#also I feel bad for everyone who keeps up with this stuff and comments and stuff. I take your advice into consideration it’s just hard

[werebutch]

My dad won’t leave me the hell alone . I know that he’s prone to paranoid delusions but it was a lot easier to deal with when it was something like being convinced he’s a demon sent from hell. How am I supposed to convince a man his bitch ex wife and his bitch daughters aren’t plotting to ‘split his family up’ as he puts it. He is so convinced there’s no arguing. And if I refuse to argue he will yell more and tell me how I have no argument because I know he’s right. I know I shouldn’t react to that but it makes my blood boil 😐

[kiwi-bitchez]

The Girlfriend Experience

Eddie Munson x Reader

Summary: Eddie doesn’t think he’s cut out for dating. Self-resigned to a life of one and done hookups, you’re determined to make him see that he has the capacity to be a worthy companion… for when the right girl comes around. Fake Dating AU, classic corny fic for a fav corny troupe, Stranger Things canon divergent ofc, 18+ smut (see warnings below), big dick energy but also slightly emotionally unavailable!Eddie, yada yada yada, you know the drill. 

Content warnings: AFAB reader with she/her pronouns, use of y/n, alcohol, smoking the devil’s lettuce, mention of panty stealing, food consumption, semi-public sex, fingering, PIV, Dom-ish!Eddie, oral (m and f receiving), pierced dick Eddie because I said so!, unprotected PIV sex, hair pulling, mild angst but nothing too angsty just like one heated conversation and Eddie feeling a little worthless but happy ending I promise

Word Count: 20k ahhhhhh!!!

A/N: Thanks to all those who comment and reblog! Your feedback and engagement makes my heart soar and keeps me motivated to write this filth! Sorry for the gargantuan length, in very-me fashion I always ending up writing one behemoth fic every so often rather than just separating it out into chapters. Also, realizing after the fact that I use the brand name ‘Goodwill’ a lot in this fic, which maybe not everyone might know is a thrift store, not sure if that’s just an American thing or not but figured it was worth noting. 

“I guess I’m just not boyfriend material, ya know?” Eddie shrugs.

“Don’t say that, Eds,” your eyebrows pinched together, “different qualities are important to different people. Not everyone is looking to date a Steve, or a Brian, or a whoever. I’m sure someone is out there looking for an Eddie.”

“It’s not that,” he shot a look towards Steve, who, despite your analogy, was unfortunately everyone’s type and the textbook definition of boyfriend material.

“I just don’t think I’d be very good at gooey romance stuff, or even like, passable boyfriend behavior. I mean, look at me, I hardly take care of myself, I’m loud, I have no money, I’m basically every dad’s worst nightmare, do I need to keep going?”

“The nightmare thing can actually be a bonus,” Steve chimes in, “the whole bad boy persona can be a huge draw for most girls.”

“Sure Steve,” Eddie’s voice grows exasperated, “I’m the mysterious bad boy until they realize I’m a huge loser who runs not one but two dungeons and dragons groups. Real fuckin’ attractive I’m sure that is.”

“Shows you’re committed to something…” you trail off when his eyes tell you to stop coming up with a positive spin for every excuse he gives. 

This whole discussion had started because of something that happened at the bar last night. A small group of you decided to meet up for drinks, your usual group of pals. It was a Thursday, so the bar wasn’t too busy. Your friends all squished into a booth in the corner, chatting and catching up over a plate of shared nachos, when Robin started making frantic gesture at you and Steve.

“Please just say what you’re trying to say instead of this elaborate charade,” Steve makes a few mocking hand signals back at her.

“Okay, one at a time, and keep it subtle,” her voice lowered to a whisper, for some reason, “over at the bar, some girl is totally flirting with Eddie.”

You and Steve both turn around. “I said not at the same time!” She whisper yells. 

There was, in fact, a pretty girl with shiny hair and glossy lips doing a half fake laugh and pressing her manicured hand to Eddie’s bicep. You whip back around to find Robin with her mouth hanging open in a “can you believe this is happening” way. 

“Good for him,” Steve swivels back around too, “She’s pretty hot.”

You return to your nachos, pretending there wasn’t a ping of jealousy in you. Eddie was your friend, that had been made abundantly clear.

When Robin introduced you to all her friends from high school, you had easily gotten along with all of them. You especially got along with Eddie. He was funny, authentic, abrasive at times, but a truly good person at his core, creative, protective, you could go on.

After getting to know him a bit, and developing a budding crush, you had made a few passes at him. Nothing too forward, just small compliments here and there, open ended offers to hang out that never lead anywhere.

It’s not like he flat out rejected you, but any feelers you were putting out to see if there was potential there were met with him looking past your flirtatious intent and just being his goofy, friendly self. He treated you exactly the same way he treated everyone else, which was awesome, except for when it wasn’t. 

“Oh no,” Robin’s gaze was not subtly fixed on the unfolding scene at the bar, you and Steve watched her face drastically shift from confused, to a cringe, to an eye roll.

Still half whispering, as if Eddie could even hear your corner of the bar, “He’s totally blowing it. DON’T both turn around at the same time again.” 

“Okay, so,” she starts before either of you can even confirm that you want to know, “she was totally laying it on thick, like you could see it from all the way back here. And he must have said something off putting, cuz all of a sudden she like went cold on him and pranced away. Shhhhh, okay okay, he’s coming back.”

She was acting as if she wasn’t the only one gossiping. You and Steve were innocent bystanders in all this. 

“WHAT was that?” She immediately blurts out when Eddie returns to his seat, fresh drink in hand. 

You and Steve share a side glance to sigh at Robin’s inability to be subtle, god bless her. Eddie shifts around awkwardly and lets out a forced dry laugh, taking a long sip from his drink before facing the wrath of a curious Robin. 

“Oh, that,” he gestures to the bar as if she could be asking about anything else, “some girl. Not sure.”

“Not sure? Eddie she was FLIRTING with you,” Robin all but yelled, causing Steve to scan the bar to see if the girl in question had landed somewhere within earshot. 

“I know that,” he hisses, “She just… wasn’t my type…”

“Okay sure, hot girl in a tube top and no bra isn’t your type, riiiiight,” Steve rolls his eyes.

“It’s just,” Eddie was so over this inquisition, “she asked if I wanted to get coffee.”

You, Steve, and Robin all give him a blank stare, trying to decipher what he could possibly have against getting coffee with a hot girl. 

“That’s like,” he gets defensive, detecting the wall of confusion facing him, “something people do on a date. Coffee is serious, and I’m not a very serious guy.”

“What do you mean ‘coffee is serious,’ coffee is like, as casual as you can possibly be?” Steve’s tone now emulated Robin’s from earlier, half whispering, half yelling, all scolding towards his friend. 

“That’s just not really my speed. Coffee dates and flowers and hand holding and all that,” he was avoiding eye contact with all three of you, “Yeah, she was hot, sure, and maybe if she had been like ‘hey lets go fool around in the bathroom’ then I wouldn’t be here having this lame ass conversation with you three. But I don’t do coffee dates, so I’m not gonna waste her time and pretend like I’m that sort of guy when I’m just not.” 

“Well good on you for not leading her on, cuz I’m sure you could have agreed to the coffee date and still gotten lucky in the bathroom,” Steve mumbles, and you smack the back of his head lightly to scold him. 

“So you only date girls who’ll fuck you in a bar bathroom the first time you meet?” You redirect your now equally scolding energy to Eddie.

“No!” He runs his hands through his hair, “I don’t date. Anyone, really. At all. Ever.”

“Oh,” you think for a minute, realizing in your few years of friendship you never had seen him with anyone, or heard him mention a romantic interest of any sort. 

Leading you to your present conversation, you and Steve continuing to question Eddie on his decision to reject the hot tube-top girl at the bar and why he felt like coffee was such a scary commitment. 

“You guys know me,” he continued to defend his stance, “If I took that girl out for coffee she probably would have picked some fancy hoity toity place and I wouldn’t know what anything on the menu meant, I’d probably spill something or like, get crumbs everywhere, and the bill would be way more than two coffees should be. It would have been a waste of both our time.”

He was staunchly refusing eye contact with the two of you, knowing he’d be met with something along the lines of pity. 

“Fine, we’ll drop the subject,” you shoot a look to Steve, “but I just need to make sure you understand that not every girl likes expensive coffee, or flowers and handholding, or whatever your expectation of girls and dating is. There’s plenty of girls who have similar interests to you, who feel the same way about PDA and mushy romance stuff that you do. You do know that, right?”

“Of course I do, y/n,” you could practically feel his eyes rolling at you, “but girls like that sure as fuck aren’t here in Nowhere, Indiana. Even if she was, I’m sure I’d still find a way to fuck it up given that I’ve had exactly zero serious girlfriends and the closest thing to a date I’ve ever been on is when you me and Steve pooled our ski ball tickets to win that ugly stuffed turtle.”

The memory of what you had all agreed to be the world’s ugliest stuffed animal caused all of you to crack a smile. Steve had silently agreed to change the subject, not wanting to dig Eddie any deeper into his pit of self despair. 

Steve’s mouth was half open, about to suggest that the three of you have a smoke and watch one of the rental movies he brought over, the words just about to escape him when you harshly cut off any chance at ending the pity-party.

“Date me!” You exclaim, without much thought. The shocked look from both boys caused you to rapidly back pedal , “You can date me, as practice!” You said it as if it was the simplest concept in the world. 

When met with gaping mouths and confused stares you continue on, “You and I can be fake boyfriend-girlfriend for like, a month, and I’ll tell you everything you do wrong, and like generic do’s and don’t’s, so that way the next time some hot girl hits on you, you can be all like ‘Coffee isn’t really my thing pretty lady, but I’d be down to get drinks sometime’,” you did a silly impression of Eddie’s voice, and then switched to a high pitched one to impersonate what you assumed the girl at the bar sounded like, “and then she’d be all like, ‘Oh yeah that sounds greaaaaat, getting coffee is just like, a generic catch-all thing that most people say when they want to get to know someone better, but you can buy me a drink’ and then the two of you will ride off into the sunset and it’ll be great.”

Still no reply.

“It won’t be all romantic and gooey, I promise I won’t make you do anything you don’t want to. It’d be a way for you to get some honest feedback and catch up with the stuff most people have to learn the hard way.” 

“I suppose you are the most brutally honest person I know,” Eddie doesn’t sound convinced. 

Steve just looked between the two of you with eyebrows raised, not knowing if giving his opinion on the matter would be appreciated or not. “I guess I would’ve appreciated someone telling me that most girls don’t want to be asked out with a pickup line from a John Hughes movie, would have saved me a few dozen rejections.”

“I’m pretty sure Robin did tell you that…”

“I don’t know y/n,” Eddie scratches his head. 

“It’ll be easy. Ask me out.”

“Huh?”

“Ask me out, for practice, ask me out on a date like I’m a pretty girl you met at some metal show or a DnD convention or something like that,” you stand in front of him with your hands out as if to prompt him to say something. 

“Will you go out with me?” He sounds more like he’s asking himself if he even wants to be asking the question.

“No.”

“What the hell!” He throws his hands up.

“I said no because that wasn’t a very good effort. Go out where? To do what? You’re asking me, a pretend stranger, out on a date Eddie, not if I want to go have a smoke with you.”

“Ughhhh,” he spun around and tried to get some sympathy for Steve, who unfortunately was on your side with this one. 

“A compliment or two doesn’t hurt as well,” Steve added, deepening Eddie’s groan. 

“Hey pretty stranger lady,” his voice was laced with sarcasm, but at least it wasn’t disdain, “you seem really…” he hesitated to find his words, “cool? Would you like to come see my band play this weekend at The Hideout? We-“

“No,” you cut him off.

“WHA-“

“Eddie, you can’t ask a girl to watch Corroded Coffin play for your first date with her, that’s like date four or five material, no girl wants to go sit by herself at a bar to watch some guy she just met play an hour of heavy metal. She would have to know you a little bit more for that to feel organic. Pick something more generic, like coffee.”

“I think you seem cool, would you like to get coffee with me?” it all came out as one monotone mumble from him. 

“Sure,” you wait for him to lift his head up to make eye contact with you, “But coffee isn’t really my thing, maybe we can go out for drinks?”

“Oh fuck off,” he flopped back onto the couch next to Steve. 

“See, now we have our first fake date, and then you can ask me to be your fake girlfriend, and then you’ll be so comfortable with emotional vulnerability that you can find a real girlfriend to take on real dates.”

“Yeah, I suppose it could be beneficial,” Eddie was slowly coming around to the idea. He knew that he was oddly charismatic at times, but he was just always too self conscious to follow through with the whole romance thing.

This maybe wasn’t a bad idea, because he knew you weren’t the kind of person who would make fun of his hobbies, or put him down if he slipped up, the sorts of things he was always afraid of girls doing. Sure, he’ll agree to the girlfriend experience. 

After a night of movies and pizza with Steve fake-third-wheeling, you made sure Eddie knew that the fake-date was actually happening, that the two of you would go out for drinks this weekend as your first official practice date. 

After giving it a bit of thought, you realized that you and Eddie had never hung out alone. In your feeble attempts at flirting with him all those months ago you had invited him to have movie nights or grab a bite to eat, but he always showed up with Steve and or Robin in tow.

As the night of the fake-date rolled around, you’d be embarrassed to admit it to him, or Steve, who didn’t care to hide how skeptical he was about this whole idea, that you went through your normal pre-date routine. You took some extra time on your hair and makeup, exfoliated in the shower, chose an outfit you felt confident in, added a few spritz of perfume for good measure too. 

Eddie rolled up in his van, only a few minutes late, but a few minutes was very impressive compared to his typical chronic tardiness. The two of you agreed to just grab some food and drinks at your usual spot, considering you and Steve openly agreed that it would be a good first date spot in theory. 

“Hey,” he reaches across the center console to pop the door open for you, “you look nice.”

It took you a second to register as you settled into the passenger seat, and then whip around with your arm outstretched to give him a high five. He scrunches his face at you.

“High five me Eddie, that was really good! I know you usually open the door for me anyways, but the compliment right away, A+,” you flop your hand down to gently slap his, still gripping the steering wheel. 

“Don’t patronize me, y/n,” deep down he knew you weren’t trying to talk down to him, and deep down he hadn’t even given complimenting you a second thought, he really did think you looked great in your date get-up. 

On the ride over to the bar, the two of you discuss some logistics. Considering all of this is just practice dating, you don’t expect Eddie to pay for you, but you explain that in theory if he had been the one to ask you out then he should be the one to pay for the first date. 

“To me it’s less of a gender thing and more of a who asked out who thing, but I know some people would abide to the stereotypical ‘the man always pays’ standard, which is why you’d just have to be honest on date like two or three about what you enjoy doing and what sorts of things are in your budget. You can still have fun and be thoughtful without spending a lot of money.”

He asked a few questions, like if he should have gotten you flowers for a first date, or what he should do if someone asks to go to a fancy restaurant that he surely couldn’t afford. You tried your best to give solid advice, but always reminded him that every person is different and every relationship is different, so all he can do is be honest. 

You take up a spot at the bar and both order for yourselves, splitting some fries and slipping into some easy conversation. 

“Am I supposed to, like, beat someone up if a guy tries hitting on you in front of me or something like that?” you nearly choke on your drink at his question. 

“Eddie, no,” you answer, also questioning, “why the hell would you ask me that?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugged, “My buddy Jeff was with his girlfriend at this punk show before they were even together, and some guy made a creepy comment to Amanda and Jeff just decked the guy in the face. He say’s that’s what made her want to date him, cuz he defended her honor or whatever.”

“I guess that’s sort of circumstantial, but I prefer my dates to not engage in any sort of violence,” you sip your drink, “even if it’s for my honor. I’d like your face a lot less if you were all bruised up.”

“Well I never said I would get hit,” the two of you were laughing a bit now.

Over a few cocktails you went over some first date etiquette with him. PDA and being touchy, how to follow her lead and gauge if she’s the type who wants everyone at the bar to know you’re together, or keep it strictly platonic to start. How far of a grip on the leg is too far up, that sort of thing.  

“So if she does something like this,” you fake laugh a bit too loud and, lean into his personal space, and then run your hand from his slender down his arm, “that doesn’t necessarily mean she wants to fuck you, but it’s pretty close. You’ve at least got a green flag to get a little closer to her, tell her she looks nice, maybe offer to buy her a drink.”

“I know how to tell if someone finds me attractive, y/n, I’m not stupid,” he said casually, “obviously that girl the other night was hitting on me, I’m not blind. I wasn’t going to ask to buy her a drink or try and get lucky in the bathroom because I was out with my friends. I can find a quick fuck in a bar on my own time. I was having fun with you guys, I wasn’t going to abandon all of you to talk to some stranger, even if she was hot.”  

“Oh,” you processed his comment, “Steve would be happy to know he ranks above tube-top girl.”

“Steve would be happy to be above tube-top girl in any context,” he jokes. 

“You really just find random girls in bars to fuck?” You question, not in any sort of judgmental way, just curious. 

“Not specifically, I guess I did make myself sound like some serial bar-bathroom type of guy. I never really had girls interested in me when I was in high school, at least the first four years of it. Then when we started playing regular gigs at The Hideout it was a little easier to find girls who were interested, but it was always that they were more into fucking some guy who could play guitar and was in a band, so it usually just always happened on-site, probably cuz they had an actual boyfriend or husband to go home to. Girls think I’m fun. Which isn’t untrue, I do enjoy a romp in the Hideout bathroom, or the back of my van, or wherever we end up.”

“So that’s what all those blankets are back there for,” you say with a fake scowl, referring to his van set-up. 

“Not exclusively! They make a cozy nest for smoking blunts and listening to tapes too!” 

You return to your drink, trying not to think too hard about the girls that Eddie brings to bar bathrooms or his van or wherever. 

“I just find the energy of those situations very different from like, talking and getting to know someone. Fucking is easy. I’m not interested in ruining that by adding emotions and the looming feeling like sex is contingent on me acting a certain way or checking a certain number of boxes for someone.” 

He shrugged, and you could understand where he was coming from, sometimes a quick fuck or hookup could be cathartic and easy. But it also saddened you to think that Eddie believed he had to get in and out before the person on the other end got the chance to know him. 

Moving away from the subject of his inability to be emotionally vulnerable, the two of you practice some cheesy ‘first date’ questions as you had called them. As your drinks started to settle into your system you were having more fun being silly with him, pretending to be a stranger on a first date. 

“When’s your birthday?” You ask, twirling your drink straw with your finger and making some fake flirty eyes at him to accentuate the facade of asking him a bunch of questions you mostly knew the answers to. 

“August 9th,” he flips his hair over his shoulder, joining in on your fake ostentatious flirting. 

“Oh my gosh, a Leo! This will never work out, cuz I’m an asparagus…”

The two of you nearly fall out of your bar stools laughing, realizing you meant to say Sagittarius. 

“Okay, let’s get you home Asparagus,” he helped you up, having kept his drinking to a minimum so he could drive you home. 

“Wait, wait,” you grabbed his arm as the two of you exited the bar, “can we go back to your trailer?”

He raised an eyebrow at you, “that’s a little presumptuous for a first date missy.”

“No, no, this isn’t girlfriend y/n asking, just regular friend y/n, who thinks it would be a lot of fun to smoke and watch a movie without Steve there spewing all his annoying fun facts, like, we get it, you read the little insert inside the tape while you were bored at work!”

Eddie did agree that the idea of packing a bowl and watching a few movies with you didn’t sound too different from what his plans would have been otherwise, so he agreed, as long as you promised not to give him any dating advice while hanging out as friend y/n and not girlfriend y/n. 

Although you promised to try your best, you immediately started lecturing him on t-shirt borrowing and the potential weight that could hold in a relationship when he offered to give you some more comfy clothes to change into. 

“It’s important to know!” You emerged from the bathroom in one of his oversized shirts and a pair of boxers, “Some girls are very touchy about it. Any shirt you lend her to sleep in, you have to be willing to sacrifice for life.”

“For life?!” Eddie finishes making a bowl of popcorn for the two of you, swallowing his words when he sees you in his clothes, an unidentifiable emotion rising in him at the sight of you so cozy and integrated into his space. 

“Well maybe not life,” you plop down onto the couch, “but do NOT ask for it back. Most girls will give it back once it stops smelling like you.”

“If she gets my shirt, can I have her underwear?” He asked without thinking, the weed he had just smoked with you hitting him a bit too hard in that moment. 

“Oh my god,” you squeal and bury your face into a pillow, “la la la la, pretending like I didn’t hear that!”

“I’m just saying!” He laughs at you, now curled up into a ball, “fair is fair, right?”

“I guess it depends on the girl,” you mumble. 

“So I’m guessing not you, by your reaction.”

“Eddie!” You smack him with a pillow, “I don’t know, no one’s ever asked!”

“If my girlfriend isn’t going to ask before stealing my shirt for an indefinite amount of time, I think that gives me panty privilege.”

“Wow Eddie, if I had known you were such a perv I would’ve reconsidered being your fake girlfriend,” you say sarcastically, with no real judgement behind it. The idea of him wanting to steal your underwear dampens them ever so slightly. 

“Don’t worry babe, I won’t do anything pervy to you unless you ask nicely,” he shoots a wink at you, which you meet with an eye roll and a turn away to hopefully hide the heat rising in your cheeks. 

The two of you carry out your platonic movie night as planned. You suppressed any urge to note on his actions from a romantic lens, and he ignored the itching desire to sling his arm around your shoulder or pull your legs into his lap to get more comfy on the couch. 

“Can I sleep here Eddie,” you ask after movie two, “too sleepy to move.”

“Sure, I can take the couch and you can have my bed. It’s been a minute since I washed the sheets but it shouldn’t be too bad…”

“Nonono,” you mumble, “Your legs will totally hang right off the end of this thing. I’m conked out anyways, I can crash right here I promise.”

“Ignoring that you’re my fake girlfriend, I’m not letting you sleep out here on this lumpy thing. You’re taking the bed, no arguments.”

He helps you up from the couch, letting you keep the blanket that’s wrapped around you, snaking his arm underneath it and pulling you from the couch by your lower back. You were slightly taken aback by his assistance, body still limp from your relaxed state, your torso easily arching into his. Your arms fly up to grab his shoulders, steadying yourself with an awkward giggle. 

“In the real world, a time like this would be good for a first kiss,” you make note of your closeness, the way he swept you up off the couch and held you steadily as you made your way to your feet. 

“I know that, y/n,” his face was closer to yours than it had ever been, making your words hitch in your throat. 

“Well, I’m just saying,” you turn your head to avoid the tension, “I’m sure the way you kiss your bar-hookups isn’t the way most girls who’re looking to date you long term want to be kissed for the first time.”

‘Oh yeah? And how do you presume that goes?” He kept his hand planted on your lower back.

You pretend to act wildly drunk, throwing yourself at him and letting your limbs go a bit heavier than they already were. “Ohmygod guitar man, I’ve had like, six dirty Shirleys, please finger bang me in the bathroom,” you slur your words and let your tongue loll out the side of your mouth as if to lean in for the world’s sloppiest and most uncoordinated kiss.

“First of all,” his voice was very serious, “I don’t hook up with girls who are too inebriated to stand, let’s get that straight. As a matter of fact, I wouldn’t even have our first fake kiss like this on account of the drinking and smoking, gotta make sure you’re in the right headspace. Secondly,” 

He spins you around and quickly backs you up against the wall that stood a few feet behind the couch. His hand sliding up in between your shoulder blades, blanket now slumped around your waist, his other hand suavely cupping the side of your cheek, His hips angled into yours, pinning you back against the vinyl, almost collapsing back into it. 

He pressed against you, not aggressively, but enough to let you know that if you were to try and squirm away he had the capacity to keep you right where he wanted you. He accomplished this all in one elegant motion, leaving you a bit dazed.

As you started to snap into reality, he moves his hand from your cheek down to grab your chin in between his thumb and the knuckle of his pointer, angling your face directly up at him. 

“If you were some girl in a bar, it would be like this.”

The moment before your brain turned to absolute mush, you silently cringed at the thought of what you must look like, mouth hanging open, eyes glassed over, body instinctively sinking into his touch. Pathetic, you were sure of it. 

Sure, Eddie did think you looked a little helpless, but he also thought you looked perfect. Exactly as he had imagined you to in this situation. Of course he had thought about you before, like that.

Of course he had felt an immediate spark with you when you had first met. But he never flirted back, or lead you on, because as much as he was attracted to you and enjoyed your company, he knew that it wouldn’t work out. He wasn’t relationship material, and you were the picture perfect girlfriend that he didn’t deserve. 

He spoke directly into your parted lips, mouth hovering just far enough away to toe the line of ‘holy shit, is he going to?’ But no, as he made very clear, he wouldn’t kiss you under these conditions. He had made his point, and slowly backed off and let you find your footing. 

As soon as he was sure that you were steady, he backed away and started down the hallway. 

“I might have an extra toothbrush stashed away somewhere, let me look…” he ducked into the bathroom, leaving you stunned in the kitchen, head swimming and your stomach traveled up into your throat. 

He was teasing you, he must be. That was his little way of getting back at you for thinking you could give him dating advice. If he was unsure about his capacity for romance, he was going to make sure you knew he was more than capable in other ways. Understood. 

You shook your head, weeding through your inner monologue of how he could possibly look at you like that and then just walk away. Your shock gave him just long enough for you to to not notice him splashing cold water on his face in the bathroom while he “looked for a toothbrush.” 

The two of you decided to ignore the lingering tension from the events in the kitchen, not a peep of fake-girlfriend talk from you for the rest of the night. He did find you that toothbrush, and the two of you moved through a too-easy domestic routine of getting ready for bed. 

You told him that you wouldn’t be able to sleep if you knew he was cramped on that couch, and that you were fine with sharing a bed. You mumbled something about  getting around to bed sharing etiquette at some point anyways, and sleepily pulled him into being your little spoon. 

Eddie lay there, trying not to twitch or fidget, relaxed as best he could into your cuddled form thinking about how horrible of an idea all of this was. He was convinced all it would take is roughly ten more minutes of you burying your face into his hair and making cute little sleepy noises for him to fall irreversibly in love with you. 

But what was he supposed to do? Move and wake you up? Never. 

You rolled around enough in the night to wake up in a less intimate position than when you had fallen asleep. You knew Eddie was a deep sleeper, and took it upon yourself to creep out of bed and back into your day clothes, make a pot of coffee, and watc a bit of TV before he roused and joined you in the living room. 

“Why didn’t you wake me?” He rubbed the crust from his eyes and was pleasantly surprised to see you had brewed a whole pot of coffee to share. 

“You looked so peaceful and cozy,” he shook his head at you, as if that was no excuse for letting him sleep an extra forty minutes.  

After a slow morning, he agrees to drive you home. 

“So this is the part where I say ‘Eddie, I had such a wonderful time on our date. I’d love to do it again sometime.’ And then you agree and tell me when you’re free. It’s best to be super direct and make plans to get together again soon, cuz then it’s not an awkward who’s-gonna-call-who-first sort of thing.”

“Uh-huh…” he stares at you blankly. 

“But for our sake, let’s just agree that I’m in charge of planning our next date. Okay? I’ll do it from the perspective of what I think most girls would enjoy, so you can steal it for the future. I’ll call you later.” 

You hop out of his van before he can agree, and leave him with a “Thanks for letting me stay over!” As you bound away from his view. 

He squeezed his eyes shut the moment he caught himself checking your ass out as you walked away, and let his head rest down on the steering wheel. He was fucked. How the hell was he supposed to tell you that you needed to stop being his fake girlfriend without disrupting the homeostasis of your friendship?

On one hand he could lie and say he doesn’t want your advice, making you think he didn’t enjoy your company, which was entirely untrue. On the other hand he could tell you the truth, and you would never be friends the same way again. 

He drove home with the music too loud, and patiently awaited your call later that evening to iron out the details of your second fake-date. 

Per your instructions, he let you pick him up this time with the argument that you were the one taking him out this time. He didn’t know what you had planned, but let himself fall to the mercy of whatever you had decided was an exemplary date fore him to ‘steal in the future’. 

You picked up two coffees and rolled up to the trailer park, popping a mix-tape he had made you ages ago. 

“Hey, I thought we said no paying for each other with fake-dating,” he objects to the coffee sat in the passenger cupholder, some abomination of mostly cream and sugar, the way you know he likes it. 

“Yes, that’s true, but you smoked me up the other night, and this coffee was like a dollar fifty, so don’t worry about it,” you give him a look that tells him to drink the damn coffee and not sass back, to which he complies, even though he smokes you up expecting nothing in return about every other weekend. 

The two of you sip away and listen to Eddies ‘must-know-to-be-my-friend’ mixtape and arrive shortly at the strip mall across town. This was a regular weekly stop for both of you, the strip of connected stores containing the Goodwill, a pet store, the pharmacy, and grocery. A pretty mundane collection. 

“Okay, what are we doing at Greg’s?” Eddie gestures to the grocery store, the back of his mind running through the grocery list he’s been making for this week anyways.

“What’s the perfect date?” You ask, and answer for him, “a romantic picnic. But gathering supplies is half the fun. Picnic food supplies at Greg’s, some pills to get fucked up at the pharm, some turtles or something to let loose into the wild from the pet store, and then hats, cups, blanket, etcetera from the Goodwill.”

He turns to you with the most bewildered stare, which sends you into a fit of giggles.

“Okay, I’m joking about the pills and the turtles,” you nudge his arm, “but won’t it be sweet to get together some picnic supplies and then drive out to lookout point? We can still swing by the pet store to check out the ferrets though.”

To Eddie, the idea of a date involved him doing something he didn’t want to do, some awkward small talk, and spending money on shit he truly thought was useless. This didn’t sound half bad. You would “work backwards so the food purchases come last” according  to your reasoning, and he followed you in tow without any arguments into the Goodwill.

“So I’m thinking…” you start to wander into the aisles of used clothes and knick knacks, “maybe a blanket? A basket would be sort of corny, but if we find one for cheap I don’t see why not. Surely two glasses for drinking, and maybe some sun hats?”

Swiveling back around to see a half stunned Eddie, who was still processing how in the hell this was your idea of a romantic date, you grab his hand and pull him to the bric-a-brac section. 

After it got through his thick skull that the same place he had uncomfortably tried on new pants throughout his growth spurt, and picked up his daily-worn leather jacket, had the same potential to provide some silly, cheap, used items to add some flair to this picnic. 

Silly and cheap was right up Eddie’s alley. The two of you picked out mismatched champagne glasses, one with the engraved name of a couple who got married in 1943 and the other a flashy rose color with baby angel carvings dancing around the sides. 

You luckily find an on sale beach blanket, and the two of you pick out some very goofy sun hats. A floppy farmers hat for you, and a bedazzled trucker hat spelling ‘hot mama’ for Eddie.

Through the midst of your giggles and debate on whether you should buy a wooden bench to bring out to your picnic destination, Eddie found himself having a really good time with you. 

As promised, you visited the pet store and checked out the ferrets and fish and geckos. 

“If you could have any pet, what would you want?” You asked him, noses pressed against the chinchilla enclosure. 

“Jaguar,” he said, a little too quickly.

“For real, dummy,” you knock your hip into his.

“I don’t know, we never had enough space or extra money for pets growing up, so maybe someday if I had enough room for it to run around I’d like a dog or something,” he tells. Eyes still transfixed on the chinchilla behind the glass. 

“I can see that,” you imagine Eddie with some mutt from the shelter, wrestling around and giving it lots of scratches behind the ears. 

Skipping the pharmacy, you pop into the grocery store and assemble what may be the world’s most eclectic picnic. 

“That’s the definition of a picnic, I’m pretty sure,” you explain after Eddie insinuated that the gingersnap cookies you grabbed, along with grapes and a block of cheese, wasn’t exactly a meal, “you know, just a smorgasbord of whatever we want!”

Admittedly, Eddie had considered a handful of pretzels and a beer to be dinner on more than one occasion, so he couldn’t argue with you. Quickly catching your drift, the two of you picked out an assortment of snacks and some ingredients for pb&j sandwiches. 

“I thought picnics were supposed to be classy?” Eddie holds up the Wonder bread and bag of potato chips with a look that suggested his question was rhetorical.

Your response was simply to raise the, admittedly cheap, bottle of champagne you grabbed to accompany with your meal, more for the irony of drinking the bubbly liquid out of your new used glasses with your sticky sandwiches than anything else. 

You pack your supplies into a tote bag, not having found a suitable basket at the thrift store, and drive across town to a dirt paved road that leads to a nice lookout point with a view of the lake. 

“Let’s walk down the path a little bit, but not too far,” you grab the blanket and tote bag from your trunk, motioning for Eddie to put on his ‘hot mama’ hat and carry your other auxiliary supplies, “I do not fuck with bugs.”

“I’ll protect you,” Eddie puffs out his chest, making you both giggle.

“From bugs?”

“Yeah, I’ll punch a mosquito right in the face, to defend your honor and all that.”

“I know I told you not to do that, but a mosquito might be the exception to the rule.”

You found a nice little clearing not far from the car, a spot that still had a nice view but was a bit more secluded. Eddie sat pressed right up next to you, making your sandwich ‘to be a proper gentleman’ but simultaneously spilling a glob of jelly onto your leg.

“Shit,” he doesn’t think twice before leaning down and slurping the grape flavored blob off of your bare knee, tongue poking out and licking the spilt jelly from your skin.

“Eddie!” You squirm away, barking out a surprised laugh. 

“What! Your knee is clean, wouldn’t want to waste perfectly good preserves, or a napkin.”

You feel your skin tingle where his lips had touched you, for only a moment, but you still felt it. He was so confident and casual in his movements, not having any hesitation to grab your hand or brush your hair out of your face. It wasn’t under the guise of fake romance, he had always been like that. Not touchy, per se, just sure of himself. You’d never seen Eddie do anything half assed, that’s for certain.

After the conversation you shared the other night, you were unable to stop your mind from wandering to thoughts of what Eddie does with those girls in bars, if he touched him with the same confidence and sureness he put into everything else he did. 

It was wrong to let your mind go to such dirty places about someone you considered a friend, but you couldn’t manage to feel any guilt. He had offered that information freely, so who were you to punish yourself for staring a little longer at his fingers, conjuring up the context in which he’d bury them inside you against some grimy bar bathroom. 

The date was all peanut butter smiles and bubbly laughter that floated up into the trees. Silly, yes, but neither of you could deny there was something sweet, maybe even romantic about it. A cheap meal in the woods shared between two friends in ill-fitting fifty cent hats, but an undeniable touch of romance lingered nonetheless. 

Eddie started to realize that maybe the whole dating thing wasn’t as uptight and scary as he had initially thought. It could be easy and fun, with the right person. And fuck, if he could even imagine doing this with anyone but you. 

Like most things Eddie did, he did not consider any potential consequences before acting. You looked so pretty sitting there in the sunshine, sipping from your cheap ‘Martha & Dave ’43’ glass, a few sandwich crumbs dotting the corner of your mouth.

What else was he supposed to do other than lean over and wipe them away with his thumb, stroking your soft cheek and feel the warmth of your skin beneath his palm. 

“You had some,” he uses his other hand to motion at his own mouth, “and I suppose this is the sort of moment where I’d ask if I can kiss you.” 

You find yourself a bit dumbfounded, his big stupid hand on your cheek and those big stupid puppy dog eyes unrelenting in making everything he says seem so genuine.

“Are you?” You find your voice, only half embarrassed at how shy it comes out.

“Am I what?”

“Are you asking me?”

“Yeah,” his answer comes out in a way that insinuates that he never meant anything other than that, that he was always asking to kiss you, he wasn’t asking in theory, in another universe, in the context of advice. 

“Okay,” you found yourself behaving like Eddie, not really thinking of consequences before your words and actions spoke on behalf of your instincts.

Everything so far had been so easy. Your fake first date at the bar, curling up next to him in a haze, making up stories about what sort of people donated the fake palm tree or the Garfield mug at the Goodwill, imagining Eddie running around a yard with a puppy, lounging in the grass and eating your assorted picnic snacks. It was all effortless.

Suddenly, being kissed by Eddie sucked the ease from your lungs and sent your mind spiraling into a cacophony of bells and whistles and giant swirling red flags. If this is how he kissed you, casually across some half eaten peanut butter sandwiches, you’d spend the rest of your days yearning to know how he kissed someone with true intention. 

Of course, his intentions were all there, but the lingering knowledge that all of this was happening under the umbrella of “you giving him advice” or “helping practice for the next girl” poisoned any true feeling he poured into it. He cupped your cheek, soft, let his lips press into yours delicately for a moment before he felt your breath hitch, opening his mouth just enough to deepen the kiss and capture your lower lip fully. 

He was more careful, gentle, methodic with his movements and so receptive to every little signal your body gave him, it was unlike any first-kiss, heat-of-the-moment-kiss, in-the-throws-of-passion-kiss, any of it. Like hell you’d ever tell him that, inflate that big ego that fuels his snippy comebacks at you, but Jesus, was it remarkable. 

While at war with yourself internally, your heart was on the precipice of exploding in your chest from the way he snaked his hand into your hair and pressed his forehead against yours to catch a breath. You suck in a sharp breath and feel that stupid cocky smirk creep up onto that pretty mouth of his.

“’S that sufficient for a first kiss?”

“Fuck offfff,” you were still a little out of breath, smacking his chest and flopping back down onto the picnic blanket, throwing your arms up and rolling your eyes at him, “if you’re so damn confident, maybe we just should fake break up, cuz you don’t seem like you need my advice.”

“Nooooo,”he slumps down next to you, burrowing his head under your arm so he can pop up right next to your face, “I’m learning a lot, I promise! This date was so fun, and cheap! I would have never thought any of this could be remotely romantic. I’m hopeless, y/n, look at me.”

He wriggles around and gives you a big fake pout, “If left to my own devices I would probably do something horribly embarrassing or off-putting, like…” he digs his head into the crook of your neck and blew a fat, wet raspberry right into your skin, making you yelp and squeal, but his position half on top of you pins you down. 

“See!” He pulls up for air, you were in a fit of screaming giggles, “I’d go right in for a kiss and just,” and he does it again, leaving you gasping for air, trying your best to tickle his ribs to get him off of you, but not minding the close contact by any means. 

“Now I’m not so sure,” he pulls back to give you a minute to catch your breath, “it seems like you enjoyed that, so maybe survey says I should pull that move on the ladies.”

Your airy laughter subsided, but he stays half pinning you down to the blanket and the lumpy grass underneath.

“I didn’t mean to give you the impression that I’m not grateful for your help,” he says earnestly, catching your gaze, “it’s just… this isn’t what I need help with.”

As his statement is processing, you find his lips back on yours, his torso pressed flushed with yours and his wild mane of hair coming down to curtain around your head. He doesn’t take it too far, but kisses you as earnestly as he had before, giving your lip a slight drag with his teeth and running his hand up from your hip up the side of your ribcage, leaving you arching slightly into him by pure instinct.

Before your head got too dizzy again, before you could really throw yourself into it and say fuck it and kiss him back the way you secretly wanted to, he pulled back.

“That.” his voice was even, you hated how needy you felt and how even keeled he could be milliseconds after stealing the air from your lungs, “It’s the rest of it,” he threw his hands up and gestured to all the food and knock knacks around you, “it’s this stuff that you make seem so easy, so forgive me if I lay it on a little thick when we get to the parts I’m actually good at.”

“Just,” you sat up a bit, grounding yourself and formulating a response despite your brain looping the past twenty seconds back infinitely, “don’t do that again.”

“Okay,” he sat back and popped a grape into his mouth, “sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” you knocked his knee with yours, struggling to articulate how you felt without showing too much of your hand, deciding to just be candid, “I just- I liked that a little too much if you know what I mean. And this is strictly business, or education, maybe?”

“You liked it when I pinned you against the wall the other night,” he said matter of factly, “I think you liked that a little too much too, and you still took me on this fake educational business date.”

“Yeah, well, you caught me,” you threw your hands up in defense.

“Which one is it though?” He asks and you don’t quite understand, “are you a sweet kiss on the picnic kind of girl, or an up against the wall kind of girl?”

“That’s none of your business, as far as fake-dating is concerned,” you say a little too quickly, “and no you can’t have my panties.”

You say it with a smirk, but he doesn’t press any further. He turns and does that Eddie-thing he’s so good at, just changing the subject and shifting the vibe completely away from what might have been a stale moment or awkward pause. He starts asking if you like green or purple grapes better, going off about how he used to put them in the freezer as a kid. 

The remainder of your date went without a hitch, of course. You picked away at your picnic until the sun started to set, and once the sky started turning purple you made your way back to the car. The drive home consisted only of easy conversation and no further mention of the kiss, well, kisses that had transpired. He hopped out of the passenger seat with a ‘thank you’ and a ‘see ya later alligator.’ 

A scalding hot shower, a restless night of sleep, and too many cups of herbal tea the next morning did nothing to quell the noise in your head that blasted those moments over and over. You couldn’t stop picking apart whether he had thought about it for even a millisecond, and felt embarrassed that you could think of nothing else. 

It was simply an amplified version of what your whole friendship had been up until this point. You silently admiring him and wishing he would look at you the way you looked at him, and settling for friendship over heartbreak. 

Pushing it aside to the best of your ability allowed you to get through your week, but you had the lingering feeling that the next time you saw him would strike you with warm cheeks and a scrambled mental state.

Guilt had started to seep in at the corners of your mind, but you reminded yourself that you shouldn’t punish yourself for having romantic or sexual thoughts about someone you simply found attractive and compelling, it was your actions that would determine the validity of your guilt. 

“Long time no see, loser,” Robin hollered from the pool table across the bar, where she was likely kicking Steve’s ass. 

“Yeah, yeah, sorry,” you shrug off your coat and plop down at their regular booth, knowing her jabs were entirely empty. You notice Eddie’s leather jacket hung up by the wall, and scan the bar to find him ordering a drink. 

There was a silent mutual understanding that you’d keep the fake dating thing to a bare minimum when out with your friends like this. Even though Steve was well aware, and therefore Robin was too, you figured tainting your social time with the performance of romance is the exact reason Eddie turned down the girl at the bar in the first place. 

“For the lady,” Eddie waltzes over and hands you a drink.

“Oh, thanks,” you take it with a confused smile, “you didn’t have to do that.”

“You bought me coffee last weekend,” he sat across the booth from you, “plus I’m trying to get better at buying drinks for pretty girls, right?”

You remind him that he doesn’t have to keep tabs on things like coffee, but you appreciate the gesture regardless. As per the past few times you’d been out with your friends, you expected him to put a pause on the flirting, but it seems to be bubbling over tonight. You weren’t complaining, but admittedly the arm around your shoulder or the noticeable way he checked you out when you got up to refill your drink took you by slight surprise. 

Sneaking in to claim the always occupied dart board for a challenge against Eddie while he uses the restroom, you keep your eyes on the corner of the bar to signal him over once he returns.

“You need a partner?” A man suddenly appears behind you, a little closer than you’d like but the bar was crowded, so you’ll let it slide. 

“Oh, I was just waiting for-“

“Let me fill in until your friend gets here, we can get you warmed up, yeah?” His tone wasn’t too pushy, but you didn’t love the look he gave you when making that comment.

Awkwardly staggering for a second, unsure weather to just agree or tell him to fuck off, “He really should be just a minute-“

“Or maybe less,” Eddie comes up right behind you and pulls you possessively into his side.

Your head whips up to see him with a devilish smile, his hand on your waist and the fire behind his eyes telling his guy to get lost.

“Oh, sorry man,” the guy starts backing away with an apologetic look.

“Yeah, better luck next time, pal,” Eddie snakes around to take the guy’s spot in front of the dart board.

He had his darts in hand and took his stance to start the match, gesturing for you to do the same. 

“What was that,” you ask with a slight joking tone, but seriously curious.

“What?” He doesn’t make eye contact and instead throws the first dart, “I’m not allowed to get fake jealous?”

“You’re allowed to feel any fake emotion you want, I guess,” your tone is somewhere in between a joke and a question. 

“You’d feel fake jealous if I was getting blown in the bathroom by some chick rather than playing darts with you, I bet.”

“Okay,” your tone shifts to defensive, “getting blown is very different than some guy asking to play darts with me.”

“I didn’t like the way he was looking at you,” Eddie turns to face you, having thrown all his darts, “for real.”

A moment lapsed where you didn’t register that your mouth was hanging open in disbelief, the look in your eyes Eddie immediately clocked as lust and bottled up to store away for a later time. 

“I knew the scary dog thing would work,” his ‘i-told-you-so’ tone rubbed you the wrong way, but he wasn’t wrong, “you said girls weren’t into that, but you totally looooove that I defended your honor.”

“Don’t give yourself too much credit, I said girls wouldn’t be into it if you punched him,” you rolled your eyes.

“I don’t know, babe, I think you liked the whole ‘back off of my woman’ act.”

You mumble out a ‘whatever’ and let him have this win, which he was clearly reveling in, trying to focus instead at beating him at darts. 

“Just don’t pull shit like that on a first date, acting too possessive off the bat is a huge red flag for a lot of women.”

“I thought we weren’t doing dating advice tonight?” You don’t even have to look at him to know he’s got that stupid sarcastic smile.

“Yeah I thought so too,” you fail at your attempt to beat him in darts, as well as your attempt to not flirt back with him. 

He insists on collecting all the darts, picking up the ones haphazardly strews across the floor from failed attempts to hit the board. 

“I’m no pro or anything, but I think you’d hit the board a lot more if you fixed your stance.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” you flip him the bird and take back your red tipped darts. 

As you steady your arm to aim your first shot he comes up behind you and grabs your hips, causing you to let out an unexpected squeak. He adjusts your stance, not aggressively, but with some force, twisting your hips and using his big combat boot to sweep your foot around so you stood more sideways. 

“You’re standing straight on,” he backs up, allowing you to secretly catch your breath, “and all your shots are veering to the right. If you plant your feet more angled you’ll hit the board.”

You wanted to roll your eyes at him, miss on purpose to show him he’s full of shit. You flippantly toss the dart, not trying particularly hard, and it hits. Not a bulls-eye or anything like that, but a lot closer than your previous attempts had been. 

“Good girl,” he comments, leaning in to breech your personal space just enough to make your blood boil.

You drop the remainder of the darts in your opposite hand onto the floor and whip around to face him, half jokingly smacking him on the shoulder. 

“Oh my god, fuck off!”

You’re met with his trademark shit-eating grin.

Truthfully, Eddie hadn’t been able to keep his eyes off you all night. He’d spent the night after your picnic date with his hand in bis boxers, squeezing his eyes shut and remembering the little gasp you had made when he grabbed your waist, the hum in your throat that bubbled up when he kissed you pinned against the blanket, that night and every night since. 

“Oh, you don’t like that?” that joking tone he uses to cover up what he actually wants to say. 

“Shut up, you know I do,” you didn’t even try to stifle your reaction, knowing it was his intent to get under your skin.

“How would I possibly know that,” he playfully looks up at the ceiling and around the bar, hands clasped behind his back now, rocking back and forth on his heels.

“You better cut that shit out, unless you plan on doing something about it,” you manage the most assertive tone your wobbly insides could muster, a little shocked at yourself for actually saying what you were thinking. 

“I’m not much of a planner,” he gracefully takes a stance next to you and rips all three darts, not great shots, but all hitting the board, “I’m more of a fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants kind of guy, you know that.”

“Well your pants better make up their mind if you’re playing boyfriend tonight or not,” your insinuation was heavy but you had fumbled your hand, and he had already seen all your cards at this point, so there was no reason to bluff.

“The real question is,” he leans in, his imposing figure crowding your space in a way that made your head spin, “do you want me to play boyfriend? Or do you want me to play guy who fucks your brains out in the bar bathroom?”

Your eyebrows pinched together for a millisecond, and before he could decipher your expression you grabbed his hand and started storming through the crowds hoarded by the bar. Why the hell a seedy downtown bar has a single stall family bathroom with a changing table is beyond you, but you drag him inside and slam the lock down behind you. 

“You’re not allowed to treat me any differently after this,” you start to fall into the sinkhole of oh my god what the hell is about to happen, but are cut off by him pressing you against the closed door the exact way he had handled you against his kitchen wall that night weeks ago. 

“Not unless you want me to,” he doesn’t hesitate to get his mouth on yours, immediately pulling your mind from wondering what the vague sticky substance on the door pressing into your back could be. 

“I mean, you’re not allowed to fuck me and then never talk to me again,” you say in between moving lips and tongues, giving him a moment to bury his face in your neck, "Promise me."

“Oh don’t worry about that,” he pulls back, “we can go get coffee tomorrow and you can give me a full performance review. Promise.”

Your annoyed eye roll quickly turns into them fluttering shut as he licks a stripe up to the junction behind your ear that has you melted into a boneless puddle between his pressing hips and the door. He drags his teeth across your lobe while leaning into you with a black denim clad thigh.

“Why don’t we make a deal,” you let out, voice breathy and unfocused. Before he can even pull back to reply you continue, “if you’re half as good at this as you claim to be, and can make me cum in this dingy bathroom, I’ll let you take me back to your trailer and you can do whatever the fuck you want to me.”

He was leaning in to seal the deal with a kiss before he could even process your request, because yes of course, a million times yes he’s taking this deal. Despite the rouse of you playing bar hookup for the night, and despite the idea of bringing you back to his place and finally doing what he’s wanted since the day he met you absolutely terrifying him, he nods and kisses you. 

It’s electrifying. His confidence only spurs you on to kiss him harder, grip his hair a little tighter, say the things you would only imagine in the deepest parts of your mind. The feeling of his grin against your lower lip and his fingers quickly unbuttoning your jeans fuels your fire. 

“You sure you know what you’re getting into,” he mumbles playfully, pulling you away from the wall with a gasp and leading you over to the tiny built in counter against a mirror by the sink. 

“Well I’m certainly not letting you fuck me against any of these sticky surfaces,” you note as you’re lifted onto the counter covered in mystery substance, “and I think you need to earn it.”

Of course it was no surprise to you that Eddie was good with his fingers. You probably could have told anyone that long before this impromptu bathroom hookup. Egging him on and challenging him in a way you were sure he wasn’t used to was well worth abandoning your assumptions. 

“Oh yeah? I think, if you’re lucky, I’ll earn it more times than you can count before the night’s over,” he positioned himself in between your legs, pressing your torso into the mirror behind you as he leaned in for another heated kiss. 

He pulled your ass to the edge of the counter, and looped his thumbs into the waistband of your unbuttoned pants. You were quick to assume that he’d yank the fabric right off your legs, preparing to lift your ass from the counter to assist.

Eddie paused, pulled back and gave you a look that asked ‘you’re sure about this?’ and when a dreamy smile spread across your cheeks he melted into you with a kiss that turned your stomach inside out and made your pussy flutter.

He snakes a hand from its grip on your torso down into your unbuttoned pants. You arched up into his touch, wanting to urge him to get on with it and get your pants and underwear out of the way, but appreciating how much he seemed to be reveling in feeling you for the first time. 

“So fuckin wet,” he mumbled against your lips, his fingers only feeling up your cunt from outside your underwear. He pressed the fabric into your slick center, following the path up to your clit and then teasingly back down to where your panties were soaked through.

“You weren’t lying when you said you liked this a little too much,” he’s rolling his hips ever so slightly against your spread thigh as he rubs your clothed pussy, his teeth sinking into your lower lip as he moves the material aside and sinks two fingers right into your wet cunt with ease.

You were sure that you’d retrospectively have a million quippy compacks that come to mind, but in this moment it was impossible to come up with words when his fingers were buried inside you, still, just letting you squeeze around them, and his hard cock straining against his jeans nestled against the inside of your thigh.

He slowly drags his finger’s up from your hole to your clit, and you let out a whine of desperation as he fully removes his hand from your damp underwear. 

Before you can manage the breath to tell him to please, for the love of god, get on with it, he brings his fingers up to his lips and gives them a long suck, never breaking eye contact with you. 

“Yeah,” he sighs out and presses his forehead against yours, “I might like that a little too much too.”

Protests and urging words catch in your throat as he yanks down your pants and underwear with one quick pull, not even needing you to lift your ass off the counter more than it already was. He was methodical and moved with intention, folding up your pants neatly and shoving your soaked panties into his back pocket, shooting you a wink. 

“Eddie, please,” your overdue complaints are finally bubbling over. You hardly finish your plea before his face is buried in your neck, and his fingers are sliding right back into your needy hole. 

The top of your head rests against the mirror behind you, exposing your neck and arching your back into his touch. He sucks and nips at the soft skin between your collar bone and ear, all while letting his two middle fingers pump slowly into you.

“Mmmm,” he mumbles into the crook of your jaw, “such a good girl for me, perfect pussy squeezing my fingers so tight, can’t fuckin wait to feel you soak my cock.”

Nearly orgasming at his words alone, your eyes flutter shut and you let out a moan of his name as he lets his thumb drag circles across your clit. “Eddie, please, just like that, I-”

“Oh, suddenly she’s not questioning my abilities?” he says with a biting smirk, “What was that about me not being half as good as I think I am?”

“Fuck,” you want to raise an eyebrow and shoot something back, hold out and make him work for it, but after hardly two minutes of his fingers rolling inside you, hooked up to drag along that perfect fucking spot, you had no choice but to feed his ego and let him win. 

“You wanted to make your little deal,” he pumps a little faster, making your head loll to the side and mouth hang half open, “I’ll sweeten it for you, babe. I say we can get this pretty pussy to come twice all over my fingers before anyone even knocks on this door.”

“Yes,” is all you can squeak out, “yes, please.”

If Eddie was being honest, he was a few half-thrusts into your thigh short of coming in his own pants from how hot you looked. Your eyes glassed over, pretty lips parted and gasping his name, perfect cunt sucking his fingers in. 

The hand not occupied by your gushing cunt slid up to cup the side of your cheek, forcing you to look into his fiery eyes. “Feel’s good?” he questions, knowing the answer and not expecting a verbal response.

He drags the pad of his thumb up to your parted lips, running it along your plush bottom lip and dragging it down a bit, relishing in how under his spell you were. His thumb slips into your mouth and you immediately wrap your lips around it and suck. 

“Good girl,” his thumb on your clit is rubbing more focused circles, “suck on that and keep your voice down, don’t want the whole bar knowing what a good little slut you are for me.”

Jackpot. 

A muffled moan around his thumb and the spasming of your inner walls signaled that you were hitting your peak. He drags the spit slicked digit from your lips and quickly replaces it with his lips and tongue, kissing you with fervor as he feels you ride out your orgasm on his hand. 

“Mmmmmmm” you moan, somewhere between a pleading whine and a sigh of satisfaction into his lips as his fingers don’t let up. 

Under different circumstances you would tell him to slow down, give you a minute to catch your breath. Eddie was stubborn, this you knew, and he had already made it abundantly clear that one orgasm wasn’t going to be enough. 

He pulls back from your lips, loving the sharp intake of breath you swallow as your cheeks continue to flush and eyelids keep fluttering. 

“So fucking good, came all over my fingers,” his gaze locks in on where his hand was buried into your cunt. “Gonna give me one more?”

Of course you would, whether it was up to you or not. He did slow up for a second, just enough for you to regain your grip on reality before he started curling them up again. 

“Eddie,” you whine out, eyes nearly crossed and unable to focus your attention on his face, hands, anything other than his boner poking into your inner thigh, “wanna feel you.”

The hand formerly gripped tight onto the edge of the counter snakes forward and pulls his hip into you, a permanent indentation of his stiff cock molding against your skin. 

“Not yet baby,” he rolls his hips forward, giving you a delicious feel of how it would be if he was inside you, but instead pushing his fingers a touch deeper and then pulling his hips away, “one more and then I’ll take you home. You’re gonna let me ruin that perfect little cunt, right? That was the deal?”

“Yes,” you gasp out, his other hand moving from your hair down to rub fast tight circles on your clit, the other hand still pumping steadily inside you.

“That’s right, I know this pussy is gonna take me so well. You’re already drooling for my cock, so fucking perfect.”

You feel it building up again, that sacred double orgasm that only ever came during your alone time in the shower or when you were so desperate for release that your hand didn’t stop after the first, but never with another person, never like this. 

His smile nearly touched his ears at this point, pulling back to take in all of you as your eyes screwed shut and thighs threatened to break his wrist at how fast they snapped together. 

Hitting you like a punch to the gut, your abdomen tightened and released rapidly, air sucked from your lungs and his hand working you through it between your clenched thighs. 

Yeah, maybe this was a bad idea. 

If you were in a cartoon, stars and chirping birds would be swirling around your head as you slowly came back to reality. He gave you some space, and begrudgingly gave you pack your panties after you hand out your hand and gave him a stern look.

“I’m gonna go tell the others that you aren’t feeling great and I’m taking you home,” he makes sure you’ve pulled your pants back up before unlocking the door, “Take your time, and I’ll meet you at the van, okay? I’ll grab your stuff.”

“Yeah,” you still feel a little flustered, looking back into the mirror and smoothing down your hair, “thanks.”

He shoots you a wink before slipping out, giving you a moment to collect yourself and splash some cold water on your face. Okay, so you’re doing this. 

Any nagging feelings that this might ruin things or that he’s only teasing you because of your arrangement are quickly squished down into a deeper compartment of your brain, overtaken by the post orgasm bliss and wandering thoughts of what might happen next. 

You peek your head out of the bathroom door, and slink your way to the back door without passing your group table or a stray Steve or Robin. The fresh air equalizes your buzzing thoughts, and you spot Eddie, already in the driver’s seat of his van. 

“You good?” He asks as you hop into the passenger seat. You won’t let him have the upper hand, just because he made you come twice in under ten minutes. 

“Yeah,” you gather as much assertion as your voice will project, “You good?”

“F’course,” he starts backing up, you internally roll your eyes at the way his outstretched arm muscles and curved neck make your stomach flutter, “Just wanted to make sure I passed the test.”

You sit in silence, not wanting to give into the cocky game he clearly wants to play, yet know that he’s entirely correct in his assumption that he’s driven you completely crazy. Once he’s on the main stretch of road, finally rolling to a stop at a red light you let your hand migrate across the center console, dancing its way into his lap. 

As you hoped, his cock was still half hard and apparent underneath his jeans. You let your hand draw circles next to it, loving the little twitch you get when you run your nails against his thigh. 

“Easy there, tiger,” he lets out a huffed laugh, with just an edge to his tone that suggested you were getting yourself into something you’d soon regret. 

“C’mon Eds,” you let your head fall on the corner of the headrest, gaze angled over at his tight grip on the steering wheel while your hand dancing around the bulge in his pants, “you’ve been pushing this thing against my thigh for the past twenty minutes, forgive me for wanting a better feel.”

You put on a pretend pouty face and flash him your best puppy dog eyes to ward off any incoming snippy comments from him. He rolls his pretty eyes at you and silently bites the inside of his cheek as you feel up and down his lap, grazing his growing cock with each pass. 

“Forgiven,” through gritted teeth, he squeezes his eyes shut as your fingers circle around his head, now taking visible form beneath his black jeans. He internally reprimands himself for losing focus on the road, and zeroes his concentration on getting back to his trailer as fast as this van can take him. 

You have your fun watching him wiggle in his seat, feeling his thigh muscles clench under your palm every so often. You weren’t full on jerking him off over his pants, but you were certainly relishing in the feeling of his dick getting harder and harder with each occasional pass of your hand.

He parks diagonally across the lawn in front of his trailer, not giving a shit where the van ends up as long as it’s stopped. He wanted to dash around the vehicle and scoop you out of your seat, throw you over his shoulder and take you inside to continue with whatever this evening had in store for you.

The second his hand stalled on the clutch, shifting the van into park and taking a moment to let his mind wander to what would happen once he got you inside, you were already halfway out the van and skipping up the steps to his front door. 

Entering his trailer, you start taking off your coat and shoes, trying to act as normal as possible. Your facade of keeping it cool entirely shatters when he enters behind you, calmly clicking the door shut and patiently waiting for you to finish unlacing your boots.

You remain crouched down, darting your eyes up at him, deciding against being a brat and undoing your laces as slowly as possible to keep him waiting. Any caution you had was long swept away by the wind, and he’d taken control in your little bathroom tryst, so it was your turn to say fuck it and just do what felt right. 

And in this moment, there was only a few quick movements and about six inches of space between you and Eddie’s semi-hard dick. One shoe was only half off, haphazardly kicked behind you as you pivoted onto your knees and had your hands moving eagerly up his tensing thighs.

“Can I?” Your question was half formed and he was already nodding. 

You’d teased him enough on the ride over, you wanted him, now. Pants quickly unbuttoned and blue checkered boxers pushed down to his knees, and you were about to go feral and just go for it when a silver glimmer adorning his thick cock caught your eye.

Your mouth was already half open, but your jaw nearly unhinged and hit the floor when the pierced head of his dick falls out of his boxers and lands at your eye level. 

Unmoving, mouth agape, you look up to make eye contact, ripping your eyes away from the shock of two silver balls on his cockhead. He knew it was nice, he wouldn’t have bedazzled it if it wasn’t, but the look you were giving him sucked all the unwavering confidence from his body for a split second, suddenly feeling weak in the knees at the sight of you slowly sicking your tongue out, not making any contact but waiting. 

He took the base of his dick in his hand and gave it a few precautionary strokes before angling it down and slapping your wet tongue with the tip a few times. 

You were two and a half seconds away from being entirely fucked out. If he pulled away and asked you to crawl on all fours to him, you’d do it without a second thought.

You let him slide his cock gently against your outstretched tongue a few times before coming to your senses and wrapping your lips around him, moving your hand to replace his and move against the length that your mouth couldn’t yet reach. 

All it took was a few steady bobs of your head, hand twisting and eyes still focused upwards on his face, to have him biting his knuckle and looking up at the ceiling to ground himself to try and not bust on the spot. You love this, of course, seeing him visibly spiral paired with the salty taste of precum already leaking from him. 

The hand not jerking him off comes up to the back of his hip, gently pushing against him in tandem with the movements of your head, encouraging him to shallowly thrust into your mouth.

“Jesus fu-“ he grunts out, not wanting to overestimate your encouragement, but unable to keep his hips from rolling forward slightly with the push of your hands and the bob of your lips. 

After an unexpected snap of his hips that sent his cock sliding into the back of your throat, making you gag slightly, a pang of guilt struck through him for pushing too hard. That was, until you let your head pull back a touch to catch your breath, but a long string of spit connected your lips to his cock, and a wild smile broke across your face that nearly sent him to the moon. 

You dove back in and pushed his cock all the way into the back of your throat, going so far that your nose pressed into the patch of dark curls that sat above his perfect dick. Focusing your breathing through your nose, you make a point to constrict your throat a few times until you feel him twitch inside you.

Pulling off with a gasp for air, you notice his eyebrows pinched together and gaze locked on you. 

“I like how these feel,” you comment, letting your pointed tongue dance around the metal balls on his tip.

He shudders and you clench your thighs at the sight of his stomach muscles tensing up when your tongue makes contact with the underside of his head, right where it meets the shaft. 

“If I let you fuck my mouth until you come, are you still going to be able to give it to me in a bit, or are you a one and done kind of guy?” You ask with a playfully teasing tone, but genuinely want to know if you suck him off to completion if the night will be over or not. 

“Fuck,” he spits out, more blood rushing to his cock at the idea of coming down your throat, “I’d fuck you all night if you’d let me babe.”

Half a second doesn’t pass before his cock is back in your mouth, hips shakily moving forward with your movements, gaining confidence as you flicker your eyes up at him through your lashes, the glimmer in them telling him he can take what he wants. 

“Fuckin’ look at you,” he comments to himself, “takin’ it all.” 

“Mhmmm,” you hum around him letting your tongue roll around his tip each time before he pushes his cock back down your throat. 

“You think you can get away with teasing me like that? That shit you pulled in the van back there, you think it’s cute to try and get me all riled up?”

You nod, tongue out and saliva coating your lips and chin. You could tell he was close by the way his words came out staggered, and his hips started snapping towards you in a new tempo, like his body was chasing it. 

Grunts and moans pulled from his chest fill the space mixed with the hums of satisfaction you let out while you take him deeper and faster. Moving in for the kill, you carefully slip your hand up in between his legs, cupping his balls, trying your best not to startle him. 

“Oh fuck,” it was a pitch of his voice you’d never heard before, a new tone especially reserved for the moments before orgasm, “you’re gonna make me fuckin come, y/n, y/n, I’m…”

The feeling of his balls constricting in your hands cues the warm wash of come sputtering down into your throat.

Getting the feeling he’d appreciate a bit of a show, you continue to jerk him off and pull off his cock slightly, letting the tip balance onto the tip of your tongue and the rest of his load spills out into your open mouth, some landing around the corners and onto your lips. 

“Christ, y/n,” his chest is heaving, his eyes finally pulling from you to squeeze shut for a moment. 

Once you’re sure he’s looking at you again you swallow down the salty white substance and lick the excess off your lips. You take his head back into your mouth, sucking just enough to clean off the tip and lap up any stray drops. He’s sensitive, you can tell, so you stop torturing him and place a final kiss right in between the two metal balls. 

You thought of asking him if the piercing hurt, or maybe make a comment about the two matching tattoos on his hipbones, ink of his you’d never seen until now. Before your brain can jump from swallowing his come to making post-nut chit chat, he’s yanking you up off your feet and wrapping you in a searingly passionate kiss. 

In your past experience most guys wanted you to drink some water or brush your teeth after they came in your mouth, at least before kissing you. Not Eddie. The way his tongue immediately slipped into your mouth, you almost believed he was trying to get a taste for himself. 

“C’mon,” he whispers in between slotting his lips with your, “Bedroom. Now.” 

He takes your hips in his hands and spins you around, causing a surprised yelp to bubble up from you, making him chuckle behind you as he walks you down the hall, keeping his hands on your sides. 

You knew where you were going, there were only so many doors in his tiny trailer, and you’d been here plenty of times before, but you liked the feeling of his hands pushing you forward, guiding your movements and steering you down the hallway into his room. 

Before your knees can hit the bed he spins you back around and captures your lips in another heated kiss. His hands trail up your sides, letting his fingertips slide beneath the hem of your shirt and push it upwards until your ribs were exposed. He pulls away from your face, leaving you leaning back into him, not wanting the kiss to end. 

“Up,” he pinches the sides of your shirt in his hands, and signals with his chin that he wants you to lift your arms, which you comply. 

It slides up and off of you, his hands quickly darting back to unclasp your bra, seemingly without even trying. This makes you roll your eyes, but the realization that you’re bare before him eclipses the thought of making a snippy remark about what a man whore he is. 

Flat palms caress your sides and move up to cup your breasts, his tongue pressing into the side of your neck. 

“These too,” his thumbs dip into your pants, managing to wiggle under the waistband of your panties as well. You’re going to do it yourself, but he gently pushes you back onto the bed, letting you flip back into the unmade blankets. 

“I wanna see you,” he pops your pants button and waits for a nod before sliding your pants and underwear down your legs. 

In between the blowjob and now, he’d tucked himself back into his pants, pulling his boxers and jeans back up, still unbuttoned, but covering him back up as his cock returned to a half hard state, unlikely to stay that way for very long considering how things were going. 

The scene of you now sprawled out onto his bed, naked and needy for him, and him standing above you, basically fully clothed, had a flood of lust traveling south between your thighs.

“So fuckin’ gorgeous,” you burned under his intense gaze, raking down your body and soaking in the image of your skin laid out against his flannel plaid sheets. 

He crawls over you, letting his body melt into yours, the center seam of his jeans pressing against your soaking core, just as it had when he had you pressed up against the door of the bar bathroom.

Rocking gently against you, you feel his cock already starting to harden again. His tongue moves against your neck, hands roaming freely against your skin, arching into his touch. 

His breath was heavy against your lips, he was already starting to lose himself, and he knew he wanted to make you come with his tongue at least once before his dick came back out, but it was already pulsing between his legs, growing rock solid with every little whimper that came past your lips. 

Your fingers intertwined themselves into the tresses of his long, messy hair. You use your new grip to pull his face as close into yours as your bodies will allow, smushing his nose up against your cheek and foreheads plastered together. The weight of his body on yours, and the lovely rocking motion of his hips against yours stopped as he pulled away and hooked his arms under your knees. 

He slides off the side of the bed, feet returning to the carpeted ground and yanking your body to the edge of the mattress. You let out an unexpected giggle, body limp like a rag doll, moving wherever he wanted you. 

He leans back over to give you another deep kiss, teeth dragging against your lower lip and tongue sliding gracefully against yours, before he slides his mouth down, stopping to lap up at your nipples for a moment, not letting any part of your skin go untouched as he takes his time moving down to where you want him most. 

Wiggling around on his mattress, your body is begging him to get on with it, but he loves to make you squirm. He takes his time licking up your hip bones, kissing from the innermost part of your thigh all the way down to your knee, and then back up the other side. He even takes a long moment to suck a dark purple bruise into the meat of your thigh, biting down on the flesh and licking over the skin to soothe it, noticing how your back arched a little when he bit down harder. 

“Please Eddie,” your voice is hardly above a whisper, whimpering and whiny.

“All you had to do was ask nicely,” he has that too-cocky tone again, but it’s long forgotten once his tongue is buried in between your thighs, lapping up the excess of wetness already pooled there.

“Ohhh,” you let out a moan, sucking in a sharp breath and allowing your body to relax under his focused touch. 

His hands push up from your ass to the crooks of your knees, moving your legs back to either side of you, strong palms finding their resting place on the backs of your thighs, keeping your legs spread wide open for him while he buries his face deep in your cunt. 

“You-“ the start of a compliment, or maybe a request, escapes your lips but the sudden harsh suck of your clit into his mouth has you speechless and moaning, “Mhmmmmm, uhhhhhhh.”

The sloppy wet sounds of him making out with your pussy are enough to drive you wild, your hands originally balling his sheets in your fists quickly move to the top of his head, resting atop his mop of messy curls. 

“Y’can give it a tug,” the first half of his statement spoken directly into your pussy, “I don’t mind a little pain.” He shoots you a wink and keeps his eyes locked on you as he lets his tongue lap a fat long lick up your slit, and then leaning back down to encourage you to tangle your hands into his hair. 

Coming to either side of his head you grab two points of purchase, locking your fingers in at the roots and feeling him hum into your cunt when you grabbed it a little tighter. 

Your hips start to quiver, so he brings one hand from your thigh up to your lower stomach, pinning you against the bed, and still keeping you spread open with the other. 

Working a steady rhythm against your slick center with his lips and tongue, he can tell he’s found the spot you like most by your open mouth and tight eyebrows.

“Ohmygod,” your chest starts moving with heavy breaths, you can’t bear to keep yourself up any longer and flop back down flat onto the mattress, eyes screwing shut in pleasure. He lets go of his anchor on your tummy and returns his hands to your thighs, allowing your hips to wiggle and wriggle against his face to chase after your own pleasure. 

“Pleasepleaseplease,” one glimpse of his big brown eyes looking up at you and his nose pressing deliciously into the spot above your clit has your head reeling, “please don’t stop, fuck.”

Rather than reply, he just continues to devour you at that steady pace, your thighs almost snapping shut around his head . 

“Uh huh, right there, oh fuck Eddie I’m gonna-“ 

A strangled moan rips from your throat and your back arches off the mattress, his hands quickly come to wrap around your thighs and keep your center held closely against his face. He’s pulling your hips flush with his face, despite your spasming torso and gushing core. 

As your orgasm peaks, your hips angle themselves to push up deeper into his face, and he uses his leverage against the backs of your thighs to lift your ass, the entire lower half of your body now off the mattress and sliding backwards as he keeps his moving tongue glued to your clit. 

He climbs up onto the mattress as you slide back, the grip he had on your legs was sure to leave a sore memory of him unwilling to let your coming pussy away from his face. 

When he finally pulls away, your hand pushing at his forehead to prevent overstimulation, both of you gasping for air, his knees are propped under your thighs, and your hips are propped up right at perfect level with the bulge in his pants. 

“Fuck me,” you say through catching your breath, not as an expletive but rather a demand, “Eddie, I need you to fuck me,” your voice was whiny and desperate. 

“This okay?” he starts pulling his dick from its constraints in his unbuttoned jeans, not even shoving them halfway down his thighs before he had that pretty pierced dip dragging through your open and ready folds. 

“Yes, inside, please,” you were chasing after his length, while he tossed his shirt off. He teasingly ran it up and down your slit before sinking into you, collapsing down to press your lips into a kiss to swallow your moans as he slid the whole thing in slowly, making sure to take his time and fuck you right. 

He grabbed the back of your neck and pressed his forehead to yours, finally sheathed all the way inside you and stilling for a moment to relish in the feeling. Pulling back so he can watch your face as he pumps his first few thrusts, he knows he’s beyond fucked. 

“So fucking good,” you slur out, eyes almost crossing from how deep his cock was hitting your insides.

“Yeah? This pussy’s god damn perfect, fucking made for me,” he articulates each thought with a snap of his hips, “suckin’ me right in.” 

“Wait, can we,” your voice had a little more weight behind it unlike the airy moans he’d grown obsessed with in the past forty minutes.

He pulls back, and rather than finish your thought you slip him out of you and roll over, shuffling up the bed and positioning yourself face down ass up, knees spread and back arched. 

“You think you can handle it?” he asks jokingly, swatting your ass playfully and then landing a second, harder smack on the flesh when he notices you pussy clench around nothing at the sensation of him spanking you. 

“Want you to fuck me hard,” you mumble into his pillow, wiggling your hips a little bit to jiggle the fat of your ass, “I know your cock is gonna feel so fucking good in me this way, wanna feel that fucking piercing back in my throat from the other direction.”

“Jesus Christ, y/n,” he was genuinely a little shocked at your words, slowly learning that your freak side might match his. 

You expected to feel his cock slam into you once his hands came to spread your ass apart, but instead the mattress dipped and he was licking another fat stripe from your clit all the way up past your second hole, running this back a few times until you were moaning into the pillow and thighs were tensed up from the attention he was giving you.

“Sorry babe, just needed another taste,” he pushed the head of his dick into you, and moved the first few inches agonizingly slow into your soaked hole. 

“Eddie please, need it, need you,” he loved that his sheets were balled up in your fists, using the tension of the material to bounce yourself back onto him. You only manage to slide back down about three quarters before he’s tightly gripping your hip and pulling out half way again. 

“Tsk tsk tsk, you need to learn to be patient, pretty girl,” he’d thrust it an inch of so, and then slowly pull back, making you whine and start to feel tears bubble up in the corners of your eyes. 

“Want it so bad,” your cheek laid flat against his pillow, and you could catch a glimpse of him behind you out of the corner of your eye if you craned your neck a bit. You sounded so desperate, but you knew he liked it, liked hearing how badly you craved him. 

He starts moving in and out of you, firm grip on your ass never wavering. Restrained grunts left his mouth as he fucked into you, causing your eyes to practically roll into the back of your head. He leans down to place a soft kiss on your shoulder blade, despite how viciously he's pounding into you. His head cranes down to your shoulder, his hand coming up to brush your hair out of your face. 

As his long fingers move your hair away from your eyes, you push your head back into his hand, not wanting to lose contact. He tentatively runs his hands up into your hair, taking a soft grip on your roots.

“Is this what you want?” he whispers, “you like it rough?”

“Yes,” you manage to squeak out, “fuck, pull my hair, spank me, do whatever the fuck you want to me, please.”

His vision practically goes black with this new unrestricted passion, allowing himself to thrust into you as hard and as deep as his hips would propel him, twisting your hair in his grip and pulling you up from your laid position, quickly letting your hands jump to his headboard to support you as your head was pulled back. 

You tried to bounce back onto his cock, wanting to feel him as deeply and wholly as your bodies would allow, but you could hardly keep up with the pace he had set. 

Your ass bouncing against him and the occasional glance he caught at your fucked out expression spurred him on to fuck you even harder. He had your hair pulled back so tight that your back was pressing flush up with his chest every so often, and he took the opportunity to snake an arm around you and hold your chest up flat, his other hand moving down to rub frantic circles on your clit.

“You’re gonna make me come like this,” you manage to croak out, voice hoarse from the harsh bend in your neck. 

“Nuh uhh, no,” his voice was gruff and commanding, right into your ear and sent a shiver down your spine. 

He pulled out of you fully, and had you flipped around flat on your back again before you could even open your mouth to complain. 

“Need to see that pretty face when you come on my cock,” he lines himself up with you again, pushing into you and making a mental note of how the bulge of his cock looked pressing up from the inner part of your lower stomach. 

And of course, your face screwed up in pleasure, puffy lips and sweaty brow, slack jawed and panting his name would be something Eddie wouldn’t be able to forget even if he tried.

His thumb found its way to your clit to pick up where he had last left you, steadily building to an earth shattering orgasm. Talking you through it, knowing you were close by the vice grip your walls had on his dick, in between grunts he spilled out some “good girl”’s and “right fuckin there, that’s it.” 

When he felt your thighs tense up, and the muscles in your neck strain against the soft skin he’d previously had his lips all over, he knew you were nearing the finish line. 

“So fucking perfect, feel so good wrapped around me,” he managed to sweet talk you without altering the pace of his hips, “That’s it, come on my cock, give it to me.”

With that, your body can’t help but throw itself over the edge of pleasure. A deep grunt rattles in your chest, and you lose all sensation other than the wild pulsing in between your legs. You can’t be bothered to worry about what your face looks like, or if your thighs are squeezing him too hard, you only feel the riptide of an orgasm shattering through you. 

The animalistic noise that Eddie grunts out, his wild gaze locked on your face only makes your body shake with pleasure even harder. He had that instinct that most men lacked, to keep the exact pace and motion when your orgasm hit rather than speed up or slow down, it was a gift, a talent. 

Of course he wasn’t going to change a thing about what he was doing, look at you. You were so fucking perfect, shaking and coming all over him, those sweet noises and the beautiful squelching between your thighs. He’d rather die than change a single thing about this moment. 

He stilled only when you paused to catch your breath, and within seconds was flipped over by the power of your thighs onto his back.

Unexpectedly, you began to ride him, trying to match the pace he had earlier set. The aftershocks of your orgasm still washed through you, but you seized the moment to get him right where you wanted him. This angle was different, deeper and more connected. You roll your hips and bring your hands up to his hair, foreheads pressing together once again. 

“You’re making me feel so fucking good,” you manage to breathe out into his lips, he quickly comes to the realization of what’s happened and shifts the angle of his hips to hit you even deeper. 

“I’d give you everything, if you’d let me,” he doesn’t let a single thought pass in his mind before the words slip out, “always.”

Your lips capture his in a kiss that has far more emotion behind it than two friends play-dating and fucking for fun. His hands come up to grasp your cheeks, your hips continue to roll down into his with purpose. 

“I’m- Where-“ his words are hardly intelligible in between breathless kisses, but you know what he means. 

“Inside, please, need all of you inside me,” you try to keep your voice steady so he hears you loud and clear, wanting to give him the exact attention he had paid to you, “Please Eddie, come inside me.”

His hands travel down and guide your hips to fuck down onto him one, two, three times before he’s groaning in your ear and letting out the prettiest and most vulnerable sounds you’ve ever heard form him. 

The swell of his cock inside you makes you drape your head into his neck, focusing on riding out his orgasm and making sure he was twitching in the aftershocks of his orgasm before you let up. 

When you felt his grip on your hips tighten, signaling that he’d had too much, you sink all the way down one final time and let your body lay limp on his, pulsing cock still filling you up. 

His chest rose and fell harshly with his recovering breaths. You could feel his heartbeat pulsing up through the spot on his neck where your ear laid on his sweaty skin.

Silently awaiting the inevitable tap on the shoulder, the slow pull out and post-sex cleanup process, you try to savor every passing moment. But it doesn’t come. Eddie wraps his arms around your midsection and holds your limp body close to his, letting his cock start to soften inside you. 

You nearly fall asleep like that, all wrapped up in him, until you recognize that you should pee and clean up to avoid a UTI. You slip off of him, and hear a disappointed groan from him. He makes cute grabby hands at you as you cross the room, making you roll your eyes, but something deep inside you flip flops with how sweet he’s being, so caring, so unlike the picture of himself that he had painted for you. 

You give him a wet hand towel to clean up the remnants of your activities, and slip back into bed with him per his insistence. You doze off for a while, until the rising sun peeking through his blinds catches your eye, striking you with the sudden decision to stay and face the music or leave and let it settle. 

You’d already regretted it, but weren’t ready to have the “hey, so I know we had fake boyfriend-girlfriend sex, but I actually really like you so what should we do about that?” conversion with him, so instead you take the cowardly path and tiptoe out of his room in the early morning hours, leaving behind your underwear on his nightside table with a scribbled note saying to call you. Hopefully that was enough of a signal. 

Apparently not,

Days pass, and no call. 

It was all starting to get to your head. While you had gone through the stages of being nervous that you had done something wrong, that he was avoiding you to spare you the rejection, thinking he regretted what had happened and didn’t want to face you, who was so obviously into him it was painful, you’d just now turned a new leaf. Fuck that. If he was too much of a coward to call you, you'd hope he'd at least give you the decency as a friend to tell you the truth, you deserved to be angry, and you deserved a response. 

After stewing in your feelings for longer than felt healthy, you just get in your car and start driving to his trailer. If this all blew up in your face at least you wouldn’t have to keep biting your nails and waiting for the phone to ring. 

Three deep breaths, and a quick moment to gather your thoughts, and suddenly your body acted on instinct, putting the car in park and walking up to pound three concise knocks on his trailer door. 

“Just a second,” he hollered from inside, giving you a few seconds to be stricken with regret for showing up unannounced without a plan on what exactly to say. 

“What do you- oh, y/n,” he was in a pair of plaid pajama pants that hung low on his hips, shirtless and hair still damp from a recent shower, “uh, hey?”

“Oh, hey,” your tone was laced with annoyance, “I left something here last week and I’m here to get it back. If you don’t mind.”

“What- oh,” he’s a second too slow to realize you mean the underwear you had purposefully left behind with that note. The note telling him to call you. Which he never did. 

You were left standing on his porch steps, arms crossed and shooting daggers out of your eyes while he stood there in the doorway, an apparent guilty expression plastered on his face while he rocked back on his heels to buy some time to figure out what to say. 

“You don’t have to invite me inside, if you can just grab them and give them to me, and I’ll be out of your hair,” you say flatly, recognizing if he does as asked then this might be the last time you speak to Eddie Munson. 

“No, no, uh, you should come in,” he steps aside to let you in, “we probably shouldn’t have this conversation on my front steps.”

Avoiding eye contact, feeling an overwhelming mix of anger, confusion, and betrayal, you step inside and don’t make any effort to move into the space. You just stand by the door and give him an expectant look. Either he could go get the underwear, or he could grow a pair and say something to you. 

“I, uh-“ he looked so defeated you started to feel bad for using such a pointed tone, but then you remembered the days and days that passed without hearing from him, “I’m sorry, that I, y’know…”

“Yeah, well I don’t really care if you’re not looking for any post sex recap conversations, because you’re obviously pretty sure of yourself in that department,” the words flew out before your mind could even conjure them up, “but you fucking promised me that you wouldn’t do this, so can I please just have my underwear back and I won’t bother you again.”

He runs a hand through his hair letting out a deep exhale and searching the ceiling for words, “I know, I-“

You cut him off, your thoughts were ripping through you now and you were going to say your piece whether he asked for it or not, “You said you wouldn’t pull this shit with me, but I guess our friendship isn’t substantial enough for you to see me any differently than you do every other girl you throw away after you’ve gotten what you want. You clearly don’t want any more advice and you clearly don’t want to be my friend, so please, just give me my shit so I can go.”

“That’s the fucking thing y/n, of course I don’t want to be your friend,” his gaze still fixed on the ceiling.

At this point you were seconds away from just storming out, letting him keep your underwear as some twisted little trophy for breaking your heart. 

“Yeah, crystal clear Eddie.”

“Being your friend is already hard enough, and I knew this shit was a bad idea, the whole trial-girlfriend thing. But how the fuck was I supposed to say no to that? The girl of my dreams offers to do all this no-strings-attached romantic shit, I’d be the dumbest man alive to turn that down.”

You just give him a blank stare, your scalding anger twisting into a more confused frenzy of bees swarming in the pit of your stomach. Eyebrows pinched together, you just stare at him until he finally makes eye contact with you. 

“And yeah,” he goes on, letting all his words out like a big exhale in the same cadence that you had just hurled all your angry words at his, but his tone was filled with guilt as opposed to rage, “maybe we let it go a little too far, but I would never say no to you, I couldn’t. I’m sorry I didn’t know what the fuck to say to you after, but that’s exactly the reason I’m not good enough for you. The more we kept that fake dating shit up the worse it was gonna get, so I’m sorry, but I can’t keep spending time with you like that, because it’s starting to fucking hurt.”

“Hurt,” you say with a dry laugh, which almost scares him, “YOU’RE hurt? Give me a fucking break Eddie. I know you don’t see me that way. So what, you’re too scared to hurt my feelings? You’re doing a wonderful job, keep it up.”

“What the fuck do you mean, not see you like what?”

“Don’t pretend to be dumb Eddie. When we first met I tried so hard to get your attention, asking you to hang out, and you always blew me off. It’s fine that you don’t want to date me or whatever, but at least just tell me that, don’t fuck me like I’m special or something and then toss me aside. I deserve better than that.”

“Yeah, y/n, you do,” his voice was no longer guilt stricken, and was on the same straightforward plane as your last responses, “you deserve so much fucking better than me, that’s why I could never let anything between us happen. I don’t call girls back. I’m rude. I don’t take care of myself, let alone others. I like to smoke, and drink, and get head from girls in bar bathrooms and never learn their names, and that’s not the kind of person that a girl like you dates. I’m a fun quick fuck. You’re the kind of girl that after three dates he’ll already have a ring picked out. You’re everything, and I’m nothing, so forgive me for sparing you of that.”

Your bones are frozen and the beat of silence gives him the opportunity to spin on his heel and start down the hallway, presumably to get your panties. 

Snapping back into it, you let out a louder than expected, “Hey,” and you start following him, not taking long to catch up to him in his bedroom. 

“You,” you point a finger at him, and start to feel the rage bubble up again, “don’t get to decide that you’re unloveable. And you don’t get to tell me what kind of girl I am. Have you ever considered that maybe the reason you’re so lonely and miserable is because you choose to be? You don’t get to decide what I deserve, I do. And I really fucking like you Eddie, so forgive me for acting like it.” 

You snatch your underwear off his bedside table, and give him a look, not fueled by anger or resentment, but empathy. 

“I’m going to leave. And if you don’t want to see me again, that’s fine, but if you do, you can call me. Goodbye Eddie.”

You feel out of your own body, floating above it all and rewinding the conversation over and over, body on autopilot taking you home while your soul stayed behind and relived his words over and over, unsure if you feel better or worse than when you showed up. 

Days pass by again, and you take his silence as more of a response than anything he had said to you during that conversation. You try not to wallow, but you feel scattered and distraught, at both the prospect of losing Eddie and having to deal with your shared friends, would they allow you to dance around each other, or would they flat out choose him and shut you out? Would group nights out bowling suddenly just turn into the occasional one-on-one coffee with Robin? 

Until suddenly, on a random Tuesday afternoon when you've gotten home from work and are relaxing on the couch in your pajamas, three knocks are at your door.

At this point you figured it was over. He hadn't called and he'd made no effort to continue the dialogue. So a thought of Eddie doesn't even cross your mind in between the couch and opening the door.

And there he is.

In a suit, slightly descheveld in Eddie fashion, and holding a slightly wilting bouquet of flowers. Posture straight and brave face, but expecting your brutal edge upon answering the door nonetheless.

"Hey?" you're somewhat at a loss for words answering.

"Hi," he seems like he's running lines of a play in his mind, "I was hoping we could talk."

You reluctantly let him in, and he hands the flowers to you, as if it was a normal occurrence for him to bring you such a gift.

"First off," he starts, hardly breaching your living room entrance before starting his apology, "I regret the way we last left things, and I'm sorry for leaving you waiting for a response."

He flicks those big brown eyes at you and you can't help but give him the benefit of the doubt, he always was so sincere with his words.

"You're amazing. And although I'll remain adamant that I don't deserve someone like you in my life, I've been thinking a lot about what you said, and I'm sorry that tried to tell you how to feel."

You remain stoic at your seat on the couch, watching him shift his weight and bare his soul to you.

"You're perfect. Nice, funny, sexy, brave, all of it. And if you're willing to give me a chance, I don't know why the fuck you would, but if you are, I want to put aside all my bullshit and try this out, if you'll have me."

He stood there for a moment, letting you take in his request, bouquet in hand and suit adorned.

"And I owe you a few dates, for real."

As hard as you want your exterior to be, a smile cracks through.

"Okay, but know I don't fuck until the third date, at best," you jab, breaking his nervous exterior and visibly relieving the tension from his shoulders.

"I'm somewhat of a refined gentleman myself, so that won't be an issue," he bows and extends a hand to you.

You pull him down by the hand onto the couch with you, wrapping him up in a deep kiss. He was worth it, and you both knew it was worth the shot to try.

[junkissed]

goodnight n go (teaser)

member — fwb!vernon x reader genre — smut, angst, non-idol au teaser word count — 1.7k full fic word count — 10.2k synopsis — you keep coming back for more, but every night ends the same. maybe this time things will be different. warnings — mentions of alcohol, drunk sex, car sex, guitarist!vernon, rock band!hhu, no physical descriptions of reader, vernon is afraid of commitment. this is a teaser and the final fic will have a happy ending !! notes — before you ask, yes this is based on the ariana song lol but also inspired by black eye because it's been stuck in my head the past few days. as always, thanks to @onlymingyus for reading over this for me <3 i'm still on hiatus and requests are closed but i randomly had inspiration to write something for vernon so i hope you enjoy! i am planning on writing more for this story, but i'm back at uni and my time is already quite limited, so i'll try to write more when i can! reblogs, comments, and asks are super appreciated, it means a lot and helps me keep writing so please lmk if you liked it :)

“hey, you wanna get drinks tonight?”

as usual, that’s how it starts.

you probably should have said no. you’d played this game before. you knew exactly what hansol meant when he offered to hang out after band practice, because it was never just “hanging out”.

you don’t even know why you still go to practices anymore. for a long time you’d avoided them; it wasn’t really your style, and you were never interested in being a groupie for their local gigs. your roommate seungcheol always invited you to every practice, and every time you declined with the excuse of homework or other plans, but cheol finally convinced you to come just one time.

at first, it had been because he wanted you to hear a new song they were working on and he’d wanted to know how you liked it before they played it at an upcoming show. but then he’d introduced you to the rest of his bandmates, and after that there was no going back.

you couldn’t help the way your eyes always gravitated towards hansol, who insisted that you call him his real name instead of his stage name that everyone else called him. from the very first practice, you were captivated by him: the way his long fingers seem to dance along the neck of his guitar so effortlessly, the way his voice rasps when he sings, the way your breath catches in your throat when he grips the microphone stand and rolls his head back, lips parted in ecstasy.

he’s addictive, and it’s exactly the reason why you find yourself in the backseat of his car over and over again.

every time, it was easy to pretend that things would be different. you’d walk into the bar together and sit at the table in the back, order a few drinks, chat for a while about nothing. did you like the new stuff we played tonight? yeah, i know cheol is really excited to perform it saturday. you been doing any writing lately? mmm, a little. i’ve been feeling inspired. we could go back to my place and i could show you. except he never does.

hansol wasn’t a bad guy. he always paid for your drinks no matter how many times you offered to pick up the tab, he was polite, he listened to what you had to say. he just didn’t want more than that, and that’s where it all fell apart. you’d screw around for a while, then you’d part ways and wouldn’t speak to each other until next week. you never went to see them play shows, he never texted, you never called, never went on a real date besides meeting in the same bar down the street every thursday night after practice.

he seemed fine with that. you weren’t. and yet every time, you ended up back in his arms.

he groans into your mouth, pushing his hips into you and pinning you harder against the faded leather seats of his old honda. his lips are sloppy but eager, messily pressing his mouth into yours as his fingers tangle in the hair at the base of your neck. you can taste the beer and smoke on his breath, but for some reason it doesn’t bother you. maybe you’re used to it, or maybe it’s just because it’s him. you don’t want to know which reason is the truth.

he kisses you until you’re dizzy, and you can’t tell if it’s from the alcohol or from the thrill of kissing him once again. it’s a high you’re convinced you’ll never get tired of, although you’re not quite sure yet if it’s one that he will.

hansol always lets you set the pace, but tonight he can’t seem to keep his hands to himself. both of your shirts met the floor of his car what seems like hours ago, leaving you in just your pants as he makes out with you as if it’s the first and last time he’ll get that chance. his fingers breeze over your waist the same way they breeze over his guitar strings when he plays: careful yet greedy, each touch intentional yet impulsive as he grips your waist.

he drags his fingers higher and it sends a shiver down your spine, arching your hips up against him and rolling your head back against the seat’s headrest. if there’s only one upside to this relationship, it’s that he’s good at this. really good. if he weren’t, then you wouldn’t have spent so many nights letting him fuck you in the parking lot of your shitty local bar. it does something for your confidence knowing that he must feel the same about you, or else he wouldn’t keep inviting you out. at the very least, this arrangement is mutual, even if you wish it wasn’t.

his hips rock against your crotch again, and even through both of your clothes you can feel how hard he is. your mind is clouded, everything’s a haze, and all you can think about is how badly you want him. the warmth of his skin, the gentle scratch of his nails on the back of your neck, his long eyelashes that flutter against your cheek as he kisses you.

you feel your hands slide haphazardly down his bare chest, fumbling over his hips as you tug on the waistband of his jeans. none of it feels graceful, not like the way he handles his music. it’s sloppy, desperate, clumsy, and it’s everything you need right now.

he manages to lean back from you enough to undo his pants and push them down to his knees, but his mouth is back on yours in an instant. somehow you end up on your back across the seats, gazing up at him with slack lips as his thin silver chain dangles over your face. you might not remember a lot of what happens on these nights when you’re with him, but you’ll always remember this moment. him hovering above you with heavily lidded eyes, biting his lip and cursing as he pushes into you, is etched into your mind in a way you simultaneously love and hate. love because it feels so good, hate because it never lasts.

the rest of those nights never stands out in your memory. you remember feeling good, you remember trembling in his arms and gasping and moaning and crying in pleasure, but the images are too fuzzy to make out. you don’t really need to reflect on them anyway; you know he’ll just bring you out next week and do it all over again.

hansol kisses you once more after you’re both finally spent, but the kisses afterwards are always different. more… hesitant, more uncertain. none of the passion and desperation that you’ve come to crave from him. not what you really want.

“i can drive you home,” he offers once he’s finished cleaning you up. for once you think he might genuinely mean it, but you can never be sure enough to take that chance. you want him to drive you home. god, you want him to so bad. to have him come over with you and stay the night, stay another night and another until your apartment isn’t just yours anymore, that’s what you’ve wanted all this time. and it’s what you’ll never have.

“i’ll call an uber,” you answer.

“i’ll wait with you, then.”

the silence that settles over his car is heavy as you climb back into the front passenger seat. you want to tell him to get in the uber with you, stay more than just a couple hours with you in the furthest back corner of the bar parking lot that’s too far to be illuminated by streetlights. you want to argue that he’s too drunk even to drive himself, that he needs to come home with you and sleep it off together in the comfort of your bed, but you know it’s not true and it won’t work. this is a conversation you’ve had many times before. every night you’ve spent with him blurs into the next, always the same. 

sometimes you want to laugh at how naive you are, for thinking he’d eventually come to his senses and realize there’s more to you than a good lay before a gig. sometimes you want to grab him and shake him by the shoulders and tell him to grow the fuck up, give him an ultimatum and make him tell you what he wants from you or else put an end to it all. sometimes you just want to cry, to mourn your wasted time when you’re fully aware it’s never going to lead to something more, no matter how badly you want it and how hard you try.

no matter how many times you get your hopes up, no matter how many times you pray and beg and plead with god and the universe and every other higher power to get him to realize this can’t keep going on the way it is forever, nothing ever changes. you’re never going to stop running to him when he calls, and he’s never going to stop calling.

finally another car pulls into the lot, and you manage to pull yourself out of his car. you hear your name behind you and you stumble, swaying on your feet as he rolls down his window.

maybe this time will be different.

he says his usual goodbyes and goodnights, flashing you a loose grin and a wave as his engine sputters to life, and he asks if you’re planning on coming to practice next week. 

and you find yourself nodding.

you’re left standing there, your head and your heart pounding, watching his headlights fade as he drives away, until you’ve stood there for so long that your ride starts honking and calling for you to get in the car so you can leave.

maybe next time will be different.

i hope you enjoyed this!! if you did, please consider reblogging or leaving a comment or an ask :) it shows me this is something people want to see more of, and knowing people like this makes me want to write more of it! thanks for reading!!

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[flowersdiceandlove]

hi @allpiesforourown I just saw your Winx Club fandom Binghe post and it made me think of an au. So, modern au, both Shen Yuan and Binghe are involved in multiple fandoms and are both legendary posters in each of them. The thing is...they hate each other. Their online fights go down in fandom history. The Epic Battles of Peerless Cucumber and the Heavenly Pillar. There are fan accounts and Youtube videos dedicated to explaining their messy fights. There's a whole wiki page about it. Binghe has the most unhinged takes and Shen Yuan drives himself mad trying to reasonably dismantle those takes and why they are stupid and what is wrong with you?!?! But, Binghe comes back with somehow solid sounding arguments? That are somehow so crazy and make you lose all sense of right and wrong and turn everything on their head that you actually are like "wait, this guy might be onto something" until you actually remember the context and go "this guy is batshit insane! lock him up!"

So, they go head to head. A lot. Across many fandoms because they actually have the same taste in media to the point that they feel they can't escape each other. Every time they enter a new fandom, they see the comments and posts in the online communities and are like "you got to be effing kidding me!! That guy is HERE too?!?!?!!" Binghe also posts the same type of scathing reviews that Peerless Cucumber is infamous for, which are good, except for the unhinged takes sprinkled in with the logical. And that's what drives Shen Yuan so crazy. Because this "Heavenly Pillar" is actually a good critic and able to comprehend complex themes that so many others miss or misunderstand. He also completely misconstrues stuff with his unhinged takes.

And Binghe, he's just gonna fight to the death to defend his blorbos and ships.

The thing is, Shen Yuan is Binghe's tutor or something irl and Bingbing's got the biggest crush on him. Obviously. And, they talk about shows and books sometimes, and have good, deep discussions about them, finding they have a lot of the same tastes. Shen Yuan will lend Binghe a book or recommend a show and vice versa. They have fun. They do not share their online handles. Shen Yuan does not want this sweet little white sheep he's been tutoring since middle school knowing about some of the stuff he reads and messing up his image (he has an irl reputation to uphold!), and Binghe doesn't want his crush to know exactly how crazy he is and about all the teacher/tutor x student stuff he posts about, thinking it will dash his chances with his precious, sweet Yuan-gege. He's in college now, he might finally have his chance! So, they keep their online lives separate from their irl ones, not just with each other, but with everyone in their lives. Best not to mix them.

And so, things continue until one day, Peerless Cucumber suddenly becomes the Heavenly Pillar's number one supporter. He's going back and ripping apart everyone who's calling the heavenly pillar a lunatic and to lock him up saying "you don't know what's been through! there could be reasons he's like this! and are those takes really that bad!?!?" (yes. they are) People are reeling at the 180 seeming overnight that came out of nowhere after years of rivalry and hate thrown between them. He's also backing the Heavenly Pillar's takes and headcanons up by saying "yeah, I can see how it could be viewed that way. Totally valid." and then presenting a bunch of canon moments and bts and creator interviews to support it. (It's still all totally insane. But now there's two of them) It makes people actually start to question their sanity because Peerless Cucumber is normally the voice of reason, so if he's agreeing with the Heavenly Pillar, then are they the ones that are actually crazy??

Meanwhile, Shen Yuan is in his apartment, reading webnovels on his phone with his new boyfriend's head resting in his lap, idly petting his fluffy hair. Binghe's never been happier.

And, in case you were wondering, Binghe's Heavenly Pillar account has basically turned into a Peerless Cucumber Fan Account. He gushes in his replies to Peerless Cucumber, praising him, and saying how amazing his analysis' are. He'll also, in his own comments and posts, reference Peerless Cucumber posts constantly.

Yes, people are shipping them (they have for a long time, but now it's becoming a more widespread thing). Yes, they have wiki ship page. Yes, their ship name is PillarCum.

[soaps-mohawk]

I'm going to be honest

I'm having a genuinely hard time making this post. I've been fighting with it for a couple weeks now, but I think it's time I finally make it.

I'm not having fun on this blog anymore.

It sounds bad, but honestly, it kind of is.

I think a lot of it started from the very beginning with the precedence and expectations I put on myself. I've always tried to respond to every comment I get. Even from the beginning. It's just a polite thing to do since those who leave comments took the time to write out what they think of my fic, even if it's just a keysmash. I've always felt the need to thank those who leave comments or reblog my writing or (now that tumblr has it) replied to my fics. It worked fine before because none of my fics were particularly popular. Even my most popular fic (at that time) didn't get as much attention as CRCB has. I've never had a "big blog" before, nor a fic as popular as CRCB has gotten.

It was fine at first, responding to everyone, engaging with everyone. I was riding that high of omg so many people are reading and enjoying my fic! I've never had anything quite like this before.

Now...it just feels more like a chore. I set this precedence on this blog that I respond to everyone and I know a lot of people have said that they're surprised I responded to them and to everyone, and now I'm getting why a lot of writers don't. I'm exhausted. I feel like I've just been robotically saying the same thing over and over trying to respond to people now. I used to love seeing asks in my inbox and reblogs and replies but now? All I feel is dread because I have to respond to all of those.

Turning anon off was a big help. It lessened the sheer volume of asks I was getting a day. And while I do feel bad for all of my anons who prefer to stay anons, with everything that happened (the multiple incidents) with anon that kind of started to suck the joy out of everything. That paired with the obsessive need to constantly have my inbox cleared and make sure everyone gets a response...I can understand now too why big blogs will have 200+ asks in their inbox. It's hard and it's exhausting and I'm burning out.

First it was the fic that was burning me out. Things have gone on far longer than I planned and I just wasn't prepared for this fic to go on and for a while there it was dragging. I'll admit that. If I could go back, I'd speed up a few things, but it's done, it's posted there's no going back. I kind of hoped I would have the mental capacity to upload more than once a week too, but I just couldn't. I still can't.

I've come to dread posting chapters because I know I'm going to have to reply and respond to everyone. The only thing keeping me posting is the fact that we're in the part of the story I've been excited about since the beginning and also because I keep leaving everyone on cliffhangers and I love torturing y'all with all of them.

So that being said, this is in no way to shame anyone for interacting with me, anyone leaving comments or replies or sending asks. Don't feel bad about doing it please. I appreciate all of you that have engaged with me and it really means so much to me. Honestly, earlier this year, if I didn't have this fic and everyone on this blog, I might not have made it to now. It's been a really rough year and it's still going to be into next year. It's just getting to the point where I need a break.

I've needed a break for a long time. I thought taking days off the blog would help, and it did for a couple of weeks, but now even on the days I'm supposed to be on the blog and engaging, I just find myself queueing stuff up and just being offline most of the day still.

I'm tired. That's the best reason I can give. I'm tired and burned out on life and I'm tired and burned out on this blog.

So...I think I need a break. I need to not keep responding to every single reply and reblog every chapter. I need to not force myself to answer every ask right away, no matter how much I want to. I feel bad, but I know everyone would rather have me here and enjoying the blog than forcing myself to interact to the point where I'm dreading it and just robotically repeating myself over and over with every reply and answer and comment.

I won't be pausing the fic, I won't be not uploading. I'll still be posting chapters, I just might not be interacting as much as I have been. It's just putting such a mental strain on me still, even with anon off, even with days off. And with things getting busier for me, it's going to be too much to try and deal with irl stuff and write and try to be super active on the blog. There's going to come a point where I have to sacrifice the writing or the blog and I'd rather sacrifice the blog to keep myself sane, and also to keep trying to finally get this fic done. I love this fic, don't get me wrong, but I'm just burning out.

I'm already burned out in a lot of ways.

I was planning kinktober this year but honestly I'm considering not doing it because I know interaction is going to be insane and it's going to be a lot to keep up on. Plus trying to write that many fics is hard and I'm not sure I have the ability to do it. I have a few done but now I'm just like...is that something I want to do on top of irl stuff and CRCB.

There's just no joy in it anymore. It's not anyone's fault but mine. I put the pressure on myself, I held myself to that standard for this long despite the fact I knew it was draining me. I've tried to push through when I should have prioritized myself. I feel so guilty not responding to everyone. I feel so guilty being a day or two late responding to everyone.

I want to be here and interacting and responding to things but I just can't bring myself to anymore. It's no one's fault, and this is not a drag on anyone, or an attempt to make anyone feel bad or guilty for interacting or sending asks or anything. I'm just airing out the truth and saying what I need to say because I feel like I've been so robotic and lifeless with my responses these last couple weeks and I feel like I need to explain why. It's nothing anyone has done. It's my fault. It's 100% my fault.

Things have just gotten to be too much and it's my fault for forcing myself to be so active. The social battery has dropped into the negatives. I'm not a social person. I can only handle so much interaction and I've pushed so far beyond that, that things have gotten to this point. I want to be here and I want to have fun and I want to use this as an escape but I just don't feel that way about it anymore. It's a chore for me, a job, something I feel like I have to do and it's my fault that I feel that way. It's my own standards and expectations I set on myself, and my expectations on what I think my followers want and deserve and now I feel like I've gone on too long like this that I can't change things without hurting anyone's feelings. I don't want people to think I'm ignoring them in favor of others because I know there's writers out there that do that. They only respond to a certain group and ignore others that comment and reblog. I don't want to make anyone feel like I'm doing that to them and that's now led me to here.

I'm forcing it and I'm tired.

It's been hard these last few weeks. The life has just been draining and draining continuously. The joy and the love I have for this blog and my followers and the interactions and the fic. The last anon bullshit that happened was just kind of the last nail in the coffin so to speak. The straw that broke the camel's back. Things stopped being fun. It made me feel bad (and not in the guilty way, though that was a part of it) and I'm honestly just over it. I'm over the blog, I'm over interacting, I'm over life at this point. August is a hard month for me and every year it seems to get worse and worse. A lot of it is unrelated to anything online and I was going to make a post about it but honestly I just don't want to. Those that know, know. Those that don't...it doesn't matter.

I'm getting annoyed by the blog, I'm getting annoyed every time I look in my notifications and see an ask or a reply or a comment. I'm getting annoyed by some of my followers and that's not fair to you. Everyone always talks about how nice and kind and patient I am when I'm really not. I'm not the person I present myself to be on this blog, the way I mask myself so I can present myself as being a normal, kind human being. The mask is coming off because I'm so tired I can't keep it up anymore. It's happening here and it's happening in real life. I'm tired and I'm frustrated and I'm angry at a lot of things and the last thing I want is to start taking it out on my followers. You don't deserve that, especially when it's not your fault, it's nothing any of you have done. It's all me.

It's not you, it's me.

So for the sake of not burning this whole thing to the ground, I'm going to take a break. I'm not replying to everyone, I'm not responding to every reblog, I won't reply to every ask I get right away, if at all because sometimes I just don't have anything to say in response and I need to learn that's okay. It's nothing against you. It's not aimed at anyone specifically, I'm just trying to put myself first and stop things from escalating. I need a break and I'm going to do something selfish and I'm going to take it.

Don't apologize because it's not your fault. Don't apologize because you think you might have contributed to this because you didn't. It is no one's fault but my own.

I'm the one that needs to apologize to all of you because I've just not been myself because I've been forcing myself to be someone I'm not. I've been very unfair to a lot of people over the last seven months that this blog has been active and I've held a precedent that is not sustainable in the long run and made everyone believe that I was capable of maintaining that kind of interaction when I'm not.

I'm sorry. I'm sorry I've been putting everyone through this. I'm sorry I've been so detached and robotic and ingenuine. I'm sorry I led everyone to believe I'm someone I'm not. I'm sorry I've dragged this on this long that it's gotten to the point that I have to make this post.

I considered just disappearing but that wouldn't be fair to you either. I don't want to put you through that, so I'm pouring all of my thoughts out and making you read through this fucking novel of a post. If you've made it this far, then congrats I guess. Gold metals to you who bothered reading this far.

Anyway, all of that aside, I'll still be posting chapters. I'll have them scheduled and I'll probably come on and add links places to keep things current. I'll respond and reply and answer asks when I feel like it. You don't have to stop sending them, but just don't expect them to be responded to right away anymore. I'll probably still be here reblogging things I want and doing things when I feel like it.

I just need a few weeks to myself. Time I don't have to care about the blog at all and keeping up with it. Anon will remain off for the sake of keeping asshole trolls away, and also so I don't open tumblr and have 200 asks in my inbox after a week. Sorry to my anons but it's just the way it needs to be right now. Maybe once this break is over and I've dealt with irl stuff, I'll consider putting it back on. I just can't after everything I dealt with recently on anon.

It'll be the same on Ao3, for those that follow here and read there. Comments will probably sit for a while. They won't be answered right away anymore unless I get the energy to burn through them. Even then I won't try to answer them all at once like I did this last weekend.

I'll try to reblog something every day so y'all know I'm alright. I don't want y'all to panic and it's not fair to put you through that, especially those that might not see this or bother reading it. Those that follow simply for the fic and nothing else. I'm here, I'm just not...here.

This week's chapter is in the queue to be posted tomorrow as usual. Chapters will still come out as planned since I'm not stopping writing, just taking a break from the blog itself.

Thank you those of you who stuck through to the end here. I appreciate all of you so much. You have no idea. I'm sorry I let things get to this point and I'm sorry to anyone that I've gotten rude or snappy with because I couldn't be selfish and put myself first. I'm sorry to anyone that got a robotic, repeated response to something they were probably excited to share. I'm sorry I've been so unfair to everyone and I hope you can forgive me.

Take care and I'll talk to everyone when I have the energy to.

[mattyriddlesbitch]

a steamy enemies mattheo fic w you as the shy yet stern tutor and he keeps messing w you. maybe at the end after he passes his exams you try to stop the meetings by saying he doesn’t need a tutor anymore and he gets mad/the jealousy trope 🤤😈🛼 also what if there’s a scene where you go to a ‘dangerous’ party w the wrong crowd and he catches you there and gets mad bc he doesn’t want u around those people

I hope this works! So sorry this took so long!

Tutor

Mattheo Riddle x F!Reader

Warnings: kissing, cussing

You and Mattheo never got along. Everyone knew that too. Insults and snarky comments were thrown at each other all the time.

So it was infuriating when McGonagall said you were his new tutor since he was struggling with some classes. You tried to get out of it, switch with another tutor, but she just said that everyone's already set up with another student and she can't change it.

Tutoring sessions were brutal. He always messed with you. Always tried getting off topic. Even jokingly flirting with you to try to derail your lesson. But you were determined to get him to study and tutor him enough to pass so you could stop these sessions. 

“How about every answer I get right, you give me a kiss?” He smiled at you.

“In your dreams, Riddle.” You rolled your eyes, but felt the heat rise to your cheeks. “Can you just focus?”

He finally just started passing his classes, his homework and test scores soaring  enough to make him start passing classes. McGonagall said you didn't have to tutor him anymore, but she recommended you did since your own scores were going up as well as you tutored him. You had enough of Mattheo and told him you weren't going to be tutoring him anymore during your last tutoring session, showing him the tricks you learned for studying and retaining information.

Oh, he was mad. He never really hated you. He liked you and never knew how to express his feelings so he became mean to you instead. He was a dumb kid when he decided that and didn't know how to change it and make you like him, even as a friend. These tutoring sessions were making his feelings grow. He thought it'd be a perfect time to find out more about you, asking you questions about yourself, trying to change the topic to something more fun to hear you talk about something other than school, even flirting with you to try to change your view of him and see if he could fluster you.

So when you told him that you were done with tutoring him, he was upset. Moreso at himself than you. He was upset that he didn't seem to get you to change your view of him. He was upset he tried so hard, he passed enough to not need you to tutor him anymore. He was upset that he decided to be an ass to you at the beginning of your relationship so you'd always have a bad view of him.

“What do you mean you're not tutoring me anymore?” He frowned as he sat across from you in the library.

“I mean exactly that. You're doing well enough to not need one anymore.” You shrugged.

“I'm only doing this well because of you.”

“I'm showing you how I study so you can keep doing this well. You don't need me.”

He wanted to say he does need you. Merlin, he wanted to. He wanted to see how you'd react. He even wanted to see you get all smug and tease him about needing you, but he bit his tongue.

Truth was, he really didn't need your help. He knew this stuff enough to pass with flying colors. He just never applied himself. But he thought if he did start passing because of you, you'd be impressed and happy he did so well because of you. He felt like he lost his chance to win you over once he saw you leaving the library after your last tutoring session.

Your friend invited you to a party she'd been invited to, saying it'll be fun and to think of it as celebrating successfully tutoring Mattheo and being done with him. You were reluctant but finally agreed, deciding it'd be fun to relax and let loose.

You arrived with your friend, who let you borrow one of her short dresses and a pair of heels. You both drank and danced until she was eventually pulled away by one of the guys there, leaving you alone. You were slightly tipsy, just enough to make you relaxed and slightly dizzy.

A guy approached you, you recognized him enough to know he was in Slytherin, but you never learned his name. He was about to say something when an arm wrapped around your waist from beside you.

“Hey, princess. Hope you weren't waiting on me for too long.” You recognized the voice as Mattheo and turned your head to see him smiling at you.

“What-”

“You seem a bit tired. How about we go sit down?” Something in his voice and smile was off. You nodded and he guided you away from the crowd and down a secluded hallway. “What are you doing here?” He asked as he moved to stand in front of you.

“My friend invited me.” You frowned.

“And she left you alone?” He matched your frown.

“Some guy took her to dance.”

“You're kidding. This isn't safe for you.”

“What? Why?” You crossed your arms in front of your chest.

“Doesn't matter. I'll get you back to your dorm.” He said, trying to turn you back around to lead you away.

“No, tell me. If I'm in danger, then I should know why.” You said, resisting him.

He sighed, looking down the hallway before looking back at you, talking quietly. “This is for purebloods and Death Eaters, something you shouldn't get involved with. So, let me get you out of here before something happens to you.” He said, trying to guide you again and you let him this time.

“What are you doing here then?” You questioned, now sobered up from this conversation.

“My father. What do you think, Ms Know-It-All?” He teased and you rolled your eyes.

“No need to be mean.” You frowned. There was a pause as he led you out of the party and started the way to your dorm. “Why are you helping me anyways?”

“I don't hate you, you know?” He said and you turned your head to look at him again.

“You don't?�� You raised an eyebrow.

“No. I never have. I'm just…” He paused trying to find the right words and you stopped walking, turning to face him as he stopped too. “I'm not good at…words-at expressing myself. I don't do well with feelings and emotions.” He sighed, looking down.

“Okay.” You spoke quietly. “So…what do you actually mean then, if you don't hate me?”

“What I mean is that…” He looked back up to meet your eyes. “I mean, I don't hate you, I…” He ran a hand through his hair, letting out another sigh. “Fuck it.” He muttered before grabbing your face gently and pressing his lips against yours. He pulled back after a few seconds, noticing your surprised expression as you still tried grasping what just happened. “Did that make sense?” He asked, hands still cupping your face.

“Um, I think so.” You said, still a little dazed.

“Let's get you back to your dorm. Maybe it'll give you time to figure it out.” He said, a small smirk playing on his lips now as he moved a hand back to your waist and started guiding you again.

Taglist:

@jeannie-beannie @yourenogoodforme @mixvchelle @helendeath @evaslytherpuff

@soaked4abby @hpnsfwaddict @mayamonroem @motherfing-stargirl @brittney-121

@dracoslovergirl @littlemadamred @mattheoriddlesbitch @acornacreacure @opheliamalfoy236

@demieyesore @akira1246 @queenshu

Let me know if you wanna be added!

[brucewaynehater101]

Tim falling in the time stream and YJ fishing him out happens post brucequest so Bart and Kon are alive which helps Cassie keep herself from being gaslit by well meaning members of the justice league who completely forget/ignore/disregard that Batman literally just came back from the "dead" and so Cassie can have Kon and Bart there to keep her from forming or joining another cult

Bruce's reaction depends on the writer and how they feel about Bruce though his family seeing him go into a depressive spiral at the loss of a kid in his custody and getting some partial insight into just how bad he may have been immediately post Jason and the stuff that Tim had to deal with would be interesting, and the family dynamics of dealing with Damian who no longer has the verbal punching bag and focus of jealousy that is Tim available

Ooh. Now I want to kill Tim off in a fic and watch the batfam implode as they deal with their grief and come to several realizations. I've got too many WIPs for that, though.

Anyways, YJ is out here gripping their sanity and determination to bring Tim home by their blood-stained finger nails. It's hysterical laughing, refusing to cry (because he's not dead), and chaotic adventures that aren't as fun without Tim.

When Tim gets back, all four of them (and the retired members) are in agreeance. Fuck the JL. Fuck the other heroes.

For the batfam, we'll say Bruce can't go out to find Tim for plot. The exact reason can be up to the dealer, but he either doesn't hear YJ's theories, or he can't go look for Tim.

This traps Bruce with the rest of the batfam.

Damian, a kid who still looks up to his dad, is suddenly forced into Tim's Robin's role.

He, at first, isn't too upset that Batman is being harsher. Surely, the man would know what's best. Perhaps he's just realizing that criminals should he punished harder (not personal beliefs, obv. Just speculation of Damian's mindset).

Then Bruce gets worse. And worse.

Suddenly, the twelve year old is frozen as he watches the brutality of which Batman is pummeling someone. He's watching as blood flings off of Bruce's gauntlets onto the alley floors and walls. He's hearing the victim pleading.

Damian's not scared. Of course he isn't. That's ridiculous....

He just kind of wishes his Batman, Dick, was there instead.

Damian also has lost his ability to insult Tim. While it's not uncommon to go months without seeing Drake, his family's reactions to Damian's usual comments have changed. Suddenly, everyone is yelling at him or getting angry for what he's saying. He knows Tim died (and gods does it burn that he'll never get to know the older man), but why is the family getting mad at him? They've always let the comments go in the past.

It's an unhealthy coping mechanism and mindset that Damian developed of continuously comparing himself to Drake and dragging the older man down. It's a bit late, but Damian realizes that he doesn't hate Tim. He might have even admired him. He was blinded by his need to feel wanted in a family that chose everyone but him (at least, that's how he thought it was).

It's cruel he only comprehended this after Tim's death.

Jason is still on the outskirts of the family. Yet, from his distance, he has a front row seat to watching Bruce rapidly descend into his grief. Maybe the man denies that's what Bruce was like when Jason died (because Bruce liked Tim more than Jason). Someone points out that any animosity Jason and Bruce have was post his revival (and honestly fuck them for that). They also point out that this Bruce, the spiraling wave of fury, is a much more supported and restrained Batman. Tim, as a thirteen year old, witnessed and pulled this man from his even worse grief.

Jason doesn't know how to process that.

Dick is older and closer. He has to grapple with the fact that he failed another little brother. Another one is dead.

He also has to watch his dad descend into grief all over again. He's closer than he was when Jason died, back when he was brimming with rage at Bruce and despair. He's getting a closer production of Bruce's unhealthy coping skills.

He has to explain to his siblings and himself that last time, when Jason died, Tim weathered this storm. Dick came around, but not nearly enough. He couldn't for his own mental health.

That doesn't assauge his guilt.

Cass :( Imma say she's out there helping YJ. She believes them. It doesn't change how much Tim's death hurts, but she holds onto hope.

Alfred has to watch his son mourn again. Alfred has to mourn his grandson and watch his son destroy himself again. Alfred has to watch the family implode upon itself.

He doesn't have hope that another kind soul like Tim's will be here this time around. He can only offer support as he hopes the family makes it through this time.

When Tim comes back, he's not angry that the JL didn't help or believe YJ. He's not even disappointed.

He's resigned.

He's not upset the Bats didn't do anything either.

Creating YJ wasn't originally about ensuring Tim had support he could count on. He's glad it turned into that, though. He wouldn't give any of them up for the world.

[welovelouisandbucky]

My two favorite Slytherin boys headcanons bc why not?

T/w: few swear words, my writing, and some out of character stuff because im delusional, little suggestive if you can call it that, and yes aside from that if you find any pls let me know:) also my writing

A/n: hi y'all, I just want to say pls be kind as this is my first time writing for these characters so if there's any mistakes pls overlook them thank you! Also I tried my best to keep this GN so everyone can read and enjoy this and yeah that's it, have great day!!!

S/n: requests are open so feel free to send in ideas, I'll love to write what you guys suggest. Also feel free to ask for more Slytherin or any Harry Potter characters you want headcanons/blurbs about, I'll love to write and add more🤗

Masterlist

Mattheo Riddle

(gifs credits to the rightful owner)

Also this one's long as you can see I got carried away😁

Mattheo who always looks forward to see your face after the end of the day

Mattheo who will fight any one who looks at you funny or talks shits about you

Mattheo who glares at every single person but the seconds he spots you his eyes softens up in millisecond in adoration

Mattheo who holds your books or bag everywhere you guys go, because God forbid if his princess/prince ever has to worry about those things when he's there to do them for you

Mattheo who waits after you when the class is over so he can walk you to other class while he pulls you as closer to him as possible

Mattheo who searches for you before every Quidditch game so he can have his good luck charm kiss from you

Mattheo who pretends to hate and act tough when you baby him while secretly melting into a puddle inside every time you call him sweet names. ( He absolutely loses his shit when you call him baby but shush it's a secret 😌)

Mattheo who has probably drawn you only few hundreds of times in his super, super duper, very classified sketchbook that no one knows of.

Mattheo who always encourages you to do things you want to do but are too scared to actually do it.

Mattheo who always supports your decisions, even if they are stupid

Mattheo who appropriates your little hobbies and interests even if they are weird, he just wants to you to feel safe and heard around him

Mattheo who's always there for you whenever you need him, always there to hold you close on bad days because he knows how it feels when you are at your worst and there's no one to comfort you (thankfully he doesn't have to worry about being alone now that you are here as well as his friends)

Mattheo who struggles with expressing his emotions and feelings but still tries his hardest to show them to you because he wants you to know how much you mean to him.

Mattheo who's not that good at comforting but still pulls you to him because he can't stand seeing you cry and not do anything about it.

Mattheo who willingly listens to you rant about everything and anything because he loves hearing your voice (even if half of the things you said are going above his head but hey at least he's trying! ☺️)

Mattheo who hates not knowing what's happening around him because it makes him feel helpless and he hates feeling weak. That's why he always, and I mean always knows what's going on everywhere

Mattheo who's touch starved (bc yk all that being dark Lord's son and growing up with death eaters and all) and craves your touch. He's always in any way touching you, whether holding hands, or a hand on your thigh or waist just any kind of physical touch because he wants to be as close to you as possible.

Mattheo who loves loves cuddles, doesn't matter who's spooning who as long as you guys are in each other's arms.

Mattheo who loves you so much that it physically hurts him, and there's nothing he wouldn't do you

Mattheo who will always protect you no matter what

~~~

Theodore Nott

Theo who loves to tease you throughout the whole day just so he can see you all worked up for him

Theo who looks forward to your quick comebacks every time he comments on something he knows he will get reaction out of you and absolutely loses his shit when you roast the shit out of him for it

Theo who calls you sweet endearments in Italian because he loves to see your confused smile, contemplating whether he roasted you or called you something sweet in foreign language

Theo who keeps you company while you finish your homework in library

Theo who loves spending time with you on Astronomy tower (he just in general loves spending time with you but astronomy tower is more special to him) while you are snuggled up against his side as you guys look at stars.

Theo who will read with you, doesn't matter what kind of books you guys are reading as long as both of you are together.

Theo who prefers reading classic novels but will happily read cheesy rom-com books with you because you said so (secretly he enjoys them too but hush🙈)

Theo who actually enjoys reading poetry, and sometimes when you guys are alone he'll read few to you

Theo who's always there to comfort you whenever you have problems with your family because he knows how it feels.

Theo who's always there to stand up for you in any situation

Theo who starts to smoke less around you if it bothers you, but if you smoke too then both of you guys will smoke together at the Astronomy tower

Theo who loves silence and doesn't enjoy talking much but is always ready to listen to you talk for hours, you are the only person he can talk and listen to for eternity without ever getting sick of it.

Theo who loves when you wear his clothes

Theo who said I love you first time when he saw you curse someone out because they said some shit about him, he doesn't really care whatever shit they were saying but seeing you stand up for him made him feel emotions he never felt before.

Theo who just absolutely loves you and wants to spend entirety of his life with you

Thank you so much for reading, likes and comments are very much appreciated. As well as positive criticism, pls don't hate this is a safe place for everyone!! Bye bye have great day!!!

~~~~

Enzo's headcanon!

[livingformintyoongi]

Yoongi and yn: friends.

They are playing truth or dare (the spicy kind, but ALL VERY CONSENSUAL!!!!!) with some friends at this pool party (note: they are all in swimwear).

Their friends know they like each other so they dare Yoongi to kiss her inner thighs, and yn to kiss his happy trail.

Next round they ask him to kiss her 🍒 and her to put her hands inside his swim trunks and stroke his 🍆 (again, ALL VERY CONSENSUAL!!!!!!!!)

She gets very horny by it so she excuses herself to one of the rooms and Yoongi follows her, they have a bit of a talk about what happened back there and he tells her that he was left wishing he could finish what he started and she tells that she can finish it now. He uses some of that 👅 technology with her and then fucks her silly (Yoongi is kind of obsessed with readers big🍒,she is older by 1year)

When they are done, their friends are waiting for them outside laughing and saying that their plan worked

thankyouuuu 💕💕💕💕

Pool Party

a/n: This is literally the longest thing I've ever written lol. I had quite a lot of fun making it, hope you liked it ^^. Sorry it took me so long, I wanted to make the dividers for this request myself, mostly because it takes me a long time to find one I like for the shots. Here is a photo of Yoongi and Reader's swimsuits, so that you have a clear picture of what they are wearing. warnings: a kind of semi public sex (?, Big dick Yoongi, Reader is a year older than Yoongi, blowjob (f gets), a little praise kink, Yoongi and reader throw in a joke or two during sex, unprotected sex (please don't do this, always use a condom), drunk sex. wc: 4.7k

"What did you say?" you looked at Soyeon, feeling your heart race at her comment.

"Did I speak too softly? I'm sorry," she smiled that Machiavellian smile you knew so well. They always meant trouble, "I told Yoongi to kiss your inner thigh, is that a problem? Because if it is I can take back the challenge" she pointed to a bottle of vinegar next to her, "you can always have a shot of vinegar in return".

You looked at Yoongi, both of you looking slightly uncomfortable with the idea, but not exactly because you didn't want to. Yoongi was dying to bite your thighs, and you were dying to feel his lips against it, the problem was the situation. You didn't want him to kiss your inner thigh on a dare.

You sighed in defeat, hoping that would make everyone think you didn't want to do it. None, with the exception of Yoongi, believed it.

"You don't need to do it if you don't want to," Yoongi muttered, taking the bottle of vinegar, trying his hardest not to grimace.

"Wait!" You snatched the bottle out of his hands, tossing it to Taehyung, who had no problem catching it. "I absolutely refuse to let you drink that shit, Yoongi."

Everyone fell silent, staring at you. 

"Do you need me to spread my legs?" you looked at Yoongi, blushing heavily as you realised how bad that sounded, "Because of the challenge, obviously, it'll be a lot easier that way."

"Sure" he looked away from you, shaking his hair with his left hand.

You couldn't help but be even more embarrassed to see that Yoongi had also blushed at your answer. From now on you will keep your mouth shut until the game is over.

"Alright, stop making us wait, the night is long, but not forever" Soyeon shouted, laughing softly as she watched you and Yoongi move around rather awkwardly.

How was he supposed to kiss the inside of your thigh? Should you stand up? Lie down? Lean back a little?

In the end you opted for the last one. You waited until Yoongi was in front of you before you leaned back, supporting yourself with your forearms. You grimaced as you felt the small stones on the floor bury themselves into your skin.

"Are you really comfortable with this? I don't mind having a bit of that stuff." Yoongi grabbed your calf, lifting it just enough so that you could rest your heel on his shoulder.

You discreetly licked your lips as you felt your mouth suddenly go dry. Yoongi had no idea of the power he had over you, and that pleased you as much as it frightened you.

"It doesn't bother me, really, it's just a stupid challenge anyway". You nodded quickly, trying to let the gesture imply that you didn't really have a problem with the situation, because you really didn't.

"Good" you smiled as you watched his shoulders relax. He gently caressed your calf, bringing his mouth close to your leg.

For a second you completely forgot that you were in the pool of Jiah, one of your best friends, surrounded by all your other friends, who were pretty focused on your interaction. Everyone was sick of the tension between the two of you, seriously hoping that in this game one of you would take the next step.

He moved down until his nose brushed against the inside of your thigh. You felt a shiver run down your spine, and had to bite the inside of your lip to keep from gasping when Yoongi placed his lips against your skin. You mentally crossed your fingers, hoping he hadn't noticed the sudden spasm you felt from the touch of his lips on your leg.

It felt good. You wouldn't tell him.

"I thought you would never finish," laughed Jiwon, taking a sip of his beer, she shared a knowing look with Soyeon, but both you and Yoongi were too distracted to notice, "It's my turn to ask someone to do the next challenge, right?

Jungkook, her boyfriend, nodded fervently, grinning from ear to ear. He seriously thought the next challenge would be for him, and would involve something like what you and Yoongi just did.

Poor fool.

"Yoongi, stay there," her smile grew even bigger as Yoongi turned to see her with a slight frown, "I need you right there for my challenge," she muttered, drinking what little was left of her can and passing it to Jungkook. He was quick to take it and exchange it for a completely full one. She didn't finish speaking until Jungkook opened the new can for her. "Kiss his happy trail," she murmured, taking two straws and slipping them into the beer can.

"You want me to do what?" you looked at Jiwon, choking on your saliva. She definitely hadn't just asked you to do that.

"You heard me perfect, don't play dumb, I know you're not" she laughed mockingly, or maliciously, you weren't sure, both seemed like perfect words to you to describe the horrible way she had just teased you. 

You looked at Yoongi, noticing how he also seemed surprised, and quite embarrassed, by the challenge Jiwon had given you.

"You know, it's kind of like an eye for an eye, it's pretty much the same thing he did for you, I don't see what's so hard about it." She extended her beer to Jungkook's side, waiting for him to take some from one of the straws she'd put out earlier. You hated how quiet she looked, so comfortable with her bunny-faced boyfriend. You'd get your revenge for this.

"Fine," you grunted, glaring at Yoongi. You crawled on your knees until you were face to face with his abdomen. You regretted it almost immediately as you felt the stones scrape your knees. This was all Soyeon and Jiwon's fault. They were terrible friends. Awful. 

"Uhm, Noona, I..." muttered Yoongi, stumbling over the words.

You looked up, seeing his face. It was red, too red, from his cheeks to his neck and ears, his lower lip trembling slowly, as if he was trying to say something and his nerves wouldn't let him speak. There were no words to describe how cute you thought this boy was. 

"I'll make it quick, don't worry" you tried to smile at him, not wanting him to notice how nervous you were too. When was the last time you did this with a man? You didn't really remember. You tried to push the thought out of your head, pushing your hair aside. 

Yoongi for his part had no idea what to do. You were on your knees in front of him, wearing a bathing suit that showed off your figure too well, and you had just arranged your hair as if you were about to give him a blowjob. He really wanted you to give him one right now.

His whole body trembled as he felt your fluffy lips kiss his lower abdomen. They felt so good, so soft, so wet. He couldn't help but wonder if you were wearing that strawberry lip gloss you always carried in your handbag. He always wanted to taste your lips with that lip gloss on. He'd want to taste them with or without.

He clenched his hands at his sides as he felt your mouth barely brush against the elastic of his swim trunks, he wanted so badly to grab your hair and shove his cock in your mouth. It was a shame that there were 12 other people here watching. If it wasn't for that, he would have done it without a second thought.

"Ready" you muttered, sitting back down on the floor. You took a big breath of air as discreetly as you could. You were starting to get hot. "Easy, isn't it?" you smiled at Yoongi.

He smiled back at you, sitting down next to you, just like you were before Soyeon started with the odd challenges. "Easier impossible.”

It had been two hours since Soyeon and Jiwon had done their challenges. Everyone was much drunker than they were then, and as the rounds progressed the challenges had become more and more intense. Jungkook and Soomin had to separate Jimin and Soyeon at some point in the night.

It was now two forty-five in the morning. The vinegar bottle was still full, and none of you had any intention of emptying even a drop. Perhaps that was why Yoongi did not hesitate to accept the challenge Jungkook had given him a few seconds ago.

"I'm only supposed to kiss one?" he muttered, looking at Jungkook with dilated pupils and slightly flushed cheeks. You thought he looked really cute drunk.

"Unless you want to kiss both of her breasts, yeah, just one," he laughed teasingly, resting his chin on Jiwon's shoulder. They had gotten that way after Namjoon dared Jungkook to do a "private" dance for her.

"Fine," he nodded. The alcohol had given him all the courage he'd lacked the previous times.

You looked at him with drunken eyes, probably looking the same or worse than him. He didn't seem to care, so who cares?

He bent down to your height and grabbed the sides of your waist. You gasped as you felt his cold fingers brush against you.

"You're cold," you muttered, frowning at him. Your features trembled a little as you saw a mischievous smirk on his lips. 

"Sorry, I promise my lips aren't as cold... probably" he whispered against the skin of your breasts. You shivered slightly without being able to help it.

He followed the challenge just as Jungkook had said, he only kissed one, but you didn't expect him to kiss it in such a lascivious way. You even gasped as you felt his warm tongue brush against the cold skin of your breasts. You felt so embarrassed as you remembered that your friends were watching this.

"Ready" he murmured, watching as the skin he had kissed glowed in the moonlight. He felt so proud of himself.

"My turn," exclaimed Taehyung excitedly. You turned to look at him, grimacing as you saw how his gaze was fixed on you. You hated everyone in this room, everyone was participating in a conspiracy against you. "Y/N."

"Taehyung" you raised your eyebrows, staring at him. You were sure it wouldn't be that bad, it shouldn't be.

"I want you to touch Yoongi's dick," he gave you that shit-eating grin he only gave when he knew what he was asking you to do was a load of shit. 

You had to take a second to process what he just said.

"You want me to touch his cock?" you furrowed your brow in confusion, why was he asking you that?

He nodded with a big smile, "Under the bathing suit, if you do it on top you must drink half a shot."

"You're shit, you and everyone else," you pointed at them all, snorting, "except Soomin, Yoori and Hobi, you are too good for this world, and this group." 

"Wait, are you really going to do it?" Suddenly all the drunkenness went out of Yoongi. You were going to touch his member right at this moment, you had never done it before, not even in his wildest dreams (he never got to the foreplay part, his brain always skipped that part).

"I don't plan to drink vinegar, Yoongi" you looked at his crotch and then his face, "Or do you want me not to?".

"No, it’s okay, that must taste awful" he mumbled quickly, watching every move you made.

A lump formed in his throat as he watched your hand move closer to his lap.

"Okay" you moved a little closer, trying to get your hand past the waistband of the swimsuit. It was not lost on you how his abdomen tensed at the feel of your fingers.

Your hands were also terribly cold. He seriously tried not to let you notice how good it felt to feel your fingertips run delicately over his pelvis.

You tried not to look at his face as you lowered your hand. You felt too nervous to do this. You wanted to look on the bright side of the situation, maybe this would help you get along much better in the future. 

"Where-?" you interrupted yourself with a gasp, turning to look at Yoongi with your mouth open.

He too turned to look at you, just as red and surprised as you were.

"What? what happened?" Soomin, whose eyes Taehyung had covered so she couldn't see anything, spoke in confusion.

You wanted to answer her, you really did, but how the fuck were you telling her that you had just touched the biggest dick of your life? And that wasn't even erect, what did Yoongi eat to have a member like that?

"N-nothing" you mumbled, pulling your hand out carefully. Now you would never look at Yoongi the same way again. You definitely wouldn't think of him the same way. Neither of him nor of his member. "I'm going to go lie down, I'm a little tired" you excused yourself, getting up and walking as quietly as you could inside the house. You knew that if you were still there you would be given stronger challenges than you had already been given.

You walked to the guest room, one of the many in Jiah's house. You always stayed in the same one, you even had a change of clothes in the closet. You were very grateful for that right now.

As soon as you opened the door the sound of footsteps behind you made you stop. You turned to see who it was. You were a little surprised to see Yoongi standing a few steps further than you. 

"Noona" he mumbled, hesitating a bit on whether to move closer to you or not.

"Yes?" you cocked your head slightly, waiting for him to say whatever it was he wanted to say.

"Do you think we could talk? It'll be short, I promise."

"Sure" you smiled at him, hoping it really would be something short. You needed to tend to yourself soon. Your crotch was starting to ache.

He nodded his head by way of thanks, moving the remaining steps to stand next to you. It didn't take him long to enter the room you were going to stay in.

You closed the door once you were inside, you hated having the doors open. You stood watching him from there, you were quite confused, but you knew Yoongi wasn't one to ask to talk to someone for anything, so you waited patiently.

"I wanted to talk about what happened downstairs" he mumbled, sitting down on the edge of the bed you would be sleeping on today. 

"Did you feel very uncomfortable?" you grimaced, scratching your neck nervously, "I'm seriously sorry, I wasn't-".

"I want to continue," he interrupted you mid-sentence, glaring at you. You had to lean against the door to keep from falling.

"Continue?" you whispered, watching as he gave you that mean smile again that he had put on a few minutes ago. He stood up again, moving close enough for you to feel his breath collide with yours.

"Don't you want the same?" he moved to your shoulder, kissing the bare skin.

You closed your eyes instinctively, letting out a barely audible sigh. You brought your hands to his waist, grabbing his black shirt with white sheets. You crinkled the fabric between your fingers as the kisses on your neck began to get messier. It felt so good.

"You smell so good" he whispered next to your ear, his hands snaking around your waist until they reached the bottom of your bathing suit. He didn't hesitate to fiddle with them, making as if to reach under the fabric with his hands.

You growled under your breath. "I don't like being played with, Yoongi."

He chuckled softly in response, lowering his hands until he reached your thighs. You squealed as you felt him lift you off the floor and carry you in his arms to the bed.

"Good, then there will be no games," he said as he pulled his shirt off over his head.

You dropped your gaze almost instantly. You loved Yoongi's body so much. He wasn't thin to an extreme level, nor was he overly muscular. He had just enough and just enough, and that was what you found most attractive about him. That and his skin. 

You always thought his skin was perfect for marking or biting. It was so white and sensitive, so inviting. 

"Red looks so good on you" he murmured, taking your leg and lifting it. As soon as he was the right distance away he kissed your calf. His other hand took over caressing your other leg.

His kisses went up until they reached your inner thigh. Right at the point where it all started. Yoongi licked his lips, looking at your swimsuit. "May I?"

You nodded quickly, biting your inner lip as you watched him start to pull down the bottom of your swimsuit. You couldn't help but moan softly as you felt the cool air hit your core.

Yoongi paused for a moment, taking his time to observe your femininity. He was quite surprised by the fact that he wasn't doing anything yet and you were already wet. He ran his fingers around your entrance, gathering your juices and spreading them around your entrance.

You curved your back a little, closing your eyes tightly as you bit your tongue. You weren't the only ones in the house, you couldn't make a sound. 

You listened as he let out a mocking laugh. "Noona, are your moans usually loud? why are you covering your mouth? Most must know we're fucking in the guest room anyway, don't you think?" he moved his face closer to your entrance, smiling as he watched your pussy clench around nothing.

"Shut the fuck up and do something" you growled, grabbing hold of the first thing you could find. Well, actually you just used that as an excuse, you really wanted to grab onto his hair.

Yoongi shrugged his shoulders and listened to you. He stuck his face between your legs and, just as you asked him to, he put the horseplay aside and started fucking your pussy with his tongue.

The scream you gave had probably alerted everyone in the house to what was going on between the two of you. 

You covered your mouth as fast as you could, pulling with all your might on Yoongi's hair. You'd heard he knew how to use his tongue well, but you didn't think he'd be so good at this. The son of a bitch deserved a prize in honor of this.

Yoongi's tongue touched the exact spots that made your whole body tense and tremble at the same time. It was so overwhelming and addictive at the same time. You tried to lift your hips to feel him closer, but his hands held you in place with just enough strength not to cause you harm. 

"Yoongi" you gasped, closing your eyes tightly, "you’re so good at this."

He only answered you with a grunt that caused your whole body to stir in place. He liked being complimented by you much more than he thought he would, the fact that his cock got even harder just hearing you say how well he was doing it gave him an idea.

"Faster" you moaned, tugging on his hair. This was so much better than any one-night stand you'd had in the past.

You frowned as you felt his tongue flick out of your pussy. You thought you were going well, you were enjoying it, he seemed to have been enjoying it, or at least you felt that way with the way he had just eaten you.

"Why did you stop?" you murmured, watching him stand up straight as he wiped his chin covered by your games with his wrist.

You'd be lying if you said you didn't find it sexy.

"Spread your legs."

You nodded, still confused, but ready to accept whatever he was going to give you. Except you weren't as ready as you thought you were. 

He took off his bathing suit, leaving it somewhere in the bedroom. 

It was inevitable not to see it, I mean, how could you not see that thing? 

Yoongi laughed as he noticed that your eyes were fixed on his member. "Scared?" he said teasingly, kissing your collarbone.

"Oh, yeah?" you replied with obviousness, looking at him with raised eyebrows, "I really don't give a shit about boosting your ego, but man, that thing seems to have a life of its own, I'm surprised you're surprised I'm scared of it."

"I'm trying to be serious here" he laughed softly, lining up his member at your entrance.

"Yeah, I'm serious too, you know? Besides- Oh my god" you moaned, slapping Yoongi's back.

He thrust his member all at once inside you, did it hurt? A little, did you like it? Absolutely. You were more than sure that never, with any other man, had you ever felt so full. You could get used to this feeling.

Yoongi took both your legs, putting them around his waist. "I'm going to start moving, okay?".

You nodded barely, taking a deep breath. You wanted to keep all your concentration on not moaning as if your life depended on it. 

Yoongi, on the other hand, wanted to make you scream loud enough to let the whole neighborhood know you were fucking. Or at least that's what you thought he thought when he started ramming you roughly.

"Y-yoongi, wait" you gasped, clinging to his back. You'd probably leave some nasty scratches. "I-if you do it this hard I won't be able to..." you bit your tongue as you felt his tongue start to play with your nipples. He seriously wasn't going for teasing.

"Stop holding back" he murmured, pulling on your left nipple hard as his tongue and teeth tended to your right nipple. You hadn't even noticed that he had removed the top of your bathing suit. "I want to hear you moan my name, why don't you? Everyone here wanted us to end up like this anyway, I don't see what the problem is in letting them know I'm fucking you."

When he noticed that you were willing to keep quiet to maintain your dignity in front of your friends, Yoongi didn't hesitate to make his onslaught faster and harder, enough to make the bed move and the backrest hit the wall.

Whether you groaned or not, one of them would notice what was happening just by the sound of the bed.

You were going to kill Yoongi after this.

You let your head fall on the sheets of the guest bed. You hesitated a bit at first, but decided to listen to Yoongi, he was right anyway, it was your friends who wanted this to happen, now they couldn't complain.

As soon as you stopped holding your moans, Yoongi started to get even more out of control, as if that were possible. He grabbed your waist with one hand while with the other he continued to amuse himself with your breast, smiling as he noticed that they were big enough to not fit in his hands. 

You whimpered as he bit your nipple and pulled hard on it. You couldn't help but squirm under him. 

"Yoongi" you moaned in his ear, clinging to his back as if your life depended on it.

"Yes?" he murmured against your chest, starting to suck on it and leave little kisses around your nipples. 

"I... it's... I don't know if I can..." you growled under your breath as you realized you couldn't finish the sentence even if you wanted to. Every time you finished a word, Yoongi gave you an even harder thrust than the last.

He smiled, lifting his face to come face to face with you. "Are you close?" he whispered against your lips, lowering the hand he had on your waist to your femininity. It was only enough for him to touch your clitoris for your entire body to tremble and melt at his touch. "Don't worry, I got you."

You sighed, looking up at Yoongi. He was enchanted by the sight. He'd dreamed of this a lot before, but to have you under him with your breasts bouncing and glistening from sucking them earlier, to see you with that look that screamed out in leagues that you were having the best fuck ever, your pussy clenching his cock every time he tugged or sucked on your nipples. This definitely far surpassed your imagination.

"I'm going to-" you moaned loudly, closing your eyes tightly. Yoongi had rammed against your G-spot too hard, and you seriously regretted that. He wasn't going to let it go, you noticed as you saw his teasing gaze fix on yours.

Just as you thought, Yoongi kept hitting your sensitive spot, increasing the speed of his thumb on your clitoris. At this point you weren't even straining to close your mouth anymore, you were hesitant to even be able to do so. You felt Yoongi's cock start to twist inside you and smiled to yourself. You were glad you weren't the only one reaching her limit.

"Fuck, you're so beautiful" he growled in your ear, quickening the pace of his onslaught as his gasps and hoarse moans grew louder. "I waited so long to be able to fuck you, I dreamed of this so many times."

Yoongi gave a low moan as he felt you squeeze his cock too hard, "I-if you do that I won't be able to take much more" he murmured, brushing the sweaty hair off his forehead and looking up at you.

You laughed between gasps, hugging his neck, "It's okay, I got you" you smiled at him, repeating the same words he had given you earlier.

It only took those words and the sight of your smiling face to make Yoongi come inside you hard, pressing his hips with yours until absolutely all of his cum came out of his member.

You came soon after, moaning softly as you felt yourself finally reaching your long awaited release. 

You both stayed in each other's arms for a few minutes, waiting to come down from your euphoria.

"I think we're going to have to change the sheets" you laughed softly, stroking Yoongi's lower back.

He nodded in agreement, leaving a soft kiss on your collarbone. "I'll go get a towel to clean you up, wait here," he said softly, pressing a kiss to your lips. It was sweet and slow, and you liked it so much you came within an inch of begging him to stay and forget the stupid towel. You weren't able to.

Yoongi came out of you gently. You both groaned before the sensation. You were starting to miss the way his cock felt inside you. He grabbed his bathing suit and carefully put it on, leaving the room but not before you checked the hallway. He didn't want to open the door and have someone see you in that state.

He went downstairs and walked to the closet where he knew Jiah kept a couple of towels and sheets. He took the opportunity to pull out some clean ones.

"Yoongi, you're here" Soomin approached him. She was bringing two glasses of strawberry juice. He was still touched to see how she totally refused to drink alcohol at parties just so she could bring Taehyung home safe and sound. "I thought you wouldn't leave the room after all the fuss you made."

Yoongi felt his whole face light up beyond belief. He totally regretted asking you moaning out loud.

"Here," she extended one of the glasses in his direction. Still a little confused, he took the glass with his free hand, "She must have a bit of a dry throat, ask her to drink some," Soomin smiled kindly at him, taking her purse and pulling a pill out of it, "I don't think you want to have children at the beginning of your relationship."

He felt a tightness in his chest as he thought about what Soomin said. The beginning of a relationship... It sounded amazing to him.

"Thanks, I owe you one" he smiled back at her, hurrying up the stairs to come back to you. He smiled internally at the thought that this would be the first of many nights together.

Materlist.

[causenessus]

cold kisses

part 0.3. USER 7193

PLAYING FROM KODZUKEN'S STREAM . . . feels by calvin harris

maybe he should have expected this. 

nearly all of his posts have been overrun with questions about y/n in the comments. the comments range from simple “who was the girl in your cooking stream??” demands to extremely specific ones detailing her exact hair color, height, and voice pitch as if he’s had another mysterious girl on a stream that he’ll confuse her for.

he’s been doing his best to avoid questions about her but it could only work for so long. now there’s only questions about y/n left in the chat and he’s not sure what to do. it was easy to ignore the questions when he wasn’t doing an entire question and answer live stream but he’d promised to do one soon and he thought having shoyo with him was going to help. 

it did for the most part, and everything seemed normal but he was at a loss for words when the chat started to flood with questions about y/n.

shoyo leaned closer to read a question outloud, “‘girl from the cooking stream?’ i keep seeing that, do they not know–”

a reflex kicks in and he slaps a hand over shoyo’s mouth, pushing him away from the screen again before removing his hand trying to act normal.

the ginger looks at him, a mix of surprise and confusion on his face. “sorry,” kenma apologizes quickly, shocked by his own actions. “no, they don’t know anything about her,” he answers, trying to make it clear that he wants to keep it that way.

but the chat is already too far gone, using this one mention to run wild with theories. he can’t blame them, really. sometimes they’re a little over the top and unnecessarily pushy as if they have no sense of respect but in this scenario what else could they talk about besides a mysterious person that just entered the picture? but that didn't mean he enjoyed dealing with it.

messages transition quickly from asking what they “don’t know about” to inferring that he has a secret girlfriend. he groans, looking away from the screen. his mind working fast to try and come up with an excuse or explanation; a single mention of her and they already think he’s dating someone. he’s sure that the internet would go crazy with this information as well, fabricating stories, scandals, and everything in between.

his phone starts to buzz.

speak of the devil.

it’s a notification from twitter, some unofficial update account that’s tagged him about having a secret girlfriend.

he needs to think.

he can see shoyo eyeing him out of the corner of his eyes and he knows he’s been silent for too long on camera.

god, someone was going to find out who she was soon, right? weren’t fans supposed to be good at doxxing each other?

but how does he play off being roommates with an olympic athlete? an olympic athlete whose currently being shipped to the max with the most typical copy and paste guy everyone has the hots for?

maybe it’d be better for him to leave it to a random fan to find out who she is and announce it to the world–no, then he’ll just look bad for hiding things after so much has already come to light. it’s best for him to come up with an excuse right now. if he said she was his girlfriend maybe he could ask them to leave her alone. maybe they’d listen to him.

it sounded like his best option but he couldn’t just make that decision on his own without talking to her.

but he also couldn’t stand up and the leave the room for an unprecedented amount of time after keeping quiet for so long.

he looks at the chat one more time, seeing the word girlfriend in nearly every message. if they already think they’re dating it can’t be that bad, right?

“kenma…?” shoyo breaks him out of a trance, touching him on the back.

kenma looks at him, unsure of what to say. he feels dizzy and his mind won’t stop whirring with thoughts and worries.

“you’ve been really quiet,” shoyo lowers his voice so that only kenma can hear him, “i think you need to say something.”

he glances at the chat again. still stuff about y/n.

she’d be okay with it, right? maybe if she isn’t he’ll just tell twitter that his girlfriend broke up with him because his fans are pushy little shits and he’ll agree with her word for word and then his fans will cancel him and he can move to another country and live a happy little life working in a cat shelter–

no. he likes his life the way it is now. he’s winged everything so far but he’s grown quite a small community for himself this way. he can do this. if y/n doesn’t agree, he’ll figure something out later.

“okay,” kenma finally speaks, dropping his hands that he’s been running through his hair absentmindedly. “since none of you guys are gonna leave this alone, yes. the girl from that last stream is my girlfriend, happy?” he watches his chat run wild with numerous exclamations. he thinks finally about his poor moderators. he’ll definitely have to give them something after this stream. “i’ve been trying to lay low about it because i didn’t want the world to freak out but now it’s out. just try and be respectful, okay? i love her a lot.” the words aren’t hard to say when they’re about her. he can say them honestly and play them off as a joke later, but for now he enjoys how nice it feels to say it.

he can see that shoyo has frozen up out of the corner of his eye. he needs to end this stream before either of them say something else they shouldn’t. he’ll answer a few more questions and slowly ease into a goodbye so that he can end the stream and debrief shoyo.

prev. | m.list | next

extras <3

this is a long chapter i'm sorry 💀 literally there's more but i tried to split this evenly into two chapters

kenma was literally just going through some random person's account who made edits of ice skating partners to self sabotage himself

yn wasn't sure when they'd be releasing partner pair ups and really freaked out when they were announced

she was texting everyone and tweeting a ton

she messaged her media girl like "hey i'm not comfortable with people sending me writing shipping me with atsumu can we please do something about it" and the girl replied, "what do you want me to do?? report them?? write you a message that you can tweet about your boundaries?? (yes) if that's what they want to write deal with it at least they like u"

and they wonder why she just posts whatever she's feeling on her main unless iwa tells her otherwise

noya has gotten distracted from the main topic of a chat to reply with a <3 to something nice y/n says multiple times

they're fr just best buds holding hand in the middle of a warzone where iwaizumi reigns over all

(the only two soldiers are suna and tsukishima)

suna's a lot softer without tsukishima around

he just feels like he needs his guard up around such a salty person

do not ask me why i made rofltropper an antagonist for no reason

kageyama was really just trying to finally do his english homework while waiting for hinata to come home and then he heard kuroo and oikawa start to yell

he was a little scared but then was like "if they can't reach me i'm safe" and they they slammed the door shut and his room shook a little

someone on the floor probably wrote up a complaint about them

taglist: @rinheartshyunlix @kettlepop @eggyrocks @cr4yolaas @httpakkeiji @keioover @does-directions @calx-bdo @staygoldsquatchling02 @cherrypieyourface @iluv-ace @kitty-m30w @h3xi2g0n3 @mylahrins @thechaosoflonging @momoriii-i @localgaytrainwreck @a-pastel-edgelord @bugglesboop @polish-cereal @osakis-gf @whykirbo @phoenix-eclipses @faesix @ryeyeyer @starxq.zip @skylarkalchemist @kunimix @sereniteav @kodzubaby (form to be added to taglist! <3)

[harrysfolklore]

Heyyy I you need fc I suggest kiana davis!! I love her hairrrr it’s so pretty

okay this ended up being suuuuper long but i hope you like it ! tell me your thoughts <3

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celebrityleaks HARRY STYLES COZIES UP WITH NEW GIRLFRIEND IN LONDON

FOLLOW US FOR THE EXCLUSIVE VIDEO

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harryfan1 OH

harryfan2 yeah i don’t like this at all she can go

harryfan3 YIKESSSSSS i hope she goes away soon

harryfan4 omfg this comment section

harryfan5 WH*REEEEE

bradgouldtraining Disappointed to see media outlets invite someone else’s private lives for clicks, but more disappointed to see this vile comments.

↳ harryfan1 wtf brad???

↳ harryfan4 y’all are going to hell

gifs by @sue <;33

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theharrytea OKAY A LOT OF SPECULATION ABOUT THIS MOMENT LAST NIGHT !!!

some fans say that he was reacting to a sign, while others who were close by yn and brad in the pit claim that he was actually interacting with her, since they saw her mouthing stuff to him.

THOUGHTS?

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harryfan1 harry is unhinged that’s all i’ll say

harryfan2 im crumbling over here

harryfan3 looks like she asked him to make out or something 😭

harryfan4 HE WAS DEFINITELY FLIRTING OMFG

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harrystyles Love On Tour. Cardiff I. June, 2023.

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harryfan1 LOVIEEE

musicariza 🐉🐉🐉

harryfan2 come online and address the rumors

yourinstagram 🕺 ily

↳ harryfan2 OH

↳ harryfan3 MISS OPEN YOUR DOORS

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yourinstagram another day, another country, another love on tour fit 💕

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yourmom My pretty girl ❤️

bradgouldtraining The queen 🕺

jefezoff Slay bestie.

yourinstagram i love my fans

harrystyles Gorgeous x

↳ yourinstagram like i said, my fans 🥰

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harryupdates “NO! No more trying to shoot your shot with me! I’m taken! I’m taken! My girlfriend is here and this is a family show” Harry confirming he’s in a relationship on stage tonight 😳

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harryfan1 WTFFFFF

harryfan2 I MEAN WE ALREADY KNEW BUT

harryfan3 man he’s insane

harryfan4 TWITTER COLLAPSED

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yourinstagram my honest reaction to harry hard launching us tonight lol

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annetwist 😂😂😂❤️

paulithepsm I mean it was about damn time

↳ harry__lambert Word

harrystyles I love you. That’s all x

↳ yourinstagram ily more sappy boy

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harrystyles Love On Tour. Düsseldorf II. June, 2023.

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harryfan1 BABYYYY

paulithepsm 💙

harryfan2 that’s boyfriendrry i can’t

yourinstagram best show 🤍

↳ harryfan3 i’m so jealous of you right now

iheartradio i am in fact harry’s girlfriend

taglist: @lightsoutstyles @waitingroomharry y @willowpains @straightontilmornin @sleutherclaw @gimsaysay @hazzassmirk @platinumbarbie143 @musicforcinemas @celesteblack08 @scntfrhs @eleanordaisy @lomlolivia @iceebabies @iloveshawn @be-with-me-so-happily

tell me if you want to be added <3

[callsign-rogueone]

what was I made for? - g.t.

Garrick Tavis x Marked!Pacifist!Reader (continuation of keep her safe) The aftermath of War Games has you questioning your purpose, and what your signet truly is. wc: 4.4k 🏷: FOURTH WING AND IRON FLAME SPOILERS (I have 50 pages left, but I just can’t do it. send help.) canon-level violence, injury, canon character death, self doubt, anxiety. oops, I made Dain tolerable again. angst, then happy, then more angst. I also skipped over a smut scene / just made a reference to it happening, so if anyone wants that as a separate post, lmk and I can make it happen 👀 thank you to everyone who liked/reblogged/commented on part 1! it means a lot to me 🫶

Riorson House is more your home than Basgiath ever has been, but it’s become foreign to you in the three years you’d spent at the college. It feels like you’re hallucinating as you wander the halls.

Maybe everything that’s happened in the last few days has been a hallucination -- it wouldn't be the first time Varrish or Carr had pushed you to delirium with the amount of pain you’d taken for others.

Maybe it’s a dream. That’s it. A really bad dream. Any moment now, you’re going to wake up in Garrick’s bed and get ready for morning formation, and you’ll forget the sight of Liam dying by breakfast, when you’re sitting across from him at the table like you always do. Violet’s screams of pain will stop playing in your ears, replaced by her laughter at one of Ridoc’s jokes.

But no matter how much you pinch at your skin, you aren’t waking up. This is reality.

“I hear you’re a mender, too,” someone says in a gentle voice, bringing you out of your daze. Violet’s brother, Brennan.

“Does it ever get easier?” You ask quietly. “Does it always hurt this much?”

“Mending becomes easier. Seeing that kind of stuff every day doesn’t,” he replies, and the exhausted look on his face tells you he’s being honest. “But it shouldn’t hurt. Tell me more about that.”

“The second person I mended was a scribe who’d fallen from a ladder in the library and broken her leg. I did everything right, the bone set properly, but my leg hurt for a week, right where she’d broken hers.”

Brennan is silent, letting you continue.

“They broke Garrick’s arm in RSC. I was able to fix it for him, and I took the pain, but they broke it again two hours later. I mended him and Xaden over and over until I collapsed. I didn’t wake for two days. They both still think it was just exhausting for me. They don’t know about the pain.”

The tears are coming openly now, dripping down your cheeks, and you bring a hand up to wipe them away with the sleeve of your flight jacket. “But it isn’t all bad. I couldn’t save Liam, but I was able to make him more comfortable in the end. I took his pain away, and let him go in peace.”

You don’t tell him what death feels like. No description you could give could adequately prepare anyone for the cold sensation that still lingers in your chest. It will likely remain there for the next few days.

“Hey,” he says softly, “We’ll figure this out, I promise. For now, just try to get some rest.” 

You nod quietly, looking back up at him. “Can someone please tell Garrick that I’m okay?” You ask in a small voice, folding your hands in your lap. You’d been heartbroken to realize that the rest of the squad had left for Basgiath before you woke, leaving you here alone.

You didn’t get to say goodbye to any of them, and you don’t know when you’ll see them again. Or if you’ll see them, you think, but you push the thought away quickly. They’ll survive. They have to.

Brennan cracks a smile - everyone in the rebel cause is aware of how deeply Garrick loves you. “Of course.”

———————————————————————

“Cadet Mairi died alongside his dragon, who was attacked by a drift of Gryphon riders. Cadet Avan attempted to mend them, and died trying,” Xaden says levelly, staring down the group of professors on the dais. “They both died honorable, but preventable deaths.”

Garrick knows Xaden is lying, knows you aren’t dead — or you hadn’t been when they left for Basgiath, at least, but his friend’s words have him on edge. Have you woken up yet? 

Chradh speaks into his mind, sending a wave of hot rage through him. “Relax.”

“Relax?” He echoes, irate. “You’re telling me to relax right now, when-”

Chradh doesn’t bother to argue with him. “She is safe under the care of the silver one’s brother, where she will remain until the moment is right. It is better this way. She won’t be in pain anymore.”

Chradh doesn’t elaborate further. Fucking dragons and their constant need to speak in riddles.

The rest of the quadrant spends the night drinking and congratulating themselves on surviving, but Garrick doesn’t touch a drop of alcohol. The three of you were supposed to do this together. It wouldn’t be right to celebrate without you.

———————————————————————

“We’re gonna start from square one, with something that can’t hurt you,” Brennan says, placing two halves of a cracked plate on the table in front of you.

It’s simple enough to make the pieces rise into the air, using the same magic required to make a pen write for you. You concentrate, willing the halves to fuse together. They touch, and you think you’ve done it, your heart leaping, only to fall as they crash back down to the table again, splitting into even more pieces.

Brennan touches one of the shards, and they glue themselves back together perfectly; no cracks, no trace of the plate ever having been broken. “That’s what I thought.”

“Let me keep trying,” you begin, heart pounding. Brennan can’t think you’re a failure, not this early.

“You could sit here with this plate all day and it wouldn’t change,” he says gently, confirming what you know deep down. “I don’t think you’re a mender. I think you’re something else entirely.”

You sit with the information for a moment.

“Signets take the form of our base need as a person,” he says. “We need to find out what that is for you.”

You already know. “I wake up every day grateful that Xaden bargained for our lives, but I have done too much harm in my time at Basgiath. The crown has done too much harm to Tyrrendor. All I’ve ever wished for is to fix that, to undo the pain.”

“To undo the pain, or to help move forward and grow?” He asks gently.

You aren’t sure.

———————————————————————

You go through your morning stretches, as always, focusing on your breath to distract from the pain in your side. 

“Your mate has returned.” Tab says, interrupting. “Thought you’d like to know.”

You bolt upright, running through the house toward the gates, bypassing Xaden to sprint straight toward Garrick.

He wraps you in a warm embrace, resting his chin on the top of your head. You still fit together like puzzle pieces, even after months apart.

“You’re alive,” you breathe. “Nobody would tell me anything, I was worried sick,”

“Of course I’m alive, angel. Had to come back to you.”

You trace the Lieutenant’s patch across his collarbone, memorizing the shape. It looks natural on him, like it’s always been there. It sounds good, too. Lieutenant Garrick Tavis.

“I need to tell you something,” you say quietly, “I haven’t been entirely honest with you about-“

Footsteps approach. “Sorry to break up the reunion,” Felix says, “but Avan, we need you.”

There’s something in his tone that has your heart pounding. Which of your friends is it going to be this time?

“Tell me later,” Garrick says. “Go. Do what you were made to do.”

You know he means well, but his words tie your stomach in a knot. What you were made to do. Were you truly made to endure the suffering of others?

———————————————————————

Every muscle in your body feels like it’s on fire as you slump into a chair, sitting down for the first time that day. If you’re lucky, you’ll be able to get some sleep before you’re needed again.

“There you are. I didn’t see you in battle brief.” Garrick says, relieved.

“Haven’t been going,” you mumble. “They need me here. Bren’s teaching now, so s’ just me and one other mender.”

He realizes no healers had come with the riot from Basgiath. You likely haven’t left the infirmary since they’d arrived.

“Come to bed,” he coaxes softly. “You need sleep. You can't pour from an empty cup.”

Yes, you can. You have been for months.

He takes your hand, not giving you a choice. You lean into him as he leads you up the grand staircase to a room near Xaden’s. Your muscles protest every step, but you keep quiet.

You haven’t been in here for years, not since you’d left for Basgiath as candidates, but it’s exactly the same as you remember; dark drapery, bookshelves, a neat display of the knives that he hadn’t taken to school with him.

The sight has you in tears.

“Whoa, hey,” he says softly, pulling you closer, and you whimper in pain at the pressure against your ribs. He lets go immediately. “Angel, I’m sorry — are you hurt?”

You sob, the dam finally breaking and grief flooding out of you. You haven’t seen each other since that horrible day, you haven’t seen anyone from the squad you went with to Resson, haven’t had anyone to talk about it with, until now. 

You shake your head, tears dripping down your cheeks. “I couldn’t save Liam. I tried, I really did. All I could do was take his pain away.”

So Xaden had told Basgiath the truth, to some degree: you tried to fix Liam, and couldn’t. The boy’s death had hurt you badly enough that Xaden wouldn’t let you return to the school.

“There was nothing else you could do. Nobody could save him, not after Deigh…”

“I know that, but it wasn’t just him. Everyone I’ve ever… fixed, I’ve taken the pain from their body into mine, and I can’t get rid of it for days.”

Garrick’s heart breaks. So that’s what Chradh meant when he said you wouldn’t be in pain anymore if you left Basgiath. Those eight-hour days of mending infantry may as well have been torture for you. 

Torture. RSC. You’d healed his wounds, Xaden’s, Bodhi’s, Violet’s, time and time again without complaint, and he knew it took a lot out of you, but not that it hurt. “Angel, why didn’t you tell me? If I’d known…”

“I wanted to,” you sniffle, “I wanted to tell you a year ago when it started happening. I thought it was normal, that I was just weak, until Brennan told me that this doesn’t happen to him. He just gets tired, like everyone else does when they use their signets too much.”

You try to steady your breathing, but the pain in your not-broken ribs is too overwhelming. “I’ve spent hours practicing and I can’t even fix a broken plate. I’m not a mender. I don’t know what I am. Nobody does, not even the professors. Brennan thinks it’s getting better, but I don’t have it in me to tell him that it isn’t.”

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers. He wants to pull you into an embrace, wants to stroke your hair and tell you it’ll be okay, but he doesn’t want to hurt you any more than he already has.

“S’ not your fault.” You sniff.

“But it’s not yours, either,” he reminds you gently. “You’re so strong, angel. You crossed the parapet, ran the gauntlet, you bonded a dragon, and you’ve endured everything else. Please don’t ever think for a second that you’re weak.”

He takes your hand in his, watching your face carefully, but you don’t wince at the touch. “We’ll talk to Brennan tomorrow, together. For now, I just want you to get some sleep, okay?”

You nod silently, having run out of tears.

“Attagirl.”

As you settle into bed next to him, freshly showered and wearing one of his warm sweaters, you swear the pain has dimmed.

———————————————————————

When Garrick takes you to see Brennan the next morning, he isn’t alone. Your professors are seated beside him, along with some of the Tyrrish elders.

Devera speaks first. “We owe you an apology, Cadet Avan. The faculty was unaware that Carr and Varrish were using your signet as a method of punishment, or that it pains you to use it.”

“And I owe you an apology,” you say quietly. “I should have come back after the War Games.”

“That was my decision,” Xaden says firmly, “and I stand by it. She was in no condition to return to the school, much less to graduate and be stationed at an outpost across the continent from her support system, while still feeling the coldness of Cadet Mairi’s death.”

How does he know that you could feel it? Had you told him in your delirium? Had Brennan told him? Had you even told Brennan? 

“Your friends have effectively plead your case, and we agree that you have satisfied all the requirements for graduation from the Rider’s Quadrant.” Emeterrio says. “Congratulations, Lieutenant.”

Garrick slips your flight jacket onto your shoulders, and you notice the Lieutenant insignia has already been sewn on, to match his. When did he…? 

You accept the handshake Devera offers you, still a little dazed, but there’s one more order of business to address.

“May I rejoin my old squad?” You ask the table of professors quietly. “They are family to me. I would like to ride with them again, and aid them however I can.”

They exchange hesitant looks, and your heart sinks. Do they not think you’re good enough?

“I don’t see why not,” Brennan says firmly enough for everyone else to agree — he outranks the professors with the years he’s been part of the movement.

You exhale in relief.

Garrick cheers. “The dream team is back, baby!” He pulls you into a gentle embrace, knowing you’re still in pain, but wanting to hold you close.

You laugh, not minding the ache in your ribs.

Xaden is unimpressed. “When have we ever once called ourselves the dream team?”

“We haven’t, but I’m starting now. It’ll stick. I’ll have it embroidered on your flight jacket, Xay.”

“Don’t you fucking dare,” Xaden replies, setting off a brotherly argument behind you.

You look to the leadership once more, bowing your head in respect. “Thank you. For everything.”

Devera gives you a warm smile. “I am glad to see you have found your place here, Lieutenant. Remember that your empathy is a gift, even in times of war.”

Empathy.

“Am I dismissed?” You ask.

“Yes, Lieutenants, you are all dismissed,” Emeterrio answers dryly, looking over your shoulder at Garrick and Xaden. The latter has the former in a playful headlock, messing up his hair. 

“Human boys,” Tab says, exasperated. You laugh in agreement, leaving them in the Assembly room to sort themselves out.

It’s easy enough to find who you’re looking for — he’s the only person sitting completely alone in the mess, a textbook open in front of him that he isn’t reading. He’s gazing into the distance, eyes unfocused, but he looks up when he realizes you’re standing in front of him.

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly, “about what I saw in Varrish’s office. I had no idea how much you all have endured. What we are taught in Navarre is only one side of the story, but you showed me the other.”

“I’m glad I could help change your mind.”

He reaches into the pocket of his flight jacket and extends a hand. Your protection rune sits in his palm, complete with a new leather cord. “A peace offering. I stole it back from Varrish, and Brennan mended it.”

You smile, taking it from him and slipping it back over your head. “You’re turning into quite the rule-breaker, Aetos. But thank you. It means a lot to me.”

You’re about to leave, but something compels you to impart a piece of advice. “I know how it feels when people don’t want to trust you because of your family history. It’ll take a while for some of them to warm up to you, but you can make it go a lot faster if you keep yourself out of trouble.”

———————————————————————

Your first flight back with your squad is supposed to be easy, a surveying flight with a small riot, just to check their perimeters, but you can’t seem to quell your anxiety as you take off.

“We will be fine, gentle one. We’re in strong company,” Tab reassures. He stays close to Chradh, knowing Garrick’s proximity will calm you. “How does it feel to be back?”

“Good. I’ve missed this.”

“You have always enjoyed being up this high,” he agrees. “Shall we review some of our basic maneuvers?”

“Sure.”  Maybe that will settle your nerves.

“Hold on.” Tab dips, practicing all the angles — banking right, left, up, down.

“Something is wrong,” you blurt, and Tab straightens his path immediately, falling back into the formation. Every nerve in your body pulses with a sensation you’ve never felt before, standing on end. “Something really bad is going to happen.”

You’re right.

“Wyvern,” Tab warns just as they come into your line of sight. They charge straight at the front of the riot, where Sgaeyl leads the pack. 

You’re outmatched, nearly two dozen of them and only ten of you. You’re going to die here. At least you’ll be with your best friends.

“That kind of thinking isn’t helpful!” Tab scolds, tightening the formation. 

One gets too close for comfort, spewing blue flame, and Chradh banks hard - too hard. You gasp in horror as Garrick is thrown from his seat down to the ground below.

“Dive!” You yell, and Tab follows without hesitation, making a near-vertical drop.

You’ve never been so grateful for the running landing they’d taught you last year. It had been excruciating to execute on top of the pain of unbroken bones, but it’s just manageable now after a few days off from the infirmary.

Clutching Failsafe for dear life, your only defense, you sprint toward Garrick’s limp body, ripping off your goggles.

His heart still beats, but multiple bones look broken, his breathing labored. Touching him is almost unbearable, which tells you he won’t last much longer if you don’t do something.

Deep breaths, like Brennan had taught you, to accept their pain as it entered your body, holding it before batting it away like a fly.

You still haven’t figured out how to make that work.

Hot tears roll down your cheeks, and you start to berate yourself; Why can’t you do this? Compose yourself. Garrick is going to die if you can’t pull it together. Garrick is going to die, just like Liam did, because you aren’t strong enough to fix a fucking plate.

Anger overcomes you for the first time since you’d watched your parents die six years ago. You scream, a sound like nothing you’ve ever heard before splitting the air. The pain dissipates almost instantly. For the first time in two years, your body isn’t aching, and you sob in relief.

Garrick bolts upright, gasping for breath as spring blooms across the snowy plain, trees with bare branches suddenly teeming with green leaves.

Tab roars in pride and the rest of the riot joins in, the cliffs shaking from the volume of their celebration. 

“Lifebringer!” He thunders into your mind. 

Your head snaps upward, and you realize that the ground is littered with motionless wyvern.

Garrick pulls you to your feet, brushing the tears from your cheeks. “Come on, angel,” he says, grinning, “we have a war to win.”

You’re still dazed as Tab brings you back to Riorson house, Garrick helping you dismount and leading you inside.

“We have a weapon,” Xaden says, actually smiling as he faces the assembly. “Something, someone, that can destroy wyvern in their tracks.”

Garrick keeps you glued to his side as Xaden tells the elders what happened, but it’s all in one ear, out the other.

You’re dismissed after a few minutes, heading back out to the mess, where your friends gather around one of the large tables in the library.

“Tab called me lifebringer,” you say, confused. “What is that?”

“I thought it was just folklore,” Violet says from a few rows down, scanning the shelves, and everyone turns to her, listening. “Lifebringers are said to influence healing and growth. In some cultures, they’ve been credited with ending famines by rejuvenating harvests, and saving the innocent from the grasp of Malek and his Death.”

“Wicked,” Ridoc appraises quietly.

“Aha.” Violet produces a thin volume, cracking it open to the right page. The illustration there looks uncannily like you.

“Only the purest of heart can be lifebringers, those who hold no malice toward their fellow man. The weapons they carry are sharp, but unused,” she reads aloud. “Garrick gave you Failsafe as just that — a failsafe. You never drew blood with it. You never hurt anyone except in challenges, when it was kill or be killed, and even then you held back.”

Bodhi speaks next. “With most signets, the stronger the wielder’s emotion, the more powerful the ability becomes. You feel empathy for the wounded, so you can fix them and ease their pain, but when you thought Garrick was going to die, that was another level of distress, and I guess it was enough to overcome the dark magic.” 

Garrick squeezes your shoulder in reassurance that he’s still very much alive beside you.

Violet closes the book, setting it down.

“I’m not in pain anymore,” you whisper, still dazed. You’ve almost forgotten what that feels like, having spent the last three years holding both your own and that of all your friends.

“You needed an outlet,” Xaden says. “Pain makes it harder to channel, and you were in pain 24/7, which is why the professors thought your signet was underdeveloped. Getting angry, and getting that energy out of your body allowed you to use the full extent of your power.”

“If I had known this earlier, do you think I could have…” you don’t finish the sentence. Everyone in this room knows how hard you’d tried to save Liam.

“Maybe,” Violet says quietly, “but that is not a path you want to go down. Trust me.”

———————————————————————

“Do you want to explain why the hallway was full of sunflowers when I went to bed last night?” Xaden asks slyly, dropping into a seat in front of you with a plate of eggs and bacon.

You burn with embarrassment.

Bodhi grins. “You see, cousin, when a man and a woman love each other very much, - ow, fuck!” He exclaims, rubbing the back of his head where Garrick had whacked him.

“At least they didn’t set the vale on fire,” another of your squadmates says, looking at Xaden and Violet pointedly. “You still owe me for putting that out, by the way.”

Your eyes widen as you connect the dots. “So all that dry lightning last year was you two…”

“Okay, changing the subject!” Brennan says loudly, not liking the way this conversation is headed. “We need to figure out how to use your signet without endangering Tavis’s life again.”

“Well, it sounds like they already found another way,” Ridoc says, grinning, but he squeaks out an apology as Garrick begins to rise from his chair.

You tug your boyfriend back into his seat by the sleeve, looking past him at Brennan. “I think I need to work a few days in the infirmary between flights,” you propose. “If I build up enough pain, I could probably-“

“NO,” the whole squad says at once, Tab included.

“Your healing is only to be used when absolutely necessary,” Xaden orders, and even though you’re on equal footing now, both newly-minted Lieutenants, you agree quietly without protest.

“See, that’s your problem,” Sloane says, and all eyes turn to her. “You defer to literally everyone. You’re an officer now. Act like it.”

“Pardon?” You ask, looking at her in disbelief.

“That’s exactly what she’s talking about,” Imogen cuts in. “Pardon? You can’t even discipline a first-year cadet. Do you really think any veteran rider will ever listen to what you have to say?”

“Enough,” you say firmly, your nails digging into the wood.

None of your friends intervene, not even Brennan. This has to be another nightmare. There’s no way they'd hang you out to dry like this. Right?

Sloane isn’t finished. “It’s a miracle you made it out of Basgiath alive. You’re too soft. If you won’t kill anyone, what are you going to do when it’s between your life or someone else’s? Their life or his?”

The mention of Garrick is your last straw. “That is enough from both of you, Cadets,” you reprimand. Thorny vines burst from the seams of the table, whipping out toward them, and they stagger back to avoid being cut.

You startle, your heart pounding against your ribs as you realize what you’ve done.

Sloane is the first to apologize. “I’m sorry. We didn’t mean any of it. I just thought that provoking you might…” she doesn’t finish the sentence, looking down at the still-twitching vines covering the tabletop.

“We definitely took it too far,” Imogen adds, sounding genuinely remorseful. “That was a really fucked up thing for me to say. I’m sorry.”

Bodhi waves a hand, and the vines slither back into the table, as if they were never there. 

Your eyes widen at the blood on his cheeks — he’d been caught in the crossfire. You touch his face with a shaky hand, only brushing your fingertips across the skin, and the scratches disappear instantly, leaving no trace of the harm you’d done.

Somehow that makes you feel worse.

“Well,” Garrick says in his section-leader voice, “that was certainly informative, but none of you are to ever disrespect her like that again. Is that clear?”

“Yes,” both girls answer quietly, heads lowered in shame.

Your breathing has steadied enough to speak. “I understand why you did that, but I’m not going to tell you that it was okay, because it wasn’t.”

With that, you take your plate and leave. Nobody follows you.

———————————————————————

The balcony door slides open, soft footsteps approaching.

“I want to be alone, Gare,” you say quietly. 

“Not Garrick,” Xaden replies, settling down next to you on the stone floor, “and you may want to be alone right now, but you probably shouldn’t be.”

“I didn't mean to hurt anyone, Xay. You know that,” you whisper. You don’t move your gaze from the potted plant in front of you, as if you’re worried it will lash out at you — or him — if you turn away.

“I know, angel. I know.” He exhales deeply, a gentle cloud forming with the warmth of his breath. 

There’s a moment of quiet before he speaks again, just the sound of the cold wind over the valley and the distant footsteps of cadets running on the trail below. “Working through this is not going to be easy, but if anyone can do it, it’s you.”

You’ve come to hate that notion, everyone’s insistence that the pain you’ve been through has primed you for more pain, different pain. Why can’t it ever end?

[redclercs]

DELICATE✰ CHARLES LECLERC.

ix. i'm so sick of running as fast as i can

— the one where they painted you out to be bad (so it's okay that you're mad).

warnings: fair warning you're going to be pissed, foul language, this one has more media between text and it's a little long. 2.3k words (+articles and a very long youtube thing!!)

currently playing: it's time to go by taylor swift!

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By Alana Blake

YOU read it here first, friends. #YNCHARLES is still going strong even after the mess y/n found herself in during the Spanish Grand Prix weekend.

Rumor had it that after y/n's declarations where she said 'it was not serious' and 'she was just having fun', the Monegasque heartthrob dumped her immediately. This was fueled by the fact that we didn't see any pictures of them together during such weekend.

But sources have come to the rescue, letting us all know they're not broken up! "They talk every day for hours," our source said, "Both are still trying to keep it fun but more lowkey after everyone found out about the cheating."

RELATED: Victoria Presley's top five beauty hacks.

You would think that after a partner refers to you as a 'toy', dumping them is the best course of action, but apparently that doesn't apply to Mr. Leclerc who has "nothing but good things to say about y/n".

"He's excited to see her in New York before the Canada Grand Prix, they have it all planned out since she has her apartment back." The source added.

One thing is for sure, if we see y/n at the next Grand Prix, that's the big confirmation that they are together, since they blew their Elix cover by forcing them to end the contract.

SEE ALSO:

→ Victoria Presley's inauguration after party at the Grand Havana Room, you just had to be there.

→ Taylor Swift defends y/n y/ln: ''All of you have learned nothing!"

→ Aidan Kim on Charles Leclerc: "Never heard of him until my girlfriend cheated on me"

𝙂𝙊𝙏 𝙎𝙊𝙈𝙀𝙏𝙃𝙄𝙉𝙂 𝙏𝙊 𝙎𝘼𝙔? 𝙇𝙀𝘼𝙑𝙀 𝘼 𝘾𝙊𝙈𝙈𝙀𝙉𝙏 𝘽𝙀𝙇𝙊𝙒!

You're seeing the top comments.

Anonymous – 4 hr ago

They're both so shameless! and charles was liking tweets saying they were friends like he could really trick us.

kollhha – 3 hr ago

I hate her, Charles dump her ass for the love of god.

adriennewells – 40 min ago

no but seriously what is it about y/n that has men brainwashed?

Anonymous – 10 min ago

They WOULD be cute together, i don't think they're dating though.

June 10th, Los Angeles, California

You fit your life for the past months into two suitcases, and a carry on. Your room at Vic's house is messy and it feels strangely empty without your discarded shoes and dirty laundry on the floor. But it's time to go, you cannot impose your presence in this enormous house anymore. You have felt like an intruder since you started traveling to Formula 1 and coming back every week like this is your hotel and not your best friend's home.

"Are you really going back to New York?" Vic asks from behind you, voice low with sadness.

"Yes, Vic, I have to." you sigh, turning to meet her. She's dressed up in her fucsia workout gear, holding a light ring in her left hand and her phone in the right. Your flight leaves in the evening and you were hoping to have a meal with Vic before parting to the airport, but it looks like she's all booked.

"No you don't," she argues, entering the room. "Hollywood is here, y/n why do you need to go back to New York? You're an actress!"

You feel like a lot of things, except for an actress right now.

"I don't think Hollywood wants me right now, Vic," you say, going back to the unmade bed to lie down. You asked the cleaning lady if she could leave your room for last so you could finish picking your stuff up, and she agreed gently. "Plus, I really miss New York."

"y/n you haven't even visited my store, you can't go!" Vic's tone changes in octave, and it's not her whiny 'please don't do this' tone you're so used to. "I asked you for ONE favor and you're running to New York and you can't do even just that?"

"Woah, Vic, what the fuck?" you use your elbows as support to lean up and look at her. "Calm down. It's okay." you know her tantrum comes from the fact that she truly believes you could boost her beauty line sales and make her store a 'hot spot'. And it would work, for the wrong reasons. You don't want Vic being dragged down into this mess too. Mati and Charles are enough casualties.

"NO IT'S NOT!" Victoria is full-on yelling now, the light ring has been tossed aside. "I have given everything you've asked from me in the past months since your life started falling apart. I think I deserve something in return."

You ignore the bite of her words. She's angry, which is understandable to some level. She doesn't mean it, right? That she always expected something in return.

"Vic, listen, I know how important your store is to you. But I promise you, you don't want the attention I'm bringing to anyone close to me right now."

"Oh, so you're doing this for my own good now?" she scoffs, ponytail flying in the air as she turns around. "Are you fucking Charles Leclerc for his own good too? Or do men's reputations don't matter?" she spits.

You halt completely, halfway out of the mattress. "What did you say?"

"Oh, please y/n. You really want me to believe you don't want to be seen with me to 'protect me'" she throws the quotations in the air, "And yet you went on your pretty vacation with that bitch Matilde, and you talk to fucking Charles Leclerc every day!"

"Victoria, stop," your brain is a mix of anger, sadness and confusion. You’re having trouble catching up to the where the conversation is going. "That was different, Vic. In case you haven't noticed, things can't stop getting worse. My life is not good right now." You choke on the last words, because it's the first time you say such things out loud. You have never been more miserable.

Victoria scoffs yet again, and it’s a tear in your heart. She's really not backing off. "Of course your life isn't good y/n wah, wah. You have money and beauty and a pilot boyfriend, it sucks so much to be you!"

"Why are you so bothered about it? Why is Charles the main problem here?" you wipe the tears from your cheeks, scratching the skin with one of your rings. "Why the fuck are you acting like this?"

Everything was alright this morning at breakfast, when you reminded her you were leaving and your luggage was almost done. When you thanked her for taking you in and told her you could never really repay her support.

"Because you get everything you want all the time!" Victoria stomps to you, her face inches away when she stops. "You always get what you want no matter what. It didn't even matter that I said you view him as a fucking piece of meat! He still went after you."

The world moves in slow-motion as her words cascade on you. Your lungs close and your throat tightens again, and you want to fight the panic attack because you just know Victoria is not going to help you. How could she? If she's the one who betrayed you.

"How–Why–" you stutter, the hem of your shirt on your fist. You can fight this. "How could you do this to me?"

Victoria finally comes to the realization of what she let out, and covers her mouth. "y/n no– look–"

"Who told you about the ring?" your jaw is locked and you're trying not to lose focus. "How could you tell them about the ring?!"

"How could you not tell ME?! I'm your fucking best friend, you bitch!" she's raising her voice again, her surprise pushed aside because you're still fighting. "I had to find out through Aidan, months later."

The Cannes party. Of course.

You thought about asking her about it. Telling her it hurt you that she hung out so happily with Aidan when he was the reason you arrived at her house one night in February, frightened, sad, and confused. But you didn't because you trusted her. You would have trusted Victoria with your life at some point.

"It really is you, then," tears are streaming down your face again.

You feel stupid because only yesterday, in another rage-scroll through Twitter, you noticed people were already making theories about how it was Victoria who was selling information about you. And you felt so offended, how could they think your best friend would do that to you?

"How could you, Victoria? How could you make all that shit up?"

You talked to Victoria about the articles. You cried and told her you were sorry you didn’t let her in on the failed proposal, it was something you were still processing and couldn’t bring yourself to talk about, still wondering if it had been a mistake every now and then. You told her how sorry you felt to Charles because he just wanted to hang out with you—to be friends with you—and people marked him down as a home wrecker when he had nothing to do with it.

“It was definitely Mia though, wasn’t it?” She said as she rubbed your back and passed the box of tissues to you. “She always hated you, so weird. It was like she loved Aidan in a fucked up way.” Victoria even shuddered exaggeratedly, trying to make you laugh.

“Yeah I’m sure it was Mia, Aidan just won’t admit it.” You let her wipe your tears and smooth your hair down. Nobody could convince you that your ex-sister-in-law didn’t run to People and spewed shit. It was the most logical conclusion that Aidan was protecting his little sister.

This had been three days ago, she lied and made fun of you, to your face.

"So now I'm a liar? You are fucking Charles Leclerc! Or what, you expect me to believe all you do is hold hands and peck each other's cheeks?"

Again with Charles, it infuriates you.

"You told the press I'm a cheater! And I am NOT with Charles, God you're so stupid!"

"How would I know whether it's true or not? You never tell me anything anymore, do you? You don't care about me! I'm your best friend. I deserve to be your priority!"

"You deserve to rot in hell, you lying bitch." you don't even raise your voice anymore, "How could I ever love you?"

Victoria laughs, and your heart finally shatters. "I would do it again, y/n, because it's what you forced me to do."

The apartment is a mess, and you know it's on purpose. Your clothes are everywhere, the dirt from the plants you kept on the balcony is all over the floor, the coffee table is broken and your room looks like a hurricane passed through. Your coffee maker and your Specialty coffee both lie on the floor of the kitchen, and there is a horrible smell coming from the fridge. Aidan hasn't been gone long enough for things to rot to that extent, especially because every appliance is plugged in.

You don't want to look at the rest of the house, or your belongings. All you do is lean down to pick up your Moka pot, and make time to think, but you're unable to stand straight again. It's like the pain is pulling you down. How did your life become this?

A ruined apartment, a rejected engagement and a backstabbing best friend are things that happen in the movies. You would know. This wasn't supposed to happen to you.

Crying in that ruined kitchen, holding a Moka pot like it's your greatest treasure and not some piece of trash that you will never be able to use anymore, you get angry, furious. Because this is not your life and it was never supposed to be. And it's about time you start doing something about it.

You are sick of running. Of having people question you for not 'defending' yourself when you have no reason to be attacked in the first place. Relationships die, and yours had been past its time to be buried. Saying no is not a crime. And it never will be.

Victoria had burned her own thread with you in the worst way possible because you didn't make her the only person in your life. And you had overlooked every time you felt used by her, unloved, and tossed aside. Friends can break your heart too, and Victoria had ripped yours out of your chest.

Nobody has to tell you who you are, because you know. And you are nothing of what you've let tabloids, netizens and reporters say. You cannot keep running and you cannot keep hiding, and though you wish you had understood that earlier. It's never too late to pick yourself up.

Mildred and Walter are going to be pissed, but their advice was that you remained lowkey for however long it took Hollywood to get their next big scandal. Weeks, months, years.

And you're not about to scurry away into darkness like a rat.

FROM “JUST WATCH THIS” POSTED IN Y/N Y/LN'S YOUTUBE CHANNEL POSTED JUNE 12TH

[y/n,minute 01:30]: ❝...So I've finally decided to come here and tell you everything that has been happening for the past months. It's the truth, but whether you believe it is a personal choice.❞

[y/n,minute 05:56]: ❝It was a three-year dead-end relationship. You cannot, and should not, have a future with someone who laughs at your dreams, and tells you how you should behave and how to look to exalt him.❞

[y/n, minute 07:15]: ❝I said no. And I have not regret it for one second. I didn't tell anyone because I respect Aidan, although I don't think that is reciprocal by now.❞

[y/n, minute 10:01]: ❝I never cheated on him, and I know the source of those rumors. It breaks my heart to know that someone I trusted made up stuff about myself, and a part of my life that was so important to me. I am not telling you who it was, however, I will take legal action against them if the defamation continues.❞

[y/n, minute 14:54]: ❝Aidan decided to tell this person about our failed engagement, and I do not know if his intention was that this all became public. But I wish he'd been mature enough to handle it privately, like the adults we both are.❞

[y/n, minute 16:59]: ❝I started attending Formula 1 races because of an Ambassador contract I held with Elix until three days ago, when they decided to rescind it.❞

[y/n, minute 18:07]: ❝That's where I met both Charles Leclerc and Carlos Sainz, back in April. Since they are the drivers for Ferrari, we spent a lot of time in the same place, which led to us becoming friends.❞

[y/n, minute 19:04]: ❝Charles Leclerc is my friend and we are not romantically involved, I urge you to stop making stuff up about him too. He never messed with my past relationship, we did not know each other.❞

[y/n, minute 21:55]: ❝When all of this started, I believed—naively— that it could just die down on its own. I am an actress. I was not only 'Aidan Kim's girlfiend' and I am not only his ex-girlfriend now. I am y/n y/ln.❞

[y/n, minute 23:31]: ❝I should have spoken sooner. I should have shut everything down the moment I started feel miserable and out of control. But I also know, I was being crucified so badly because I am a woman.❞

[y/n, minute 26:00]: ❝You have made me feel miserable and anxious, I have suffered from panic attacks and sleepless nights. And I'm not saying this to make you all feel bad and regretful, because the one thing you lack the most is empathy.❞

[y/n, minute 28:45]: ❝But I want you all to think that, if it had been the other way around and Aidan hadn't wanted to marry me, you would have said 'he wasn't ready' and you would have let him move on and find "The One" in peace.❞

[y/n, minute 31:35]: ❝If it was Timothee Chalamet—whom I also have a deep appreciation for—doing RomComs and nothing more, you would call it 'his specialty' and never question his talent.❞

[y/n, minute 33:17]: ❝If I was a man, this wouldn't have killed my reputation.❞

[y/n, minute 36:21]: ❝I will not remain quiet anymore while you step on me and diminish my work. I do not owe anything to Aidan Kim except for the drama the past months have brought me.❞

[y/n, minute 38:11]: ❝I'm going to focus on the future. And I am well aware this will be continue to be a topic of conversation, but I am not scared anymore. Because I know who I am and who I can count on.❞

[y/n, minute 40:12]: ❝If it weren't for my fans, who have been fighting my battles so hard, I wouldn't be here either. They're here for me, and I can never repay such pure love.❞

[y/n, minute 42:22]: ❝If you watched up to here, I'm sure you're wondering whether you should believe all of this, and like I said, it's all up to you❞

[y/n, minute 44:50]: ❝I will not be speaking about Aidan Kim again, so I ask you to refrain from asking about him. It's all been said and done, and I'm eager to move on.❞

[END]

You are looking at the all the comments.

aidanbabes WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS BITCH EVEN ON

flowerbedkim Oh so now Aidan forced her to be with him? Bullshit. You are never saving your lying ass y/n, fuck you!!!!!

thatbitch123 You are absolutely right y/n if you were a man this wouldn’t have happened it's so sad

ynbabes2 my queen i waited for you to speak for so long!!! WE HAVE TO MOVE ON FROM THIS

leclercstar you all have made this girl's life absolute hell, i hope you never find peace!! I'm glad she's friends with Charles and Carlos.

presleyvibes wait and you thank people but not Vic who let you stay at her house? you're an ungrateful bitch

albstappen I saw her pic with Lily Muni and I just knew she was one of the good ones

ynmybeloved EVERY TONGUE THAT RISES AGAINST YN SHALL FALL

kim41d4an IT'S YOUR WORD AGAINST AIDAN'S YOU CHEATING WHORE

June 12th, SoHo, New York.

You are trying to clean the mess around you as best you can. And although you could call someone to help you, sweeping and scrubbing keeps you busy and distracted. The first message you received after posting the video was from Mati a 'proud of you xx, tell me all about it later please!' text that made you take your first deep breath of the afternoon. You made an appointment with a doctor first thing in the morning, you want the panic to go away, you need it to.

Thoughts of how they're destroying you again, calling you a liar and a whore, swarm your brain and you try to toss them in the trash along with your ruined Dolce & Gabbana coat, mysteriously cut up with scissors. You told the truth, and not even the whole of it.

The video is being shown everywhere, you're sure you'll see it tomorrow in Good Morning America where they'll dissect every single move you make and every word that comes out of your mouth.

It's almost 9 pm when you finally stop wiping the apartment down, trying to get rid of every sign that Aidan Kim was ever inside it. It's not true that he paid for the apartment, you picked it yourself and made it a home and then he chose to come and live here, paying the rent once every three to five months. This is your home and you are reclaiming it.

Your phone rings and you take another deep breath before picking it up. Mildred and Walter have resorted to communicate with you through email, so you wonder who it is. Victoria called a few times during the weekend, left voicemails and text messages until you blocked her. Each of them with a new excuse and a more creative way to pin all of what she had done, on you.

It's a FaceTime call from Charles.

"Charlie!" you greet with a smile, before the image of him loads completely. "It's 3 am in Monaco, what the hell are you doing awake?"

Charles shrugs and you notice his bare shoulders, he's shirtless. You're suddenly self-conscious about the way you look. With your hair sticking up from the sweat, your greasy face and ragged shirt. It's a silly worry.

"I wanted to talk to you," he says, and you know he's tired. "I saw your video earlier, but I was doing something else."

"Oh, you saw that."

"I'm proud of you y/n, you are brave for speaking your mind like that. I know it must have taken some effort." Charles moves again and you see his chest, he's already in bed.

"Charles, go to sleep, we can talk about this later," you chuckle, heat is rising to your face.

"I wanted to see you y/n, it doesn't matter what time it is. And I really wanted to tell you I'm glad you posted that video."

"Thank you, Charlie. I should have done it sooner."

"The only one who knows what timing is right for you, is yourself."

"Yeah, I guess so." you sigh, you're exhausted too and you blame it more on the rollercoaster of emotions you've been through than deep cleaning your apartment.

"Are you tired?" he asks, suppressing a yawn.

"No more than you," you retort, but can't help yawning as well. It's a scientific fact that yawns are contagious. "Go to sleep, we can talk tomorrow."

You talked yesterday too, and the day before, and you cried so much on the phone again you thought he would eventually hang up until you calmed down. But Charles soothed you through the phone at 1 am Monaco time and told you to let it all out, and listened without interrupting you once how you called Aidan and Victoria every name in the book.

"Fine," Charles says, rubbing his left eye carelessly. "Will you give me a tour of your apartment tomorrow, then?"

"Yes! I finished cleaning it today!"

Charles laughs softly at your excitement. “We’ll talk tomorrow then, just because you need to sleep.”

“Sure I am the sleepy one,” you roll your eyes and Charles smiles, both dimples showing. “Goodnight Charlie, sweet dreams.” The last part you say it in a slightly mocking tone but Charles doesn’t take it as such, smile widening.

“Goodnight soleil,” he says and waits a few seconds for you to react to your newly given nickname before hanging up, anxious but satisfied.

─── team principal radio: ❝thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed the chapter and are liking the story so far. We're slowly getting to the y/n redemption. Once again, i really appreciate all of your interactions they mean the world to me. Also check out the series playlist if you haven't♡❞

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[certainlynotasimp]

Okay here me out miggy and sunny who get ambushed by another spider but it turns out to be there daughter from the future?! I feel like they’d be shocked to see a teenager (like 18) just trying to fix a mess she made to get back home. I love all your work especially Miguel and Sunny!

Our Girl

(Miguel O'Hara x Female Reader)

A/N: Hey lovely~ So I kinda went off track a little with this one and kinda focused a little more on Maria, the daughter, and not so much her fixing the problem and more her being overwhelmed by the idea of the multiverse. I'm sorry I went off kilter but I loved the idea of seeing how they would react in general to meeting their child.

Also, I've been obsessed with this song on TikTok so I had to name their daughter after it.

A/N: If you guys wanna view more of my works then feel free to read my master list and if you wanna see what else is coming up, then check out this one-shot schedule. If you love the Sunny and Miggy fics like I do then comment on the taglist post because I add everyone who comments. I hope you enjoy it!

Warning: Grumpy x Sunshine, Barely any use of (Y/N) ((Sunny is the Reader's nickname, not her actual name)), Female Reader/ Female pronouns, Shinangins, Kinda fluffy, kinda a crack fic lol, and Google translated Spanish ((Pls forgive me, my wonderful Spanish speakers.))

~~~~~~~~~~

Okay, I guess If im gonna do this, I’m gonna have to start with the beginning, Hi I’m Maria O’ Hara and I’m-

“Kids, Breakfast is ready~!” A soft cheery voice calls out causing a groan to escape the teenager’s mouth. The sound of two pairs of feet book it past her bedroom door with the notable bang of one of them being knocked into the wall.

“Mami!” A teary voice of her seven year old brother yells. “Gabriel keeps pushing me into the wall!”

“No I’m not!” The thirteen year old cries out with a loud crack in his voice. “He keeps getting in front of me!”

“Gabriel, Ben, quit bickering and come here before your father comes down.” The gentle scolding causes the boys to continue their run down the stairs while Maria rolls her eyes and goes back to her diary.

Dammit, okay, we can work with this. Hi, I’m Maria O’ Hara. I’m 18 years old and I live in Nueva York with my mama and papa and my two brothers. I’m basically your normal teenager except for one-

“Maria?” a soft knock on her door causes her to call back through the door.

“Yes, Mama?” “Breakfast is ready, honey. Come on down stairs before it gets cold…” She can hear the cautious edge in her mother’s voice as she tries to coo her child down stairs.

“I’m on my way, Mama, just let me get finish getting dressed.” She cringes at the lie as she was already dressed and ready for her day. Maria holds her breath for a couple of minutes until she can hear her mom mutter a simple okay as the sound of heavy foot steps come up beside her.

The low baritone of her father’s whisper can be heard along with her mother’s worried tone as she can hear her trying to urge her husband down stairs to give their daughter some privacy.

Maria returns to her writing as she knows shes definitely on a ticking time bomb now that her father was up and down stairs. He was a strickler for spending meals together as a family and the only time he let go of that rule was when one was sick or when…Maria and Javi were in that accident…

She shakes the haunting image of Javi out of her mind as she writes.

I’m basically your normal teenager except for one thing. I’m Spider Woman, the one and only beloved hero of Queens.Two years ago, I gotten bite by this funky spider at my dad’s lab in Alchemax and I gained these awesome super powers. It was honestly the best thing to ever happen to me. I got to swing around and stop bad guys all before fourth period. The only person who knew was my best friend Javi-

“Maria!” A deep voice booms as Maria gritted her teeth. “¡Tu madre ya te llamó dos veces! ¡Baja y come!”

“Shit!” The teenager curses as she rushes to collect her stuff into her bag. The white and blue fabric of her spider suit shines at the bottom of the bag before her necessities get piled on top of it.

“¡¿Qué diablos dijiste?!” Her father yells as she can hear her mother yell at him. 

“¡¡Miguel, no te atrevas a maldecir en la mesa de mi comedor!!”

Maria hurries down the stairs as she listens to her family interact at the table.

A muffled voice that she figured was her mother scolds the angry man while a soft more masculine mutter apologizes. A couple of giggles can be heard before a stern voice scolds them as well for what Maria can hear, “Chicos, no le faltéis al respeto a vuestro padre. La única razón por la que tu madre puede hacerlo es porque me echará de la cama.”

As Maria makes it into the dining room, she laughs along with her brothers as their mom playfully slaps their dad’s arm. The tall dark haired man chuckles at his adorable wife before catching her hand and kisses it, causing the woman to smile with a love sick look in her eyes. 

“Eww!” Ben cries as he tries to block his vision with his toast causing the couple to roll their eyes.

Maria sits down beside her father Miguel and Gabriel as she starts to fill her plate. All of the children looked exactly like their father with only slight changes in hair textures and certain facial features. Ben, the youngest of the trio, looked the most like their mother with his eye shape and nose matching hers while the middle child, Gabriel, was a copy and paste verison of their father with only his mother’s smile indicating that they were related. Maria was a better mixture of the two with her mother’s height and face shape making her her mother’s “clone”, Miguel’s words not their’s. 

All the siblings would disagree as their matching dark brown eyes and their dark hair. They also had his temper. There wasn’t a single day that didn’t end without a fight. But they all loved each other despite the stress they put on their poor sweet mother’s heart.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Yahooo!” The web crusader swings around the city with a laugh bubbling through her being as the adrenaline pumps through her veins. Today wasn’t that bad today when it came to crime. No cat burgalurs, no bank robberies, No super mutants, No robots, and No…

A shrilling laugh fills the sky as Maria lands on top of a building. As she looks around for the source of the noise, a figure flies over her. Several flashes of gold falls down onto the streets below and a series of explosions go off at the chilling sound of a woman’s laugh among the symphony of screams. The woman was flying on a golden glider looking device with a skin tight blue holographic suit with an orange cloak wrapping around her features with a devilish jackolatern mask on.

“Who the hell is that?” She asks to no one as she swung up to catch up to the maniac, “Hey Spooky!”

Maria sticks a web onto the glider and propels herself into the air before slamming down on top of the villain. The woman shrieks as she falls off her glider with the spider until the glider follows them down. The villainess throws a purple bomb at the girl before her glider catches her. The teenager shoots a web onto a near by building and catches the bomb. 

“No thanks, I’m not on interested in what you’re cooking.” She throws the bomb into the air before it explodes. However, instead of smoke, an orange portal appears as a strong suction causes the spider’s grip to slip and fly into the air. “Hey!” She yells as she gets pulled into the portal.

~~~~~~~

A scream echos through the Lobby as a flaying spider falls down from a portal. Hobie rolls his eyes while Jessica looks up unimpress. 

“Another newbie?” She asks as the spider girl catches herself on a walk way above the duo. 

“I don’t know.” The rocker mumbles as he tunes his guitar. “You know that they normally end up in some alternate dimension where the floor is lave or some shite.”

The spider girl looks around her in shock as she sees millions of other spider people walking around her and she begins to hyperventilates. “No no no no. Please Please don’t tell me I’m dead……”  

Jessica frowns hearing a young voice panicking and she whistles up at the girl. 

“Hey, Newbie! Come here for a minute.”

Maria swings down as the older woman takes off her googles, her warm eyes brings the younger girl to ease enough to ask,

“W-where am I?”

Hobie chuckles, thinking that the girl was confused after failing to jump. “You’re in the Lobby, remember? Didn’t Sunny give you a tour?” 

“Sunny? Whose that?” Maria looks at the duo confused as Hobie takes off his mask to look at the girl more closely. 

Jessica looks at the girl suspiciously as Hobie examines the masked girl. “Your suit is certainly different. It kinda looks like O’ Hara’s.”

Maria jumps at the mention of her last name and faces Hobie as her patience snaps. “How did you know that? And who are you guys and why are you guys dresssed lik-”

The manic girl halts as she hears a familiar voice call out from above. 

“Hey,guys!” The gentle voice calls out as she swings down from several platforms above with a friendly smile plastered on her unmasked face. Hobie and Jessica return her smile as she lands infront of them. Maria stares in horror as the duo greets the cheery spider.

“Oi, Sunny, whatcha swing up to,love?” Hobie jokes as he hugs the woman he viewed as his friend and sister figure. 

“Boss man sent me out to look at what fell through the portal while Lyla was rebooting.” She says calmly as Jessica scoffs. Miguel sending Sunny out to check something out? Nope, thats not how he ran things. He would rather send out everyone else before he would dare risk his sol getting injured.

“Boss sent you to check out a portal?” The beautiful woman asks as Sunny rubs the back of her neck, clearly leaving out some details.

“Well, an anomalous Hobgoblin managed to hack into Lyla’s systems and shut her down so it can escape…Our comms are down too..He said to get Hobie and Ben so they can investigate the scene actually…” The jumping spider admits as she feels her cheeks warm in embarrassment. 

Jessica chuckles at her friend’s confession as she remembers the new spider who was silent the whole time they were speaking.

“Oh yeah, well this new recruit came out of the portal.”She shrugs as she directed Sunny to the small blue spider woman. “You really need to give these new guys better directions for portal jumping.”

The now confused woman shakes her head as she looks at Maria before looking back at Jessica. 

“There aren’t any new recruits.” She states as she frowns at the still masked girl as she walks up to her. “Hey, whats your name, honey?” She asks in her familiar concerned voice that Maria just heard this morning.

It was her mother…well at least someone who looks like her mother. She was several years younger than her mom, clearly in her mid to late twenties. Other than that, she was her. Even down to the same facial markers and the always warm edge of her voice. What really drawn her back was the fact her mom, or this woman that looked like her was wearing a black spider suit like her own with white along her chest and inner lining of her limbs. 

“Holy shit…” The girl gasps at the woman before she slowly reaches up and removes her mask. Her dark eyes peers back at her ‘mother’s’ in shock before mumbling, “Mama?”

“Mama!?” Jessica screams in surprise before she quickly studies the now unmasked girl and the paling spiderwoman. The similar way their wide eyes meet each other while their matching jawlines stuck in an a gasps expression. They definitely looked the part…

(Y/N) was the first one to move as she slowly lifts her trembling hands up to the girl’s face and cups it in a gentle grasp. She carefully traces her features with a haunted look on her face, almost like she was looking for something in her face, or maybe someone. As realization forms in her face that this was in fact her child, tears began to bubble in her waterline as her lips trembled.

“You’re my baby?...I have a daughter…” She says outloud before gently tracing under Maria’s eye with a look of disbelief and love. Maria’s own eyes burn as she sees her mother’s face in her clone as she nods. “Yea…My name is Maria…Maria O’Hara.”

And with that new revelation, the cheery spider faints due to the shock while Jessica yells out for help while Hobie was frozen due to the fact that not only that Miguel O’Hara and his delightful sidekick have a child from a different dimension, but that she was actually hot.

~~~~~~~

Safe to say, Miguel was not happy. 

After Lyla successfully rebooted and came back online, Miguel went to dimension 1784-B and recaptured the Hobgoblin. He never felt such satisfaction than when he tackled the flying witch out of the sky and tore apart her glider with his bare hands. He wasn’t very pleased that the villain easily gotten her hands on one of the gizmos and some prototype traps he was working on, so he made sure that the femal hobgoblin would never dare attempt to do anything like that again.

.After he returned to the surveillance platform, his annoyance grew as he hears that not only did some spider woman he had no idea about came into the Lobby, but that some incident caused his sunshine to be taken to the infirmary. 

“Lyla,” The annoyed man calls to the AI as he walks towards the infirmary. A tiny version of his fur coat wearing digital assistant appears on his shoulder as he focuses ahead of him with a glare. He can practically feel all the blood vessels in his hand pop as clenched his fist as he thought about all the ways he was going to say to the woman who had the nerve to injure his amor. “Give me all the information on this spider.”

“Yes ‘Miggy’” Lyla teases as she pulls up the file. “Spiderwoman 1784-B aka Maria O’Hara. 18 years old and has been spiderwoman for 2 years. A student at NYU with an undecided major and lives with her two younger brothers, Gabriel and Ben O’ Hara and her parents…Oh Shit!” 

The miniature AI starts laughing as she clenches her stomach. Miguel growls at Lyla’s outburst and seethes. “What is it?”

As she recovers, she throws up a projection infront of him with a smirk. “Check this out. You and Sunny do get a happy ending!” 

Miguel freezes as his wide eyes look at the image infront of him with a tremble in his form. The image displayed was a family picture that was clearly taken at a high school graduation with a family of five huddled together with wide grins splitting their loving faces. The first to catch his attention was the vision of him standing beside a teenage girl with a boy no older than seven on his shoulders with a look of happiness and pride in his gaze as one arm was slung across the girl’s shoulder. He was clearly older than he was now, but the lack of red eyes and fangs made Miguel nearly not recognize him. Its been so long since he’s seen himself before becoming spiderman… The next thing that caught his attention was an older version of his beloved also smiling at the camera with a teenage boy on your side a gentle hand placed on his shoulder as the woman’s attention was focus gazing a her daughter with such joy.

The children were a perfect mixture of you both despite the obvious favour in appearance being on his side. He carefully examines each child and their features as he releases a shaky breath as a single tear escapes his eye. 

This was impossible…How can you two have a family somewhere in the spiderverse and he didn’t know? the two have a family…they got married…she gave him the most beautiful children he could ever dream of and they both weren’t spidermen…they met and fell in love with out the worry of the universe on their shoulders…But their daughter…Their girl has this…burden instead…

“Miguel?” The unease in the AI’s voice brings him back to reality as he rubs his eyes. 

“I’m fine.” He snaps as he materializes his mask back onto his face. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

“So we are all connected by this weird multiverse of spidermen?” Maria questions as she quips an eyebrow as she looks at the other teen.

“Yep.” Gwen nods as she leans back in the chair. 

The group were huddled around the hospital bed as their cheerful friend laid in bed unconscious. Upon pouncing the new spider about her life and what life was like on her dimension, Gwen took the initiative and began explaining about the Spiderverse, careful to avoid talking about the girl’s variant spider parents.

“And this is a team of Spiderpeople that goes around and makes sure that the events of their life goes on course? Like the time police? Does that mean theres other versions of me? “ She rapidly askes the punk. The blonde chuckles as she can definitely see how much of Sunny was actually in this girl. 

“Yep and kinda like that. We make sure the canon goes as planned so your universe doesn’t collapse. And when it comes to the other versions of you…” Gwen looks towards the unconscious spider before meet her ‘daughter’s’ curious gaze. “If theres other versions of Sunny and Miguel, then there is other versions of you.”

“Wait. Is there a spiderman version of my dad?” She asks as the door opens.

Jessica looks up from watching her phone and smiles at Miguel while Hobie curses. Miguel’s mask fades away as Hobie begins to speak.

“Look boss, the kid didn’t mean to…”

“Are you alright, Maria?” Miguel’s uncharacteristicially soft voice interrupts Hobie’s defense as his ruby eyes locked on the girl.

His rapid heart flooded his senses as he looked over his ‘daughter’. She didn’t look like Gabriella like he thought he would, even though he already seen her face. She looked like his sunshine despite her having a majority of his features. She was his girl, his beloved’s child…

“Um yea…”The starstruck girl mumbles as she looks at the variant of her father. Unlike the unconscious variant of her mom, the age wasn’t the biggest indicate that he was different from her dad, it was the gentle red eyes and the fangs peeking out from his lips. “Holy shit, you’re cool…” She accidentially admits out loud which causes the man to chuckle.

“Oye, no maldigas delante de tus padres, pequeña araña.” He playfully scolds before he starts fiddling with his gizmo. “I think its time you head home now. Its almost time for dinner and I’m sure ‘I’ wouldn’t like for you to be late.”

A portal opens beside them as Maria smiles at Miguel. “Cool…can I have one of those?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Well it was worth a try.” Maria giggles as she walks up to the portal before looking at Miguel concerned. “What about that Hobgoblin? And about…” The teenager looks towards her sleeping ‘mom’.

“I took care of it for you and don’t worry about her.” Miguel chuckles as he gazes lovingly at his love. “Yo siempre cuido de tu madre, ¿no?”

Maria grins as she feels giddy over the idea that no matter what dimension, her parents will always love each other.

“Yep and word of advice, stop having kids after one!” She jokes as she steps into the portal and goes home.

~~~~~~~

A soft groan emits from the bed as Miguel looks up from his book. The sleepy eyes of his love meets his as he leans over and caresses his cheek. 

“Good morning, mi amor…you had a good rest?” He coos as he pushes the hair away from her face. 

Tears prickle in her sleepy gaze as the memory of her new friend came back. In a horse whisper, she tearfully asks, “Did you see her? Did you meet our girl?” A smile forms on her face as Miguel nods and rests his forehead against hers.

“Sí, mi amor. Y ella era perfecta.”

~~~~~~

As the portal closes behind her, Maria looks around with a breath of relief as she sees shes in her bedroom back home. 

“Thank god that’s over-!”

Before the stress could finally leave her chest, a shattering sound of a phone screen snaps her attention to her brother Gabriel looking at her in shock. Maria looks horrified as she realizes she is in the middle of her bedroom in her spidersuit and unmasked infront of her little brother…

“SHIT!!!”

~~~~~~~~

Translations:

¡Tu madre ya te llamó dos veces! ¡Baja y come!- Your mother already called you twice! Come down and eat!

Chicos, no le faltéis al respeto a vuestro padre. La única razón por la que tu madre puede hacerlo es porque me echará de la cama.-You boys don't disrespect your father. The only reason your mother can is because she'll kick me out of bed.

¡¿Qué diablos dijiste?!- What the hell did you say?!

¡¡Miguel, no te atrevas a maldecir en la mesa de mi comedor!!- Miguel, don't you dare curse at my dining room table!!

Oye, no maldigas delante de tus padres, pequeña araña.- Hey, don't curse in front of your parents, little spider.

Yo siempre cuido de tu madre, ¿no?-I always take care of your mother, don't I?

~~~~~~~~~~

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[audiovideodisco]

One for me, two for you.

Where you are a doctor in House’s diagnostic team in the early seasons, and

are having a bad pain day.

CW: drug use/ opioids/ chronic pain and conditions/ self medicating (if you squint)/ could this be angst? i have no idea/ mild suggestive joke/ cancer talk & medical jargon

word count: 921

requested?: no

sfw?: yes

ship: n/a

characteristics: n/a

You trudge into Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital with a face that would make anyone with a brain run for the hills.

It had been a rough night for you. The pain in your body being worse than usual, and your meds weren’t helping, so you barely slept.

You suppress your winces and ignore the pain as you usually do, hiding it from others, but that doesn’t stop it from making you radiate an energy that makes everyone around you know you were not to be messed with. You normally radiated this energy anyway, but not just due to pain, also due to your ‘don’t fuck with me’ attitude you had developed over the years.

You walk into the DDX office, dumping your stuff down next to you and putting your extraordinarily caffeinated drink down on the table a little harder than you’d like. Cameron, Chase and Foreman glance between themselves, Cameron going to ask something, when House opens the door connecting his office to the DDX office. He walks in with his three point tap bouncing unpleasantly around your head. You feel his eyes analysing you as he walks to the other end of the table, but hide your surprise when he doesn’t say anything.

“Wilson’s got a cancer patient in remission with all her symptoms back. But no cancer. I’ve already considered the fact that he could have been an idiot and missed it, but she’s definitely cancer free. Differential Diagnosis for hair loss, stomach pain, low white count and vomiting that’s not cancer. Go.”

The other doctors look at each other again before offering suggestions.

“Alcohol withdrawals?” Chase says, as Foreman immediately shuts him down,

“No, doesn’t explain the hair loss or low white count.”

“That- and the facts she’s 14.” House says with a smug look on his face, causing you to scowl at him a bit. He catches it, but ignores it.

Cameron rolls her eyes,

“How about Pancreatitis?”

You pipe up before House can make another shitty comment, your voice sharp,

“No fever. It’s late onset radiation side effects.”

House’s eyes squint as he considers what you said, then you see his look change to one with a flicker of something you couldn’t place. Was he impressed? Nah, probably just scheming again.

“Go, Foreman and Chase go talk to Wilson to see when her last radiation was and the details. Cameron, get a better medical history.” House says, turning to go back to his office.

“What about me?” You ask, unable to hide the confusion in your face, brows furrowed slightly.

“You should be following me. Thought that was obvious.”

“If it was obvious, I wouldn’t have asked.”

The other three fellows walk out the DDX office slowly, worried looks on their features as they have a silent conversation with looks between them. They disperse as you go into House’s office, leaving you standing by the door, looking at your boss who was sat at his desk, throwing his giant tennis ball between his hands.

“Sit. Or are you a masochist? Didn’t take you for someone that’s-“

“What the hell is this, House?” you stop him, biting back with much less effort to keep your words palatable.

House raises an eyebrow and stops throwing the ball around, turning to sit forward and lean his elbows on the table. He looks at you, pondering for a minute, and then gestures at the chair, which you sit in after a moment. He considers you again, watching as your brow furrows a little tighter as he does, holding up the facade so well. House was almost impressed, it’s a shame I can see right through that mask you’re putting up, he thought to himself. He pulls his vicodin from his pocket, pouring two into his palm, and you watch him, expecting him to swallow them dry in front of you, but instead, he holds them out to you. You look at the pills in his hand, and then at him, and back again.

“Take them.” He says, his voice a little softer than usual, but not much.

“What- why are you giving me-?”

“You’re having a bad pain day. Probably the worst one you’ve had in a while.”

“How do you even-“ You knew you were more irritable today, which you cursed yourself for not being able to mask, but you hadn’t told anyone about your pain, let alone that it was chronic.

“Pain recognises pain. The vicodin will help.”

You take the pills tentatively, swallowing them with your drink.

“Uh… thanks… I-“ You start, not knowing what to say, but he cuts you off,

“It’s okay, I won’t tell anyone- I mean, I have discussed it with Wilson, he helped me figure out that you were in pain in the first place. He pays more attention.” You smile a little, nodding.

“Don’t suffer unnecessarily. I might be an ass, but I know what it’s like, being in pain all the time. I’m not a talker, but I am a drinker; if you want to forget or just- look, you can come to me anytime. Less lonely that way.” House mumble out, his last sentence being almost inaudible.

You nod and he passes you a piece of paper. It’s a scrip for vicodin.

“Go take blood from our patient. Want to make sure nothing has been missed in her blood.” You do as you’re asked, walking out his office and shoving the scrip in your pocket, feeling a little better as the vicodin begins to work, and a little less alone.

[beartitled]

how did Euclid go about experiencing the third dimension for the first time? did Scalene have to like physically show him what was different somehow, or did he figure that out on his own?

also, why does Euclid wear eyepatches over his injured eyes, but Scalene doesn't wear an eyepatch over her (one) injured eye?

also also, here's a random headcanon I wanna share: since the mutation attempts are numbered 1 through 4, and Euclid's attempts are #1 and #2, I get the feeling that he volunteered to try to mutate first so Scalene wouldn't have to risk her own eyes as much. even though both attempts failed in the end, they improved the mutation process through these failures, and so Scalene's last attempt finally succeeded.

A person who noticed the implications 😈

Ok I will go in order

Euclid and third dimension

I imagine this was extremely confusing for him

Picture the scenario where you’ve been speaking your native language your entire life

And somebody says “you been speaking with a thick accent and wrong grammar, also all things are called differently, you have to relearn now”

You will try to speak “correctly”, but slipping into old habits when you’re not thinking about it

This is pretty much how Euclid felt when his wife said that “ok imagine a square, but it has another one, and another one, and another one, but they are one, like you know… ummm… mmmermm.. you get it right?”

He still thinks, imagines stuff and dreams in 2D

But he’s kinda adapted to moving around in this weird world that has so many copies of things in it

Also one person had a headcanon that Euclid has an exceptional hearing

I 👏adore 👏this idea 👏

I don’t remember who exactly wrote this comment, there are so much cool headcanons people have actually, I need to keep a file on cool ideas with credits™️💥

Why Scalene doesn’t wear an eyepatch

Well

Her eye doesn’t look that bad

First attempts have a kinda brutal aftermath, because they had no idea of what they’re doing

+ I an eyepatch would be a bit unpractical for the successful eye

Headcanon

My guy

🫵You get it 🫵

This is exactly what I wanted to hint towards

Euclid was completely against of Scalene trying to mutate her eyes (he loves his life guys 🥺)

So his initial plans was 2 attempts, if they fail they’ll find another way

But you see, when your wife is stubborn

You don’t really see what she’s up to

And can only hear that she did not agree to the initial plan

He was terrified when she started testing the 4th eye

I’m writing this and going to eep immediately after, wish me good dream horrors guys 😎

Thank you for your ask❤️ Hope everyone enjoyed a lil essay 🧐