#and he picks her up unprompted and loves her so much

[famiwami]

im too lazy to finish this wriothesley and sigewinne wip :]c

[moeblob]

son boy raccoon trash can man suffering in a dnd au as a cleric bc his warlock will not stop committing murders and he has to keep coming up with reasons murder is valid to convince the gm its fine and under control

[endless-ineffabilities]

So High School (1/2)

Bucky Barnes x f!reader

synopsis : the one wherein the reader and Bucky navigate the initial stages of falling in love, and well, it feels a whole lot like high school <3

themes : friends to lovers, slight jealousy, Bucky and the reader are Avengers, everyone is alive!

word count : 3k ▪︎ masterlist ▪︎ part two

a/n : inspired by Taylor Swift's So High School - that song makes me so fuckin happy I can't even begin to explain it... This fic is all giddy and warm, kind of like when you have a crush, playfulness and jealousy abound 💙

You are almost certain that you left your beloved leather jacket back on the quinjet.

The mission made you exhausted, like they always do, and you remember taking your jacket off and settling in for a nap on the ride back to the Avengers compound.

"FRIDAY, is the quinjet still at base level?" you ask aloud to the compound's omnipresent AI overseer.

She chimes in straight away, "Yes, the quinjet is undergoing routine checks downstairs."

"Well," you say to yourself, "I could use the walk."

FRIDAY speaks again, unprompted, "There is one James Buchanan Barnes heading to your door right now."

Bucky? "Oh, right now?"

"Yes, he'll be knocking in 3... 2... 1..."

And sure enough, he does.

You open the door to his sheepish, easy smile. FRIDAY would definitely be picking up on your vitals, noting your clammy hands and jumping heartbeat.

You desperately hope that she would shut up about it, otherwise you might just literally throw hands with Tony.

"Hi," he greets. Just that - just 'hi' - and he has you blushing like a schoolgirl. Damn it.

"Hey," you reply. Glancing down, you realise that he has just what you're looking for.

The jacket. You mean your jacket. Mind out of the gutter, you kick yourself internally.

"I, uh, think you left this back at the - "

" - the quinjet."

"Right, and I, well - " he stammers, and you don't understand why, when you're clearly the nervous one here.

"You're... here to give it back to me," you help him out, smiling.

"Yeah," he nods, smiling back at you. Leaning against your doorframe, he stays right in place, and you suddenly feel conscious by the way he's just looking at you.

"Uhm, Bucky?" you break the silence after a while, anxiously laughing.

"Yeah, doll?"

"My jacket?" you hold out your hand expectantly.

"Oh, here," he quickly hands it over to you, and you thank him. But he stays, rubbing the back of his neck, brows furrowed in thought. "Listen, I was wondering if - "

"There you two are!" Sam's booming voice startles you, and you spot him walking down the hall. "Debriefing time, kids, come on."

"Oh, right," you groan, tossing your jacket somewhere behind you. Shutting your door, you turn to Bucky, "Sorry, Buck, can it wait?"

"Can what wait?" Sam butts in, ears like a bat. He nudges Bucky with his shoulder, and you swear you see Bucky glare at him, while blushing all the while.

"Nothing," he mumbles and the three of you make your way towards the elevators. When Sam becomes distracted by some new panelling Tony installed recently, you catch Bucky's eye, and shrug as if to say - you can tell me later.

He simply nods. When the doors open, you feel his hand on the small of your back, guiding you in. Just for the briefest of moments, but it lingers in your mind.

So much so, that Tony tosses a pencil at you during debriefing when you're spaced out and didn't answer his question.

"Daydreaming, princess?" Tony smirks.

"Leave her alone, Tony," Steve comes to your rescue, ever the considerate leader. "She's tired, just like the rest of us."

"Yeah, sure," Tony shrugs. "Or maybe Bionic Man over there is distracting her with all the staring he does."

"Shut up, Tony," Natasha protests, catching your surprised look.

"I'm not staring," you hear Bucky say.

"Oh, man, you stare all the time. At everything," Sam counters. "Especially at her."

"No. I don't."

"Yes, you do. Doesn't he, Steve?" Sam laughs, twisting around to share the joke with Steve, who just fondly shakes his head, patting Bucky on the shoulder.

Your mouth feels dry, face flushed from the suggestive bickering partially at your expense, and when you ask, "Alright, alright, what was your question, Tony?"

Tony cheekily smirks, and says, "Quick, Barnes, look away."

"Oh, god," you tilt your head back and stare at the ceiling.

It's a collective, "Tony!" that followed, likely from Steve and Nat. Possibly Bruce, too.

Tony asks you again, something about the safety measures in place for the civilians left behind.

When you answer his question, you can't help but feel a certain pair of blue eyes looking at you.

But that means nothing, right? Bucky's just listening to whatever you have to say. The mission had been important, after all.

Five minutes later, in the middle of Bruce's explanation, you feel it again.

So you look to the side, only slightly, catching Bucky quickly turning to draw his attention back at Bruce.

Oh.

"What are you smirking at me for?" you approach Natasha, while tightening your hand wraps. Some of the Avengers have convened for routine combat practice. You've been looking forward to it, mostly being cooped up in the two weeks after the recent mission.

Natasha sports her signature knowing look when she says, "You're paired with Barnes today, milochka moya."

"Bucky? And?" you clear your throat, and you clock Bucky and Sam entering the gym in your periphery. Is it just you or did your voice just crack? No, it couldn't have.

There's no reason to be nervous, no reason at all.

Sure, he'll get all sweaty and he'll have to get his hands on you and he'll get close... very close... pressed against...

"I see I've lost you already," Natasha is quick to note. "And we haven't even started yet."

Wanda joins you, greeting with, "Did you know you'll be paired with Barnes today?"

Oh my god. You exclaim, "Why is everyone making a big deal out of it?"

"Because," is all Wanda responds with.

"Thanks, Wanda," you nod sarcastically. "Thank you both. Can we just get this over with?"

"Guys?" you call out loudly, addressing everyone in the room.

"Yes, everyone. It is best if we start," Vision says, him being the supervisor for training today. Leave it to an all-knowing entity to be well-versed in every fighting art in existence.

He reads off the combat pairings for the day, and their assigned fighting style.

Clint and Nat, krav maga.

Wanda and Sam, aikido. Though to be fair, she doesn't really need to use her fists should it come to that. Wanda's powers were beyond your comprehension. This is mostly just a fun little exercise for her.

And finally, Vision says your name followed by Bucky's, with the fighting style of jiu-jitsu.

That damned close-contact sport. You're well-trained in it, thanks to your job, but it involves a lot of straddling and the opponent heavily breathing down on your face. It wasn't exactly your first choice out there in the field.

But here? Well, it seems like you don't really have a choice.

Well, you do. And would you really choose otherwise?

Close contact with Bucky?

"Hey, doll," he walks right over, all prepped and ready. Clad in a black compression shirt and grey sweatpants. One look at him and you know you're not likely to survive this training session.

"You ready to get your ass kicked?" you cheekily say, as you to walk over to your designated area of the room with him right on your tail.

He smiles, mumbling something which sounded like, " - let you do anything you want to me."

"I'm sorry?" you blurt out, occupying yourself with the control panel for the instructional hologram.

"Nothing," he bites his lip. Oh, he just knows you heard him.

"Okay, so - " The hologram starts right up, showing faceless figures go through a standard combat routine. Ankle sweep. Closed guard. Arm bar. Back and forth until someone taps out. Then all over again.

"Fun," you remark, moving to circle him on the mat. "Give it your best shot, Barnes."

He makes the first move, trying to sweep your leg with his own and failing. You're too quick for that. As long as you don't get sidetracked by that shit-eating smirk on his face, you'll be just fine.

He rushes at you again, but you jump out of the way. You manage you hook your leg around his torso, and use your whole weight to force him down on the mat.

You end up with one knee pressed to his chest, your forearm applying the slighest pressure on his throat. It's an easy position to counter, and he should be propelling you off of him already. Maneuvering your arm out of the way. Something. Anything.

But the man just stares.

You'll be damned, but Sam was right.

"Bucky, come on," you snap.

Instead of a countermove, he hits you with something more disarming. "You look good up there," he says.

"What?"

"I like the view," he only adds, speeding up the rush of warmth to your face.

Your body goes slack, and your pressure on his neck eases. You struggle to think of something nonchalant, something blasé to say in turn, when he takes advantage of the moment and flips the two of you over.

He ends up on top of you, legs caging you in, hands gripping your wrists by the sides of the face.

"Shit," you curse when you realise what just happened. "Well played."

"Thanks," he responds. "I meant it though, you do look pretty. Like always."

"Another trick, Buck?" You attempt to play it cool. Maybe you can play off the obvious flush on your face as physical exertion. Not whatever this is. Not because of him.

He only smiles, getting back on his feet and extending a hand out to you.

"Not a trick," he says, as you both get ready for the next round.

"I'd say I'm flattered, if you weren't trying to beat me in hand-to-hand combat."

"Doll, I think it's safe to say that you won already," he says, his gaze softening.

What is he on about? "Uhh, no, that was barely anything. We're supposed to keep going."

His brows furrow, though his smile stays in place, albeit a bit strained. "That's not what I meant," he exhales, reaching forward to attempt a restricting hold.

His expression turns serious then, steely gaze boring into you, analyzing your every move. He lunges at you, and you block him. But he tries again and again, each move more precise and forceful.

He steps back to take a breath, and you use the opportunity to sweep his ankle, but he sees it coming. In a flash, he pulls your arm and twists you around so that your back is pressed to his chest. You wrangle against him, making him fall on his back, but he keeps his hold on you.

His metal arm encases your torso with your arms pinned to your sides, and his legs wrap around yours. Air rushes out of you in shaky pants, and you move your head to the side, the only part of you still mobile.

And he's right there, the tip of his nose brushing against your cheek. The tension is almost too much to bear, because you feel all of him - the solid planes of his torso, the coarseness of his facial hair growing out - and for the love of all things sacred, you hope you don't accidentally wriggle your ass against his crotch.

Bucky wishes so too. He would never be able to live that down, especially if one of the others would come around and notice.

"Do you yield?" His voice is rough, commanding against your ear. Even though it's nothing more than an assertive whisper, a shiver runs through your body.

"Y-yes," you muster, "I yield."

He keeps his hold on you a moment longer, and before you can ask him if something's wrong, and why he's not letting you go yet, he releases you.

And it doesn't bring you relief, surprisingly. Almost as if you just want to go right back into his embrace.

As you two get back on your feet, Vision's sudden appearance almost makes you keel over, startling the living daylights out of you.

"That was good," Vision comments.

"What the - Vis!" you place a hand on your chest to calm down. "Maybe announce yourself when you show up please!"

"But I've been standing here for approximately 37 seconds," he expertly says.

"Okay, well - "

"You both did not notice me," he goes on, matter-of factly. "Perhaps it might have something to do with your sheer focus on one another - "

"Okay, Vision, thank you," you attempt to intervene, to no avail.

" - which is good. In combat, you do need to stay hypervigilant. Although, might I comment, that the sudden increase in arousal hormones is not really conducive to battle - "

"Vision!" you and Bucky exclaim in unison.

Thankfully, Wanda notices and comes to your rescue, "O-kay, Vis, why don't you come and check mine and Sam's progress, hmm?"

"Of course," Vision complies immediately and they walk away hand in hand. Must have something to do with his undying penchant for Wanda.

Wanda throws you an apologetic shrug, before her eyes get drawn downward to something else near you, and she has to bite her lip to hold back a giggle.

You feel Bucky's hand take hold of your waist, ever so gentle, and everything else is quickly forgotten.

"You okay?" he asks, the ghost of a smile on his lips.

He stands close, and you catch a hint of his scent, sandalwood and mint, layered beneath a musk that can only be undeniably Bucky.

You hum in affirmation. Shaking you head, you respond with, "Vision was just being... Vision. Can never keep his observations to himself." His thumb moves, caressing lightly at your waist, the movement seemingly instinctive for him.

"Yeah, well," he smiles to himself, before reaching up and tucking back a stray lock of hair from your face, "the thing about that droid is... he doesn't lie."

He steps back, rolling his shoulders, getting ready for another bout of combat. As if he didn't have you subdued already.

"He wasn't lying about me, at least," he smirks, before getting into a stance and putting his arms up.

Feeling brave, because there's no way you're going to come out of this interaction as the only one flustered, you respond with, "He wasn't lying about me, neither."

Bucky doesn't expect that, used to being the suave and cockier one out of this dynamic. His fighting stance loosens, and he barely croaks, "What?"

Gotcha.

It doesn't take long for you to sweep him off his feet.

When you're left straddling him once more, you hit him back with, "I like the view."

He bites his lip, and then laughs, flushed and impressed.

Still on the ground, staring up at you, he decisively ends the match, the final blow too much for you to bear. Because he settles for saying, "Still doesn't beat my view, beautiful."

After more than an hour of fidgeting around your room, clothes strewn everywhere and music blasted to calm you down, you were finally ready.

Bucky had asked you what you were doing for the weekend, and you said you didn't have anything in mind, but asked him if he wanted to watch a movie in the common lounge with you.

He eagerly agreed, before you two were interrupted by Sam mentioning something about new upgrades to Red Wing.

So you didn't get to clarify what the nature of the plan was. Likely it was just another hangout. It wouldn't be the first time you and Bucky watched a movie together, went on excursions on your motorbikes, or headed out to grab some sushi.

Save for Natasha and Wanda, he's the one you spend the most time with.

And none of those times ever was a date.

But you feel nervous as you walk down the hallway. You've been nervous all the while you spent getting ready, unable to choose the right top, and eventually settling for a V-neck cobalt blue shirt that he once said he liked on you.

You're nervous because tonight could be it. You've taken it upon yourself to finally ask him.

Ask him what exactly? Whether he likes you as someone more than a friend? Whether there is a reason to all that staring that he does?

Whether he wants to kiss you as badly as you want to kiss him?

So, something along those lines.

He's standing right around the entrance to the common lounge, and you immediately think at how sweet it is that he's waiting for you.

Until he broke the news.

"Doll, I - " Bucky says, right after you come into view. "Oh, wow, you look great."

Smiling widely, you look down like it was nothing, like you didn't just spend the last hour worrying. "Thanks, Buck."

"Uhh, I have something to tell you, actually. You remember Yori? The man from - "

"Of course I remember him," you nod, now confused at what he's getting onto.

"Yeah," he hesitates, not sure he wants to speak further. All he wants is to spend the night curled up in the lounge with you, but all that is gone when he continues, "he kind of set me up on a date."

"A date?" your stomach sinks.

"With Leah. You know Leah? The girl who works at the restaurant that we go to sometimes with Yori?"

"Yeah," you shrug and look away, hoping your expression doesn't give away too much, "I know who she is. So you have a date, huh?"

"Tonight," he confirms. "I didn't... didn't even ask her, really. But last night at dinner, Yori asked and she heard and said yes - "

"She's really lovely. This is good, Buck."

"Yes, but we made plans, and I didn't want to - "

"No, don't worry about it." you put your palms up, as if to show him that you take the situation lightly. It was no problem, after all. He has to go on this date. You can watch movies together any time.

"Doll," he sighs. "I was actually thinking that, since we had plans already, you could come with me? I'm sure she would understand - "

"Bucky," you laugh dryly, "I am not crashing your date."

"But - "

"No buts," you have to affirm. "You have a date, so it has to be just you and her."

He purses his lips, nodding. He tries to gauge your expression, whether you're pissed at him or anything, but he's only met with a reassuring smile.

"What time is your date?" you ask.

"In about 40 minutes," he replies, giving you a good once-over again, taking you in fully. You really looked good, and he wants nothing more than to just stare at you the whole damn night. If only he wasn't so polite. If only he had the guts to just turn Leah down.

His face falls when you say, "I guess you better go," with a hint of enthusiasm, not knowing that it's your attempt at putting on a brave face.

"What will you do?" he asks.

"I don't know," you shrug. "I'm sure I'll find something. The others are mostly around so - "

"Hey!" Steve rounds up the corner, still clad in his riding jacket, having returned from outdoors.

"Going somewhere, you two?" Steve asks, his signature congenial smile in place.

"Not me," you respond, smiling back. "But Bucky here has a date actually."

"A date?" Steve says, taken aback. Did Bucky not tell him about this? He looks between the two of you, trying to put things into place, "Do you mean - ?" He trails off, gesturing at you.

"No!" A nervous laugh bubbles out of you. Of course, not with you. You wish.

"Really?" Steve makes a face, like the thought of Bucky going on a date with someone else was ridiculous, but he quickly collects himself. It's none of his business, for now. But he'll surely grill his bestfriend on it later.

"Don't you have to leave, Buck?" you turn to him. "You don't want to keep Leah waiting."

"Yeah, I suppose I should. I'll, uh, talk to you later, okay?" He says, taking a few measured steps back. Not wanting to turn away, and have you out of his sight.

"Sure," you smile, but it's weak and you know it is. Watching him walk away, you can no longer hide the disappointment you feel.

Bucky is still within earshot when you turn to Steve and innocently ask, "Are you busy, Steve? Care to watch a movie in the lounge?" Steve of course agrees, and lets his arm drape around you.

Bucky knows that you and Steve are just friends. Steve has gotten a hint of how he feels about you, and far be it from him to take his friend's girl.

But it doesn't quell that sinking feeling, when he looks back. He sees you smiling up at Steve, as the two of you disappear into the lounge.

It's going to be a long night.

[byuntrash101]

booksmart

f!reader x switch!mingi smut | mdni 3.1k maybe mingi didn’t make the smartest choice picking a stem major? because the classes proves themselves to be rather difficult especially when mingi as to learn about the female anatomy without having any “field knowledge” on the subject. but as his tutor it’s your duty to help him study, by all means necessary. nsfw tags under the cut

loser virgin!mingi with the glasses (i love him so much it hurts), also switch sub leaning!mingi, tutor!reader, use of anatomical terms (reader takes her tutoring job v srly) + clueless mingi (he's cute), exhibitionism/voyeurism, masturbation (f), oral (f), mingi gets pussy drunk fassstttt, pet names (baby, good boy, babyboy), squirting, cum eating, cumming untouched

a/n: wrote this in a fever dream as i was crawling out of writer's block. i kinda love it did you know i loved mingi? yeah i do. he's cute and im weak for him. enjoy this &lt;3

ateez masterlist | navigation

Why? Oh why did Mingi have to choose a STEM major? Why didn’t he go towards something that was a little easier or, failing that, at least a little more fun! Like music! He liked music. Why didn’t he go to a more artistic major? He could be learning about different types of harmonies or the life stories of his favorite composers or even the advent of the greatest musical genres. But no, instead he was stuck here in his small student flat, pulling his hair out trying to cram his brain with the reproductive system. Hunched over the thick and worn out second hand textbook.

“I can’t” he said, calling it quits, whipping his big glasses off his nose and throwing his hands in the air in a rather dramatic manner. Which made you chuckle.

Of all your tutees Mingi was easily your favourite. Sure he was one of the most difficult ones because studying didn’t come naturally to him but still he was very endearing. There was something in the way he looked at you with round eyes when he was confused or how his lips curled on his teeth and made an asymmetrical smile when got the right answer. Mingi was just cute without even trying, despite his towering height, his low gravelly voice and his eyes that turned sharp (maybe even cold) when he was focussing. He was just cute. He may look cold but as soon as you get to know him he turns out to be an endearing goofball.

He might even be the sole reason you kept on tutoring this year even with your thesis coming close to the deadline, the research for internships and the immense amount of reading your professors required.

“Yes, you can!” you said pointing at the schema on the yellowed page.

“No I can’t! I’m not book smart!” Mingi said again, this time a little more whiny. “How can I memorize that when I've never even seen this…” he gestured to the anatomical sketch of the female reproductive system. “In real life.” He exhaled, seemingly not conscious of what he had just admitted, taking his head in his big hands.

Your head was spinning with the unprompted confession. And you both sat there in silence for a couple of seconds. Mingi in oblivious desperation and you in speechless astonishment. 

But an idea sprouted in your mind. If this lack of practical experience was the reason behind Mingi’s memory troubles, you reckon nature gifted you with everything that was presented in this textbook. Maybe empirical science would help in this case. The least you could do was try, that was only your duty as a tutor. 

Mingi was startled when he felt you lift from under his bent elbows and close the heavy textbook, making him look up through his fingers. You sighed deeply before continuing softly.

“Mingi,” you started, a kind of heaviness about the voice Mingi never heard before, the contrast with your normal “patient teacher" tone made him finally realize what he had said to you in a fleeting moment of desperate academic honesty. 

Mingi started to stammer, his heart rate skyrocketing, his eyes darting to every corner of the room trying to come up with an excuse to why he still was a virgin loser or better yet a quick lie that would make him appear like a totally cool guy that definitely pulled girls, yes, multiple girls. But nothing came to mind and he was completely silenced when you laid your hand over his thick thigh. 

“Mingi…Do you want me to show you?” you said, barely above a whisper, you felt his thigh tense under your touch as Mingi looked back at you, mouth agape like a fish out of the water and round clueless eyes. So you cleared your throat and talked in a more assured tone. “If it can help you study, I'm willing to show you mine” you said in one breath.

Mingi was no longer agitated. He wasn’t wiping his sweaty palms on his jeans or stammering or looking everywhere and nowhere at the same time. Now, his eyes were locked with yours, and he was an immovable statue. But it was only because he was absolutely dumbfounded. He was stunned into silence, his thoughts weren’t coming through, they were completely silenced by your voice, this weird combination of words that made the sentence you just spoke infinitely reverberate in his blank mind until he faintly nodded, unable to form a coherent train of thought anymore.

You nodded and smiled softly at him. Mingi didn’t even return the smile he kept on staring in disbelief. Even when you got up and pulled your chair from under his desk and turned it so you would perfectly face him and even when your hands slipped under your pleated skirt and pulled down your underwear. You glanced over at him when you tossed to the side the crumpled up piece of white lace and you smirked when you saw him finally close his mouth to thickly swallow as his eyes zeroed in on the undergarment discarded on his bedroom floor.

Before his eyes snapped back to you when you seated yourself on this chair, your hips scooted to the front and your back comfortably leaned on the office chairback. His eyes followed your every move as you placed one foot on the edge of the desk and the other leg bent and hanging in the air. You took a deep breath before lifting your skirt.

Mingi thought he was going to pass out as he fumbled to put his glasses back on, not even trying to put them on straight on his nose. His face was burning hot and his heart was absolutely hammering against his ribs, and rattling in his ears. He felt the frantic muscle doped with adrenaline pumping blood not only to his brain, making him lightheaded but also to his groin. 

Mingi had never laid eyes on anything more beautiful ever. You were so perfect he couldn’t describe it but he didn't want to look anywhere else ever again he wanted to keep on staring you right between the legs until he eventually died from thirst, hunger or sleep deprivation. He wanted to keep looking forever and ever.

You cleared your throat once again and ignored both the tingle in your lower stomach as you felt Mingi’s scrutinizing gaze on your most private part and the tent he was visibly pitching his jeans by now.

“See here is the labia majora” you started, making your voice as steady as possible. You looked up at him but it seemed like you were speaking to a brick wall, Mingi was entranced and wasn’t listening to a single word you were saying.

“Mingi!” you called his name firmly and his eyes snapped to yours. “Focus!” you scolded him.

“Yeah… s-sorry” he apologized sheepishly, his cheeks and ears going to an even deeper shade of pink.

“As I was saying, this is the labia majora and here is the labia minora.” you said as neutrally as possible trying to overlook the need that was bubbling in the pit of your stomach the more Mingi looked at you.

“M-majora and minora” Mingi repeated as diligently as possible.

“Good! Let’s take a closer look” you said before spreading your lips with both hands, offering Mingi a breathtaking view on your entrance. 

Mingi had to repress a gasp. He felt himself twitch as he saw your pink hole being spread open, he could quite literally see inside you. And as you did so some translucent liquid oozed out of you. He was pretty sure that wasn’t part of the anatomical drawing that was in his textbook. He never saw that even in the porns he had watched. All he knew was that the sight made his cock jump inside his tight pants and he bit his lip to keep a low groan behind his teeth as his pants were rubbing on his sensitive cockhead.

“And here-”

“Ex-excuse me” Mingi interrupted you hesitantly, “what is this liquid?”

Fuck.

You did your best to overlook the excitement and arousal that came along with the exercise and the way Mingi was eyeing you down, devouring you with each look and trying so hard to keep his hands at his sides. But your body eventually betrayed you. 

“That’s a lubricating fluid that is secreted by the Skene glands to facilitate coitus,” you said as steadily as possible. “That happens when a woman is aroused.”

Those words hit Mingi like a truck launched at full speed on the highway. You were aroused? Like right now? You were enjoying showing yourself like this to him? You liked having him look at you? He was feeling dizzy. He couldn’t imagine you (even if he was in fact witnessing it with his very eyes) getting hot and bothered because of him. That was all a dream. It had to be.

“Aroused?” Mingi repeated, more to himself than anything as he fixed his askew glasses pushing them up the bridge of his nose absentmindedly.

“There are other signs too” 

Mingi’s ears perked up. 

“Other signs?” He swallowed thickly. “C-can you show me? P-please” The last word was soaked with desperation and dripping with such despair, he sounded like a parched man begging for the sip of water that was going to save his life and when his eyes met yours you realized he was also looking the part.

“O-okay” you said, failing to maintain the self assured tone.

“When a woman is aroused more blood is pumped to her private area which causes swelling and changes in color.” you said drawing a sharp gasp as your fingers dipped to your entrance to spread your wetness over your folds. “See, right now” you pulled on the skin of your pubic bone, pulling on the hood of your clit, uncovering the swollen bud. “My clitoris is swollen”

“Fuck” Mingi let the whispered curse slither thought his teeth as he looked at the swollen bundle of nerves being revealed to his very eyes. At this point he felt like his cock was going to rip through his jeans but still he behaved accordingly and refused to acknowledge the poor member's pleas for attention.

“I have a question.”

“Y-yes” you breathed out, spreading more arousal on your touched starved pussy.

“Is it true that girls get the most pleasure from their clit?” he stated in one surprisingly coherent sentence. 

“Yes” you replied simply, your breathing becoming uneven. 

“Can you show me that too?”

Mingi was ready to risk it all. At this point he wasn’t thinking about tomorrow anymore. To be exact he wasn’t thinking at all anymore. He only knew he liked looking at you. He wanted to keep looking. He wanted to see it all.

“Okay” you started. “I’ll show you how I make myself feel good”. Mingi thought he was going to explode, spontaneously combust in front of you as he heard those words coming from your mouth. 

You started to draw small and slow circles on your swollen clit and Mingi could tell the enigmatic little nub loved the attention because you elicited a moan that hit him right in the chest. A sound he will never forget. Nothing like the pornographic high pitched screeches he was used to. This one was lower, more sultry and slower. Like the sound caught in your throat but eventually made it out into the world against your will. And you bit your lip right after, your eyes growing heavier, hazier. You looked so beautiful.

He looked at you rubbing your pretty pussy and drawing out all these beautiful sounds out of yourself, more slick gushing out of you as your pretty pussy pulsed and tensed. He was mesmerized, completely entranced by you 

“Does it feel good?” he asked as his eyes went back up to your pretty face being contorted by intense pleasure. 

“Yes, it does. I like when you look at me” you confessed looking up at him with hooded eyes.

“Fuckkk” he sighed, his weeping cock twitching between his heavy thighs. “I like looking at you.”

You moaned again and picked up the pace, dipping to your entrance again to gather more wetness and dragging it up to your throbbing clit. The patterns you were drawing on your pussy were quicker and tighter, making you moan louder.

The squelching wet sounds erupting from the act made Mingi dizzy. How bad did he want to bend down and taste you, how bad did he want to get his tongue on your cunt, feel you throb under him as he lapped at you clit. He wanted to see you cum. He wanted to make you cum.

But he didn’t dare to touch you when you hadn’t asked. He didn’t want to make you uncomfortable so he stuck to the script. He didn’t even succumb to the desire to take his own cock out to stroke it as he looked at you and to be completely honest he was scared to be distracted from the breathtaking show. Even for a single second he didn’t want to take his eyes off you.

“See how my pussy… mnph… is clenching?” you struggled to say, short of breath, your hand not slowing down. Mingi nodded quickly, his eyes darting from your cunt to your face back to your pussy. “That means I’m close to climax” Mingi’s eyes grew twice their size as he nodded again, expectantly. 

“When a woman orgasms… oh f-fuck… the vagina spasms” you said, inching dangerously close to your release. “if you want you can put a finger inside and feel it”

Mingi was not about to turn down such a generous proposition and nodded hastily. He hesitantly approached his hand, he didn’t really know what to do though so you took his wrist and guided his index through your fold, coating it in your juices and jolting at the contact before pushing his digit inside your tight heat with a low moan, it was just a finger but the stretch made it that much more pleasurable and you went back to rubbing your clit.

“Fuck… yess” you breathed. “Don’t move it”

Mingi couldn’t believe how warm and wet and tight you were, your pussy was lightly clenching around his finger everytime your fingers circled your clit.

“Do you feel it?” you asked, a little squeaky. Mingi nodded again.

“Yes. Y-you’re throbbing” he said peering at you over his large glasses you smiled.

“Yes it’s cause I’m very close” you kept on teasing your bundle of nerves. “Some women squirt when they orgasm” you started.

“Can you do that?” Mingi asked hurriedly, his eyebrows arching on his forehead, curious eyes close to bulge out.

“Y-yes.”

“Fuckkk… Can I please drink it?” Mingi blurted. “Please I wanna taste it so bad” He couldn’t stop the question that burned his tongue. He had been curious about that ever since he first saw it in a porn video and to see you do that. He couldn’t let his chance pass.

Seeing him like this, begging you to have a taste of you almost had you crossing the line but you held on.

“Yes, come closer” Mingi threw himself on his knees without thinking twice. “Open your mouth baby” Mingi bent over you, opened his mouth and stuck his tongue out, his dick twitching again at the novel term of endearment. You entangled your fingers in his soft locks of hair and pushed on his face until his lips were pressed against your folds, making him moan against your cunt, his finger still stuck inside your heat.

“Such a good boy. So eager to learn” you praised and Mingi started to instinctively buck his hips against nothing, the wet patch in his boxers growing larger with each pathetic and useless thrust.

“Fuck” he said, finally getting some of your juices in his mouth as your fingers rubbed your clit and occasionally brushed on his tongue. “Tho kood” he said, keeping his tongue out of his mouth, patiently waiting. 

“Fuck keep looking at me touching myself for you babyboy” you grunted, pulling on Mingi's soft hair. The dull pain made him whimper against your soaked little cunt, urging him to rutt his hips faster.

“Fuck I'm gonna… fuckkkk… m’cumming” you said, finally slipping over the edge as a powerful stream of translucent liquid spurted out of you making Mingi instantly wrap his lips around your folds and drink as much of it as he could as he continued to pathetically hump the air. The wave of intense pleasure radiated your whole body making you shake and moan under Mingi’s hungry lips, your cunt taking a vice grip onto Mingi’s finger. You continued to circle your clit until the pleasure wore off and you finally came down from your high, out of breath but utterly satisfied. 

When Mingi emerged from between your thighs he was disheveled, dazed. His face was a mess: his lips were swollen and his glasses were crooked and spotted with droplets of your release. He was completely dazzled but he looked content.

“Are you okay?” you asked hesitantly, closing your legs and flipping your skirt back, sitting back up straight.

“I came in my pants” Mingi declared, looking down at the dark blue wet patch on his jeans. “You looked so hot, you tasted so good… I- I-...and you called me a good boy… And I- lost it. I’m sorry I-” Mingi stammered again and you chuckled. You weren’t wrong about him. Mingi was definitely very cute.

“I hope you learned a lot today” you said, smiling warmly at him, and Mingi felt like his heart was going to fall out of his chest. How can you look so heavenly, so undoubtedly innocent when two seconds ago you were pulling his hair, shoving his face in your wet pussy and making his virgin ass cum without even touching him?

“Yes. I learned a lot. More than I ever hoped for”

“Maybe next time we can practice what you learned today. Okay?” you smiled again, but there was a mischievous glint in your innocent doe eyes.

“You mean we-” Mingi started but you cut him by jumping onto your feet, grabbing your purse and heading to the door of his room. On your way you bent down and picked up the white lace panties before throwing them at Mingi.

“That's a little gift for you” He caught the undergarment and looked up at you through his wet lenses just as confused as ever. Classic Mingi. “Use it as study material okay?” He nodded again, without saying a word and you headed out the door.

“Class dismissed”

a/n: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH. MINGIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII. thats it.

ateez masterlist | navigation

[sundrop-writes]

if ur taking requests then how about female reader being a bau member and is receiving unwanted attention from the local cops but she cant pick up on social cues very well so it’s extra stressful for her to naviagte

Then enter protective and somewhat jealous jj that tries to protect her and shows her what true love and respect is with soft softdom!jj

I really like this, but I like the idea of it more as a short then a full fic, so... here we go.

JJ Being Protective of You - (Jennifer Jareau x Fem!Autistic!Reader)

Warnings: some harassing behaviour from a random male cop towards the reader; the man uses condescending pet names toward the reader; JJ goes full boss mode; use of the term L/N (as in 'Last Name') to refer to the reader; she reader uses she/her pronouns; the reader experiences a small accidental injury; pre-established relationship. Idk what else. Not proofread.

Paperwork. This is where you thrived. Much like Spencer, you loved a good paper trail.

You were currently in the back room of the police station, going through their old case files, looking at every case from the last forty years that had yet to be digitised. You were looking for previous murders that matched the signature of the killer the team was currently after, since the working theory was that the UnSub had 'taken on' the work of his father or another older figure in his life.

So you had to dig through all the files of unsolved murders and see if you could find a pattern stemming back - to see if you could find more killings that this father might have committed.

It was stuffy and dusty in the file room, but you were finding it to be the kind of work that you did best - your brain churning on all cylinders as you looked through the many files for all the markers in the killings that would have aligned with his killer. You put some files aside and closed the lid on a box, and then moved to a new stack, going to take down a box from 1973 - it was rather heavy and awkward to lift, but you could manage it.

"Oh, little lady, let me help you with that,"

Suddenly, someone appeared beside you, as if out of nowhere, and a second pair of hands began tugging on the box.

"I got it." You grunted out, tugging the box back in your direction, trying to get a better grip on it.

"Trust me, doll, someone like you shouldn't be lugging this crap around on your own." The man's voice argued, becoming slightly strained - angry?

Was he frustrated because it was too heavy for him to lift? Did he feel like he had to help because you looked weak and he was frustrated because of the social obligation?

"It's fine." You assured him, tugging on it again. But - he still wouldn't let go. "I'm stronger than I look, trust me."

That was something that Emily and Derek often joked about. You had used a shovel to break a double welded chain in order to get into a basement when a child was in danger. The police had been arguing about getting a warrant and talking about how they would need heavy duty bolt cutters to get through the chain away, and you were down there in minutes - and from then on, the team all agreed not to mess with you. Especially not in an emergency.

"Sweetie, just let go of it-"

His grip slipped off the box, and it went flying in the opposite direction then, and one of the sharp corners smacked you on the head - a piercing pain went through your whole forehead and and papers came flying out of the box, spilling across the floor and fluttering everywhere.

"Oh my god, ow!" You exclaimed loudly, stepping backward, raising a hand to your forehead toward the throbbing pain. You were alarmed when you felt wetness, and you quickly drew your fingers back and saw blood.

"Oh, goodness. I'm sorry, darlin'." The man appeared in front of you, and soon, completely unprompted, he put his hands on both of your cheeks, trying to lift your head to better inspect the cut. "See, that's why you shouldn't-"

"Don't touch me!" You screamed, reaching up inside of his forearms to shove his hands off you. Your skin was crawling with a terrible, icky itch where his hands had been touching you.

He became slack-jawed with shock at this.

"There's no need to shout." He chuckled. "Calm down."

"Ugh, no!" You shouted back.

You were suddenly feeling terribly trapped in the small, stuffy, dusty room, and though you knew that the papers needed to be cleaned up and you needed to finish your fishing expedition for the trail of murders - you had to leave. You needed air.

You needed JJ.

You shoved past the man and your feet carried you as fast as you could go, frantically looking for that head of blonde hair.

"Listen, babydoll, just calm down-"

"Woah, woah, her name is not babydoll."

That voice. Your hero.

You blinked past a haze if tears you hadn't even noticed was forming, and saw the pale blue shirt and blonde hair that you knew was her - you ran to stand behind her, grabbing her hand tightly, which she gripped back, grounding you, letting you know that she was right there.

"I'm not sure what kind of slack operation you people run around here, but we are professionals. You are going to refer to her by her full title, Special Agent L/N - or you won't talk to her at all. You won't even look at her. Do you understand me?" JJ barked at him.

The pure authority dripping from her voice made you feel so utterly safe.

"Listen, m'am, I'm not sure-"

"It's not 'm'am', it's Agent." JJ corrected him, now straining through her teeth, absolutely seething. "We are here representing the FBI, trying to catch a very dangerous man to help keep your town safe. We're not just little secretaries skittering around to get you your coffee and clean up after you. Just because we're women, we're not here to wipe your ass!"

You heard a chuckle from behind you, and you thought it was Emily's voice. This was followed by a low whistle - probably Derek.

"Is that clear?" JJ finished off, daring the man to talk back to her.

The man sighed and turned around to leave, finally defeated. This is when JJ turned to you.

"Are you okay?" She asked, her voice much softer now. "Oh my god, what happened to your head?"

"There was... a box..." You mumbled quietly, still feeling shaken up.

"He hit you with a box?" JJ snapped, looking back in the direction he had walked off.

"JJ, please." You begged, quietly, squeezing her hand, directing her attention back to you.

She knew what her priority was right now.

"Come on,"

JJ walked you to the bathroom, and as she was cleaning up the cut with a damp paper towel, she was still huffing hard through her nose, the anger still pumping through her.

"I'm going to find that guy's supervisor, I'm going to put in a report about him, I'm going to-"

"It's okay, JJ." You said, reaching out to run a gentle hand along her lower back. "I'm pretty sure he's not gonna come near me again after what you said."

She let out a snort of laughter, and half her mouth upturned in a smile. You both knew that she could be incredibly intimidating despite her looks, and she always protected you - just one of the many things that had attracted you to her in the first place.

"Yeah, well... nobody comes near my girl and gets away with it."

[frownyalfred]

What are some Ashkenazi traditions that Martha took part in? And do you think Bruce participated in those as well? xx

I like to think about covert, cultural things that might have snuck through Wayne Manor that weren't overtly Jewish. Not that there isn't a world where Martha was openly Jewish, but I think it's much less likely after she married Thomas, for a variety of reasons. So, here are a few lingering cultural traditions I can think of:

Being superstitious (we Ashkenazim love that grey area haha)

Wanting to cook for and feed people as a form of love

Cooking a big meal Thursday night/Friday morning, usually a big stew or soup "just because" and homemade bread

Insistent on Bruce having the best education possible, not just the one that gets him to network the most with Thomas' friends' kids

Teaching Bruce about right and wrong from a young age, and using examples in Gotham even if they're "unsavory" for dinner table talk

Having a go-bag, back up plan, escape route planned if she and Bruce ever needed it. Alfred was the only one who ever knew about it and helped her divert the funds from various accounts so no one else would ever even have a paper trail

Dark humor, etc. She could crack a mean joke every now and then, to the surprise of people around her

Never forcing Bruce to go to religious services or ask him if he believed in God

Taking Bruce on long nature walks during fall of every year to pick apples and make cake (later he'd realize this was Rosh Hashanah)

Quietly spending the day "in bed" once a year (this was Yom Kippur)

Being openly critical of Thomas to his face when necessary. My favorite example of this is walking into a room, seeing my boyfriend at the time, and asking "why are you wearing that shirt?" No hello, no how are you -- immediately to the questions. Later, my mother saw him and asked the same questions unprompted. Jewish women, man.

Constantly worried about the future and about fitting in with Thomas' world

[effloradox]

Means To An End

pairings: hitachiin twins x gn!reader, ohshc x gn!reader

summary: tensions are running high in the host club when the twins start to fight over a comment made by Haruhi. as their best friend, everyone expects you to have the answers but when you failed to notice any tension between the two of them, you’re left wondering if you don’t know them as well as you thought.

notes: set during episode 1.05 (the twins fight), works in the same verse as We Want You Here but is fine as a stand-alone fic too

word count: 2.2k

There’s trouble in the air. You’d say you can smell it, but with all the rose bouquets scattered around Music Room 3 it’s hard to get away from the floral smells that all your friends, hosts or otherwise, are perpetually laced with. Yesterday had been normal as far as you could tell, even if you had left school early for an appointment, but when the twins’ car had arrived at your home to pick you up to take you to school you’d been surprised to see them sporting new hair colours.

“Should I be worried about that?” The two of them raised an eyebrow in unison before your eyes drifted up to their hair. You couldn’t deny that the blue and the pink suited them really well but they’d never expressed an interest in dyeing their hair before. Not to mention how much their mother loves their natural hair colour. To dye it on a whim with no deeper purpose would be seen as a crime in her eyes. Yuzuha Hitachiin is not a woman to cross, you don’t want to think about the arguments had over this new development in the twin’s appearance. They exchange one more glance between themselves before Kaoru finally answers your question.

“It’s a means to an end.” You take a few moments to mull over the vagueness of his words, staring hard at the blue, before replying.

“Am I going to be dragged into the middle of it?”

“We’d prefer it if you didn’t.” At Hikaru’s words, the tension in the car seems to evaporate and you finally relax into your seat. You drop your bag onto the seat next to you, smoothing a crease in your uniform.

“Suits me just fine.” The rest of the journey is filled with small talk and petty gossip, just the way you like to spend your morning journey to Ouran. By the time the three of you have arrived at school you’re almost used to their new looks.

It takes until your lunch period for you to actually find out the reason for the twins’ weird behaviour. Your involvement in various clubs and extracurriculars had kept you busy and away from your friends aside from shared classes where you’d been too busy studying for upcoming exams to pay attention to your idiotic best friends. You finally had a moment of peace on your way to the dining hall when a commotion drew your attention. The pink and blue hair makes it incredibly easy to identify the twins and you can only watch in mild horror at the food fight that has broken out between the two of them. You’d been more than content to turn on your heel and head back where you came from when a foreign pair of arms grab you, pulling you down a corridor not far from the dining hall.

“I demand you tell me what’s going on with those shady twins!” It takes you a few beats to realise that it’s Tamaki that pulled you away. You’re more than used to being manhandled by the twins but Tamaki doesn’t seem like the type to do so unprompted to anyone but Haruhi. When Kyoya appears in front of you as well, you begin to suspect maybe he put the Host Club King up to the mild kidnapping he’s just committed.

"I have no idea Tamaki-Senpai.” Your words send the blonde into a predictable fit of despair and it becomes clear to both you and Kyoya that he will no longer be an active part of this conversation. The two of you are more than used to tuning out Tamaki’s breakdowns so it’s easy to pick up the conversation without his involvement.

“It’s in your best interest to tell us everything you know (Y/N).”

“They told me not to get involved. I’ve learned to trust them when they say that.” You can tell your answer hasn’t pleased the megane but you can’t really find it in yourself to care much. If the twins told you not to get involved, you’re more than happy to let whatever this is blow over without it affecting you as well. Since you’re not a host and whatever they’re doing doesn’t affect your classes together you’re more than happy to watch from the sidelines. If it truly is just a means to an end like Kaoru said it was, you can’t imagine whatever they’re doing will last longer than a day or two. “I’ll see you both at the club after class for my usual appointment.”

It’s only when you’ve started to walk away that Kyoya responds to your statement in a monotone voice that somehow feels more calculated than usual. “If things continue the way they have been, we might be unable to fulfil your usual appointment. We’re down a pair of loving brothers you see.” You stop walking at his final words, turning on your heel to face him.

“What do you mean?” Your question, plus the blank look that appears on your face, instantly brings Tamaki out of his fit as he looks at you with an expression you can’t quite read. You place it somewhere between bewildered and perplexed but there’s another part of it that you find yourself disliking.

“Haven’t you heard? Hikaru and Kaoru are fighting.” It almost feels like the world stops spinning for a few moments as you process Tamaki’s words. The problem is that the world starts spinning again and you can almost feel the system error taking place in your mind as you wait for the blonde to tell you he’s joking. When Tamaki doesn’t rescind his sentence you feel the first prickle of anxiety starting in the back of your mind.

“They don’t fight.” Tamaki merely blinks at you owlishly.

“They’ve been fighting since yesterday. It started at the club.”

"If they were fighting, I would know."

“Is it possible that you don’t know them as well as you thought?” Part of you knows that Kyoya doesn’t mean his question to sound as harsh as it does but it still stings somewhere deep inside you.

The twins might not have fully opened up to the host club yet but you know them. There’s no way they could be fighting; there’s no way you could’ve misread the car journey that badly to miss some sign that there was disharmony between them. They’re never fought in all the years you’ve known them.

“I’ll guess we’ll find out after classes are over.” Your tone sounds more defeated than you’d care to acknowledge and you’re quick to turn away from the two hosts before you spot any kind of pity growing in their expressions.

It’s almost a relief when your free period starts and you can spend your time as you wish. Normally you’d seek the twins out, or vice versa, but something about your earlier conversation with Tamaki and Kyoya is replaying in your mind and the idea of sitting and stewing in a crowded library sounds like the worst thing on earth. You find yourself walking through the grounds of the academy, hoping some fresh air and sunlight will do something to improve your mood. It almost works until you hear a loud shout from behind you.

“Hey! (Y/N) wait!” You start to quicken your pace when you hear two sets of footsteps coming up behind you but it’s not long before Hikaru and Kaoru catch up to you. They come to a stop a few paces behind you, waiting for you to turn around and face them. The bright colours of their hair make you feel sick.

“What gives?”

“Yeah, why’d you ditch us?”

“I don’t know what you’re doing, but you need to wrap it up soon.” It’s clear your comment isn’t what the twins were expecting from you when they flinch back at your tone.

“What're you talking about?" You narrow your eyes at them.

“Your means to an end. Whatever the end is, I hope it’s worth it.” The way the two of them look at each other when you speak sends a wave of irritation over you that you rarely feel towards your best friends. It feels like they're in on some joke that you've been left behind on and you don't enjoy the feeling.

"Don't be like that."

"Yeah, it's not a big deal." Hikaru's blasé tone does nothing to soothe your irritation.

"Kyoya seems to think it is. He also seems to think I don't know you well enough to notice that you're fighting." Your words get the first serious reaction from the twins as they look at you with an unreadable expression on their faces.

"When did Kyoya say that?" Hikaru's tone is cold and you can't tell whether that's directed towards you or Kyoya. Or both. Maybe both.

"During your little display at lunch. Him and Tamaki pulled me out of the dining hall to try and work out what the fuck is going on."

"He had no right to involve you."

"Yeah, it's none of their business."

"Actually it's entirely their business if it directly affects the host club. Which it seems like it has since Kyoya’s cancelling appointments.”

“It’ll be over soon, we told you.”

"I don't know why you're pretending to fight, but I want no part of it. You told me you didn't want me involved and I was fine with that but now I am involved and I want out."

"We didn't mean for this to happen to you."

"I know."

“We’re sorry.”

“…I know.” Kaoru is the first to approach you, waiting for your reaction. When you don't take a step back, he approaches and pulls you into a hug. His brother is quick to follow and the three of you spend the next few moments entwined in silence. You listen for their breaths and even your breathing so that you're all in sync.

Their synchronicity is an ability that is as innate to them as breathing and it always feels special when they let you in for moments like this. It's only when your breathing is completely in line with theirs that you begin to untangle yourself from their arms. The events of the day feel like they’ve hit you with full effect and you’re left feeling weary.

"I'm going to go home. I'll see you tomorrow." The twins let you go without protest, the weight of their gaze heavy on you as you walk towards the main building of Ouran. After muttering some excuse about feeling unwell, it’s not long before you’re in your car on the way back home and it’s all you can do to put the events of the day behind you.

When you wake up the day after, you’re honestly not sure what to expect when one of your maids tells you that the twins' car has pulled up to take you to school. It’s nothing out of the ordinary, in fact it'd be more unusual if they didn’t, so it’s not hard to see that your maids are confused by your hesitancy to go to school. You climb into the car and sit in your usual seat, barely looking up at your companions as you grab your seatbelt and secure it. It’s only when you look away from the seatbelt that something odd about the energy in the car hits you.

It takes you a few seconds to realise why something feels off. They’ve switched colours. The weight of their eyes on you makes you shift in your seat and the seatbelt suddenly feels far too restrictive.

“Aren’t you worried about frying your hair if you keep changing it?” The smiles that appear on your friends' faces immediately settle your anxiety. If this was some test, you’ve definitely passed it.

“No one else noticed.” In a way, you’re unsurprised by that. The two of them pretend to be each other so frequently that you can only imagine their house staff have long since given up trying to work out who’s who.

“Don’t you think it’s a bit cruel to give people a way to tell you apart only to pull the rug from under them by changing it immediately?”

“We don’t want everyone to know who’s who.”

“Yeah, it takes away from our mystique.” It’s a fair comment, one you can’t refute, but there still seems to be a gaping hole in their logic.

“Some people will still know.” You gesture to yourself as an example, watching as their smiles seem to get a fraction wider.

“Yeah.”

“You'll know.”

“Looks like you do know us well enough after all.” Hikaru’s words take you by surprise. The three of you have never been the type to be overly doting on each other and you’re not sure if you’re reading the situation right.

“You did this for me?”

“Of course!”

“Can’t have Kyoya thinking he knows everything, can we?” Hikaru’s words touch you in a way you don’t think you’d be able to put into words, and as soon as the moment is with you, it’s passed; as is usually the case with the twins.

“So! You missed the craziest love confession after school yesterday…” As Kaoru goes into a tirade about some poor girl who tried to confess to Haruhi, it’s all you can do to bask in the moment of harmony with the two of them.

A/N: I’m kind of obsessed with the concept of the twins having this long suffering friend figure in their life, I think it’s such a fun avenue to go down with Ouran fics.

[queenimmadolla]

𝐌𝐀𝐆𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐋 𝐌𝐘𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐀

(eddie munson x secret admirer!reader)

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 • eddie edit © @fefemunson! • ao3

Summary: After four long years of pining, it’s high time you tell your crush you like him and quite possibly your last chance to, luckily there’s no better time for love confessions than Valentine’s Day. If only you hadn’t chosen to do so anonymously, because you’re pretty sure Eddie Munson is hoping his secret admirer is someone else.

Warnings: pining, angst, misunderstandings, very brief (blink and you miss it) descriptions of oncoming panic attack (doesn't happen), Heather Holloway being a sweetie, and a whole lot of fluff

authors note: no, you're not imagining things. i'm reposting a story i already have up. unfortunately, i seem to have an anti who has been flagging anything of mine that gains traction as content that it is not so it's hidden to those who don't have the settings on (most people) and goes to die away, never to be interacted with again. they're attempting to do the same to Magical Mysteria, as they had the original flagged and, therefore, hidden. because everyone seemed to really relate to reader and enjoyed reading this particular fic, i've decided to give that anti the finger, so here's a repost.

word count: 10k

You stood posted by a row of lockers, peaking around the corner of the hall to watch as the longtime object of your affections laughed at something one of his friends said.

“Are you stalking him again?”

You jumped, clutching your biology book to your chest as you swiveled around to face Heather, your best friend.

“Geez!” You hissed out, voice low as you checked to make sure you hadn’t attracted his attention.

But it’s you, so of course you hadn’t. Eddie was still leaning up against his locker and chatting away, face framed by the mane he called his hair. His curls were defined much more than usual—clearly he’d washed his hair before school which meant he must have been up early. Why did you know that????

“I’m not stalking him,” you grumbled and Heather giggled. “I’m just observing him.”

“Well, stop observing him and go talk to him.” She nudged your shoulder, giving you a reassuring smile. 

“I’m gonna—,” You answered with false bravado that soon wavered, “. . . eventually. Look, I have a plan. Okay, today is a new day, Valentine’s Day and the perfect day for romance. No more watching from the sidelines─”

Heather coughed out a stalking, followed by another cough, all of which you ignored.

“No more quietly pining, I’m telling him how I feel.”

Heather raised her eyebrows, tongue clicking. 

“Let me get this straight, you’re not only going to actually exchange words with him, you’re actually going to tell Eddie Munson about your feelings?”

Your heart fluttered just at the mention of him.

Edward Wayne Munson. Eddie.

You’d had a crush on him since your freshman year of high school, and contrary to your best friend’s earlier statement, you had exchanged words with him already. Sorta. Basically.

Freshman year you’d ate shit in the hallway, tripping over literally nothing and all your belongings had scattered, he’d stopped walking to help you pick your things up before he was off again. It wasn’t much conversation, but he did say something about those invisible rocks people left lying around.

Then your sophomore year, he’d sat behind you with his club at the school’s mandatory pep rally. One of his friends had accidentally jostled you and Heather a little too roughly when he was finding his seat and Eddie had apologized on his behalf.

Then last year he’d held the cafeteria door open for you and your friends when you slipped in. That time, you’d been the one to thank him and he had said you’re welcome. Almost unprompted!

So, yeah. Maybe you were a little delusional, it didn’t matter though. What mattered was you were running out of time. 

Somehow, Eddie had managed to fail the past two years, allowing you to catch up to him but that meant you were now a senior as well. You’d let the other chances to approach him pass you by because you were too scared of rejection, this was your last chance.

The college acceptance letter you’d received at the start of the week also spurred your bravery, if he rejected you, you only had a few months left until you were on your way to California, there’d be all those states between the two of you. 

You had nothing to lose, so today was gonna be the day.

“Yes,” you took a deep breath, slowly exhaling as the determination sank deep into your bones. “I’m gonna tell him.”

“How are you gonna do that?” She cocked her head, the curls of her side ponytail bouncing.

“I’m glad you asked, my friend.” You grabbed her hand, dragging her down the hall to your partially opened locker. You pulled the door open fully to reveal a bouquet of roses, set on top of your books.

Her face wrinkled up in confusion, “You bought yourself flowers again?”

“No.” You glared at her, a hand scratching your head as you hissed out through gritted teeth, “And we promised not to bring that up anymore—these are for Eddie.”

Heather perked up at that, a hand resting over her chest as she fawned, “Dude, that is so cute! When are you gonna give them to him?”

“That’s the thing, I’m not actually going to give them to him directly. I need your help. You’ve got history with him, yeah?”

You already knew she did so it didn’t surprise you when she nodded. You slipped one rose from the bouquet and handed it to her. 

“Can you leave this on his desk?” 

“Sure! Wow, I can’t believe I get to be part of your love story,” she marveled, twirling the stem between her fingertips.

God, you hoped it’d be a love story and not a tragedy.

“And these are for you.” You pulled out a smaller bouquet of pink roses, and Heather just about burst into tears.

The two of you had been best friends since middle school, and often spent your free time watching corny teen movies, usually living through the main characters of the romance ones. You’d had a couple of almost-boyfriends, in the end you hadn’t been interested in them enough to accept when they’d try to make it official. And Heather simply hadn’t caught the eye of anyone, which was ridiculous to you considering how pretty and nice she was, so you were usually her valentine on Valentine’s Day. This was the first time you actually got her flowers instead of a bunch of chocolates to eat the night away, you’d figured she deserved them. 

She’d had a crush on Steve Harrington, but he hadn’t noticed her and ended up dating and getting dumped by Nancy Wheeler. Then he’d dated every other girl except her. You feared your non-existent relationship with Eddie might go the same way.

“Dude,” Heather yanked you in for a hug, squeezing you to the point you thought your ribs might be bruised.

“Uhm. Heather. Ow.”

“Oh, sorry.” She released you, holding you by your shoulders, “Okay, so I just give it to him?”

“No, no, no, no, no. There will be no interactions. Just leave it on his desk.”

“Whatever you say, boss.”

You were about to reply when the first bell cut you off and threw you into a panic, nudging Heather in the direction of the classroom so she could beat Eddie there. Heather took off running once she realized the reason for your worry, only you both failed to remember Eddie was late to everything. 

You reluctantly made your way to your first period, plagued by thoughts of Eddie’s reaction to the first rose.

Would he like it? Oh, you hoped he liked it.

What if he thought it was some prank? What if he threw it away? Would he do the same to the rest?

Oh, well. There was no backing out now.

Your carefully thought out plan was put into action. You’d made sure to play sick the last 15 minutes of every class to get an excuse note to the nurse, only you didn’t go to the nurse. Instead, you ran around leaving a rose in Eddie’s various hang outs. One at the creepy old bench you knew he did business at. Two roses with the stems placed through the slits of his locker, three on his windshield wipers, one of the younger students in your art class was in Hellfire with him and after swearing him to secrecy, Will had promised to deliver three to Eddie personally, without revealing your identity.  

During lunch, you found yourself behind the stage of the cafeteria, in part of the drama department. It’s where Hellfire took place. 

You’d been there a handful of times, only when your curiosity for the metalhead got a little too overwhelming for you and you wanted to feel closer to him without having to face him. It was only ever set up on Fridays, the day Eddie got to school early enough to do so. 

You made your way over to sit in the chair closest to his throne, casting it a couple of nervous glances.

This would be where you left the last rose, so of course, everything about the set up, the throne had to look daunting to you now; a representation of how you were seeing Eddie as your confession grew nearer. If things didn’t go as planned, it’d be the last time you could come here.

The thought made your stomach hurt, a large void beginning to form there. 

The last rose was much too personal to leave just anywhere, where someone without a key to the room would find it. No one but the Hellfire club would occupy this area today. Attached to the rose with a ribbon was a note with a simple message that meant more to you than you cared to admit. You’d written it when you first came up with your plan at the start of the week and had been debating on whether or not to sign your name since then. 

The answer should’ve been obvious, right? This whole thing was to let Eddie know how you felt about him, and your romantic intentions were clear with the red roses. This note would finish implying the rest. And if you wanted Eddie to know it was you who admired him,  you just had to write your name.

Yeah, simple as that.

You clicked the pen in your grasp, placing it just over the paper. 

You wavered, licking your lips as you tried to convince yourself to just own your goddamn name. That’s all you had to do. Write on the paper.

Just write on the paper.

Your hand was beginning to shake, and with a heavy heart, you realized your name wouldn’t be going on this note.

You weren’t brave enough for that. You set your purple pen down, staring down at the words written in pink ink before you rolled the paper up, making sure the ribbon was secured (you’d used a hole puncher to slip the ribbon through) and left it on the seat of the throne before scurrying out of the room as fast as you could.

—

Eddie was at a loss, completely stupefied.

When he’d arrived at his history class, after having mentally prepared himself for the onslaught of boredom he’d face, he was surprised to find a single rose on his desk. By surprised, he meant incredibly suspicious. A glance around the room confirmed he wasn’t being watched, everyone was gossiping about Emmy Switcher’s upcoming party, so he’d settled into his seat and marveled at it.

Eddie wasn’t one to ever really get things on Valentine’s Day, not counting the mandatory valentine’s cards in elementary and middle school. The last time he’d gotten a card was his first senior year, and it had been a prank by a couple of girls on the softball team and their boyfriends. Embarrassed the shit out of him. The following Valentine’s Day he’d faked being sick to avoid falling victim again—god, he craved affection so much it made him pathetic enough to still hope for something gross and cheesy to happen to him. 

A rose was harmless though, right? Unless it was poisoned or something. Eddie lifted it to his nose, but all he could pick up was the seductive floral scent and when he didn’t immediately pass out from chloroform, he figured it was just a rose.

He glanced around again in vain, hoping someone would somehow stick out and when no one did, he held it in his grasp, rough fingertips stroking over the soft petals for the duration of the class.

He’d been stunned when he arrived at his locker to find two roses hanging out of it. A few people were staring at him as he carefully pulled them from their place, but they looked more curious rather than shy or mischievous. He had a feeling whoever was leaving the roses for him wasn’t around. 

He refused to leave them in his locker, the stems clutched in his hand as he went about his day and found more. Eddie was more than proud to display them, somewhat smug at the attention they were garnishing him.

Yeah, fuckers. Someone finally liked him. Eat shit.

He’d spent his English class convincing himself he’d never find out exactly who this someone was. He was pretty fucking stressed after that. He tried to come up with a roster of sorts, girls he thought might be interested in him enough to maybe leave him pretty flowers and woo him right out of his Reeboks.

He’d only been able to come up with four—impressive—but his first pick he was quick to scribble out. He hadn’t had a decent interaction with her and he figured it was creepy of him to put her at the top of the list all because of his wishful thinking. 

The second girl listed was possible, maybe. Chrissy Cunningham. He’d had a crush on her for as long as he could remember since she was always nice to him. She’d dumped Jason a couple of months ago and he’d been dealing to her for a short amount of time, but she seemed pretty flirty to him. Although, flattery did work on him.

The third name made him nervous, and not in a good way. Tina Sawyer. They’d both got pretty drunk at her Halloween party and hooked up in her bathroom but she avoided him like the plague afterwards, obviously embarrassed about interacting with him, which was typical for the lot of Hawkins.

He’d been sure it was a drunken mistake but sometimes, he’d catch her staring at him, and she didn’t look all that disgusted with him.

The last name on the short list was that of Tammy Thompson. She had made her interest in Eddie pretty clear his junior year, always trying to sit behind him in classes so she could play with his hair. Unfortunately Tammy was very, for the lack of better words, aggressive with her affections. He’d made out with her once and it had been sloppy and messy in the most unattractive of ways. It was like tonguing a dog.. Then he remembered she’d actually been able to graduate, unlike him, so he was spared. 

By lunch, Eddie was ready to try to figure out who his secret admirer was. Out of the two remaining girls on his list, he was leaning more towards Chrissy, who he felt wouldn’t be ashamed to hold his hand in public. 

He and his lunchbox full of drugs—and some snacks—made their way to the Hellfire lunch table where he spent a significant amount of time studying the two girls.

“Uh, are you okay, Eddie?”

Eddie glanced up at the concerned face of Will Byers, who’d arrived much later than the rest of the guys and Stephanie, one of the two girls in Hellfire. The question drew the attention of the rest of the table and Eddie internally sighed.

“Yeah, I’m fine—what are those?” Eddie asked, eyes honed in on the roses resting on Will’s tray.

The younger teen handed them over, “A girl told me to give you these.”

Eddie felt his heart skip a beat, “You know who she is?”

Will nodded and before Eddie could demand a name, he rushed, “I’ve been sworn to secrecy!”

Eddie scowled, carefully setting aside his roses so they wouldn’t be involved in his annoyance. 

“Byers, I’m gonna level with you. I’ve been in this miserable prison for six long years. While I’ve had my fair share of hookups, I have not ever had a girl like me enough to leave me roses and do cute shit before. And I fear I never will again. That’s why I’m actually gonna need you to tell me who it is so I can have a girlfriend by the end of what is supposed to be the most god awful romantic day of the year. ‘Kay?”

Eddie’s eyebrows dart up, face set in an intimidating glower but Will remembers how scared you looked when you trusted him with this task. He also knows, very well, how it feels to love someone without them ever knowing because you fear what their response will be. He’d also seen Eddie eyeing both Chrissy and Tina.

Will knew what it was like to have that special person interested in someone else, too. So, he’d protect your secret.

“I swore.”

Eddie groaned, head dipping forward in a brief moment of defeat before he slammed his fist on the table, making the other occupants jump. 

“Whatever, I’ll find her myself.” Just as Eddie stands, an idea occurs to him. Will said he wouldn’t tell him who it was, but the youngest Byers hadn’t said he wouldn’t tell him who it wasn’t, “Is it Tina?”

Will shakes his head, nose wrinkling. Nothing against her, she just wasn’t the nicest to him or his friends. Not the meanest, still.

Eddie breathes out a sigh, mumbling an oh, thank god as he makes his way to the cafeteria doors. That only left one possibility, and he was due to meet up with her in just five minutes. He couldn’t fight the grin off his face.

── 

Your heart was racing a mile a minute, having witnessed everything transpire at the Hellfire table.

You’d selected your lunch table four years ago because of the perfect view of Eddie it provided you, but right then it was killing you. You’d ruined your manicure, picking aggressively at the polish as you watched Will and Eddie, breathing out a sigh of relief when it looked like Will hadn’t revealed your identity.

Eddie hadn’t seemed too happy about that.

Then he stormed out and you fought very hard with yourself to not follow after him because then Heather would be right and you’d be a stalker.

“Regret it yet?” Heather asked after she’d swallowed a bite of her sandwich. 

“No.” You sorta lied. Yeah, you kind of regretted it but at the same time, knowing Eddie wouldn’t have to let you down gently made you less anxious. Besides, it wasn’t like you could just climb up the stage and duck past the curtain leading to the hellfire room without one of it’s members spotting you from their table. They’d tell Eddie in a heartbeat, especially if they found out the last rose and that damn note was there.

“Sure,” Heather drawled, glancing over her shoulder as you picked at your food, appetite suddenly gone. 

Maybe you really should have written your name on that love note. 

“Well, I hope you mean it, because Dream Girl is on her way to meet Ice Cream.” Your head snapped up at the mention of Chrissy Cunningham and Eddie’s code names you’d given them so both you and Heather were free to talk without either of them suspecting anything. You referred to Chrissy as Dream Girl because you’d known all about Eddie’s crush on her (while Heather had been depressed about Steve and Nancy, you’d eaten your weight in ice cream over Eddie and Chrissy’s more than friendly interactions with each other, which had nothing to do with Eddie’s code name—he was ‘ice cream’ because you wanted to lick him all over).

Sure enough, you looked over Heather’s shoulder, following her gaze to see Chrissy bidding her friends goodbye before she walked right out of the doors Eddie had pushed past minutes ago and as you watched her exit through the double doors, something inside you withers and dies a bit.

You knew Eddie sold to her (gave her a discount because she was pretty and because of their flirting, hearing him say that made you want to drive a knife right through your chest), you and Heather had followed them out a couple of times which is how you were both aware of the flirtationship.

After the first time you’d spied on them, the two of you had gone back to your home where Heather held a mock funeral for you. Now, you wished it had been a real one because you were sure Eddie had not only loved your roses, he also assumed they were from Chrissy. They would send him right into her arms at that shitty ass bench. And when he’d get a hold of the love note, well, you’d be the reason behind why Eddie and Chrissy would be hand in hand come Monday, canoodling by their lockers and kissing like no one else was watching. All the things Eddie should have been doing with you.

You should have signed your name on the fucking note.

─

Eddie had paced a pathway, disturbing the mounds of fallen leaves surrounding the picnic table. 

His stuff, another rose he’d found waiting for him included, was on the table and he’d taken off his jacket, despite the chill of the February air. He was working himself up in his head, overheating in the process.

“Eddie?”

His head shot around, grinning as Chrissy—who apparently left him roses—approached him, face broken out in a smile.

“Hey, Chris.” Eddie’s heart was racing a mile a minute, palms sweaty as he rested them over his hips, then quickly realized he looked stupid so he crossed them instead.

She laughed at his nerves with absolutely no malice and they sat down at the bench, getting down to business. She’d been about to hand him a twenty dollar bill after he slid her the ziploc bag of nugs, but he held up his hand.

“On the house.”

“Eddie, it’s always on the house. I feel bad.”

“Then stop.” He emphasized the demand with bulging eyes, smirking when she giggled. She had to like him, right?

Eddie tried to be discreet about it, plucking one of the roses from his growing pile. He played with the stem, even sniffed the petals again in hopes she’d comment about it, maybe look a little excited about it or just give him any sort of reaction to indicate it had been her.

Chrissy was too busy moving things aside in her backpack to make room for the baggy. When she finally did look back up, she smiled, but gave no hint she was even familiar with them.

“Ooh, pretty flowers. Where’d you get those?”

Was she playing coy?

“Uh, someone’s been leaving them for me all around school.” Was it you?

Chrissy’s face lit up and Eddie thought it was finally the moment of truth.

“That’s so sweet! Do you know who it is? Or is it like a secret admirer sort of deal?”

Evidently, not the moment of truth. She had to be toying with him, trying to prolong the reveal. Because if it wasn’t her, he was out of ideas. And he really, really didn’t want to be out of ideas. Not when there was someone out there, maybe thinking about him.

“I actually have no idea who it is,” he sighed out, hoping, if it was her, she’d just put him out of his damn misery already.

Chrissy glanced down at the table and Eddie perked up. Nerves? Was she finally gonna come out with it?

“It wasn’t me, Eddie…but, I wish it had been.”

Eddie didn’t know what to say, mouth dropped open a little as his eyebrows quirked up in surprise.

Okay. Hadn’t been expecting that. He was expecting a yes it was me or a no it wasn’t me but not Chrissy confirming it hadn’t been her while also telling him she liked him. 

“So, you haven’t been leaving them for me?”

Chrissy shook her head and reached across the table to place her smaller hand over his, palm warm against his skin. Eddie’s eyes squeezed shut as he groaned, head falling forward to rest against the table.

“Eddie?” Chrissy asked, concern lacing her voice.

He let out a very long sigh, a little miffed at how messy this whole thing had gotten. Now, there was his, Chrissy’s and someone else’s feelings in the mix. Christ.

“‘M’sorry, Chrissy.” Eddie sat up straight, face grim as he slowly pulled his hand out from underneath hers. “You’re great, fantastic, actually. You’re really nice and really pretty, but… I’ve been going crazy all day, trying to figure out who’s behind these.”

He gestures to the roses at his side, the sight of them filling him with an intense wave of longing.

“It’s been like years since I’ve gotten anything with real meaning behind it for any occasion—” he wasn’t counting the hellfire club or Wayne, referring to romantic intentions—“let alone Valentine’s Day, and someone in this school seems to be thinking about me.” 

Eddie thought about what it must have taken to do something like this, it may have seemed like a trivial thought, something simple to others. He knew it wasn’t. He had no idea who it was, but he put himself in their position. They had to know enough about him to know his schedule, where he spent time, and then make the time to leave them in those spots just before he got there. 

He’d spent the time waiting for Chrissy considering the anonymity of it. On the chance it wasn’t her, there was someone else in the school who was too afraid to approach him directly. He’d thought it might be out of fear of being seen with him, seen doing anything remotely romantic with him. Then, why even bother? They had to be afraid of his reaction, it’s what he would be nervous about if the positions were flipped.

And god, he’d never felt more alive before, more seen and all it took was a couple of roses. He felt like those fawning girls in John Hughes movies. 

“Before today, I never would have approached you about this, you know? I know we flirt, but I never would have been brave enough to cross that line.” He admitted, looking into her shiny blue eyes. Aw, man. Eddie hated making girls cry but it was true, he would have been waiting for her to make a move, or for Tina to make a move. Any of his past hookups, really. He’d have been with any of them—having craved affection and everything that came with it so bad—if they had just been the ones to initiate things on a more permanent basis. 

He would have. Past tense. They could all form a conga line and confess their undying love for him but, unless they were the one who left him the roses—the one who made him brave enough to actually go around confronting people in an attempt to seek her out—he’d let them down. 

“She made me brave, makes me feel really wanted and I don't even know who she is. It’s not you, it’s just─”

“I’m not her.” Chrissy finished for him, wiping under one of her eyes. “It’s alright, Eddie. I mean, I’m obviously a little sad, but it’s not your fault or hers. I do hope you find her, though. She’d be lucky to have you.”

She gave Eddie a sad smile, making him feel even guiltier but it’d be pretty shitty of him to try to be with her when he’d be thinking of someone else.

“Thanks, Chrissy.” Eddie stood up and gathered his things. It was clear she was upset and would probably need some time to gather herself, he didn’t want to force her to leave first or linger around and make it awkward.

He left her with a small, parting smile, relieved that he hadn’t charged her. Would have felt like a douchebag to make her pay for weed and turn her down in the span of five minutes when she’d been nothing but pleasant to him.

Eddie shook it off, determination setting in once more. Sure, he was back to the drawing board, but if all else failed, he could corner young Byers again until he finally gave him a name.

He’d come up with a pretty good list of ways he could force Will to give up the name by the time school let out and he got to the Hellfire room.

It wasn’t until he set his little bouquet and the lunchbox down (he didn’t bother with backpacks, just shoved whatever he needed in his pants pockets or the box), walking around the throne in a circle like some fucking animal because he was so restless, that he saw the rose.

The flash of white had caught his eyes and he dove down to grab it, trying to be as careful with pulling the piece of paper away from the stem of the rose, only he realized whoever left it had hole punched the thing together so he ripped the ribbon with his teeth rather than rip the note.

The ribbon was stuffed into his back pocket as he eagerly sat himself down, rose clutched in one hand and the note in his other.

Eddie,

Please excuse my lack of eloquence in this note and also in our real life encounters.

Eddie felt a shiver of excitement wash over his skin, cheeks a bright shade of pink at the confirmation he’d indeed interacted with his secret admirer before. Fuck, she’d talked to him! It made her feel even more real. 

She was a real person, someone he could probably hold hands with and kiss. Unless, this was done in a purely platonic way which would be a little fucked up. Red roses to be friends? C’mon. He read on.

I hoped you liked the flowers. I was actually debating on getting you different ones, something a little more personalized to you, but I ended up going with roses because, well, they convey romance better.

Eddie leaned over the arm of the throne, sagging back as he allowed himself to completely collapse with relief. Just for a few seconds, then his eyes were glued to the pink penmanship.

I’m trying really hard not to sound creepy because I’m totally not creepy and I know what you're thinking, ‘that’s what a creep would say’ but I swear I’m not, I just. I admire you. A lot. I have for so, so long. I admire the way you keep going, even when things are absolute shit for you, I like how you watch out for the underclassmen that come in and don’t really have anywhere to go. I like the way you dress, how pretty your hair is (even when it’s frizzy which is so unfair), how passionate you get with your rants (even though sometimes you’re an asshole about it). 

And I like your laugh I LOVE your laugh. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve had what feels like the worst fucking day of my life and I’m ready to breakdown and cry and scream, but I don’t. Because I can hear you laugh your ass off at something one of your friends said in the cafeteria, by your locker or even when you’re just walking past me. And I wish I was there, laughing alongside you or making you laugh. I don’t know how your laughter makes me feel better, it just does. I get all smiley and I feel warm inside and I want to give you a hug for it, for making me feel better without even trying. 

But I can’t. You kind of scare me. Not in the mean, scary way, I’m just not sure you’ll like me. Or that it’ll go anywhere, or even if it should. 

You’re so confident, Eddie. And you’re stupid attractive (you are, and I’m sure you’re aware but I’ll go ahead and tell you I’m also physically attracted to you) and it’s so overwhelming that I can’t contain it anymore and I don’t really want to. We only have a couple of months before we’re out of here (I have a feeling this is gonna be your year, you’ll be free of this sentence, too), and I don’t want to have any regrets. The only way I’d ever regret you is by not telling you how I feel. 

So, here I am, Eddie Munson. Never thought I’d ever be confessing like this, but for the first time in my life, I feel brave. And it’s all because of you. Thank you, Eddie. I’ll be running around— dodging teachers and detention write ups— like Rocky in his training montages to get these roses to you because you deserve your flowers and I’d be delighted to give them to you today, and every single Valentine’s Day after. Actually, I want to give you even more than that. If you’ll have me.

Love,

What the fuck?

Eddie hastily searched the bottom portion of the back side of the paper, where the note ended for a signature, a name, initials, something but that’s where it ended.

 There was no name.

“NO! FUCK! NO! No, no, no, no, NO! I’ll have you, take me, just tell me who you are!” Eddie groaned out, note dropped into his lap so he could clench the roots of his hair with both fists as he doubled over.

This had to be a nightmare. It was the only reasonable explanation for someone to say all those wonderfuckingful things, just for them to disappear. 

His heart hurt and he blinked frantically to ward off the onslaught of water and sniffed to deter the tingle in his nose. 

The unmistakable sound of his own little rat pack making their way towards the room wasn’t enough to get him to pull himself together.

“Eddie, dude, are you okay?”

Eddie recalled his final option, head shooting to glance around at their faces in search of one in particular. 

“Byers. Where’s Byers?”

“His mom picked him up after lunch, wasn’t feeling good,” Mike informed him, completely unaware his grand Valentine’s gesture for Jane had been the cause of his sudden illness. 

It was the final straw for Eddie, he snatched the lunchbox and flowers and grumbled out, “Sessions canceled.”

He must have looked pissed as none of them protested, probably having something to do with most of them having dates afterwards. 

He almost made it out of the room when Gareth called him back, holding up a purple pen he’d found on the table and figured Eddie was about to forget.

“Is this yours?”

Eddie scoffed and rolled his eyes. 

“No.” Then he walked out.

Before promptly storming back in, swiping the pen out of Gareth’s meaty hands. Eddie clicked the pen and scribbled furiously over the side of his fist until the ink finally ran. It wasn’t purple. The ink filler was pink.

His secret admirer’s pen.

“What a cruel parting gift,” he sighed, shoving the pen in his pocket before making his exit. Again.

The really sad thing was Eddie couldn’t even sink into depression in the peace of his room. Emmy Switcher had approached Rick about wanting some herbal refreshments at her party and since he was still under house arrest (how Rick managed to deal and supply in his circumstances baffled him) the job fell upon Eddie. He’d driven to Rick’s restocked, then hit the party. 

It was a horn fest, couples everywhere he looked. All heart-eyed and attached at the tongue. It was disgusting.

Eddie was pouting, quietly fuming that it wasn’t him and his secret admirer making out or cuddling or doing something equally romantic but noooooo. Just had to take the ‘secret’ aspect to its extreme. 

He banished himself to a dark corner, only interacting with people when approached for drugs or weed. He’d caught sight of Chrissy and it had looked like she wanted to come over but he’d purposely shifted his gaze. Despite the gaping hole left where his heart was, it wasn’t Chrissy or Tina, or the girl in the upstairs restroom, who’d thrown herself at him when he’d been searching for a free bathroom to piss in, that he wanted. Eddie wasn’t in the mood to rebound.

Which was kind of crazy considering he hadn’t even been in a relationship, hadn’t been dumped. He wanted everything in that note, especially the promise of more and only with its author. 

Now, Eddie hadn’t been in love before. Some serious lust and want, yeah, however, reading that note made him feel like he was falling a little bit in love and he wanted, very badly, to dive headfirst the rest of the way. Clearly, that wasn’t going to happen.

Once he’d sold out the rest of Rick’s inventory, he stole a beer and headed for the front door. 

Once outside, Eddie took a minute to breathe. He hadn’t realized how stuffy it had been in there until he was no longer engulfed by the claustrophobic displays of affection. 

He trudged down the pathway and paused when he saw the figure of a girl sitting on the lawn. Her head was directed down towards the ground and she was most definitely not wearing the right clothes for the outside weather.

Eddie cursed under his breath, plans to immediately drive home and get crossed put on hold as he walked over, noting the dew already coating the grass.

“Hey, you okay?”

─

Drinking your sorrows away probably wasn’t the best idea, considering how much of a lightweight you were. 

Originally, you’d wanted to lock yourself away in your room for the night—and probably the rest of the weekend as well as maybe the next school week; nothing wrong with playing sick to avoid facing reality and your problems─to cry and pass out. Heather, on the other hand, had plans for you. She’d dolled you up, having to force you to wash your face and re-do your makeup once when you had started crying—put you in a cute outfit and dragged you to Emmy Switcher’s party. 

You knew her intentions were pure—as pure as underage drinking could be—but she knew her mistake when the party started to couple up. You’d been approached multiple times and she’d try to encourage you to go for the decent acting ones, you just hadn’t wanted to. When Chrissy Cunningham showed up, you’d gone for shots of the hard liquor (over the sink of course in case you gagged it up, which you did a decent amount of), sure that Eddie would soon follow and you’d be forced to witness their affection.

Obviously, you ended up shitfaced and somehow lost track of Heather. Or maybe she lost track of you. You’d very briefly attempted to find her, accidentally spotted Chrissy, now making eyes at Eddie who’d shown up, and you’d promptly headed outside, eager for some fresh air and an escape from the madhouse. The high alcohol level in your blood kept you from feeling how chilly it really was and you settled into the grass, twirling strands of it around your fingers.

You weren’t sure how long you were out there when someone approached you.

“Hey, you okay?”

You looked up, ready to ask them to just leave you when you locked eyes with Eddie Munson. Most of the liquid courage coursing through your veins evaporated, you couldn’t look at him for long, gaze moving back to the grass. What a way to start sobering up.

“I’m fine.”

“You sure? ‘Cause,” Eddie sat down next to you, one leg crossed and his other, knee up with his arm resting over it. His unopened beer was at his side, “You’re outside, alone, in the cold and you look pretty fucking sad.”

You scoffed, fingers still playing with the strands of grass as you tried to think of something to say that wouldn’t make you seem pathetic. In that time, Eddie took you in.

He knew you, he’d seen you around school and you were nice enough to greet him. Pleasantries in passing. Pretty Hallway Girl, as you’d been dubbed—though never referred to as—until he knew your name. It had been the first one he had jotted down on his list for his secret admirer’s identity, of course he realized with your lack of interactions, it wasn’t likely. He entertained the idea of dating you often, you’d just never shown any real interest in him. Eddie thought about it a lot. Anytime he caught sight of you, really. Your pretty face didn’t make it easy for him to stop. He was a really, really big sucker for your eyes and that smile you’d give him during those brief interactions; like the two of you had some sort of secret between each other. Warmed him up inside.

And here you were, all sad at a party. He didn’t really mind not getting crossed if it meant he got to comfort you, keep you company.

“I’m just drunk,” you finally blurted out, unable to come up with anything else, “And bummed.” 

Try devastated.

“You look it,” he joked, nudging his shoulder against yours.

“You don’t look that much better.” You shot back.

“That’s fair,” he sighed, breath visible in the night air as he tilted his head back. “I’m pretty bummed, myself.”

You really didn’t want to ask, figuring he’d already had some sort of lover’s quarrel with Chrissy and you didn’t want to get in the middle of it. 

But you were an idiot, so you asked, “Why are you bummed?”

You watched him dig around the pockets of his leather jacket, pulling out a lighter and a pack of cigarettes. He pulled one out of the pack, clenching it in between his teeth as he shoved the pack back into the pocket before he shrugged off the jacket entirely—denim vest included—putting it around your shoulders.

It caught you off guard but you were grateful, your body having decided to become once more susceptible to the chill of the air and dewy grass. Eddie must have been a freaking space heater because the lining inside was blissfully warm.

“Thank you,” you mumbled, shimmying around in it until you could slip your arms into the long sleeves of it, your fingers barely poking past the hem.

“You’re welcome,” he shrugged, flicking the lighter to life as he lit the cigarette. After he’d taken a drag, he answered you. 

“Love,” Eddie blew out along with a wispy plume of smoke, “Didn’t expect it to be so complicated.”

You wanted to mime the action of staking yourself in the heart. Of course he was in love with her. She was wonderful! And on top of that, he thought she’d been the one leaving him roses! Had he read the note? Assumed it was her, too? DUH! You were definitely playing sick next week.

“Yeah, well. Join the club,” you grumbled, hugging his jacket around you. It was as close as you were ever gonna get to actually hugging him. 

Eddie raised an eyebrow, hoping to school his disappointment. While he wasn’t looking for anyone else tonight, it was still displeasing to hear you were taken but of course you were. He couldn’t imagine you dating sporadically, you seemed much too wonderful for someone to even consider giving you up. No, he was gonna hurt himself with ideas involving you and a high school sweetheart stemming back to your freshman days, probably.

“Ah, I see. Is he here?”

You froze for a moment, “Uhm, yeah. He is.”

“Then why come? Or did it happen in there?” He jabbed a thumb behind him, gesturing to the party inside.

“No, it didn’t happen tonight, it was earlier. In the day. I didn’t really want to come but my best friend dragged me out here. I thought I was doing good, apparently not ‘cause here I am. I’m mostly bummed because of myself, though. I didn’t follow through on something I sort of promised myself and I messed everything up. For me. Not for him. I think he’s pretty happy, so I don’t want to ruin that. He deserves to be happy.”

Eddie could tell you meant it, you were vague as hell but whatever you’d done, however it ended, you genuinely seemed to want your boyfriend (ex-boyfriend?) to be happy. He hoped it wasn’t something you had to cave into for one of those meatheads. You deserved better than those jerks.

“That’s pretty selfless of you if you ask me,” Eddie raised the cigarette to his lips, admiring you.

“Eh, I guess. I fully plan on punishing myself for it, though. Really make sure to rub the salt in there, you know?” You finally turned to grin at him, despite the sinking feeling in your stomach.

Eddie thought about how he couldn’t just stop going to school so he could avoid having to look at all the faces in the crowds and wonder if his admirer is one of them.

“Oh, sweetheart, I’m right there with you.”

Sweetheart. He really was trying to kill you.

“Eddie, get your ass in there and make up with her.” You lightly slapped his arm and jabbed your finger in the direction of the house. You were not about to let your sacrifice be in vain and he’d better stop unknowingly torturing you like this.

“I can’t!” He laughed, amused with your sudden bossy attitude.

“Why not?” You whined, eager to just get him away from you. It wasn’t fair, he wasn’t being fair.

“Because I have no idea who she is.”

Once again you froze, eyes widening. Luckily for you, Eddie didn’t look too much into your reaction. He figured most people would be surprised over him nursing a heartbreak from someone he didn’t quite actually know, or was aware that he knew.

“What?” You asked, trying to seem as uninterested as possible as you played with the ends of his jacket sleeves.

“Fuck it. Someone left me roses all around the school and this really amazing love note.” For a moment, Eddie entertained the idea of trying to convey exactly what it meant to him, then he thought better of it. He’d either seem crazy, desperate or like some pathetic guy in love (which, he kind of was on the cusp of), “Pretty sure it was a girl.”

Not a single dude in the high school was romantic enough to pull it off, maybe leave him an entire bouquet, but not expand upon it like she had.

Eddie licked his lips, raising the cigarette to them once more and ready to admit that he had no fucking clue who she was, but he figured he might as well make one last rally.

“Wouldn’t happen to be you, would it?”

“Not me,” you lied flawlessly, with a gentle shake of your head. “Sorry, Eddie.”

Sorry I’m a big liar because HOLY FUCKING SHIT, wasn’t expecting that. 

“I figured. Still had to try, your boyfriend probably would have kicked my ass, though.” Yeah, Eddie hated Valentine’s Day.

He stubbed the cigarette out into the wet grass, and laid the rest of the way down, hands covering his eyes as the back of his head met the ground.

You frowned down at him. 

“I don’t have a boyfriend.”

Hello. 

Eddie peaked at you through his fingers, “No?”

You shook your head and as Eddie moved to push himself back up, he yelped.

He shifted onto his side, digging around his pocket for whatever it was that stabbed him.

“Ouch,” He hissed, yanking the purple pen out. “Damn, that hurt like a bitch.” 

Your eyes squinted at it in suspicion.

“Is that my pen?”

“Huh?”

“My favorite—and pricey—pen. I lost it at school today.” In fact, you were sure you had and you were sure that was your pen. You’d broken off the clip of it by accident and you recognized the large crack in the body of it, having once given into an intrusive thought regarding whether or not you had the strength to break it while you were bored in class. You did have the strength and luckily for you, it still worked. 

When Eddie made no move to give your pen back, you figured he didn’t believe you so you added, “The ink is pink, right?”

Eddie continued to stare at you, mouth slightly parted in awe, and you suddenly felt very nervous, glancing behind you to see if there was something that caught his attention but all you could see were the empty lawns.

“What?” 

He finally blinked, licking his lips again. 

“You’re a really good liar.”

“What?” You repeated, this time your question was laced more so with confusion than panic. He was right, but why was he saying that?

His lips slowly parted up at the corners until he was grinning at you so wide, his dimples were showing and you could feel your heart beating wildly against your rib cage, as if it was trying to break free to fly right over to him.

“This is your pen?”

“Yes!” Is that what his happiness was about? That he was holding your prized pen hostage?

“This is your pen?” You could tell he was having fun at your expense now, getting more giddy by the minute.

“Yes!” You laughed out, his joy contagious even if he was teasing you with your own belongings. “That is my pen. Give me my pen!”

He clicked it closed with his thumb, “I found it where we hold Hellfire sessions, same pen that was used to write my love note.”

And just like that, your heartbeat seemed to stop all together, smile dropping instantly as you wished a giant hole could form in the ground below you and swallow you up.

“That’s not my pen,” you denied, shrugging off his jacket as you quickly rose to your feet. “I gotta go, bye, Eddie.”

When you saw him starting to hastily rise, you bolted, literally running back into the house to try to find Heather and get the hell out of there.

You heard Eddie frantically calling your name but you didn’t stop, forcing your way through the bodies as you desperately searched for your best friend.

Luck was finally on your side because you were soon smashed into her back by a passing group.

“Whoa,” she laughed, turning to steady you, “There you are, I’ve been searching for you everywh—hey, what’s wrong?”

You were sure she must have noticed the panic on your face, eyes shiny with tears you refused to let fall in public. 

“I wanna go home, we have to leave.” You grabbed her hand, pulling her into a secluded corner as your head darted in the direction of the front door. You wanted to make a run for it but you feared running into Eddie on the way.

“What happened?” Heather asked, voice initially soft before hardening as her protective nature came out, “Did someone do something?” 

You shook your head, chest heaving with your breaths. You were so close to having a panic attack. 

“Eddie. He knows. He knows, Heather.” And because she was your best friend, she understood, mouth and eyes going wide.

“Holy crap. Wait—isn’t this what you wanted?” 

“No—yes—I don’t know! I can’t face him!” There was a reason you hadn’t written your name down on the note, regardless of how badly you wanted to. You were just scared.

“Why not?” She bent down, leaned in closer to hear you. This girl and her twenty questions.

“It doesn’t matter, he didn’t want it to be me, anyways. He would’ve asked earlier, and he only did it now because of that stupid pen!” You should have kept your mouth shut and just gone to buy another over the weekend, “Can we just please get out of here? We can try the side gate in the backyard.”

“Is Eddie looking for you?”

“Yes, that’s why we have to leave!” Whatever Eddie had to say, you didn’t want to hear it. Yeah, maybe he could want you but if he didn’t, was searching for you to let you down gently you’d be heartbroken. 

“He knows and you don’t think he wanted it to be you?”

“Yes!”

“Then why would he be looking for you?”

You refused to answer her, pushing her towards the back door instead. She went willingly for a few steps, then Heather stopped and you bumped into her back again as she craned her neck to look over her shoulder. 

“I think it's too late for that.” She pointed at something behind you and you followed her finger. 

Eddie was standing on top of the kitchen table a bunch of guys had carried into the living room to play beer pong on, eyes searching the room with his lips set in a frown.

He was attracting attention, a multitude of heads turning to peer up at him in curiosity.

Oh, god. He was looking for you, you were probably going to get rejected at a fucking Valentine’s Day party in some stranger’s living room.

Eddie must have caught the attention of someone near the sound system because the volume of the music was lowered and you could hear everyone muttering amongst themselves, asking what had happened to the music before they noticed Eddie.

He glanced around, not even a little nervous at the amount of people staring at him. He hadn’t planned on making a huge show of it, figured they were all too drunk to pay him any attention, luckily he was used to being a spectacle. 

Eddie used it to his advantage, calling out your full name.

The crowd muttered, everyone looking at each other in confusion or maybe trying to catch sight of you. 

It wasn’t long before someone recognized you, head turning in your direction, followed by many more—a domino effect—until just about everyone was staring at you, including Eddie.

He hopped off the table and made his way towards you, crowd parting to allow him. Heather slipped her hand into yours at your side, giving you a reassuring squeeze before she too stepped away, leaving you to finally face Eddie.

Eddie didn’t look at anyone else, gaze trained solely on you.

“Hi, again.”

You blinked, unable to keep yourself from glancing at the crowd around you, curious—nosey—to see what would happen next.

Guess you were going to have to finally face reality, no more running. You didn’t think you could break through the crowd, anyways.

“Hi,” you whispered but you knew Eddie had heard you, his lips pursed into a smile, eyes lighting up when you didn’t shut down.

“You ran away before I could tell you how I feel.” Eddie took another step, pretty much invading your personal space but he was desperate to be close to you and maybe body block you in case you tried to flee. He didn’t want you to run away again, to disappear like he feared you had when you hadn’t left your name on the note.

“It’s only fair, right? Since I know?”

You nodded again, the drum of your heartbeat loud in your ears. You were surprised you could hear Eddie over it.

Eddie stared down at you, lips pressed into a thin line, but he didn’t look upset or frustrated. It looked like he was thinking about something.

Little did you know he was reciting the note in his head to give him some courage, he’d memorized it.

He didn’t leave you waiting for long. 

“I admire you. A lot.” Your breath hitched as the words you’d jotted down were repeated to you, “So much that I want to stand on expensive looking, antique tables and crash parties for you. I like the way you get animated when you talk, the way you give into your intrusive thoughts at the most random of times—yeah, I saw you trying to see if your finger fit in the pencil sharpener in the library once—I like how kind you are, even when people don’t deserve it. 

“I like how you’ve never made me feel ostracized, never made anybody feel like that and I like how dramatic you are—storming off, making an exit, falling flat on your face in hallways then staying there like a dead body before you decide to reanimate again once you’re done being embarrassed. I like how you beat up your locker when it won’t open and then you give it a couple of pats to apologize once it finally does.”

Eddie chuckled at those particular memories, having been thoroughly amused when watching you and you feel your face get hot at being the cause of his cute laugh.

“And I really like your face, your pretty eyes, all of this,” Eddie gestured to you, to all of you from head to toe, “… you’re beautiful. Although, I gotta say, you drove me really fucking crazy today. Made me feel emotions I didn’t know I was capable of feeling and you scared the shit out of me when I thought I’d never get to know who the person I’m pretty sure I’m falling in love with is.”

Okay, maybe you didn’t want the ground to swallow you whole.

“I know we only have a couple of months left of school and you’re probably going off to continue being amazing at some college in some big city a million miles away—‘cause that’s my luck—but I’m willing to work with that. I want to drive those million miles to give you flowers and hold your hand, kiss you, listen to you complain about your bad days, hear you brag about your good ones, kill all the bugs you’re afraid of—even though some of them freak me out, you make me feel brave, too—and just be all around disgustingly domestic with you. 

“And yes, that includes all the not so fun domestic stuff like fights—which we’ll get over, I’ll do just about anything, even cave first, if you give me those big, coy eyes of yours—and taxes. I want to do it all with you. If you’ll have me.” Eddie ended, eyes wide and just a little out of breath. 

There it was. He’d thrown it all out there, everything he wanted to offer (because he wanted to give you everything, even though it kind of terrified him).

And you—you were just staring at him, left to gape at him since you’d expected… well, you hadn’t really known what to expect since you usually ran from the consequences—be they good or bad—of your actions. 

He wanted to be with you. Holy crap, Eddie Munson wanted to be your boyfriend. Wanted to do boyfriend things like visit you at college and hold your hand. You’d thought, the whole time, it had just been you observing him. You never thought he’d be observing you, too. It all sounded too good to be true, you couldn’t really think, couldn’t really form words.

You didn’t have to, Eddie grew anxious, maybe even a little impatient despite having decided the moment you’d run away from him in the front yard that he’d chase after you for as long as it took him to get you to give him a chance.

He found himself blurting out his strongest desire, “Can I kiss you?”

This was it, you were faced with another opportunity, and this one was the actual last opportunity you had to tell him how you feel, without any anonymity. No more hiding, no more running.

“Yeah,” you breathed out and he was on you before you’d even finished saying that singular word, his surprisingly soft lips pressing desperately against yours as his hands moved to frame your face, one of his thumbs stroking along your cheek.

Your eyelids fluttered shut as you returned the kiss and just like that, what he intended to be a simple but firm kiss, turned into your lips moving against each other, a little wet and enough to have Eddie want to pop his leg up like in the fucking movies.

The only reason he kept himself from introducing his tongue to yours like he so badly wanted to was the sounds of encouragement around him; cheering and hollering. You broke away, having also heard your peers whooping and wolf whistling, to hide your face in his chest, bashfulness returning full force.

Eddie laughed and kissed the top of your head, unable to contain his grin and joy. He definitely wasn’t used to this, more accustomed to jeering, not cheering. A couple of people even clapped him on the shoulder.

“You know what, I think they’re rooting for us, sweetheart.”

You pulled away just enough to look up at him, offering a small, pleased smile of your own.

“They’re not the only ones.”

Well, he had to give you some tongue for that one. The cheering and sounds of excitement got louder as he did.

—  You hadn’t walked into school hand in hand with Eddie when Monday came around—though you’d spent pretty much the entire weekend with him, driving around town, lounging around your room (he’d come in through your window) and making out—he hadn’t mentioned anything about meeting up in the parking lot and you weren’t offended in the slightest. While you wanted to see him, you appreciated the extra time to calm your excited nerves before you did. 

Heather ran up to you the second you made it to your locker, grin stretching from ear to ear. 

“I still can’t believe it. It didn’t even happen to me and I’m pinching myself because of how romantic it was!”

“Imagine how I feel,” You were all smiles as you turned the combination for your locker. But of course, since it was openly known as one of, if not, the shittiest of lockers in the school—having belonged to several wrestlers and football players before you, who’d evidently cared for it on the rough side—it didn't budge when you tugged at it.

You wouldn’t miss it when you graduated. 

With a sigh, you pulled the straps of your backpack off of your shoulders and handed it to Heather. Then, you yanked aggressively at the small locker handle. It was your routine though, so you knew it wouldn’t open then, either. It was only when you slammed your fist against it, after all the yanking, that it opened.

Roses immediately flooded out of it, piling onto the ground at your feet. You and Heather watched with open mouths, glancing at passersby, who also looked on in surprise, until your stuffed locker finally finished its floral avalanche.

“Like ‘em?”

You jumped up, and then internally scolded yourself for almost trampling a couple of your flowers. You carefully twisted around to face Eddie, who was leaning back against the row of lockers behind you, smug smirk on his handsome face.

“Yeah, what are all of these for?” You asked, still marveling at them as he pushed himself off the lockers to wrap his arms around your middle and press a kiss to the side of your head.

“I realized I never got to ask you to be my Valentine or give you flowers. So, I bought some Saturday morning,” They were on sale so he’d gone purposely overboard, “used my uncle’s collection of mugs as vases to keep them alive, then woke up at the asscrack of dawn this morning to get here before you did. I probably broke your locker even more, by the way. So, be my Valentine?”

“I’m pretty sure it was part of the terms and agreements of our relationship, but yes. I’ll be your Valentine.”

Eddie closed your locker for you, pressing his weight against it to make sure it was secure and no more roses would escape before he scooped up the ones that had fallen out, arranging them into a large bouquet which he handed to you, leaning in to give you a kiss.

You hummed happily against his lips, nose wrinkling in glee when you felt him smile.

Eddie let out a content sigh when you parted before glancing to his side at your gawking best friend.

“Hey, Heather.” Eddie wasn’t at all bothered by the audience. “Nice shoes.”

“Thanks! They’re new. You done sucking face?”

“For now,” he promised, then turned his attention back to you. “I’ll see you later, beautiful. I’ve got a test to barely pass. Gotta make sure I walk that stage with you.”

Eddie pinched your cheek, pressed another kiss to your forehead and rushed off down the hall. You’d barely locked eyes with Heather when Eddie came running back, taking your face in his hands as he muttered something about one more and gave you a kiss that had you a little shaky on your feet.

‘One more’ actually turned out to mean a couple more pecks before he really forced himself away, blowing you a kiss just as he disappeared around the corner.

“He’s whipped,” Heather stated.

“Pretty sure I’m falling in love with him.”

“That’s appropriate.” You both nodded before you turned to face your closed locker, arms full of sweet smelling roses. 

“. . .  You still need to get your books, don’t you?”

“Yeah.”

Heather slid her arms through the straps of your backpack, over her front, so she could hold your flowers for you as you prepared to battle your locker again. It was totally worth it.

─

Eddie never ended up giving you your pen back, it’s the one he used to write love letters to you while you were away at college.  

[therealcocoshady]

Dating Marshall Mathers HCs - Love languages edition

Author’s Note : Hey Stans 🥰. I am a sucker for Eminem Headcanons so I decided to give it a shot ☺️. Let me know what kind of HCs you’d like 👀. These HCs are based from the vibe I get from him, from his music, appearances or interviews - I might be wrong though, or you might disagree. Or not ? Either way, let me know what you think ❤️

Acts of service 

On some things, he is a bit old-fashioned and he will see some things as « his job ». He knows you can carry your bags or put that Ikea shelf together yourself. Doesn’t mean you have to. 

Absolute gentleman. Contrary to what he says he has manners. He just doesn’t overdo it. 

He is pissed when you ask for someone else’s help instead of his 

« Why didn’t you ask me ? » 

Also annoyed when you don’t ask for anything at all 

That being said, he hates asking for help

As much as possible, he will do his best to make your life easier with small gestures like : 

Picking you up at the airport // Driving you to and from work if he can 

Having your favorite food delivered to you when he is not there and he knows you are too lazy/tired/sick to cook 

Taking care of you when you are sick, tired or simply having a bad day 

Making sure his pantry is stocked with your favorite drinks and beverages 

He enjoys helping you when you are cooking/cleaning… 

Once he is comfortable around your place he will even do it unprompted 

Gifts

Might be his least favorite love language 

He enjoys giving gifts far more than he likes receiving them 

He is very hard to shop for anyway 

What do you get for a man who has the means to get everything he wants for himself ?

He is grateful for gifts but he is not really the materialistic type 

He low-key doesn’t believe he deserves gifts anyway 

When he gives you a gift, you can expect it to be meaningful and thoughtful

He pays a lot of attention to details 

Or it can be something you mentioned you needed 

Big, expensive gifts are for special occasions

Just because he has the means doesn’t mean he will gift you a Chanel bag on a random Thursday. Sorry. 

When he splurges, he doesn’t half-ass it but it doesn’t happen too often either 

Before he buys you something expensive, you have to be together for a while

Trying to win a woman over by spending money on her ? Yeah, not for him. He is too scared of gold-diggers. 

Also, if you have a fight, he might try to suck up to you with a gift or a bouquet even though he is the first to criticize how shallow gifts can be 

When he is away and doesn’t see you for a while, he might arrange for a surprise delivery, to make you smile and also make sure you don’t forget about him (as if it were possible)

Physical touch 

He is a bit guarded at first, so much so that you start doubting that he actually likes you (« Surely, he would have made a move by now… » - nope that man is just slow)

If he actually likes you, he makes it a point to behave like a gentleman and he will try and pick the best time for a first kiss or even simply holding your hand for the first time 

Great kisser. 

Not a big fan of public displays of affection (for obvious reasons)

If the two of you are ever spotted together, people might mistake you for a member of his team because he will not even get caught holding your hand 

That’s partly because he values your privacy at least as much as his - he doesn’t want his girl to get harassed or bothered 

However, when it’s just the two of you, he is all over you 

Whenever the two of you spend time together, he enjoys having physical contact with you, even if it’s just holding your hand while watching a movie 

Definitely makes up for his busy schedule with physical touch. 

Quality time

Probably his love language of choice 

Overall, he is really mindful of your schedule and appreciates that you respect his 

If you don’t, it’s not going to work between the two of you anyway 

Most of the time, he is punctual and he will not show up late to one of your dates 

If it happens, he will profusely apologize and make it up to you 

Might get a little pissed if you do (but he knows that girls will be girls and you are most likely late because you wanted to be extra pretty for him) 

He has a hectic schedule but he if he loves you he will make time for you 

Him making time for you is actually one of the telltale signs he actually cares about you 

If you are as busy as him, he really appreciates that you manage to make time for him

No phones rule during your dates 

Like, seriously, it’s a huge red flag for him if his date spends too much time on her phone instead of enjoying the moment 

Speaking of phones… He doesn’t text you too much. Instead, he tries to find moments when he can call you and have an actual conversation. 

When you are talking, you have his full attention 

He pays attention to everything you say and and do, even when it doesn’t seem like it 

He remembers everything 

He enjoys hearing you talk about things you are passionate about

If it’s something he is not too familiar with, he asks questions and he might even make an effort to do some research of his own, just so he can keep up with you 

And in turn, he really appreciates if you do the same 

Doesn’t seem like it at first, but he actually enjoys a good conversation. Even if you’re gorgeous, if you’re not interesting… Hard pass. 

He also gets really talkative if he’s talking about a topic he is passionate about. Like hip-hop culture, pop culture, sports… He will talk your ears off. And he likes talking about it with you. 

Even better if you are able to have an actual debate with him. He might not agree with you but he respects someone who can stand their ground and have actual valid arguments. 

Because you might not be able to spend too much time together sometimes, he will do his best to make your dates special 

As your relationship evolves, he includes you in some more mundane activities, just to enjoy more of your company 

Don’t expect to spend too much time at the studio with him. He keeps his work and personal life separate. 

That being said, he might invite you to spend time with him there once or twice. And it means a lot. 

Words of affirmations 

We all know this man has a way with words 

When he praises you or compliments you, he means it 

A perk of dating a dictionary nerd : he chooses his words carefully 

Never a dull compliment 

He is a great motivator : when he encourages you and tells you you can do it, you actually start believing that you can 

He is good when It comes to giving words of affirmation but receiving them ? Nope. 

When you compliment him, he gets a bit awkward and doesn’t know how to react 

That being said, he enjoys it 

Compliments he enjoys the most are not necessarily the ones about his professional skills or physical appearance but genuinely about his character 

Any fan could tell him he is a great rapper or that he looks good. But having his girl tell him what an amazing person she thinks he is and being specific about it ? YES. 

Basically, just show him that you care about him (the real him) 

With how guarded he is, it might be some time before he actually says « I love you »

It might not come with a big declaration either. Just « I love you ». Simple. 

Definitely catches you off guard the first time he says it, with a super casual tone. 

However, when he says it, he means it 

He leaves you small notes, too 

[hihomeghere]

Charles fluff and maybe even a tad bit of angst given the prompts, who knows, but please write prompt 48 and 64 for Charles I will literally die of joy plus we need more fluffy fics of him <333

- ੈ✩ 🍡 ‧₊˚

Word count : 1230 Warnings/tags : love confessions, fluff, cursing Prompts : #48, You make me want things I can't have #64, I'm not sure what to do with these feelings for you hope you enjoy, smooches!

Charles was an enigma. Joining the gang nearly seven months ago, he seamlessly fit into the band of outlaws. He kept his head down, taking it upon himself to complete tasks before Miss Grimshaw lost her mind about them. 

Like a well oiled machine he moved around camp, fixing what needed to be fixed, getting done what needed to be done. Whether that be fixing a wagon wheel, or carrying bales over to the horses. He did it without complaint and unprompted. 

He moved like a shadow, silently, not speaking unless spoken to first. Even at that he would normally only respond with one word answers, yes, no. You had been wary of him at first. Not appreciating his almost cold presence. Although the longer you got to know him you saw through his standoffish persona, seeing the warm, passionate man underneath. To others he may have seemed unwelcoming, a puzzle that wasn’t worth solving. But you had always liked a challenge.

You couldn’t say what had first drawn you to him. It wasn’t like a moth to a flame, no. It was gradual, like a ship pulled towards a lighthouse. Something about him was like a beacon, calling to you across the stormy seas of life. Perhaps it was the way the morning light fell against his dark locs, deep golden beams cutting through his silky strands. Or the way the firelight made his umber skin glow as he sat around the fire. Always offering his assistance when anyone seemed to struggle. His near obsidian eyes piercing your very soul every time they found yours. You picked him apart piece by piece, longing for him to bear the most intimate parts to you.

Or maybe it was because he played so damn hard to get. You thought you were being obvious in your affection. If it was anyone else, even someone as daft as Sean would have realized your intentions.

Instead, when you asked for him to accompany you to the general store, or if he wouldn’t mind your company around the fire, he would only give you a small nod. It was infuriating. Either he was too kind to reject your advances, or he seriously couldn’t see how much you cared for him.

But you were not a woman to give up so easily, you doubled down your efforts. You would go out of your way to interact with him. Damn near running to grab a seat near him whenever you heard him start to play the harmonica. Your eyes constantly searched for him at camp, which did earn you a scolding or two when you were supposed to be doing chores. It was well worth Miss Grimshaw’s tongue lashing every time.

How were you supposed to focus when he would bring that axe down, his arms glistening with sweat. Or when his skillful fingers fashioned poisoned arrows, grinding up the Oleander he had carefully picked. 

He was kind, thoughtful with a dry sense of humor that never failed to make you laugh. You would consider him a friend even if you wanted something more. The thought that you could ruin what you had between the two of you, just because of your traitorous heart, ran a chill through you. A few times you had suspected he might feel the same, but nothing would come from a lingering glance or his fleeting touch.

Any time you had a free moment you would come up with something to talk to him about. Karen and the other girls had taken to teasing you. Although their words caused heat to flood your cheeks, you knew they weren’t wrong. You were sweet on him. Perhaps you weren't as clear in your feelings as you hoped, perhaps you needed to bite the bullet and just come clean about your feelings.

“Charles, do you have a moment?” You asked, giving him a small smile. Hoping your calm demeanor would hide the anxiety building under the surface. Butterflies erupting in your stomach as his dark eyes found yours.

“For you, always.” He nodded, setting down the piece of wood he was whittling. You discreetly wiped your sweaty palms off on your skirt as he got to his feet. “Lead the way.”

The two of you walked down to the sandy shore near camp. Staring out at the rippling surface of Flat Iron lake. 

“Charles I-“ you bit your lip, the words getting caught in your throat as you looked up at him. “I have to tell you something.”

“Alright…” His tone was apprehensive as he looked at you.

“I…” You picked at your fingers, sinking slightly into the sand below your feet. “I care for you.” You said raising your eyes to meet him. 

His face was near emotionless other than the small furrow of his brows. 

“I care for you and-“

“Don’t.” He cut you off, his jaw clenched as his hands landed on his hips. “Don’t say anymore.” You swallow thickly, trying to get past the lump that’s growing in your throat. Your heart sinking like a stone into your stomach.

“I just- I don’t know what to do with these feelings for you.” You said softly, his rejection stinging like a slap to the face. He squeezed his eyes shut, like your words were physically paining him.

“Damn it you-“ He sighed, shaking his head, “you make me want things I can’t have.”

“What?” You asked, your brows knitting together as you stared at him. 

“You. You make me want you and I- I can’t have you.” He huffed, running a hand through his hair. He wanted you. Your mouth fell open, stunned to silence by his confession. He let out a frustrated sigh, turning to walk away from you. You reached out, wrapping your hand around his wrist.

“Why the hell not?” You asked, shaking your head.

“Y/n, look at me. Look at us. We’re from two different worlds and I won’t- I won’t subject you to my suffering.” He finished, anguish shining in his eyes. 

“When have we ever played by the rules?” You scoffed lightly, a small smile tugging at your lips. “I don’t care. I don’t care where you come from, I just care about you. Who you are.” You raised your hand slowly, giving him all the time to pull away. You cupped his face, running your thumb over his scarred cheek. “I- I’m falling for you Charles.” You admitted.

“Damn it.” He sighed, his eyes shut tight as he looked down. As though he was wrestling with himself, eventually one side won. His eyes raised to meet yours, nearly taking your breath away as he caught your gaze. 

His hand wrapped around the back of your neck as he crashed his lips against yours. You squeaked, your body tensing before you melted into his embrace. Your fingers threading through his hair as you pulled him close.

The two of you parted for air, his forehead resting against yours. “You have no idea how hard this has been, trying to avoid you, ignore you, your touches,” He mumbled against your lips. “You’ve driven me crazy.” A smile spread across his lips.

“Drove you crazy? I was suspecting you might just be oblivious.” You chuckled breathlessly, shaking your head as you cupped his cheek. He laughed, the sound rumbling through his chest. 

“Not oblivious, just a fool.”

[ilikekidsshows]

The Totally Spies-ification of Adrien

Okay, it's been long enough that I can actually discuss how Adrien's slavery is depicted in the show without anger-fueled exaggerations and hyperbole. I want to discuss how Miraculous treats Adrien's slavery very flippantly and how it is, like everything in this show post-retool, all about Marinette. The show has a lot of stuff that hints that the writers intend for Adrien to be viewed a very certain way. I believe the writers made Adrien a slave for Marinette’s benefit and I will explain how I came to this conclusion.

I’ve joked before about how Astruc has worked on Totally Spies, “one of the kinkiest cartoons ever made”. I’d like to tackle this idea and how it relates to Miraculous more seriously. I’d like to tackle the topic of titillation and how it relates to how this show approaches slavery with such flippancy. My claim is that Adrien being a slave is not meant to be horrifying, which is why the story doesn't treat it as such; it's meant to be titillating.

I usually don't use Read Mores, since they can lead to broken links later, but this is really long. Strap in, folks.

Titillation for the context of this analysis means “content with the intention to excite romantically or sexually”, basically it’s about “kinky” stuff. The purpose of talking about sexuality in relation to Miraculous is not to paint the writers as some kind of fiends, but to present the fact that many teenagers are curious about romance and sex and will think about sex unprompted. This means titillating content in cartoons doesn’t even need to be related to sex to be titillating. And Astruc has a history of putting titillating stuff in his work, with Totally Spies being a very notable example of how you can include non-sexual titillating content in a kids’ show.

It all comes down to expected audience reactions. Adrien is meant to be sexy. I don’t mean that in a “the writers think this is sexy” way, but a “the writers think the projected audience of straight teenage girls will think this is sexy” way. He gets put into bondage three times in ‘Copycat’, ‘Anti-Bug’ and ‘Reverser’ and all three times the camera seems to like to show him off. He is meant to be an object of attraction for the audience. The people criticizing this show have been pointing out how Ladybug's costume accentuates her butt for years, but this is not something that occurs with just Ladybug. When he isn't posing for the viewers, Cat Noir gets whacked around by Akuma’s a lot, but a lot of the time it ends with him in a prone position that is also titillating, in ‘Pixelator’ it goes as far as having his butt jut out. However, the idea that Cat Noir is the one who gets hit when an Akuma needs to show off how dangerous they are is also part of the power dynamic where Marinette or Ladybug gets to show off, so it’s not purely for titillation, which is why other examples, like ‘Stormy Weather’ are more comedic.

It’s likely that Adrien-as-Adrien doesn’t get to participate in the show’s slapstick much, since that aspect of the character is presented as the perfect beauty, a role usually reserved for female characters who only ever get a little bit flustered or banged up to make sure they keep looking attractive. Marinette screams "waack" and runs face first into a wall in the same episode where the silliest thing Adrien gets to do is sneeze (Mr Pigeon). Adrien is meant to be attractive, sexy, titillating, in different ways in his different forms. As Cat Noir he is more active and more sexy, as Adrien he’s more passive and pretty, much like how female love interests can fall into these categories. It’s the Betty and Veronica dichotomy; in the Archie franchise Betty and Veronica are shown as the wholesome and sexy romance options and the reason the writers go out of their way not to resolve the love triangle is to keep the appeal of these both options going. People’s tastes differ, so it would alienate some audiences to pick one over the other. With Miraculous they solved the problem by having the two romance options be the different identities of a single character.

Frankly, as of the season five finale, Adrien is approaching “sexy lamp” levels of replicating sexist ways of writing a female character but just changing the gender. What else do you call him lying on the floor in despair while his love interest gets his superpowers and uses them to beat up his abusive father, while somehow being perfectly fine and happily kissing Marinette later after said father is dead and gone? Adrien’s trauma is debilitating when it serves the writers’ purposes, but stops being a problem as soon as they need him to smile and look pretty. The main reason Adrien’s trauma is so inconsistent is so that he can act as Marinette’s trophy so that Marinette has somebody to kiss in the final shot. If Adrien was despairing about not being good enough for her, or grossly crying about being an orphan, Marinette wouldn’t have a fun time kissing him. And if Marinette isn’t having fun, the members of the audience projecting onto her aren’t having fun either.

Speaking of how Adrien’s depiction relates to Marinette, here comes the controversial part of this post: while Marinette is not depicted as a literal slave owner in-story, narratively, she is very much treated as Adrien's owner from a meta perspective. We, the viewers, are meant to see Adrien as Marinette's property, and the twist of Adrien being a part of a slave race in a dynamic where Marinette holds all the cards is meant to be a good thing. We have been primed to view everything about Adrien to actually be about Marinette, because Marinette is the center of the universe of Miraculous and Adrien belongs to her because he’s the main character’s love interest. Adrien being revealed to be a slave that Marinette could control but then chooses to “merely” manipulate is meant to be glorifying to Marinette and titillating to the viewer. I will elaborate.

Marinette has been incredibly possessive of Adrien since day one and she is only occasionally depicted as being in the wrong about this, when she goes too far by the show’s standards. She stalks Lila and Adrien whenever she sees them hanging out together and she’s unreasonably jealous of Kagami. The only time she is depicted as being in the wrong is not when she's sniffing Adrien's pillow after breaking into his room, but when she actually bullies Kagami out of jealousy, and even that is depicted as more of an unfortunate misunderstanding than Marinette actively doing something wrong. Marinette is more sympathetic towards Kagami when she finds out she and Adrien aren't as close as she thought, that Kagami’s pursuit of Adrien is more hopeless than hers. Basically, Marinette is only in the wrong because Kagami isn't a threat, not because she was doing anything wrong by bullying her to defend her “territory”.

This gets flipped near the end of the season, though. When Adrien and Kagami do start dating, it's depicted as this big tragedy even more so than Master Fu losing his memories. Master Fu going missing is an afterthought, while Adrien choosing someone else over Marinette is the big “darkest hour” moment of the season three mid-finale, the cliffhanger moment of her crying in Luka’s arms while all hope is lost. Marinette isn’t directly crying about this, she is crying from “all the pressure”, but Marinette breaking down happens immediately after a scene of Kagami leaning in to kiss Adrien that has a somber dirge playing in the background. The first part of the finale has everything going wrong at the end; Master Fu is missing, Chloé gets willingly Akumatized, Marinette breaks down, and Kagami leans in to kiss Adrien. These scenes being put closely together is telling us that these are all bad things to happen.

Adrien ending up with Marinette is a given, but it's also taken for granted. Every girl with an interest in Adrien is depicted as an antagonist, while Marinette can do whatever she wants in pursuit of Adrien and will still be morally correct. Chloé and Lila, even Kagami to a degree, are villainized for their attraction to Adrien in a way Nathaniel, Luka or Zoé are not with their attraction to Marinette. Chloé and Lila are full-blown villains while Luka and Zoé are some of the most selfless members of the cast. Kagami is aggressive and socially awkward in a way that is used to justify Marinette's initial distrust and dislike of her (in ‘Ikari Gozen’ Alya voices her pity towards Marinette for having to spend time with her) while Nathaniel is just the pitiful bullied loner who’s still a liked member of the class friend group. Girls who want Adrien are bad for trespassing on Marinette’s territory and trying to “steal” something that “belongs” to Marinette.

The writers thinking Adrien belongs to Marinette is also not just subtext. Later in season five, when Marinette and Adrien finally start dating, Marinette even outright states that Adrien “kinda does a little” belong to her when she’s scared that Zoé has a crush on him. The fumbling of the line means that the writers are aware of how toxic it is to consider your partner your property, but they want to include that sentiment anyway, because that’s how they view the situation. Marinette’s boyfriend is her property and other people can’t even look at her property. ‘Emotion’ continues on this increased possessiveness by having the entire Marinette plot happen because she can’t conceive Adrien keeping things from her, because he isn’t allowed privacy from her while Marinette lying to Adrien (or Cat Noir) is a show staple.

This same attitude of Adrien not being allowed to have romantic options outside of Marinette has also been in the fandom for years. Every time a new female character was introduced, there was a worry that she’d “try to steal Adrien from Marinette”. Marinette and Adrien are endgame, the writers know this and the fandom knows this. The characters don't know this, but it doesn't matter because Adrien was already seen as Marinette's (future) boyfriend even back in season one when he barely knew her. And this attitude the writers and audience have is extended to the characters more and more as the show goes on, as almost every single character becomes an Adrinette shipper in support of Marinette in season five, while no one thinks to ask Adrien what he thinks about this. Only once, in ‘Desperada’ did Alya suggest that Adrien could make his own choice on who to date, but it was implied the choice should be Marinette specifically (Marinette smiles at this, while Kagami frowns). The cast is lucky the writers have decided Adrien already is Marinette's, or he’d be really uncomfortable.

Season five episode ‘Pretension’ goes as far with this as having Marinette basically ask Gabriel for permission to be with Adrien, convinced that she and Adrien can be together with no problems if she can just get him to approve of her. And then Gabriel tells her he’s promised Adrien to Kagami. You know, like a piece of property women were treated as before women were allowed to live without a man to control them. The finale then ultimately does have Gabriel agree to hand Adrien over to Marinette by dying and leaving her in charge of Adrien. Just because she uses the privilege to do some things for Adrien’s benefit doesn’t make what happened any less of a patriarchal transaction. In fact, the writers wrote it that way on purpose, with the knight and princess parallels they set up between Marinette and Adrien earlier in the show being something they are prominently proud of (the “reverse fairytale” as they put it). Adrien is the princess the dashing hero Marinette gets to earn with her feats of bravery; he’s handed to her like a piece of property and Marinette is too happy with her acquisition to even be outraged on Adrien’s behalf. And Adrien wasn’t even allowed to know about any of this, instead it gets handled solely between Marinette and Gabriel, like his opinion on the matter didn’t even matter. And why would his opinion matter, since he already is ready to promise himself to Marinette, even as the writers deny him the agency to actually make such a promise.

The goal of making it obvious that Adrien is cool with being objectified like this is probably why they make Adrien so obsessed with Marinette in season five, constantly repeating her name to himself and saying stuff like: “I can’t stop thinking about you” in ‘Pretension’. They need to drive it home to the audience exactly how okay Adrien is with everyone forcing him to be with Marinette. After all, you can’t force the willing. As of ‘Confrontation’, Adrien’s official goals for the future are: “I love Marinette Dupain-Cheng.” I guess, from the perspective of the writers, the childhood dream of wanting to be what his parents wanted from ‘Wishmaker’ wasn’t sad because of Adrien’s lack of agency; it was sad because he wasn’t forsaking all of his personal pursuits for Marinette specifically. As far as the writers are concerned, Adrien should only care about Marinette and nothing else.

This same entitlement is also present in Ladybug and Cat Noir's relationship. Every time Cat Noir is upset with Ladybug, like in Frozer, Glaciator, Syren, The New York Special or even Kuro Neko, they never talk about what caused it. This is especially blatant in cases where Ladybug has wronged Cat Noir personally, like Kuro Neko or the NY Special, where she never has to face up to what she did wrong because Cat Noir comes back because she “needs him”.  Cat Noir will always come back to her without her having to do anything because she is the main character and she says she needs him. He exists for her and her needs. He exists for her; it’s just another way he’s hers.

Speaking of how Adrien is treated affects Marinette, even Adrien’s trauma actually belongs to her in the writing.  I pointed out earlier that Adrien’s trauma shows up when the writers need to put him out of commission, but disappears as soon as he needs to be Marinette’s trophy, but it goes further than just inconsistency. The early seasons spend several episodes on how Adrien is being locked up by his father and unable to hang out with his friends and, between him and Marinette, Marinette is the one shown to be more upset and hurt by this. They don’t do this in every episode, as ‘The Bubbler’ actually does a phenomenal job of making Adrien’s upset actually about him, but the big point in ‘Glaciator’ is that Marinette is so upset that she can’t see Adrien that she accidentally leaves Cat Noir on read so he’s upset about that. Adrien is only upset because he didn’t get attention from Marinette, while Adrien’s literal abuse at the hands of his father is only important because it makes Marinette upset. Even Adrien himself gets in on this action in ‘Conformation’ when the writers go as far as having Adrien chastise himself of not being more worthy of Marinette’s love when his dad is once again busy ruining his life. Even Adrien himself makes his abuse about Marinette; him being abused is bad because it’s inconveniencing Marinette and inconveniencing Marinette makes him less worthy of her.

‘Cat Blanc’ is possibly the worst offender of all, though. This episode should be all about how Adrien is abused by Gabriel, culminating with Gabriel turning him into a monster that destroys the world. And yet, what is the episode actually about? It’s about Marinette. The worst thing that could happen to Adrien is about Marinette. Only Marinette gets to remember or even know about the possibility of Cat Noir getting Akumatized and only Marinette is traumatized by it happening. After all that the writers later dare to use this event that didn’t actually happen anymore, that Adrien doesn’t know about, to justify him giving his powers to Marinette, because he’s “scared of getting Akumatized” when something like that has never happened as far as he knows. But the writers had him reason this way anyway, because apparently the culmination of Marinette’s character development in the show means taking Adrien’s power as her own and then failing to win even with that at her disposal.

Another note about ‘The Bubbler’ that has to be pointed out is that it’s also the first example of Marinette being presented as good for Adrien simply because she treats him better than Gabriel. The final scene of Marinette giving Adrien his best birthday present yet and letting him think it comes from Gabriel is done to show how selfless Marinette is by letting Adrien keep thinking good things about his abuser. This idea that Marinette is morally good simply because she’s better than pond scum Gabriel is also present in the season five finale, where Marinette manipulates, gaslights and keeps important information from her abused slave boyfriend. Marinette is presented as being in the right because at least she didn’t literally control him with a magical geas like Gabriel did and gave him the object with which to do so (while notably not telling him what it does). Marinette will do the bare minimum of not taking literal ownership of Adrien and we’re meant to see her as a paragon of goodness for it, while she still has no respect for Adrien’s autonomy and hasn’t had any since the show started.

The way the Sentimonster “reveal” is handled shows this utter lack of respect for Adrien’s autonomy that the writers, and Marinette by extension, have. The reveal is not for Adrien, but for Marinette, just like every other piece of Adrien has been made to be about Marinette. Marinette gets to know and she gets to decide if Adrien gets to know, and she decides “no”. She will manipulate him and lie to him to keep him happy for herself, she will keep important information about him to herself that he might never find out if anything happens to her, because Adrien is hers and no one else’s and she has the right to make that decision because the world revolves around her because the world of Miraculous was created to be her playground. “Adrien” is just a toy on that playground for Marinette to play with as the writers see fit.

Now we’re coming back to Adrien’s role as the sexy, titillating love interest character that I talked about at the start of this essay. If Marinette granting Adrien the bare minimum of freedoms as a slave while manipulating him “for his own good” is meant to be a good thing, why is Adrien even a slave? Well, outside of the writers wanting to add a plot twist that doesn’t come with any messy plot they’d have to write about characters other than Marinette, Adrien being a slave is also meant to be titillating. What really is magical super slavery than very, very off the wall bondage and power play stuff? The idea that Marinette could rob her love interest of his free will with ease but won’t because she cares about him so much is very empowering in two different ways. It gives Marinette all the power in the relationship and it makes her out to be such a good person that even having ultimate power over another person won’t corrupt her. Adding to that, we have Adrien’s people pleaser abuse victim personality, which makes him fawn over the people he loves. If Marinette ever wanted to have control over Adrien, Adrien would give it to her of his own volition, no need for magical super slavery or unbreakable geases.

As I stated earlier, Marinette is meant to be the point of view main character the audience of teen girls projects themselves onto. So, really, Adrien’s slavery and abuse responses are all about that fantasy of having a cute boy you have all the power over but not needing to use it because the boy is so nice and devoted to you anyway. Adrien really is “perfect”, the perfect object of attraction, a being who technically has free will but whose free will you never have to take into account because he’s been designed and trained to value other people’s wants and needs over his own.

Marinette doesn't literally own Adrien within the story, but the writers make it very clear that they think she should. In fact, in all ways except the literal, she already does.

[tevanbuckley]

Sorry this is out of nowhere I have no one to talk to about 911 and I think I'm going insane. Some of the takes that Tommy is boring, or uninteresting, and nobody likes him are honestly so funny bc literally the characters do not agree at all

Buck thinks Tommy is confident and cool. He was driving himself crazy for days trying to find roundabout ways to spent time with him he liked him so much. He kind of can't stop thinking about him.

Eddie loves hanging out with Tommy, they're going to see fights and fixing cars and sparring together. He's inviting him round to his house and to pick up basketball. They're bros! How can they think Tommy is boring when he and Eddie have the same interests lol.

Bobby saw Tommys development back when he was with the 118 and tells Buck unprompted that Tommy's a good person. He's good for Buck.

Chimney trusts Tommy enough to call him for help multiple times. He trusts him! He thinks he's canonically 'so cool!'

Maddie was so excited to hear her brother gush about the hot pilot! She wanted to meet him! It's implied she told Buck she was cool if he invited him to her wedding!

Way back in the begins episodes Hen liked Tommy enough to invite him out for drinks and was comfortable enough to shove his face in a cake. They're friends! They're teasing!

Everyone likes Tommy and people insisting they don't has honestly gone full circle and is now just funny

Like everything else these weirdos have come up with it's just insane levels of cope, like there is really nothing else to it.

If I had one big criticism of fandom as a concept it'd be that it can make it very difficult for people to just stop watching when they don't like the direction a show/piece of media is going. And on a certain level I get it, if a big chunk of your social group is wrapped up in this tv show you watch together, walking away from it also means (on some level) walking away from the community you've built around it.

So instead of just going, "damn, this sucks, guess I'll watch something else," they come up with weird border line conspiracy theories as to why actually, the show is going in exactly the direction they want and everyone else is stupid and wrong and media illiterate.

[vladajwrites]

Razor’s Edge

Part One || Part Two || Part Three || Part Four

Summary; Reader moves to Woodsboro for her senior year of high school. This story take place in the setting of the Scream 4 movie. This story is dedicated to all of the girls living through the current Rory Culkin revival. I love and see you. <3

Also available to be read on AO3 here

It's imperative for me to mention MAJOR trigger warnings for this story; blood, violence, sexual content, alcohol usage, and mentions of abusive situations and suicide. I will add and edit tw's as needed.

WC; 5851

Notes; thank you to everyone who has shown their support so far and taken the time to read my work, you are the ones who truly keep me motivated to write. much much love <33

(Not Beta Read)

You woke the next morning in the same t-shirt you had worn the day before, clinging to your skin from cold sweat. Your pants had been kicked off at some unknown point during the restless night of sleep you had. It was hard to recall the exact time you had eventually passed out on top of your bed.

Your phone was ringing somewhere underneath your pillow, causing your entire head to buzz. You groaned, wiping the sleep from your eyes. Irina’s name flashed on the screen as the caller on the other line. You answered the call, pressing the speaker button before dropping your phone on your chest.

“Hi honey, just wanted to let you know my flight made it into Sacramento.” Irina spoke. The passersby’s in the busy airport nearly muffled her voice. 

You picked up your phone again, looking at the time. How late had you slept in? The digital clock read 11:03 am. 

“Okay, I’m glad you made it safely.” You were certain your aunt could hear the rasp of your morning voice.

Irina hummed on the other line. “Just give me a call if you need anything while I’m away.” 

“Will do, love you.” You replied, clearing your throat before responding. 

“I love you too.” Irina replied before ending the call. 

You stared up at your ceiling for a moment, thinking over the events of last night. 

You couldn’t help but feel horrible for Charlie. Were he and his father close? Was his mother around? Did he have any siblings, relatives he was close with? So many questions seemed to fill your thoughts. Though, you knew they were questions that would more than likely go unanswered. It would be an awful choice, you decided, to bring up this suspected trauma unprompted. 

Maybe you could try to divulge more information from your aunt. Based upon her reaction, she must have been relatively close to his father at some point in time. Remembering back to the somber expression your aunt wore last night, you decided against that idea as well. 

You thought back on the relationship you had with your own father. He was an objectively miserable man. How would you have reacted, though, if you had lost him under the same circumstances? It would have surely still been devastating to some degree. 

You’d keep your newfound information to yourself for the time being. It was the only reasonable option you could think of. You were certain Charlie wouldn’t want you to treat him any differently after finding out about what had happened.

The familiar buzz of your phone’s ringer pulled you momentarily from your running thoughts. You grabbed your phone, pushing yourself up into a sitting position on your bed, your legs crossed closely in front of you. 

A message from an unsaved number appeared on the screen. You recognized it almost immediately as being Charlie’s from the group chat the night before. Only he hadn’t messaged both you and Robbie. It was only sent to you. 

You sucked in a sharp breath as you unlocked your phone. The message read, “Hey, Robbie wanted me to let you know he woke up feeling sick and won’t be able to make it tonight.” 

Your face fell into a frown as you read over the message again, your thumbs hovered over the keyboard as you thought up a response. 

Another message from Charlie arrived moments later. “He said he’d take over any revisions if you and I would still be willing to finish the presentation tonight.”

The corner of your lips twitched up into a half smile. Now that you and Charlie were on seemingly good terms again, there shouldn’t be any issue with just the two of you working on this together. 

Your fingers unknowingly found themselves twisted through your hair as you typed your response. “Works for me. Same time and place?” 

Charlie sent his response almost instantly. “Yeah, sounds good.” 

You had quite a bit of time to spare until 7pm rolled around. You went through your weekend routine as usual, cleaning up as you went throughout the home. By 6pm you had showered and pulled yourself mostly together. As you stood in front of your bathroom mirror, running your fingers through your drying hair, a new thought crept into your mind. You couldn’t help but wonder what it would feel like to run your fingers through Charlie’s mess of hair. 

Your skin burned hot as you dropped your hands at your sides. You couldn’t bring yourself to look back up at your own reflection. 

You couldn’t shake the thought as you made your way into the kitchen downstairs. You stared blankly into the pantry, your thoughts elsewhere. 

Of course, you had always believed there was something charming about Charlie’s character. He was objectively good looking, at least you had thought so. But, thinking back on those few moments you shared alone with him on the porch the night before, there was just something- something about him was strikingly beautiful. 

You bit at your lip, squinting your eyes as you pulled your thoughts together. You reminded yourself that the last thing you wanted to do at the moment was become wrapped up in unrequited crushes and feelings similar to the sort. It was just easier on your own. You had come to this conclusion years ago. It was understandably difficult to trust others, impossible to let anybody in. 

Just as you were about to shut the pantry door, your eyes caught a glint in the back of the pantry, just behind a bag of sugar. You reached forward, grabbing the bottle in your hands. 

You turned over a bottle of red wine, scanning the label quickly. 

You hummed to yourself, setting the bottle on the kitchen counter. You stared it down for a moment, tapping your foot against the hardwood flooring. 

You had no clue how long it had been stuffed away back there. Surely your aunt wouldn’t miss it too terribly. You glanced up at the clock above the stove which read 6:44pm. A small glass wouldn’t hurt anything, just something to dispel your faltering nerve. 

You dug through the kitchen drawers, searching for a bottle opener. Just as you popped the cork, a knock at the front door rang through the home. ‘Shit.’ You steadied yourself, nearly knocking the bottle off the counter. 

You thought you would have had at least a few more minutes to yourself. You quickly made your way to the front door, taking a deep breath before turning the handle. 

Charlie stood in front of you. One hand buried in his front pocket, the other holding the strap of his backpack over his shoulder. You held the frame of the door, following his line of sight to your bare legs. You felt your face grow hot. You hadn’t realized just how much of your oversized t-shirt covered the small shorts you wore underneath.

You quickly pulled your t-shirt up, holding it against your stomach. “Shorts, promise.” God, why were you acting like this? 

Charlie swallowed, looking up to meet your eyes. “Yeah, right.” There was a moment of quiet passed between the two of you. Charlie’s eyes drifted just past you into the entryway.

“Oh, right. Come in.” You pushed the door open further for him. He followed you inside, stepping beside you as you locked the door behind him. 

He turned to head towards the living room. Without giving it much thought, you interjected. “We can go up to my room.” You motioned up the stairs, watching as Charlie stopped in his tracks.

“Your room? Your aunt won’t mind?” He asked, raising an eyebrow as he kicked his shoes off.

“Oh no, she wouldn’t mind. She’s out of town this weekend, anyway.” You replied.

Charlie froze for a moment, looking up the stairs past you. He met your eyes again before responding. “Cool, yeah. Your room sounds great.”  

You smile down at him, leading him up the staircase. 

“Well, this is it,” you shrugged. “Just put your stuff anywhere you’d like.” You finished, motioning around the room. 

You picked your bag off the ground and climbed into your bed, moving close to the wall. Charlie placed his stuff on the desk beside your bed before dropping himself into the adjoining chair. You began pulling out your things, watching as he intently did the same. He seemed so incredibly focused on the things in front of him. Neither of you spoke. 

As you opened your laptop to access the shared group presentation, Charlie spoke up.

“Okay, I actually went ahead and got everything finished up earlier today.” Your breath got stuck in your chest as you met his eyes. “I figured we could just work on any revisions together.” You could tell from just below your line of sight that he was nervously messing with the corner of a piece of his notebook paper. 

“Oh,” you weren’t sure what to say. “Well, thank you. You totally didn’t have to-”

“No, I know. I wanted to.” Charlie interrupted. 

You nodded, sucking in your bottom lip. You scanned through the presentation. It really had been finished. It must have taken him hours. 

There was an uncomfortable silence, making the air thick and heavy around you. You wished you could think of something else to say. An image of the opened bottle of red wine in the kitchen flashed in your mind. 

“Would you like something to drink?” You asked so softly, you couldn’t have been certain you had actually asked it aloud. 

Charlie’s eyes snapped up to meet you. Relief almost played itself across his expression. “Yes, please. If it’s not any trouble.” He rubbed his palms flat against the denim against his thighs. 

You shot up, crawling out of bed. “Not at all.” You gave him your most reassuring smile. 

You rushed downstairs, throwing open the cabinet where you knew Irina kept her best glasses. You grabbed two by the stem and held the bottle in the other hand. 

You made your way carefully up the stairs, stopping in the doorway of your bedroom. 

Charlie peered behind himself, eyes falling to the bottle in your hand. 

“Oh,” he began, “I didn’t realize…” 

You suddenly felt incredibly stupid. Did he even drink? 

“I’m sorry, I should’ve clarified. I can go and grab some water or something-” You began turning on your heel. 

Charlie was quick to rise to his feet. “No, no, this is great.” He carefully took the glasses and bottle from your hands. You inhaled sharply and nodded as his fingers brushed against your own. 

You climbed back into bed, watching him fill each glass, respectively. You couldn’t help but notice the way his hand slightly shook as he passed you your glass. 

You took a long drink, watching him do the same. It felt so warm in your throat. You sighed, sinking further into the bed. Charlie seemed to relax a bit in his spot as well. 

A few minutes passed by in a much more comfortable quietness. 

You couldn’t help but become distracted by the man sitting beside you. He just felt so far away. You wished he’d have sat on the bed next to you instead. Every once in a while, you’d feel him glance over at you as you reread the same passage over and over again, still for some reason, unable to comprehend what it said. 

You peered up from your notes, watching Charlie slide a scribbled over sticky note that sat stuck to the base of your lamp. 

You recognized it immediately, feeling yourself shift awkwardly. It was one of the lists you kept from film club, filled almost entirely with movies that Charlie had mentioned in passing. 

“Are these…?” Charlie asked, eyes widening as he made his way down the list. 

You rolled over onto your stomach, reaching over to pull the list from Charlie’s hands. 

“Mhm,” you nodded. “I’ve almost gotten myself caught up.” You tried your best to conceal the shyness you felt at being found out. 

Your heart picked up quickly as he looked you over. There was something about his expression that felt so heavy, it was an unfamiliar sight. 

“What’s next on your list?” He asked, picking up the glass you had set down and refilling it alongside his own. 

You read over the scratched out mess of your handwriting. “Dawn of the Dead, but the 1978 version. Not the remake, of course.” 

A smirk spread across Charlie’s lip, as if he’d taught you well. He held up your glass to take from him. You took it from him slowly, feigning to be worried about spilling a single drop. By this point, your head was already beginning to feel fuzzy. It was a comfortable warmth. 

You slipped the note into your backpack, trying to focus once again on the presentation in front of you. It was useless. 

Before giving it much thought, you spoke up, “You know, I’ve already rented it.” 

Robbie could manage the revisions on his own, right?

“Oh yeah?” Charlie asked, turning in his chair to face you. 

“Yeah,” you began, trying to convince yourself that this next question would actually be a good idea. “Would you want to watch it with me?” 

“Tonight?” Charlie’s hands were back against the top of his thighs. His eyes flashed between you and the T.V. that was mounted above your dresser on the opposite side of your bedroom. 

“If that would be okay with you, I’m honestly not getting much work done over here.” You replied, getting up from the bed. 

Charlie cleared his throat before answering. “Yeah, yeah, that sounds cool.”

You smiled over your shoulder at him as you made your way over the DVD player that sat on top of your dresser. 

You messed with the CD case, popping it open and inserting the disk. You picked up the remote, waiting until the title screen flashed on the T.V. above you. You noticed the top drawer of the dresser was pulled halfway open; you slid it closed, scolding yourself. It contained the clothing you’d dread any guest seeing. You swore you were always so careful about keeping these things in order.

You flipped your bedroom lights off, dimming the lamp that sat on the desk beside Charlie before finding your place back in bed. 

You pressed play, finishing the last of the wine in your glass, before setting the remote and glass on the desk beside you. 

A few moments passed by uninterrupted. You looked over at Charlie. He was sitting so unbelievably stiff in the chair, it just seemed so uncomfortable. 

“Charlie,” you called out to him. He snapped his eyes to meet your own. “You don’t have to watch the entire movie from my desk.” You half laughed.

He stood quickly, nearly knocking things about your desk. You tried your best to hide your smile as he laid down on top of the mattress; the bed dipped under his weight. 

You both kept a fair amount of distance between each other. The movie was well underway. However, you found yourself becoming increasingly more interested in the uneven way Charlie’s chest rose and fell with each breath than what was happening on the screen.

You wished you could just reach over and touch him, move the hair out of his eyes, trace your finger over the arch of his nose. 

You could barely take notice of the way your vision had fixated on him as your head grew blurred and warm. 

You wished he’d turn and face you, say something. He seemed to be frozen in place, legs and arms held in a way that’d rival a statue. His face was fixated on the T.V., as if he were too nervous to move even an inch. It was so warm. The room felt so warm.

You could barely catch the small glimpses he’d spare towards you from his peripherals. You wish he’d just reach over- your eyes trailed down to his hands resting on his stomach, watching the veins in them roll as his finger flexed and twitched. 

You reached up, placing a hand against your face. Your skin was cold to the touch. Why did everything feel so warm?

Your clothing suddenly felt increasingly more suffocating. You were growing desperate for some form of relief. You pulled at the collar of your shirt. Your shorts felt so tight, nearly restricting. You couldn’t explain why you felt so hot. The t-shirt you had on could almost be a dress, anyway, right? 

You climbed over Charlie, one hand on either side of his chest. You steadied yourself on the ground, your head thoroughly swimming. You tried your very best to focus forward on the movie. You unbuttoned the waist of your shorts, carefully stepping out of them.

You heard a heavy sigh from behind you; the sound made the hair on your skin raise. 

“I’m sorry, moving out of the way. Promise.” You laughed, turning back to face Charlie. 

You slid into the bed, finding your spot in the small space between Charlie and the edge of the mattress. Opting not to try to climb over him again in your current state.

Charlie froze in place beside you as you shifted on to your side, trying to find the most comfortable spot between him and the screen. He was warm, so warm. You had just felt as though you were burning up moments ago, but the thought of him moving any further away made your body ache. His warmth was soothing. 

You could feel Charlie’s uncertainty as he began to shift away from you in the bed, providing you with more space presumably. 

You couldn’t explain why you did what you did next. You reacted without giving it much thought at all. You reached behind you, pulling Charlie’s furthest hand towards you until it rested on top of your hair. 

The new position forced him to shift in bed beside you until he was lying on his side as well. His hand flexed under your touch. You wished you could pull him closer. 

His fingers stretched throughout your hair and you sighed, feeling your back sink closer to his chest. You could nearly feel his heart pounding against you. Your hand fell to rest on your side. 

His other hand shifted, moving into a more comfortable position below your neck. “Is this okay?” He whispered right behind your ear. The feeling of his cool breath sent chills up your spine. You nodded, the words lost from you.

You reached up, tracing the veins wove through his forearm. His fist closed and flexed at your touch. The film, just as the presentation, was now lost on you. 

It was just him beside you. The way he smelt, his fingers carefully sliding through your hair and across your cheek, the unsteady beat of his heart against your back. You found yourself sinking further and further into his arms. A heavy sigh slipped from your lips as he pulled through the mess of your hair. 

At the sound of your voice, Charlie shifted his weight, wrapping his arm under your neck further to pull you around to face him. 

You both seemed surprised at his sudden movement. You were now face to face, just inches apart. The movie murmured faintly off somewhere in the distance. 

Even in the dark, his blue eyes were so incredibly clear. You reached up, brushing the hair that had fallen in front of his face away. His eyes flitted between your own eyes and lips. You had never noticed before just how full his own lips were. His lips were tinted a deep red from the cherry wine you had shared. You couldn’t help but imagine how sweet he’d taste. 

If you’d just move a bit closer- 

Both of his large hands wrapped throughout your hair again in near desperation. 

You returned the gesture, pushing your thigh through the middle of his own. Lips crashed against one another. 

It was unlike anything you had experienced before. This brash kiss fell into a soft rhythm, gentle exploration as you rocked into one another. 

It didn’t take long until the slow movements devolved into a harsh quick pace as you both grew more comfortable in each other’s arms. There was an air of near violence as your tongues wrapped around each other.

You needed more of him, needed to be impossibly closer in any way you could. Sensing this, Charlie wrapped his arms around you, pulling you on top to straddle his waist. 

You sat back, smiling down at him as he unintentionally bucked his hips up closer to you. It was wonderful seeing the state he was in. You knew you were in just about the same shape. 

You were quick to meet his lips again. He held you steadily against himself, continuing to rock himself against you.

Your hands hazily fumbled with the buttons of his shirt. You needed to feel more of his skin against you. The barrier of clothing that separated you from him made you miserable. 

Once the last button was popped, he sat up in bed. Pulling you up with him, his arm clung around your waist. He shrugged the shirt off of himself, throwing it on the ground. You were quick to bring your lips to his again, running your hands up his now bare stomach. He was impossibly toned, felt hard to the touch. 

“Fuck.” He groaned against your lips as your hips rolled against him. You could feel him getting hard below you. A blush crept up your skin. The sound of his voice like this built up an indiscernible feeling inside of you. You wanted to hear him make that sound again. 

His hands were quick to find themselves under your t-shirt, his thumb brushed against the outer lace of your bra. He reached behind you, fumbling with the clasp. You leaned your head against his, smiling softly as he gazed at you in wonder. 

You reached behind yourself, helping him with his work uncertain work. You slid the bra off yourself, throwing it next to Charlie’s discarded shirt. You grabbed the hem of your t-shirt and pulled it swiftly over your head. 

You could hear Charlie’s breath audibly stuck in his throat as his eyes darted wildly across your body. The full weight of this situation nearly hit you at once. You brought your arms shyly across your chest. You had never been in front of a man this way. 

You could barely meet his eyes. He was quick to pull you back in to kiss him. “God, you’re so fucking perfect.” He whispered against you as he kissed your forehead. Your arms melted down to your side as his hands traced the curve of your waist. 

You could feel his hands shake as he cupped your breasts, his fingers softly grazed against your nipples. You sighed, pulling him closer to you. That frenzied feeling returned in full force. 

You needed impossibly more of him. He was quick to act, laying you back down on the bed. He hovered over you, eyes burning into your nearly naked body in front of him. 

His right hand reached down, fumbling with his buckle. You watched intently as his hand slipped underneath the waistband of his boxers to adjust himself. Your eyes fluttered back as you traced your fingers mindlessly over the defined v-line that led further down his hips. He shook at your touch. 

His lips found themselves trailing kisses down your neck and chest. He was so gentle with you. Painfully gentle. Your hands wove through his hair, arching up into him as his pace quickened. He slid further down the bed, wrapping his arms around both of your legs, holding them open to kiss down your thighs. 

You were practically already coming undone below him. He’d come so close to the spot you wanted him to be. Every time he’d pull back away, you’d whine in frustration. He’d hum back against you in response. 

You couldn’t handle the pressure building up inside you anymore. Your right hand traced slowly underneath the lace of your panties. You stopped just before slipping through your folds, looking up to meet Charlie’s eyes. His expression seemed nearly pained, completely desperate. 

“I don’t know- I’ve never…” Charlie could barely get the words out from between his lips. Even in the dim lighting, you could tell he was flustered, embarrassed at his own lack of experience. It was reassuring to you though, you had practically no experience with all of this either. It was sweet, how shy he seemed at that moment. 

“It’s okay. I’ll show you.” You gave him a reassuring smile before carefully intertwining your fingers with his own. He followed suit, hooking his free hand around your panties before sliding them off you. Your desperation for him drowned out any insecurity you could have possibly felt with him above you in that state you were in. 

You brought his fingers against you, sighing into him as he carefully let you guide him in slow circles against your clit. The knot deep inside you only grew as he became increasingly comfortable. Your hands dropped to his shoulders as he became familiar with the pace and direction you wanted. 

His free arm wrapped around your back, gripping your sides with bruising force as you started to writhe below him. His head dipped beside your ear, “Please, please let me taste you.” He practically begged. 

You could only nod, sucking in a sharp breath as his fingers moved faster, losing their rhythm. 

He was quick to shift his weight as he sat up for a moment, pulling off his constricting jeans and socks, leaving him nearly entirely exposed. You groaned at the sight of him in front of you. He was so damningly beautiful. Your vision flitted down to the large impression in his boxers, your eyes widened at the size of him. 

Before you could process this discovery, he was kneeling on the bed in front of you again. One arm snaked around your thigh as you propped yourself on your elbows to watch him make his way through his. 

He kissed just above your clit, eyes looking up at you for approval. 

“Please Charlie,” you urged him on. 

His lips were against your most sensitive spot immediately. You cried out, screwing your eyes shut. Nothing had ever been so perfect as this. He kissed against you a few more times before deciding to explore you with his tongue, “Fuck, it’s so good.” He groaned against you, speaking more to himself than you. 

The vibration of his deepening voice sent shockwaves throughout your body. Your eyes and legs involuntarily worked to screw shut. Charlie acted quick, pushing your thighs back apart with a painful grip. You were sure you’d have his finger prints bruised into your skin the next morning. ‘Good’ you thought to yourself. 

You could tell he was trying his best to emulate the motion you had shown him with your fingers with his tongue. It was maddening, completely perfect. 

“Fuck baby, you’re doing so well.” The words spilled mindlessly out of you. He groaned as you rolled your hips against him. Your eyes trailed down his chest. His right hand found its way inside his boxers. He was palming at himself as if he were in pain. You wanted to be the one to relieve him. 

The sight of him pleasing himself as he worked you over was enough to nearly send you crashing blindly over the edge. You could barely get the next words out of you, “Don’t, don’t touch yourself.” You were trying to keep it all together as he whined against you, following your demands. 

“Fuck Charlie, I’m going to…” you said between broken moans. 

He pulled away for a moment, his entire expression darkened. It could’ve easily been terrifying in any other context, you noted to yourself. The fingers that had just been wrapped around your thigh found themselves quickly against your entrance. Your eyes widened as you connected with his gaze, realizing his intentions. You’d do anything to have him inside of you. 

He kissed your lips. You sucked the taste of yourself off of him, dragging his bottom lip between your teeth. His middle and ring dove forward inside of you. His other hand came up quickly to muffle your screams. 

“Shit, you’re so tight.” His chest shuddered at his own words. A tear rolled down your face as he talked you through it. “So wet for me.” 

His free hand pressed down against your lower stomach. The additional pressure was the last push you needed. Your whole nervous system seemed to snap as his fingers fucked you through your high. You could barely hear his praise as your ears rang out with incredulous force. You were sobbing out his name, vision white and spotted at the blinding pleasure. 

He pulled out of you carefully, slowly letting you come back to yourself for a moment before diving his tongue back against you. 

You writhed up against the footboard. It was too much, too overstimulating. Your hands pulled at his hair to push him away. He grabbed both your wrists with one hand, holding you in place below him. You were babbling, stuck between ‘It’s too much’ and ‘please don’t stop.’ 

Within a matter of moments, you were coming undone again against his face. Your mind was shattered, your body a wreck under his touch. 

He fell back against the headboard, catching his breath as he watched you ride out your high. 

As soon as you could partially catch your breath again, you sat up, watching him shift uncomfortably from his pressing erection. 

It was his turn to be taken care of. You crawled your way up to rest between his thighs. His eyes darted across your face, as if he were trying to read your thoughts.

You couldn’t hide your smile as you leaned into him. You kissed him slowly, licking across his lips. Your lips slowly made their way down his chest as your fingers grazed across the fabric against his cock. He whimpered above you at the pressure. The sound made your stomach clench. You’d give anything to hear it again. 

He slid further down the bed as your lips trailed kisses and shallow bites marks further down his stomach. 

Once you could tell he was in a more comfortable position, you hooked your fingers into the waistline of boxers. He lifted his hips, helping you pull them down his thighs before discarding them on the ground below. 

You sat back on your heels, mouth agape at the sight in front of you. You could do little to hide your shock at the uncovered size of him. 

You glanced up at him, willing yourself to put on a face that feigned at least a hint of experience. He smirked down at you, as if he could tell exactly what thoughts were passing through your mind. 

“You don’t have to…” he muttered, eyes still full of adoration for you. 

Before giving him the opportunity to finish his sentence, you wrapped your fingers against the base of his cock. You could feel him pulse under your touch. His next words were stuck and gone in his chest. 

You held his gaze as your hand carefully twisted its way up to the tip of his cock. You gathered his precum on your fingers and circled it around the length of him. His mouth fell open as his stomach flexed under you. 

“Does that feel good?” You asked softly. 

He bit his lip, nodding his head yes. You were quick to pick up your pace at his approval.  

His hands were desperate, switching between grabbing at the bedsheets and headboard and any of your skin he could get ahold of. Stunning whimpers and pleas spilled out of him as you found the motion and speed he needed. 

You pulled away for a moment, moving yourself further down the bed. You held him still in one hand again as you kissed a trail down from his navel. Your eyes met with his as your lips hovered above the tip of his cock. You gathered spit on the tip of your tongue and let it fall slowly onto him. He cursed a string of expletives, his eyes rolling back into his head as you took him into your mouth. 

You thought carefully over each motion, keeping your teeth back, hollowing out your cheeks. The sensation was entirely new, but the way he began to convulse below you let you know you were doing something right. You wanted nothing more than to make him feel the same way he had made you. 

His hands wrapped almost painfully through your hair as he bucked further and further down your throat. You tried your best to relax, allowing him to take the space he wanted. 

Your throat burned, tears and spit covered your face and chest. You wouldn’t have possibly wanted it any other way. 

You were both becoming increasingly sloppy and starved in your movements. His right hand grabbed at your throat, pulling your face up to meet his eyes. You stilled, letting him fuck your throat as he pleased. It didn’t take long before his movements stilled and stuttered. 

You felt him pulse in your mouth; you were flooded with his release, warmth coated your throat and tongue. The taste and sight above you made your entire body shudder. It was heavenly. You felt truly blessed to be the cause of it all. You could vaguely make out your name being spilled from between his lips.

His chest heaved as you carefully pulled away from him, his cock falling against his stomach. 

You caught his eyes again, making a show to swallow what he had given to you. He pulled you into himself, kissing all over your face until you were laughing in his arms. 

You dropped into the bed beside him, watching him shift his weight and stand. He scanned the room before spotting the bath towel that hung beside your bedroom door. He made quick work of cleaning the two of you up, tracing kisses across you as he did so. 

Your nerves were all shot. Your entire being was exhausted and heavy. 

He dropped the towel next to the discarded pile of clothing that had accumulated on your bedroom floor. Charlie slid back in bed beside you, lifting the disheveled duvet over you both. He pulled you up onto his chest. You sighed as he swept the hair out of your face. 

You were in a complete haze, halfway into a deep sleep. 

“Thank you,” Charlie whispered above you. 

You hummed, reaching up to kiss under his jaw. “Thank you.” You replied, pulling a sore a leg over his thighs, resting your head back down against him.

The movie’s title screen music played on repeat in the background; you couldn’t be the least bit bothered to turn it off. 

[upon-a-starry-night]

Number Neighbors Pt. 14

Natasha Romanoff x Fem! Reader

Natasha Masterlist Series Masterlist

Word Count: 1k

Summary:  When you catch sight of the newest trend going around you know you’re all but bound to at least try it, it was harmless anyway. What could possibly stem from something so little?

----

(This chapter takes place a little before last chapter of Nat’s pov)

The taste of the dessert was still simmering on your tongue as you walked home from your date. The thought that Nat had maybe seen you hadn’t left your brain since you got that note. The one you were still desperately clutching in your hand, rereading it over and over again and imagining Nat writing it. Her handwriting fits her personality so much. You wondered if she would be open to the idea of becoming pen pals. 

The second you’d read the note you’d scrambled out of your seat to catch the waiter and ask if she was still there but he only shook his head and gave you a pitying smile.

“Can you at least tell me what she looked like?” You didn’t know if you were breaking some unspoken rule of whatever game you were playing with Nat but you had to know. More than anything you had to know.

The waiter picked up a few glasses and plates and put them on his tray before turning to you

“I couldn’t see much, she was wearing a hoodie and sunglasses. You’d think she was a celebrity or something. Is she… your stalker?” 

Before he could get the wrong idea you quickly shook your head no at his accusation

“She’s… a friend?” you don’t know why it sounded so much like a question, both of you had agreed you were beyond strangers now but… what you felt towards Nat didn’t always feel like friendship. It felt like those moments when time stood still;

Like when you feel a cool breeze on the hottest day of the summer,

Or when you snuggle under warm blankets in the winter,

Or settling down somewhere with a cup of something warm and a good book.

She felt like all the little moments you loved about life combined into a person.

Your mother would probably call you naive for feeling so strongly about someone you’d never even met but she’d technically already approved of Nat anyway.

“Is there nothing you can remember about her?” you tried to keep up with the guy as he walked to pick up after another table

You felt a few expensive-looking people look your way but you didn’t pay them any mind.

The waiter huffed and stopped in his tracks, turning to you with the patience only a person who works in customer service could have.

“Look- a bit of her hair was sticking out from under her hoodie, it seemed- brownish? Maybe more of an auburn? I don’t really know I wasn’t paying attention. But if you really need to know so badly we have a tech guy coming up in a few weeks, I could have him send you the alley surveillance footage?” You could tell this guy was over you asking a million questions so you nodded your head enthusiastically. Glad to have at least that much. As you scribbled down your email you thought of your number neighbor with brownish-auburn hair. Somehow, you felt like you already knew her hair would be darker.

~

As you were rounding the corner onto your block your phone pinged with a notification and you were surprised to see Nat’s contact on your screen.

‘It’s about time’ you thought to yourself as you realized this was the first time Nat had texted you first, completely unprompted.

You swiped open the message with a satisfied smile on your face.

         Nat🔪:

Nat🔪:

Enjoy your dinner?

Y/n🍦:

It was okay.

The dessert was the best part.

Nat🔪:

Oh yeah?

Y/n🍦:

Definitely.

Putting your phone away, you unlocked the door to your apartment, entered the flat, and locked the door again before making a B-line for your fridge. You snatched an old grocery list off and replaced it with the napkin. It settled nicely under your baguette-shaped magnet.

You started at the note for a few minutes, unsure how to go about addressing what had transpired.

If you even should address it.

What if it made her run again? You wouldn’t be able to handle her silence like last time. You’d grown too attached. 

Shaking your head you decide to just go for it, rip the band-aid right off. If she disappeared again then it was her loss.

But if she was confident enough to text you first this time then maybe things would be different?

         Nat🔪:

Y/n🍦:

You were there

The reply took a few seconds and you tried your best to channel your inner monk for some patience

Nat🔪:

I stopped by

Y/n🍦:

You were there.

Again the three little typing bubbles taunted you and you wanted to pull them out of your phone and throw them in a blender but you knew it just meant she was second-guessing every answer she could give you. You’d gotten used to her texting habits.

Nat🔪:

…

I was.

Y/n🍦:

Did you… see me?

Nat🔪:

No.

You don’t know why you breathe out a sigh of relief. Part of you thinks it’s because you want your first meeting to be mutual. To see each other for the first time at the same time. So you can know what she thinks of you by just the look in her eyes.

At least if she had seen you and she was lying you could know that she thought you were pretty enough to continue texting.

Nat🔪:

I never even stepped foot in the restaurant

That much you knew from the waiter, but it still felt good that she was telling you. Like she was validating your unspecified want of seeing each other for the first time together. It always felt like she just knew things about you without you ever telling her. Maybe she was a long-distance mind reader. If that were the case she should really get hired by The Avengers.

The thought makes you huff out a light laugh and reminds you of when the two of you first started talking. It felt like so long ago now. You’d come a long way since then.

Y/n🍦:

Thank you.

It was delicious

It made my night honestly

Nat🔪:

Anytime, Y/n.

I’m glad.

You didn’t know what Nat was doing on her side of the city but you wondered if maybe she was grinning at her screen like a fool the same way you were.

You changed the topic of your conversation with Nat as you began getting ready for bed and not once did it occur to you that you hadn’t thought of your actual date the entire night.

Pt 15

A/n: Y/n learns a little about what Nat looks like!!

I meant it when I said slow burn guys but don't worry this story won't be too long!!~ Starry

---Taglist--

@marvelwomen-simp @cd-4848 @wandanatlov3r @rebeltombraider @ctrlamira @fxckmiup @aliherreraaa @natsxwife @la-douler-ne-finite-jamais @romanoffsgal @moistblobfish @natashaswife4125 @elenimoris @how-to-disappearrr @screechcat @toouncreativeforausername @ordelixx @autorasexy @blacklightsposts

[nightcolorz]

Armand surgical malpractice meta (spoilers for TVA)

It’s, at least from what I’ve seen, a pretty popularly agreed upon conception that Armand’s mutation of Claudia b4 her death as described in TVA didn’t actually happen..partly bcus it’s such a drastic and grotesque retcon from her death in interview with the vampire so lots of ppl don’t want to address it as canon, and partly bcus it’s so bizarre and seemingly unprompted in context that it just seems more plausible that Armand would make this up as some sort of twisted shock value rather then actually do it. I used to buy into this theory and never rlly thought about it beyond that, and today for the first time I thought about it deeply and realized. Damn I rlly disagree! I think that Armand 100% canonically chopped Claudia’s head off and sewed it onto an adult body. I believe it happened as told. And I have many reasons !

First and foremost I don’t think that Armand is actually capable of lying so deliberately in this context. Interpreting most tvc narrators as potentially lying to our faces and intentionally twisting events to suit a narrative and a purpose of dictating our perception of them is, I think, accurate and justified, and smth I love about this fandom. Everyone is not to be trusted 100%, especially Louis and Lestat, who are said and implied many times to have completely fabricated some events in the books for the sake of painting a picture. Tvc serve as this over arching plot about multiple conflicting characters manipulating events of their lives to suit a narrative that we as the audience can pick apart and discover the truth within. Very much “this bitch said WHAT about me?? that dumb cunt is always spreading lies smh, it actually happened LIKE THIS” (they r both not telling the full truth). Armand however is very much an outlier here, and it’s part of what makes TVA so unique as a chronicle. It’s a big part of his character throughout the series, in TVA and leading up to TVA, that Armand’s way of thinking is so dysfunctional and his memory is so flawed (bcus of all his trauma) (and neurodivergence) (imo) that he isn’t able to fully conceptualize the events of his life as chronological and meaningful in the way that one would need to do to be able to write a memoir.

He can’t describe events in broad strokes, or wrap his head around a vast emotional impact in a way that is explanatory or intentional. Think of that conversation he has with Daniel in queen of the damned, where he explains that he isn’t capable of telling Daniel what his life in the past “was like” because that’s a concept incomprehensible to him. He only knows what happened, not what it was like, not how it affected him or how it shaped his personhood, what it means etc. It’s a form of dissociation almost. The vampire armand is the first time in Armand’s vampiric life that he self reflects beyond acknowledging events and his emotions in that moment, it’s the first time he attempts to make connections and understand himself in a way that is narrative and structured and not fragmented bits of history and A names. Part of this requires further dissociation. I definitely get the impression that since Armand is being so vulnerable in a way he is so unused to, yet is so significant, he is unable to register while he’s talking that not only David, but millions of people including every vampire in the world, will know what he says. He’s just laying himself completely bare, he’s talking and talking and only once he finishes realizes oh. Oh. everyone’s going to read this huh. It’s so cathartic he doesn’t consider that in the moment. It’s the first time he’s ever been capable of reckoning with his life in a self reflective way, of looking at it and explaining it and reasoning with it, structuring it in order, not fragments, etc, seeing the cause and the impact and touching on an overall conclusion (tho he never entirely gets there). These baby steps are so difficult for him already, and considering this part of his character I really think it’s a stretch to say that Armand would be capable of the thought process in his book of pure venting to go “maybe I should twist the truth here or change this or add this or lie about this so people will think of me this way or so Lestat can see this, etc” TVA is unreliable, more so bcus of how mentally ill armand is and how little he understands his own life and emotions, but not deliberately like iwtv and tvl. Armand even says that the book was for Benji and Sybelle, but it’s so unfiltered and horrific and vent-like that this sounds ridiculous. He doesn’t even have his stated audience in mind while he’s telling his story, let alone his broader audience. The audience was a complete afterthought, a barely registered consequence. So why would he lie about Claudia? How would he be capable?

it’s another common piece of conversation around this part of TVA where we go, Armand discusses how he never would want to tell this to Louis bcus he knows how badly it would hurt him, so why did he describe it so graphically? Well, cause of all I mentioned. It seems pretty clear to me that armand is almost haunted by the affair with Claudia, and he has no way of lying about this, so his descriptions seemed very much to me like a desperate bit of venting. He has never told anyone how horrific it actually was and it’s always been in his mind, so he just lets it all out. Makes sense, but the broader question is, if Armand wasn’t lying…why did he do that at all?? This I think is so interesting.

To understand this I had to think a lot about Armand’s motivations for killing Claudia at all, which is well, simply, revenge against Lestat and claiming of Louis without barriers. If Claudia dies Lestat will be sad and Louis will be mine and mine alone 👍👍 etc. but Claudia’s mutation was not rooted in either of these motivations, which is part of why it’s so shocking. He didn’t do it to hurt Lestat, lestat never found out. It just seems so odd and unprompted. But once I thought more about why Armand hates Lestat, and why he wants to hurt him by killing Claudia, it started to fit into place. Armand’s hatred for Lestat is rooted very much in his twisted resemblance to Marius that he perceives as being very strong and basically mocking. When he first sees Lestat in tvl he’s repulsed by him instantly bcus he sees him as this parody of Marius, this beautiful blonde man in striking red robes who boldly and carelessly defies the laws of vampires established by the children of Satan as if they are meaningless to him, revels in the indulgent world of humans like he belongs there, shamelessly as armand devotes himself to miserable repression. It strikes a nerve for armand, feels very personally offensive to him, like the embodiment of the traits that got Marius’s destroyed r coming back to mock him in his face. And then as he gets to know Lestat more deeply he only hates him more, bcus Lestat is not only bold and careless, but he’s immature and stupid, and he knows nothing. Armand in his horribly traumatized mind set registers Lestat as “like Marius” and takes this to mean “maybe he can save me, maybe he will teach me and free me from this hell, guide me and give me the purpose I need to be given.” But Lestat does not do this, lmfao. He actually destroys any sense of purpose armand had, rips him from his safety net, and when Armand begs for guidance, asks to be allowed to travel alongside Lestat so he can learn to be a person again, Lestat denies him. The only purpose he bothers to give him is the scraps, symbolic of his perverse indulgence that Armand despises, and fucks off. Lestat is grotesquely reminiscent of Marius, in the worst ways. It’s like his presence alone opens Armand’s eyes to how badly Marius has ruined him. He was the sun, the purpose, the guiding light, and then it was ripped away, and there was nothing else without him. Just a void.

So Armand hates Lestat for this very personal mockery of his own plight, and this hatred spirals into unbridled rage when Lestat returns to him and expects Armand to give Lestat the assistance that he denied him. Not only this, but Lestat found Marius, found marius and was granted guidance and love that Marius refused to give Armand after his indoctrination into the children of Satan. And Marius told Lestat to never ever do what he did, never make an Armand, because Armand was a mistake, he was too young to be a vampire, and now he’s a mistake he will never forgive himself for. And with this immense privilege that Armand spent a huge chunk of his life yearning for, guidance from Marius when he was his most lost, Lestat decides to disregard it. He decides that since Marius said it was bad to turn a child as young as Armand, he’d turn a child even younger then Armand, just cuz. He is once again the embodiment of Marius’s sins, the grotesque parody. Marius turned a teenager, Lestat turns a five year old. It’s almost cruel in how mocking it is, almost intentional in how personal. So Claudia is this child, this deliberate mistake made by someone who knew her turning would be harmful to her but was selfish enough not to care, then went on to regret it when he has to reckon with the consequences. Seem familiar? Armand sure thought so. So I imagine that being alone with Claudia, looking this deeply sad reflection of his own agony in the eyes, knowing she is about to die for justice against a warped parody of his Maker, for the sake of punishment for her own existence, I imagine this struck a cord of insanity in Armand’s fucked up mind, caused him to loose his absolute shit for just long enough to go what if I can fix her, what if I can turn this narrative around, give her the remarkable ending I know deep down that she, I , will never be granted. What if I can give her a body that will reflect her mind? What if I can make this abomination into a miracle? No wonder he pulled out the surgical tools 😭 No wonder he was so horrified by his own actions when he came to his senses, no wonder he refused to share this, kept it to himself for so long, until he finally broke and confessed it all in a desperate moment when he was too caught up in the dam breaking to realize he’d be exposing this horrific action to the world.

Armand sees Claudia as a repulsive mistake that should’ve never existed made by Lestat to deliberately mock him up until the surgery, when then for only a moment lost to time ended in blood she is another child who had her life taken from her too soon by an egotistical blonde man who thought he could play god with someone’s life. “They were done for anyway, he was going to starve to death in a brothel, she was going to die as a street orphan, the blood would be a service to them, a chance they never had” But they both know that’s a lie they tell themselves to justify the act of taking a child and molding it into what they please for fun, for pleasure, for companionship, just to see what would happen. Armand sees this for a moment and wants to give her a chance, give them both a chance, wants to see her as an adult, as someone who could have a life. And then of course, we know how that turns out 😭

[rebeliz7]

AUGUST - ONE SHOT

August - One Shot

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Reader 

Thanksgiving is a tradition that Wanda never saw herself embracing since she moved to the United States for good, but she lives with the most American guy there is, so there’s no way to avoid it, much less not celebrate it. 

She watches the sun rise through the large window of her bedroom, with a large cup of coffee in her hands that doesn’t help her swallow the knot that’s been tied around her throat for a couple of months now. 

It’d be lovely to pretend that time has helped, but time continues to pass by and it only fuels her heartbreak tenfold. 

The more days go by, the bigger the hole in her heart grows. At this rate, she’s certain that her sorrow will bury her before she can overcome it. 

“Good morning.” Natasha’s arms sneak around her waist from behind, her wife’s lips pressing a light kiss on her neck and Wanda’s chest aches for a very different reason. 

Her wife, her anchor, her rock. She loves Natasha, she loves her with a painful intensity that’s hardly ever gone. 

“Good morning.” Wanda smiles over her shoulder, and her wife kisses her cheek with a soft grin on her lips. 

“You ready for today?” Natasha asks her, accepting the cup of coffee that Wanda offers her and taking a sip. 

“I have everything I need. Believe it or not, I’m actually looking forward to spending all day in the kitchen.”

Natasha chuckles, her hand squeezing her wife’s waist before she moves back to sit on their bed. 

“You didn’t have to do this. Tony could have hired a staff to cook today.” 

Wanda follows her to bed, takes the cup of coffee and places it on the nightstand, and then she climbs on Natasha’s lap. 

“I like to cook for the team. I don’t mind.” Wanda shrugs, her wife’s arms slide around her waist again and their mouths press in a soft and languid kiss. 

“I know you do,” Natasha says, pulling back the slightest bit. “They know it too.”

Wanda kisses her again, but no matter how long she chases her wife’s lips, or how hard she tries to make it further than yesterday, she can’t. 

It stops abruptly, the same way it has since the last days of august and she lays in bed, staring at the ceiling and wishing to be able to be with her wife. 

It’s not about loving Natasha because she loves her so much, that it hurts--it hurts so much. 

“Talk to me.” Natasha asks, soft and understanding. She doesn’t push, she hasn’t asked for explanations and Wanda is thankful.

“Nothing’s wrong.” Wanda doesn’t look at her as she speaks these words, she can’t. “I promise.”

“I love you,” Natasha tells her, unprompted and Wanda turns in bed to face her wife properly. 

She reaches out to cup Natasha’s face, and inches forward to kiss her lovingly. She’d burn this world to the ground before considering a life without her wife, the thought is always there.

“I love you too, so much.” She means it, and Natasha believes her. 

“Okay. Let’s go.” Natasha nods, but not before Wanda catches the small frown of disappointment flash through her eyes. “You have a lot of cooking to do, and less than ten hours to do it.”

… 

The Compound is quickly turned into a place that Wanda’s always internally loved. 

Clint’s children are running down the hallways. Thor and his friends arrived early in the morning, even his ex-girlfriend. Peter and his aunt, Happy and Scott are all here. 

Everyone who is a friend and extended family are here, and Wanda’s excited and her mind is not in the same place it’s been for the last couple of months. Her heart feels light, and the knot around her throat is not choking her with every breath she takes for a change. 

“Can I have some water, Auntie Wanda?” Nathaniel comes up, and Wanda quickly wipes her hands on an apron before picking up the boy in her arms. 

“Of course you can.” She kisses his cheek and he giggles, his little arms wrapping around her shoulders. 

This little boy means the world to her, she loves Clint’s children but Nathaniel will always hold a special place in her heart since he has her wife’s and brother’s names. 

She gives him some water to drink and even a little cookie from a recently baked batch, and off he goes to find his brother and sister.

“He’s getting so big,” Natasha says as she comes up and Wanda accepts the quick greeting kiss with a smile. 

“He’s adorable.” She agrees, while moving around her wife to check on the turkey on the second oven, and then moving onto the mashed potatoes. 

Maybe another hour or less, and everything will be ready. 

“You want one?” Natasha asks her, and Wanda chuckles lightly. 

“Three,” she tells her wife with a nod of her head. “And a house in the country where our dog Bruno can run freely.”

“Oh, we have a dog too?” Natasha plays along, walking closer to her again and Wanda’s laughing when her wife’s arms wrap around her. 

“And a cat, maybe a few chickens in the backyard too. We’ll see.”

“I want that.” Natasha tells her, making Wanda’s heart flutter with adoration for this woman. “I’m gonna give you that.”

“I know you will.” She kisses Natasha but she doesn’t deepen the kiss, pulling back too quickly for Nat’s taste. 

“Now be a good wife and help me with this sauce.”

It’s supposed to be the end to a light conversation that they’ve had about a hundred times in the past since they got married. They’ve talked about kids, they’ve talked about moving out of the Compound, but this is the first time Natasha’s brought it up since august. 

Wanda’s heart sinks at the thought of having to leave this place--at the thought of having to leave you behind. 

“You know, Y/N asked me about that place we went on our first date, remember?” Natasha’s voice pulls her out of her thoughts, and Wanda’s heart skips a beat at the mention of your name.

“Whatever for?” She asks, already dreading the answer. 

“She asked Daisy out on a date.” Natasha says through a small laugh, and Wanda drops the spoon she was holding without even noticing. 

“What?” She asks, turning around. Her voice comes out choked up, she can tell but Natasha doesn’t mention it.

“I thought she’d never get over her little crush on you. I’m a little relieved to be honest.” Natasha chuckles lightly, while picking up the spoon Wanda dropped. 

“What are you talking about?” She clears her throat, but the knot is suddenly unbearable. She feels like she can hardly breathe. 

“Come on, detka.” Natasha smiles and Wanda clears her throat again, and decides to check on the pies. “You can’t tell me you haven’t noticed?”

“I’ve noticed.” Wanda says, a little too quick. Her chin trembles, her eyes sting and she has to put an end to this conversation. 

“I don’t blame her,” Natasha says and Wanda recognizes the tone in her wife’s voice all too well. 

It’s not long before Natasha has her hands on Wanda’s hips, her lips pressing soft kisses along her neck, an action that used to be Wanda’s favorite thing in the world. 

“You’re gorgeous, irresistible.” Natasha’s words send a shiver down Wanda’s spine, but the memory of you saying something very similar hits her out of nowhere and she pulls back. 

“I’ve been cooking all day long. I don’t feel irresistible right now.” She tries to laugh it off, but Natasha already has that analytic look on her face.

“Well, you are.” Natasha finally shrugs and when Wanda lurches forward to capture her lips in a searing kiss, she reciprocates in kind. 

“You think Daisy is a good fit for Y/N?” Wanda asks conversationally, as she goes back to the mashed potatoes. 

“Daisy is perfect for her,” Natasha says. 

“You care way too much for the rookies, detka.” Wanda tells her with a smile and Natasha shrugs, accepting it. 

“I just want Y/N to be happy, and this can be the start of something good for Daisy.”

“It will be.” Wanda assures her with a smile that she hopes is convincing enough. 

Tony drags Natasha to a game of poker, and Laura takes over helping Wanda in the kitchen and the minutes passing by feel like impending doom. 

When will it end?

It only gets worse when you sit beside Daisy during dinner, laughing at every word she says and touching her hand every time you get the chance. 

She loses her appetite, and Natasha notices. 

I wanna stay here forever. 

Your words echo in her mind, making her eyes water in a blink. This pain, this heartbreak, is so real that she often finds herself touching her chest just to make sure that she’s not actually bleeding. Or like right now, she runs her fingers down her throat firmly believing that a rope is tied around her neck, choking her--always choking her. 

There’s nothing there, of course. Your absence, as intangible as it is, is real. 

I wanna stay here forever. 

The look in your eyes as she held you close to her chest, and kissed your face just because she was allowed to, told her that she was always your first choice. 

You’re leaving her behind, you’re moving on and there’s a part of her that doesn’t want you to. There’s an ugly part of her that wants you to hold on, that wants you to stay forever in love with her. 

But she’s selfish, she’s come to accept it. 

She has to let you go, it’s the least she can do now. 

She barely pays attention when everyone takes their turn saying what they’re thankful for this year. Natasha takes her hand at one point, and Wanda laces their fingers together out of habit. 

They fit together, they always have. She seemed to fit together with you too, she always thought that you were made to be with her. She thought it that night when you two danced together in the kitchen, and then she knew with certainty when she kissed you. 

“Your turn Y/N.” Tony smiles, and her attention spikes at the mention of your name. 

Your eyes are on her, for a change, and she stops breathing for a moment too long. 

“Come on, killer.” Kate teases you, making you look away from Wanda’s eyes.  

“Okay, first of all, I feel like the lot of you are taking Tony dearest here, for granted.” You begin, gaining a few chuckles and making Wanda smile. “I’m extremely grateful for grandpa over here.”

Tony rolls his eyes so hard but his reaction only makes you laugh, and Wanda’s heart skips a beat at hearing the sound. 

She misses you so much, and so terribly that she almost can’t take it. 

“I’m thankful for you Tony.” You tell him, the sound of your voice taking on a more serious tone. “Because you’ve given us a place to call home, and some of us have never had that before.”

“I’ll take it.” Tony says, trying to move along but he still reaches out to take your hand and Wanda sees you squeezing lightly. 

“I’m also thankful for Natasha.” You continue, and Wanda feels her wife squeeze her hand lightly as you turn to look at her. “I’m thankful for you, today and every day. I know I don’t say this a lot, probably never have before actually, but you’re the reason why I’m here and why I can call this group of very dysfunctional people my family.” 

There’s a little laughter, no one takes offense and Wanda’s heart soars for you. 

“Thank you for giving me a chance.” You tell Natasha, and Wanda can’t help the tears that fall down her cheeks the next time she blinks. 

“You deserved it.” Natasha tells you, and while Daisy takes her turn Wanda tries her best to compose herself. 

Natasha has always bet on you, from the moment you were brought in, Natasha was always on your corner. Wanda didn’t want you to lose that, just like she didn’t want to lose you. 

She thought that keeping you here, even when you couldn’t remember what happened in august, would be enough but maybe, just maybe she’s paved her own road to hell and now she’s cornerned herself into walking that path alone. 

Natasha offers her a tissue, and by the time her turn is up she’s pulled herself together enough to speak without getting choked up. 

“You’re up, detka.” Natasha tells her and Wanda looks up, taking deep breaths. 

Everyone’s attention turns to her and she smiles, or at least she tries to. 

“Well, I’m thankful for this one over here.” She chuckles, looking at her wife and bringing their joined hands up to hold against her chest.

Natasha smiles adoringly at her and even leans forward to kiss her cheek, gaining a few teasing jabs from everyone around the table and making Wanda blush in the process.

“I love you more than words can express,” she continues. “And I’m thankful everyday for you.” To hell with it, she does become choked up.

“Thankful for the wife, I need one of those.” Sam jokes, and Wanda laughs despite feeling like there’s a hole in the pit of her stomach that’s only growing wider the more she’s away from you.   

“I’m also thankful for August.” She says, her eyes finding yours across the table and you squint the tiniest bit. 

“I’m thankful for August too!” Steve clamors, gaining everyone’s attention. 

The conversation changes completely, with everyone assuming she was talking about the mission and never having to answer those shady White House calls again. 

But your attention remains on her and hers on you. The intensity in your eyes makes her uneasy, and she leaves the table with the pretense of checking on the pumpkin pie. 

She doesn’t realize you’ve followed her, or that you’re confusedly staring at her.

“Hey.” She murmurs when she turns around and finds you standing by the fridge, your eyes still unfocused, confused. 

“August.” You speak and fear washes over her, rendering her speechless. “I wish I knew what happened in august.”

She lets out a breath she’s been holding, and smiles at you. 

“I hear you and Daisy are hitting it off.” She comments as she moves to take out some small plates to serve the pie. 

“We’re going out tomorrow night.” You tell her and she can breathe easily again. 

You don’t remember, and at this point she knows that if you ever do, it’d be a million times worse than it is today. 

“Let me help you.” You grab the two plates she’s about to place on the counter, and your hands touch hers in the process. “Your hands are always cold.”

You turn around and leave the kitchen, and she’s left standing motionless. She’s heard the phrase a hundred times from your very lips, your constant complaint about her cold hands was almost a running joke shared in the intimacy of your rooms. 

Halfway to the dining room you turn back around, looking as confused as ever and she holds her breath. 

“Where did that come from?” You ask her with a soft laugh, and her heart breaks all over again. 

This is all she gets now. This is all she’ll ever get anymore. 

…