for this ugly bitch the shock worn off and now im delusional

(Im sorry for asking for this he just looks so stupid i couldnt not)

I HATE YOU FOR REMINDING ME OF THIS ALLGAHJGIAKG

johnny cage > carrot

oh my god he looks like a carrot

warnings: look at him.

[ masterlist ]

you're sitting on johnny's couch, as it's become a regular occurrence for you to waste your time in his home. your phone becomes your best friend nearly every time, as his career of being a celebrity commonly rips his attention from you more than you're happy with. your bubbling frustration with the situation dies down when you hear his front door unlock.

"babe," he calls through the cracked door. his voice is high pitched, like he's hiding something and ashamed about it. "i-i need you to do me a favor."

"yeah?" you reply, eyes still transfixed on your phone for the moment.

"i lost a bet," he shamefully admits. "and i need you to not laugh. if you laugh, i will die."

"you'll die?" you repeat, now intrigued by whatever he's on about. he falls silent, the door barely opening more.

"baby," he tries to sound sweet but it sounds closer to him being on the verge of tears. "is it true... that thing... where like, you lose feelings if your man gets one bad haircut?"

oh, no.

"depends," you shrug, making your way to the door. "if you buzzed it, i won't be able to look at you until it grows back."

"i didn't... buzz it," he mutters. "it's... please don't laugh."

his dodging is starting to confuse and annoy you, so you walk over and pull the door completely open. the sight in front of you pulls a horrified gasp, which then turns into amusement like you've never seen. johnny's hair was gone on the sides, and a vomit-green wisp sat on top. johnny frowns with large eyes. it kind of reminds you of that really sad hamster meme. maybe if you focused enough you could imagine sad violin music at the scene.

"jo—" your attempt at saying his name comfortingly is ripped apart when a snort creeps up on you, and you slap a hand over your mouth. tears well up in your eyes as you fight for your life to not laugh.

"don't," he pleads, arms flopping to his sides. "don't laugh."

you let out a cackle through your hand, slapping another hand over it in a stupid attempt to hold it in.

"it's not funny—" in a while, you think, it wouldn't be. sure, he has the haircut, but you're the one looking at it regularly. "it's not funny."

"you're laughing. i will die."

"how in the genuine fuck did this come to be." your eyes feel like they're going to pop out of your skull from straining yourself so hard. johnny can't even look at you as he explains.

"kung lao and i made a bet that i could cut more fruit than him with his hat."

"you bet your appearance on a hat that's not yours."

"it didn't look that hard! it's a sharp hat!"

"okay, so how did the... haircut come to be??"

"he..." johnny rubs his face, groaning. "he had me walk into a barber and told the guy to fuck my shit up. he said that to the barber. oh my god i look like an idiot, don't i."

"you..." you search for something, anything to compliment him on. your eyes settle on his orange button-up and you stifle a snort. "you kind of look like a carrot."

johnny pulls his head up to meet your eyes. "what."

"it's... it's kinda cute," you murmur with the most strained grin of your life. you step forward and grab the entirety of the hair left on his head, tugging upward. "it's like... plucking you from the soil."

"ow. you're an asshole," he adds, not entirely serious. you try so hard to keep it together, so hard. but his furrowed brows, frown, and carrot-coordinated outfit finally make you snap. you double over in laughter, similar to a hyena. it is quite literally the funniest thing you'd ever seen in your entire life and you laugh so hard you lose your breath.

"IT'S NOT FUNNY!" johnny pouts, stomping his foot and crossing his arms while you howl and slap him around as you try to ground yourself. "I LOOK LIKE A DUMBASS."

"OH MY GOD I'M LOSING IT, I'M GONNA THROW UP— YOU LOOK LIKE A CARROT —"

"STOP SAYING THAT."

[hellfire--cult]

Edit of Eddie: pitifulbaby

Chapters: Masterlist (Go here to see list of chapters, plotline and general warnings.)

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Tropes: Enemies to Lovers, Non-Traditional Omegaverse, Slow burn, Modern!AU, Mechanic!Eddie

⚠️This chapter contains: Angst, fear of loneliness, family desires, mentions of nausea, slight insinuation of depression

wc: 7.3k

A/N: Sorry for taking so long! We're slowly arriving to the tension bbies.

Anyways, Enjoy! ❤️ And don't forget to always support me by hitting the reblog button or leave a comment!

Taglist is closed

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CHAPTER 14

It’s been… excruciating.

The past two weeks you spent them locked up and you have asked to work remotely at home. Your boss of course insisted that you need the time off, that she completely understood your position, and your emotions always come first.

You told her about Billy.

You told her how Billy was not in favor of Same-sex marriage, and adoption. He wasn’t in favor of Betas being able to be single parents either. If that information were to get out, the company would be targeted as unethical, and that’s not at all Liana’s principles. The company is completely in favor of the people’s wants and needs.

You really didn’t want to rat Billy out, because this meant that his opportunities would be lost, and it wasn’t done so you could spite him for his personal views. You just couldn’t keep working with someone who is against what your friends want, what your friends ambition to have. Jonathan and Steve want children of their own, and if the laws don’t let that happen, they will never have the family they strive for.

So Liana immediately called Ralph to look for another publishing company. 

At first, he was crazed, yelling at her through the phone until she finally told him she knew about Billy’s facade about the same-sex marriage riots. Ralph was silent on the other end of the phone, and in three days, the contract was done with, and the company had nothing to do anymore with Billy Hargrove.

Now you, it’s a different story. You’ve been miserable. You could feel him everywhere, remembering him on your bed, laughing with each other, smiling like idiots as you told stories about one another’s lives. How he would cook for you and sometimes spoil you with gifts even if you told him you didn’t need any of it.

You wished you hadn’t noticed certain things that didn’t sit right with you. How he acted with your friends at first, how he would scrunch up his nose when you told him things you liked and he didn’t. How jealous you found out he was when he met Eddie. How you fought sometimes for very stupid things, like him not looking after his mess, or not caring about your thoughts about his friends and still dragging you to hang out with them.

So you stayed in. You couldn’t even go to work because you couldn’t look at that stupid closet for a good while. The closet that started it all. You know you have to move on from this, but it’s not easy, not after what you’ve been through before. It’s hard enough to trust someone into your life that way, imagine being vulnerable and let yourself fall in love with them.

You’re glad those feelings didn’t reach Billy. The bomb exploded, a little anticipated thankfully.

You have also neglected the group, telling them you needed time to cool off, to let it all sink before trying to go to their house, or them coming over because you just wouldn’t be yourself, and you would put the whole group down with your mood. The last thing you want and need is to also feel like a nuisance with your friends.

So, better keep it to yourself. You will get through with it alone, like you always have, with everything. There’s no need to bother others with this, not with the mood you have been handling for the past few days. You didn’t talk with anyone, Robin, Nancy, Eddie, Jonathan… No one, not even a tik tok or meme. 

It was food, work, sleep, repeat. A shower here and there, and you knew it was wrong but it’s just your head playing a bad pass on you. You had been afraid of falling again, of it going wrong, but you thought it might be different, you really thought it would– Only for it to come crashing down as fast as it started.

How can you even begin to think that there is a chance everything will be fine later on? Will you ever find a destined one? If there is any at all? And with the laws, as they still are, your dream of a family is just– 

Your phone rang, taking your mind away from your thoughts. You didn’t notice you were staring blankly at the TV screen. You didn’t even know what was on, nor you didn’t care. You grabbed your phone to see Robin calling you, making you sigh. You slid the answer button on the touchscreen and put the phone in your ear.

“Robs–”

“I’m not getting a no for an answer. Get ready, get dressed, we’re arriving in twenty.” You straightened up in alarm, eyes widening in surprise. 

“What the fuck are you talking about, who is coming?” You were angry now because you didn’t agree to anything, you weren’t even asked to hang out, much less come to your house. 

“Steve, Eddie, and I. The rest had to do stuff, so we are heading over.” Your breathing caught in your throat as you looked around your spotless house. You needed to keep your mind occupied so you cleaned every surface possible. Still, you never agreed–

“N–”

“I said I wasn’t taking a no for an answer.” And just like that, the line clicked. You groaned loudly in anger as you paced around the living room, tossing the phone towards your couch. You love Robin. You love Robin. You love Robin.

But fuck, you wanted to kill her right now.

And bringing Steve and Eddie along? For fuck sake. You looked down at your clothes and then at your room. You could easily not open the door for them. You can easily drive them off like that because they wouldn’t stay outside more than five minutes if you don’t answer. Yeah, you can definitely do that…

“Ugh!” You grunted into the nothingness as you rushed into your room to throw on the first things that were decent. A pair of jeans and a black long-sleeved turtleneck will do. You combed your hair as best as you could, throwing on some mascara and eyeliner to not look like a corpse. You looked into the mirror and you winced as you barely recognized yourself.

You definitely looked as if a truck ran over you. The bags under your eyes, the tired overall look on your face. You sighed as you scanned your face with your hands and then you looked at your hands. They looked dehydrated, and your nails needed some caring that’s for sure. 

Did you really not take care of yourself the past two weeks? 

You didn’t even notice how dejected you looked. You didn’t even care of looking into a mirror, and now that you do you barely recognize who the woman is in the reflection. Fuck did this hit you bad… You grabbed your concealer and tapped a bit under your eyes, trying to conceal the purple hues under them, wincing when it didn’t do much.

Did you even have food for them? Drinks? Shit… Should you order some pizza? You rushed out towards your kitchen and opened your fridge to see there were two beers, some soda, water… Okay, not much but there are beverages. You closed the fridge to look into your cupboards, wincing when no snacks could be found. 

You groaned as you leaned against the sink. It’s not your fault, is it? You weren’t expecting them, so it’s not your issue if there are no snacks or things to satisfy their hunger. Yeah, it’s not. You never said yes. You let out a sigh out of your lips as you talked out loud.

“Alexa. Play whatever 80’s playlist there is.” 

And the sound of Michael Bolton’s ‘How Am I supposed to live without you?’ came on. You cursed at the sky and you really thought you were cursed. You rushed to your phone to see how long it’s been since Robin called you. Fifteen minutes, shit, they are–

And the doorbell rang.

Five minutes early.

You groaned with a sigh, taking a deep breath in as you looked at the front door. Were you ready to face your friends? Were you ready for them to see you like this? They have all messaged you in order to talk to them, to hang out, to even try to do a video call with them, but you always declined.

Even Eddie tried. He sent you a bunch of memes in order to try to cheer you up, but you never opened them. You just didn’t feel like laughing at all. He had messaged you as well, telling you that he would go to your apartment without your invitation, but he never dared to do so. It seems all of them got tired of you pushing them away. 

You walked towards the door and took a deep breath in as you unlocked the door, slowly opening it to reveal your three friends with a bunch of snacks, sweet and salty, and drinks in their hands. They stopped whispering to one another and turned to look at you and you noticed how Robin’s eyebrows twitched as you crossed your arms over your chest, a glare in your eyes. They were silent as you glared at the group for simply crashing without your consent until–

“You look like shit.”

Your eyes snapped towards Eddie and he had a cheeky smile on his face. You flipped him off as you walked backward to let them in. You heard a giggle coming from Robin and then their steps coming inside your apartment. 

Steve closed the door behind him and headed to the fridge to put the beers inside, already taking four out. Robin put the snacks on the counters looking around to see your house completely spotless and she sighed. She knew that whenever you were anxious or nervous you cleaned in order to keep yourself distracted.

Eddie though, Eddie was looking all around. It was the first time he came to your apartment, and it was very spacious, but his was even more. You didn’t notice when you came by to his workplace, but he lives above the shop. You enter his home through stairs that are on the back, going up towards the second floor. His was more of a loft-looking apartment, those that have brick walls and industrial stuff.

Your house was more modern-like, a little minimalistic but with plants all around. You were very fond of succulents since there are a bunch at the top of your fridge. His eyes then went towards your bookshelf, walking towards it to start inspecting your books.

“So, what are you doing here?” Your voice was angry, yet there was a certain feeling, emotion, that told them you didn’t dislike their intrusion. Robin shook her head and crossed her arms over her chest, Steve coming to stand next to her with the same stance.

“You expect us to just wait for you to talk to us? That can happen in a fucking month, and we are not gonna wait that long.” At those words, you couldn’t help but be mad.

“People need their own healing time, and you are invading it.” Your voice was cold, imperative even, and Steve’s head snapped towards Robin worriedly. Your best friend stood her ground as she stared at you, shaking her head.

“I wouldn’t invade it if you at least talked to us. I wouldn’t invade it if you at least came to work instead of working remotely, which by the way, fuck you for making me interact with other people!”

You wanted to laugh at your best friend’s exaggeration, but you had to focus on the fact you were angry at the invasion. You rolled your eyes at her and you walked to rest your hip against the headrest of your couch.

“You are still invading it without my conse–”

“Holy shit, you have Fifty Shades of Grey.”

Everyone’s eyes turned to the dark-haired metalhead that was still holding onto the bag of candies in his hand as he inspected your bookshelf. You raised your eyebrow at him, wondering what the hell he was going on about.

“So?” You asked him and he turned to look at you, holding the first book in his hand.

“Seriously? There is better erotica out there sweetheart.” You felt heat on your cheeks at the comment, it’s not like it was your go-to in the book genre… But the bookshelf is indeed filled with smut–

“Hang on, does Eddie Munson read Erotica?” You said mockingly and you heard Steve let out a snort of his, covering his mouth with his hand. Eddie turned to put the book back and a smirk was plastered on his face as he looked at you once more.

“Knowledge is in any form sweetheart.” More heat, that’s for sure. You felt it all over your fingertips even, and you shrugged it off with a roll of your shoulders. He turned to go over to the counter to finally place the candies there. He took a beer from the four that Steve had previously taken out and opened it. 

“Look, I know you don’t want us here, but we really can’t turn our heads and pretend you’re not okay.” Steve finally talked as he grabbed a beer and handed it to you. You could see the doubt in his eyes, the guilt of just barging in as they liked, and you could hear the slight apology behind his words.

You know that the rest would probably be here if they didn’t have work or other plans. You knew that. You gulped the lump in your throat that was already forming there because you had cried enough the first few days and you promised yourself you wouldn’t cry anymore. You were putting on a strong attitude even if you really didn’t feel like being that strong or confident.

You raised your hand towards Steve’s and grabbed the beer from his grip. It was a sign of acceptance that they were already here, and they wouldn’t go away any time soon. You opened your beer as you heard Steve opening his. You looked at Robin who was looking at you with sadness in her eyes and you sighed, shaking your head.

“I’m sorry Robs.”

Your best friend immediately rushed to your aid, wrapping her arms around you in order to pull you close. You felt your chest press on you because of the emotions you were suddenly washed over with. You didn’t know you needed an embrace until now, wrapping your arms around Robin made you feel the lump in your throat coming right back up.

You clenched your eyes tightly trying not to let the tears fall as you felt your heart tightening at the hug. You were immersed into your own sadness that you didn’t know how to get out of and probably all you needed were the people inside the room right now. The ones who care enough that they prefer to invade your privacy than to let you fall deeper into a hole.

Eddie was looking at you, inspecting your face as he felt the sadness radiating from you. Why are you holding back from crying? Why do you always try to keep a strong front? He knows what you’ve been through, and he knows it’s not something easy to let go, but they are here now to help you. You weren’t betrayed by your friends like you had in the past. 

His chest felt a little tight as he saw you hugging Robin and he looked at Steve who had the same worried look on his face, but he let a sigh of relief fall from his lips. They have been worried about you for the past two weeks, and even in the short period of knowing you, he had been too.

You pulled away from Robin and she immediately flicked your forehead with her thumb and index finger, making you wince and rub the area she hurt.

“What the fuck was that for!?” You yelled at that and she giggled at you, turning to go grab a beer for herself.

“For being a fucking idiot.” You rolled your eyes at her but a tiny smile spread on your lips as you took another sip of your beer. You looked up from the can, seeing Eddie looking straight at you, and that made your stomach turn slightly at the intense gaze. Your eyes snapped to Steve who grabbed a tube of Pringles and your mouth salivated at seeing they were your favorite flavor, doing grabby hands at it.

Steve chuckled at your reaction and he opened it for you first before handing it over to you. Still, before you could reach it, Eddie immediately snatched it away, putting his beer on the counter in order to stick his hand in and take a handful of chips, throwing them all inside of his mouth, and making you gasp in disbelief.

“You’re eating them all!” You groaned at him and he only sent a smirk your way, and he could see how your eyebrows were slowly knitting together in the middle of your forehead in anger and annoyance. Oh, he missed that face. It’s been a while since he last saw it. 

“You want some?” He pretended to hand the tube to you and you quickly moved your free hand to grab onto it, only for Eddie to snatch it back. “Too slow.”

“Eddie–” Robin was the one that talked now and Eddie looked at her still with a triumphant smirk on his face.

“Yeah?” And suddenly he was pounced over, your legs wrapping around his waist as you did a big jump, one arm wrapped around his shoulders as your other hand reached over to grab the tube of Pringles. He quickly raised his hand up, yelling at the sudden action, almost falling on his ass by the impact.

“Give me the fucking pringles Munson!!!” You yelled loudly and the arm that was around his shoulders immediately gripped onto the low ponytail, pulling on it, making him wince in pain.

“What the fuck Peach!?” He was trying to keep you two balanced as he thrashed all over the apartment while Robin and Steve started laughing hysterically and taking videos of the scene unfolding before their eyes.

“Y-You never EVER mess with her pringles. NEVER!” You wanted to laugh, you really did, but you wanted the fucking pringles that were on this bastard’s extended arm, out of your reach, so you pulled on his ponytail even harder.

His eyes snapped open at the sudden feeling he got, a part of him twitching that really shouldn’t, so he put you down and slammed the tube of chips on your chest.

“Fine, fine! Take your pringles, Jesus H. Christ!” He cursed and you just took the can in your hands and sent a raspberry his way, and the tight feeling he felt before evaporated just like that, a laugh escaping his lips at your childishness. 

You followed with a giggle and Robin raised an eyebrow up as she turned to look at Steve. He was already grinning, looking at her but the two of them didn’t say anything. Nothing needed to be said. They stopped recording the moment as you started stuffing your face with chips and Robin instantly yelled at your greediness.

Steve chuckled as he looked at Eddie, the smile turning into confusion as he saw Eddie looking at you with a puzzled look on his face, yet a smile was on his lips. Steve tilted his head, wanting to talk to his friend only for Robin to almost knock the small table that you left your beer can on before you jumped on Eddie, making him fumble forward to catch the can as quickly as he could.

The apartment was filled with laughter in a matter of seconds, of yelling and curses. The apartment that remained silent for over two weeks was now full of life you didn’t think you missed that much, and now having it, you’re realizing you were wrong. Now you wished the rest of the group were here. You really wanted the whole group together again.

You needed them. You needed these people who showed you time and time that they wouldn’t hurt you, never intentionally, and even accidentally they would ask for forgiveness. Like Eddie did. 

You looked at him as he now recorded Steve and Robin wrestling for a can of pretzels, claiming it was each other’s favorite, and you were just in a trance as you saw how he was laughing, here, in your house… That laugh you saw many times on Instagram stories when Nancy or Steve would post him. That laugh you never thought would ever be near you.

It was a nice feeling. It definitely was.

You were outside now, smoking a cigarette in the kind of warm weather despite the season. You let the smoke out into the air as you heard the sliding door of your balcony open and you turned your head to see who the visitor was.

“Well, Robin and Steve overdid it with the special Margaritas.” Eddie stated as he sat on the couch next to you, placing a beer on the small table in front next to the… Eddie grabbed the item and showed it to you with an eyebrow raised up. “A Mickey Mouse ashtray?”

You snorted and almost choked on your smoke as you giggled at that and gave him a nod.

“I thought it would be funny.” It was his turn to smile and shake his head as he put the ashtray back on the table, taking out his own pack of cigarettes so he could light one up. You leaned over to grab his beer and take a sip out of it, and he did not comment on that at all.

He never liked it when people touched his food or his drinks. He would always make a snarky comment about them getting their own, but he really didn’t seem to mind it when you took a gulp and put it back in its place for him to take it next. 

He took a deep inhale of the cigarette in his hand and he turned to look at your profile. You looked happy, yet that feeling of holding something back was still present in your features. His eyebrows twitched slightly as he looked away and into the sky.

“You don’t have to act tough all the time, you know?” You were taken out of your thoughts as you turned to look at him with a surprised look on your face. You shook your head at him, feeling your heart falling slowly into your stomach.

“I am not acting tough. I’m just slowly getting over it.” You looked forward once more, taking a drag of your cigarette, trying to hide the twitch that just happened in your eyebrow, but Eddie knew he couldn’t leave until you finally let it all out. You’ve been enduring it all by yourself the past two weeks, there was no need to do that when they were all here.

“Look, I told you I can read people like the palm of my hand, didn’t I?” He said and you surely remember that. You scoffed and looked at him, an eyebrow raised in confusion.

“Yeah, and I’m still wondering if you have a superpower or just a stalker.” He rolled his eyes at your joke and shook his head, taking a sip of his beer and handing the can your way. You took it in your hand and took a gulp as well, putting the can back on the table.

“I am just good at reading people.”

“Right, and I’m–”

“Changing the topic.” 

You closed your mouth and snapped it shut to be completely honest. He was staring at you, his eyes never leaving yours, and you felt an intense heat filling your entire body at the gaze, but it was a shameful heat. A kind of guilty feeling rising up inside of you that you couldn’t quite comprehend. 

“L-Look… how I handle my problems is my own issue. I take me time, I prefer to be alone so I can think–”

“Bad.”

Your eyebrows knitted together in anger as you look at him, putting your cigarette out in the ashtray in front of you both. You were becoming defensive, you knew that, but you don’t know why he is intruding so much in your life when he should just back away.

“I always solved my problems this way! And it’s–”

“That’s a lie.” He wasn’t looking at you, but your face was on fire from anger, from nerves, from an anxious feeling that was building inside your guts.

“Excuse me?” You were going to explode at him, you really were, but then his face turned to look at you after he put the cigarette bud out on the ashtray, and your anger evaporated from your whole body at the frown on his eyebrows.

“You didn’t solve it alone in your past.” 

Your heart was beating inside your chest, wanting to run out of your throat, and you could feel the blood rushing in your ears, and your hands started to become sweaty, extremely so. Your head turned, looking away from him and you wanted to run away because the lump in your throat was forming again. Fuck, it was happening once more.

“Sometimes I did.” That was a lie. That was a horrible lie. You always enjoyed the comfort of people, and the hugs they would give you in your moment of stress, of sadness, of anxiety. You always found stillness and calm when you talked to people about your problems.

Eddie was still looking at you with a saddened look on his face. He has been joking with you all night, trying to make you laugh, trying to make you forget… But he knew that you needed this. He knew it, and he wasn’t going to let you live this alone. If he knew something about life, it was loneliness.

“We are not like them.” His voice was calm but reassuring. You almost choked with those words and you gotta give it to him, he was one smart bastard. Your eyes were starting to burn and you needed to hold it in. You needed to.

“I know.” Was your short response, but Eddie didn’t hold back. He needed you to break.

“Then act like it.”

And that was enough for a tear to finally fall from the edge of your waterline and onto your cheek.

You were never alone in these moments. You always told Camila about your issues at work, about your heartbreaks, about your good moments, about your triumphs and your falls, and she had always been there. Always giving you a shoulder, always telling you that everything would be okay, always giving you advice and opinions on the issues you were going through.

You had someone to talk to, someone that knew you since little, someone that you thought would never, ever, not in a million years hurt you, harm you, or destroy you. 

And what if it were to happen again? What if you were to open up to people that would hurt you later on? People that might rip you apart without hesitation? What if you opened up only for a knife to be stabbed back into your mouth?

It was wrong for you to put them all in the same bag, but could you really blame yourself? Could you blame yourself for how hard it was for you to trust someone entirely? It’s not that you don’t trust them, you just don’t trust the future. You don’t trust that everything will be okay. You don’t trust that everything has a happy ending. You simply don’t trust, so you move on tippy toes in order to not step on glass. 

Robin was not like Camila. You knew that Robin would never do to you what Camila had done… but it wasn’t easy. It wasn’t. You wished it were. You wished you could see into the future to know that nothing changes, to know that you weren’t going to get your heart broken, but that was impossible.

How can someone trust another person as blindly as you trusted the one that hurt you?

“It’s not easy.” Your voice cracked. Fuck, it cracked. You took a sharp breath in, trying to calm down but he broke the dam. He broke it, and you were shaking trying to hold everything in, trying to tape it all back together.

“I know it’s not sweetheart… The last thing we want is to hurt you…” You didn’t miss the ‘we’. You didn’t miss how he included himself in that equation at all. 

And for some reason, your chest filled with warmth at that, but you couldn’t contain the dam anymore. You really couldn’t, and Eddie’s eyes almost widened when more tears slipped down your face, uncontrollably so. The last time he saw you cry he had to hold back, almost painfully, in order to not go after Hargrove to beat his face in. 

He protects his friends. Just like he punched that guy that tried flirting with Jonathan and groped him without consent. Like the girl that said nasty things to Robin at school and he dumped his drink all over her head. Like when he punched Steve’s father square in the face when he went to his house uninvited, only to see his father slapping Steve across the face after Steve came out as Bisexual.

He will always protect them, and now, you are included in that.

“I–” You had to snap your eyes shut as memories with Henry started coming back to your head, mixing up with the ones you have with Billy. You clenched your eyelids together as the memories turned painful with your resolve, with your heart. Eddie’s eyes twitched as he scooted closer to you but not touching you, even if he wanted to wrap his arms around you.

“You can do it, sweetheart.” 

And you finally let that sob out of your throat. That lump that you swallowed many times during the night, the lump of words that needed to be thrown out of your lips but did not have the bravery to do so. And once that sob was out, many more came out after, tears falling even when your eyes were shut.

He didn’t interrupt your tears, your sobbing, your crying. He didn’t interrupt you even when he thought you were running out of air, he just let you cry without invading your space. He let you finally break down in peace, in a safe place, and he is joyful that you find that safe place with him. He knows you are not being evil to Robin, he just knows how to read people and he knows what they sometimes need to hear.

You knew your face was a mess, your eyes were red, your nose was snotty, but you couldn’t help it. You were letting out feelings that you held in for the past two weeks. Feelings that you pushed to the back of your head because you didn’t even want to think about it, you didn’t even want to say them out loud, but they were a great fear. 

“I–” It was hard to talk, but you needed to do so. You needed to talk, to voice those fears out, to say what you are thinking, to say what you desire and what you are afraid of. Eddie noticed now that you were breathing irregularly, and even if he wanted to leave you alone, he didn’t want you to choke.

“Peach, I need you to calm down, slowly, you are choking on your breaths.” He now pressed a hand on your back, and you felt yourself feel lighter for some reason. Your sobs kept coming out as you took deep breaths in, but he was patient with you, guiding you every time you failed to take a long breath. 

You might have stayed like that for a whole twenty minutes but he never stopped rubbing your back, coaxing you into breathing, but he wasn’t making you stop crying. He wanted you to keep doing that but needed you to breathe properly. 

Your chest started going up and down slower and slower as time passed, a few sobs came out here and there, but the tears never stopped in quantity. They were waterfalls, just coming down and down, but you no longer cared. You didn’t.

And then Eddie finally saw your eyes again as you opened them. They were red, and glossy, your eyebrows were knitted together in the center of your forehead, and he noticed the pain that was being held inside of you. The grip on your back was a little harder now, but he reminded himself that he had to be gentle now, to push his own anger aside.

You looked out in the distance, and your throat was burning from all the sobbing, from all the crying, from holding that lump for so long, but it felt amazing. It felt as if a weight was lifted off your shoulders, of your head, of your body. But the weight in your heart was still there, and the only way to lift it–

“I’m scared…”

And Eddie’s ears perked up.

“What are you scared of?” And you took a deep breath in, and you finally opened your heart.

“All my life… I’ve always wanted kids. One, two… Maybe three.” A small smile appeared on your lips as you talked. “I know it’s cliché, but–”

“It’s not. It’s your dream.” Your eyes found his with surprise in them and he was looking back at you with an intense gaze you never saw from him before. You gave him a small nod and looked back down to your lap to continue.

“When I got together with Henry and when I got married… I was so happy, so excited. I told my mom how I couldn’t wait to start a family. Henry told me he wanted it too, that he always dreamt of being a dad.”

You cleared your throat as you felt another lump coming out thanks to the memories of Henry telling you all about the plans he wanted for his kids. Your mind was off again, lost in thoughts, and Eddie needed to get you out of there.

“He wanted kids like you…” Eddie pushed and you snapped back into conversation again, noticing you had stopped talking.

“Yes… He wanted them… Just not with me, it seems.” 

Eddie’s free hand turned into a tight fist, veins popping out from the strength. He can’t do anything about it, it was your past, it was done with, but the anger wasn’t any less. He really wanted to kill that man. He just wanted to rip his head off. 

“Peach–”

“And… with Billy– When I told him about this… He didn’t back away. He told me he wasn’t ready now, but that the idea didn’t scare him. That he always wanted…” A giggle escaped your lips as you remembered something and Eddie’s eyebrow raised up.

“What?” He was a little worried about your change in emotions, but maybe it was necessary for you.

“He told me he always wanted to name a kid of his, Eustace.” At that Eddie snorted, putting his free hand over his mouth as he shook his head.

“Okay, that is a horrible name. Poor kid.” He laughed and you didn’t hold back the giggle which turned into a sad frown as you tried to keep the sob in your throat. 

“Yeah…” Your eyes drifted down to your lap, and you noticed how you were fiddling with your fingers, trying to keep yourself moving in some way. You felt your stomach in a strange amount of knots, almost making you feel sick. “But now, I’m no longer with him.”

“Peach–”

“What if I never reach that dream of mine Eddie?” You were fully looking at him now, and his eyes almost widened at the fear he saw behind yours. Fresh tears slipped down your eyes as you shook your head at him. “What if it never happens for me?”

Eddie was speechless. He never expected to see you afraid of anything, much less about your own dreams and convictions. He was staring at you as you kept looking at him, letting him finally see the pains and the fears that always plagued your head, finally voicing out what you’ve been afraid of doing for the past weeks, for the past year.

“Sweetheart, I’m sure it will happen, you are young–”

“And what if it doesn’t? What if I get screwed over again and again?” You knew you sounded crazy but the what-ifs always tortured your mind. They were always like little knives trying to dive themselves into your scalp, twisting in order to get to your brain. 

“You don’t know that.” Eddie’s eyebrows pulled together in the center, slowly centering in the problem, realizing that… you had a reason to be scared.

“But what if!? I can’t– I won’t ever have children! And I don’t want to marry someone for the sake of it, I really don’t!” A sob escaped your lips, but you didn’t mind as you kept talking, “I can’t adopt on my own either because this fucking world sucks! Everything just fucking sucks Eddie!” 

And Eddie broke, his arms wrapping around your frame to pull you into him, your bodies twisting in order to face each other, but not uncomfortably. You welcomed the hug, your mind no longer in defense mode. There was no fortress now, the dam was broken, the armor you put on for the past year crumbled completely. 

One of his arms was wrapped on your shoulders to pull you into his chest, while the other stayed over your arm. Your hands went around his waist and found grip on his back, your face squashed in his chest while his chin rested at the top of your head.

And you cried.

And Eddie held you.

And you cried some more.

And Eddie never complained.

And you both had no idea how long you’ve held one another. You didn’t realize either how your cries made Robin and Steve sober up slightly and stand in alert at the door of your balcony while Eddie looked at them with a pained look in his eyes. You didn’t notice when Eddie shook his head towards them so they wouldn’t scare you away, so they wouldn’t stop you from crying.

Why with Eddie? Why did you break with him? How did he even manage to do it? Robin is going to be pissed at you again, and your mind was being evil to you because Robin was far from angry when she saw Eddie hugging you just now. She was relieved. She was relieved that she was hearing you cry.

You felt Eddie’s hand going up and down your arm, trying to calm you down, and your nails were digging into his waist, his hips, his back, trying to put your feet back into the ground, and he didn’t care. The pain that your nails caused him, he knew it couldn’t compare to what you were feeling right now. The fear, the sadness, the hopelessness of never getting what you most desire. 

That is something he knows perfectly well. For he has his own that he doesn’t know if he’ll ever get.

After a while your shoulders stopped shaking, your grip softened, and Eddie knew his shirt was drenched, but he wouldn’t have it any other way. Who would have thought the woman he couldn’t stand months ago was now crying onto his chest as if the world was going to end and she had tons of regrets about things she didn’t fulfill. 

You slowly pulled away from him and quickly wiped your face because you knew all your makeup was smudged. You must look like a mess but there was no energy in you to be embarrassed about this. 

But fuck if it didn’t feel good.

You felt lighter than ever. Way lighter than when you were with Billy even. A fear that had settled deep into your stomach and you never voiced it out for him. You sniffled and stared down at your lap, your breaths still coming out like sighs out of your mouth. 

You felt his bent index finger rest below your chin and he raised your head so he could look at your face. Your pupils clashed with his and your stomach did a jump. Just one jumpy knot. Your eyes were puffy already, your lips were still trembling, and you were sniffling nonstop, but Eddie didn’t look disgusted or thrown off. He looked calm, yet you could feel a certain empathy, a certain understanding from how he was looking at you as if he was saying a silent ‘I know how you feel.’

“You’re still young, we all are, and you don’t know what the future holds, so being afraid of it is useless and fruitless.” 

And your eyes were looking into his, and you could see how he was always trying to be strong too, even when he knew what the future held for him and his uncle. You realized that Eddie had it worse than you… because he knew. He knows how it will end, and he is the one telling you to not think about your uncertain future.

“I’m sorry…”

It came out of your lips naturally, feeling selfish again for not realizing sooner how your words might affect him. He only gave you a small smile and with his thumb, he wiped one of your cheeks from the stains of your tears. 

“Nothing to be sorry for Peach. It’s normal to have fears… but you gotta let life give you some surprises, okay?” Eddie replied softly, and you felt calm in his voice, in his touch and you only wanted to rest against his shoulder because tiredness was slowly consuming you. He seemed to notice and he rested his back against the couch and patted his shoulder for you to rest on him. 

You couldn’t bother to feel ashamed, bothered, embarrassed, you needed the cuddle, the snuggle, the touch. You needed to feel warmth again, to feel care from someone towards you, from someone wanting to make you feel better, to console you.

You don’t even remember when you fell asleep.

It wasn’t until the next day that you were in bed, waking up groggily still in the same clothes from yesterday night that you realized you slept the night away and you didn’t even flinch when Eddie or Steve moved you to your bed. 

You groaned as you got up from the bed, feeling your throat as dry as a desert, only to almost fall to the ground when your foot hit something on the floor. You looked down with a gasp to see Robin sleeping with her mouth wide open and the spare futon under her. You contained a giggle as you tiptoed to your desk and got a marker out.

You kneeled down next to your best friend’s head and you slowly drew a mustache at the top of her lip. You smiled at your work of art and straightened up in order to go to your kitchen, only to stop in your tracks when you saw Steve sleeping on your living room couch and then Eddie…

He brought the balcony couch inside to sleep in.

Your features softened at seeing his sleeping face, soft breaths coming out from in between his lips, blocking Steve’s loud snores away. He could have gone home instead of sleeping cramped and uncomfortable on your small couch. He stayed despite that and is sleeping soundly in your living room.��

Your heart gave one thump. Two thumps. Maybe three. 

An hour later you were making some breakfast. You took your time to go down to the street and go to the small market in the corner to get some eggs and milk in order to make some waffles in your waffle maker. You got some syrup and powdered sugar, then blueberries and some bananas. 

It seems the smell of food woke Robin up, as always, and you heard her walking out of the room groggily but with a pleasant voice coming out of her mouth.

“Mmm, that smells so–”

And you turned around just in time as she cracked up in laughter, pointing at Steve’s face. Steve jolted awake, shooting up on the couch with his hair completely disheveled, only to then start laughing as well as he saw Robin’s face.

“What the fuck is that!?”

“Me!? What the fuck is on your face Harrington!?”

“Can the both of you shut the fuck up?” The last voice said in a really gruff tone that if it weren’t for the situation at hand, your knees would have buckled. Steve and Robin turned to look at Eddie only to snort loudly and then laugh even louder than before, making Eddie raise an eyebrow of his.

“Dude, your fucking face–” Steve choked out and then he immediately shut up, face falling. He rushed to get up and run to the mirror that was in a column of your living room. He yelled when he saw that all of his freckles were now connected all over his face and neck, like a constellation of some sort, a few childish stars drawn here and there.

Eddie’s eyes widened when he saw Robin’s mustache and got up as well, rushing to the mirror alongside her to check himself out. He had small horns on his forehead and his eyebrows were filled and put in the shape of an angered frown. He straightened up and your three friends turned to look at you as you started whistling while turning your waffle maker.

“Does anyone want waffles?”

At the lack of response, you slowly turned around to find Eddie already towering over you and you choked on a snort, closing your mouth tightly because he just looked like a cartoon right now.

“You think it’s funny?”

“A little.” At your response, Eddie gave a nod.

“Steve, Robin. Pin her down.”

You ended up having your face drawn on. Your forehead had a small crown at the corner, your cheeks had two hearts and for good measure, Eddie put his own touch to it all and drew a dick in the corner of your mouth.

And you all ate waffles with drawings on your faces.

End of chapter 14

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✎ ( 911 PILOT EPISODE STARTERS. )

a roleplay meme of quotes from the pilot episode of the first responder drama 911. WILL CONTAIN POTENTIALLY TRIGGERING QUOTES. do not steal or repost. FOR REBLOGGING ONLY.

❛ don’t worry. he’s gonna be alright. ❜ ❛ you said if i got to you in five minutes, you would be all mine. ❜ ❛ someone punch you in the face? ❜ ❛ let’s not ruin everything by actually getting to know each other. ❜ ❛ we’re living in a golden age. ❜ ❛ this woman is so far outta my league , but she’s just once-in-a-lifetime. ❜ ❛ when was the last time you ran into , or jumped into anything? ❜ ❛ i’m telling you , the uniform is a major aphrodisiac. ❜ ❛ wash your hands! we don’t know where they’ve been. ❜ ❛ this is not a family. it’s not a clubhouse. ❜ ❛ see the fire. put out the fire. the rest is blah blah. ❜ ❛ the system , and the rules are not arbitrary. ❜ ❛ you know you’re not helping him by going easy on him. ❜ ❛ he just needs a little direction. ❜ ❛ i’ll remind you that after he gets you killed. ❜ ❛ i’ll race you! ❜ ❛ race yourself rambo. ❜ ❛ who’s rambo? ❜ ❛ okay first of all , that’s awful. ❜ ❛ stand back. i got this! ❜ ❛ try to find some common sense while you’re down there. ❜ ❛ don’t we need a warrant or something? ❜ ❛ do i look like i’m asking you to make an arrest? ❜ ❛ let’s do this. ❜ ❛ it’s not working! ❜ ❛ nobody held the elevator? ❜ ❛ come on , i’m twice as fast! ❜ ❛ you’re gonna be okay. you’re gonna be great. ❜ ❛ hospital eta five minutes! ❜ ❛ there’s nothing more we can do. ❜ ❛ we did our jobs very well today. ❜ ❛ you do not get to choose who lives and who dies. ❜ ❛ you’re gonna get someone killed. ❜ ❛ i promise you , the next time you screw up. it’ll be your last. ❜ ❛ get in the truck. ❜ ❛ dude , as far as i’m concerned , the world began the day i was born. ❜ ❛ oh my god! I’m gonna start calling you snake-ipedia! ❜ ❛ why don’t i just punch it in the face? ❜ ❛ it’s not some guy at an el torito happy hour! ❜ ❛ we don’t have time for this! ❜ ❛ why is that always the first option for you white-boy , macho tough guys? ❜ ❛ guys i’m totally gonna take credit for this. it’s gonna get me laid for a week. thank you. ❜ ❛ i’m gonna skip the part where the two idiots flirt. ❜ ❛ um , did you follow me here? ❜ ❛ all that stuff weighs you down. it slows you down. ❜ ❛ if we lose a couple seconds , people die. ❜ ❛ don’t do this to me. ❜ ❛ for what it’s worth , everyone thinks it sucks. ❜ ❛ you got some skills. just not a lot of discipline. ❜ ❛ you’ve got to be kidding me. ❜ ❛ i need a favor. ❜ ❛ i’ll have something for you in less than five. ❜ ❛ all right. no heroics. don’t go chasin waterfalls. ❜ ❛ i don’t know what that means. ❜ ❛ you can’t go in there right now. ❜ ❛ i know what this looks like. ❜ ❛ you’re giving me another chance? ❜ ❛ you were right to fire me. ❜ ❛ so are we talking again? ❜ ❛ i think i’m not fired. ❜ ❛ your shifts not over yet. ❜

[bwabys-scenarios]

also 🤗🤗 for the sfw/nsfw headcanons… how about nobubaga?

Nobunaga SFW/NSFW HCs

!!REPOSTS APPRECIATED!!

warning: period sex, oral(f+m receiving), creampie, daddy kink, cockwarming, pegging, slightest mention of Nobunaga thinking you self harm(you don’t he’s just stupid)

A/N: anything for my moots!! 🫡 I’ll try to make a few positive HCs for him but it won’t be easy…

(If you’d like to see SFW/NSFW HCs for your fav HXH character, send me an ask!!)

SFW

-this man does not know what personal space is. You’ll sit on the couch, then he’ll sit next to you super close. You move? He moves with you. Doesn’t get that you want some space

-if you want someone that is completely and utterly devoted to you, he’s your guy

-if you’re alright with him being kinda pathetic

-he definitely has low self esteem. he’s quick to put himself down, and even ends up neglecting himself. he’ll need to be reminded that he is loved and handsome to you. show him what self care days are!

-okay I joke about his greasy hair a lot but to have such long, pretty hair he does actually have to take care of it. can it get greasy because he’s having a bad time or is too lazy to take care of it? yeah, but he usually does keep up with it

-he’s really good with hair, when he was a kid he was the one that cut everyone’s hair and styled it.

-he both likes his hair being played with and playing with your hair! also he will 100% learn how to style your hair, he’s pretty good with his hands

-pretty affectionate, he ain’t hiding his love for you. he may be a little shy kissing and hugging you in front of his friends in fear of teasing, but otherwise he’s a big PDA guy

-bad texter, but will call you anytime! he just doesn’t understand tone through text and almost always tends to seem angry or upset through text(this is the same for Phinks)

-he doesn’t understand memes. he’s not even really that old but god does he act like it. he’ll squint at your screen then be like “I don’t get it.” then will huff and say “it ain’t even funny. this is why I don’t have social media.”

-if you get a scratch and he notices, he gets angry and is like “who did this to you?” And then you have to explain to him you scratched your arm on the stove because last week he accidentally broke the handle

-also might say something like “baby… don’t hurt yourself… stop, for me.” and hold you as if you didn’t scrape your knee after eating shit in the driveway 30 minutes ago

-his attempts at romance are mediocre at best. he’s the type of guy that will buy you a head of lettuce thinking it’s a flower

-scattered flower petals around the bedroom he picked outside but it’s during allergy season so now you have to vacuum pollen off your carpet while the two of you are sneezy and choking on your fluids

-DO NOT LET THIS MOTHERFUCKER IN YOUR KITCHEN!! ANYTHING HE MAKES IS HAZARDOUS TO YOUR HEALTH AT BEST!! You’re 90% sure one of the things he made came to life just to beg for death

-also he’ll find some way to break at least SOMETHING. Scrubbed your nonstick pans with a fucking metal sponge thing.

-he likes to carry your things around, will follow you like a lovesick puppy while you shop, holding your shopping bags

-he knits! it’s not something he tells many people, but he picked it up from Machi when they were on a mission together and he was bored out if his mind. if you beg ask nicely he’ll make you a hat or mittens. wearing anything he makes you will make him swoon

-he’s a decent cuddle buddy, if you don’t mind being groped and grabbed the whole time

-he doesn’t smell bad most of the time, but goes days without showering at times. you’ll have to promise him sexual favors or allow him to shower with you if you want him to shower everyday

NSFW

-cries when he cums sometimes…

-switch. he’ll say it’s a dom lean but… you can decide that for yourself

-y’all… this man and period sex. once he learns that’s a thing he’s asking to “help with your cramps” every time you’re on your period. yeah he’ll go down on you, yeah he’s a messy eater.

-speaking of pussy eating he’s decent! he tries to make you cum at least once on his tongue because he’s really bad at about cumming almost instantly once he’s inside you. he can go multiple rounds don’t worry, but he feels kind of pathetic after. “Just feel too good, baby, can’t help myself…”

-he’s around 7 inches me thinks. I don’t usually include dick size in these but 7 inches just seems perfect for him?

-I feel like he’d have a daddy kink. do I like that? no not really. but I can picture it

-he fucking LOVES hearing you moan and make noise. he can be a little insecure with his lovemaking skills, so hearing you enjoy yourself gets him going

-give him a blowjob and swallow his cum. he fucking loves to watch you stick out your tongue and show him it’s covered in his cum

-he likes cockwarming but he’s also super impatient and will just end up bouncing you before bending you over onto whatever surface is closest to you

-again with him being impatient, he’s not the biggest fan of lingerie. he’s going to rip it off you anyways, and he’d rather not deal with the headache of you complaining that he tore your expensive set

-he prefers cumming inside your pussy! he doesn’t want to get you pregnant, it’s more of a possessive thing. he wants to claim you!

-he’s got pretty good stamina. the first few rounds he’ll cum pretty quick, but once he gets into his rhythm, he can last a while!

-tug on his hair… he will moan and just stare at you for a second. he won’t ASK you to do it again, but he’ll wear his hair down around you more often

-he wouldn’t let you peg him 😔 would he like it? probably, but he doesn’t want to “feel emasculated”. this is code for “I don’t want you to see me moan and whimper like a bitch while you pound me”

[ancha-aus]

Soooo, not my usual topic but I got a bit of info some may find interesting. For people not following because of boycotting.

Eurovision just disqualified the Netherlands, Joost.

Aparently because Joost threatend someone but they are still investigating that.

And let me tell you first, if that actually happened and he actually threatend to hurt someone you should disqualify someone. (and I am dutch so don't say i am favoring others i dont care about winning, i found this out through a meme in a friend group and had to look up the news to figure it out)

All I am saying is that... interesting.

Seeing as with the interviews an interviewer asked Isreal singer how she felt about possible bringing others in danger for being there and competing. The event people told her she didn't need to asnwer and Joost was like "Why not?"

Also, before he went to compete he was calling out for boycotting it but he still went so... again. I am not all up to date as I don't really follow it that much.

All I am saying is...

They had no problem disqualifying someone who may have threatened someone. which isn't even confirmed yet.

But they are fine with letting israel compete? Who is actively commiting a genocide? and multiple war crimes?

Very interesting priorities guys. Very interesting.