#and i got written up for ‘attitude’ !! ha ha!! my guy i was trying not to cry in front of you!!

[permanentreverie]

YOOO MY DEPRESSION GOT REAL BAD THERE LMAOOOOO

[dinogoofymutated]

Jealousy headcannons! Multi/GN!Reader - Cable, Gambit, Nightcrawler, Quicksilver. Ok I know this wasn't on the schedule butttt Yeahhhh. Cable is going to have an extended version of his fic, and I might do the same for the others but no promises! Also I know that Cable's written half is literally just the snippet I shared with some minor edits but bear with me please his stuff is in the works!!! TWs: Jelousy. Barfights. No violence on Reader but men are creepy. Mentions of sex work. Cable and gambit make public spectacles it's just what they do. The return of wolverine and the X-men Pietro bc I love him

Cable

Look, any man who comes over to flirt with you after you walk in with a legit wall of muscle has to be either stupid or blind.

Cable is by no means a very jealous man. He's not gonna care if a man (or woman) approaches you and starts up a conversation. He might get a little frustrated if they start flirting with you, but he trusts you. He knows you can take care of yourself and he doesn't want you to feel like he's got you on a leash.

But when someone is being persistent, not taking no for an answer, and hell, putting their hands on you? He doesn't take it too well. He's more of an overprotective type when it comes to his flavor of jealousy.

    “That beer for me, Beautiful?” The voice of a stranger cuts through your thoughts, and to be honest, you don’t even think he’s talking to you until you realize how close to you he is. He’s sat on the barstool next to you, leaning towards you like he can’t quite catch his balance. You make a face at him, nonchalantly moving Cable’s beer closer.

    “Last time I checked it wasn’t.” You say curtly. The man has a smile hiding behind his pout as he leans a little closer to you, oblivious to the way you casually recoil from him.

    “Oh c'mon, don’t play hard to get. I’m chill!” You can tell this guy is most definitely drunk, and you find yourself trying not to roll your eyes at him. If only he knew what kind of trouble he was in.

    “Sure you are. But believe me, my Husband is not.” You tell him. You're not married, but to be honest, you knew this guy wasn't going to leave you be if you left him with some vague label. Didn't matter anyway, however, the stranger laughs in your face, and his breath smells like alcohol and cheap cigarettes, a nasty combo that repulses you. You point back at the corner booth where the cable was sitting just a few minutes before, hoping that he’d at least back off at the sight of the six-foot hunk of muscle you call a lover. Unfortunately, He doesn't. 

    “What Husband?” The man says mockingly, and when you look at the booth you find yourself pointing at an empty seat. The sight lights a small flicker of anxiety in you, and your face falls as the man sets a hand on your shoulder and squeezes. It’s not there for long before the weight suddenly disappears. You snap your head around, feeling relief when you see the man’s wrist caught in Cable’s literal iron-clad grip. 

    “This Husband.” Cable grunts.

    All of the blood drains from the stranger’s face in an instant, but it doesn’t take long for the attitude to come back. He tries to yank his arm out of Cable’s grip, but Cable’s arm doesn’t move an inch. To be honest, the sight kinda made you blush a little. Sure, you had seen Cable’s strength many times, but this… well. This was different. The guy starts to yank a little more aggressively, and all Cable has to do is clench his hand for the asshole to yelp and give up. You set a placating hand on his shoulder, and Cable glances back at you. His gaze softens, and he sighs before letting the guy go.

    “What’s your problem, man?” The stranger spits as he holds his bruised wrist. You had already gathered your things and were getting ready to get the hell outta dodge, giving Cable’s shoulder a hard pat as you desperately tried to keep him from getting in a barfight. Cable ignores the guy, walking close behind you as you start to walk away.

    “ -s’ an ugly bitch, anyway.” The stranger mumbles under his breath, but not nearly as quiet as he should’ve. Cable stops in his tracks, wheels around, and slugs the guy with his left arm. There's a sickening crunch and the bar goes silent as the drunken stranger is violently knocked from his seat. Your first instinct is to scold Cable, but the guy had it coming anyway. You look around, and with every eye in the bar squarely on you and Cable, you decide you’ve definitely stayed past your welcome.

Gambit

Gambit is probably the most jealous man in this lineup. Again, He will get fidgety and somewhat aggressive when someone approaches you and begins to flirt, but he trusts you. He doesn't want you to think he doesn't, and as a result, he tends to grit his teeth and bite his tongue to keep himself in check.

There's definitely a very, very thin line in between "I don't want to be overbearing" Remy and "This guy needs to take the fucking hint" Remy.

He's mostly fine with drunk bastards, He thinks they're funny, and as long as they're not bothering you for the most part he'll keep the aggression to a minimum. -But the one thing he absolutely cannot stand is snobby pricks who think they can steal you from him because he's a "swamp rat."

"It's a shame to see such a lovely creature like you standing here all alone." You try not to roll your eyes at the man that approaches you. You and Remy were supposed to have a nice, romantic night out. It was your anniversary, and Remy had told you that he wanted to pull out all the stops for this one. Unfortunately, fate wasn't on either of your sides today. The X-men needed Gambit, and you told him that the plans can wait for another time. Remy, in a very gambit fashion, told you to dress up anyway and he bet he would meet you there. Definitely a rather High-stakes gamble, but you loved him, so you said you'd hold him to it.

Unfortunately for you, it looked like the restaurant was hosting an event at the bar for what looked like a rather stuffy- sorry, High-end law firm. You had been content with waiting for Remy, even if the waitress clearly looked convinced he was standing you up. You had ordered something to drink while you waited, and caught the wrong kind of attention during your trip to the bar.

"I'm not alone, I'm waiting for someone." You say, flashing him an annoyed smile. He smiles back in a smartass kind of way, flashing you his Rolex as he pushes up his glasses. Great. He thinks you're a sugar baby- or maybe a sex worker. Either way, you really wished he was anywhere but here.

"Right. I'll be honest with you, I know you've been waiting here for what- and hour now? Hour and a half? Any guy that leaves you here for that long is not worth your time, sweetheart." You cringe at the nickname, but he clearly can't seem to tell. At this point, you start debating your options. You could run to the bathroom, but there weren't any windows you could crawl out of and he could wait at the door for you to come out. You could try to leave, but you didn't want Remy to think that you left him hanging. It's probably best if you stay and wait for him, but man was this guy getting on your nerves.

"Again, I'm waiting on someone. I'm choosing to wait on him, and frankly, I'm not interested in you." You say bluntly, getting more and more aggravated. The man only smirks at you.

"You're certainly a fiesty one. Don't worry, I like it when they play hard to get." He sends you wink that makes you want to sock him, and to be honest, you start to think about it. The bell at the door of the restaurant dings, and you glance over, face breaking out in a smile at the sight of the man you had been waiting on.

Remy was still in his x-men suit, obviously having come fresh from the fight. He's got some dirt on his face, and his hair is a little messier than normal, but you had never been so happy to see him.

"Well, don't you clean up well." You joke as Remy walks to your table. He chuckles, barely sparing the other man a side-eye before picking up your hand to kiss it.

"Sorry, Chère. Originally, I planned on changin', but I couldn't stand the thought of leaving you here for another moment." Remy's fond gaze turns into a bit of a glare when he finally looks over at the gobsmacked man across the table from you. "I see you've made a new friend?" You roll your eyes at that, shaking your head. Remy gets the message.

There's a gasp from the other patrons of the restaurant, as the sound the contact made was rather loud. There's already a red mark forming on the mans face as you take Remy by the hand and begin to lead him out of the restaurant. Remy is looking at you like he'd fallen in love with you all over again.

"You've been waiting all this time for some Cajun freak?" The man blurts out, finally having found his words.

"Watch it, Mon ami." Remy's shoulders tense as he snarls at the prick. You stand up, giving his bicep a reassuring squeeze before you walk in front of the man. The side of his mouth slightly upturns as you do so, right before you slap the everloving shit out of him.

"I know you really wanted for us to eat here, honey, but to be honest? I like your cooking better anyway."

Nightcrawler

Kurt? Jealous???

Absolutely. He absolutely gets jealous. Kurt is much more of a "cat" kind of jealous than a Guard Dog kind of jealous though. He's not going to do anything crazy like punch anyone, but he's gonna brush up against you, slide his tail around your waist, hold your hand. He wants reassurance from you more than he is angered by whoever is flirting with you.

That's not to say he's not angry. He doesn't like the way some people look at you like a piece of meat instead of the intelligent, beautiful person you are, and he's not afraid to call people out on it.

Kurt knew that the guy you were talking to right now was only stopping to ask you for directions, but he really didn't like how close to you the guy was. Kurt had gone off to get you something to eat from the street food vendor nearby, telling you to just relax and he would be back soon.

When he returned with food in hand, it was obvious to him what was happening, but he still couldn't help but frown. The man is leaning into your space as he shows you the map in his hands. It's fine. There was obviously nothing really going on, the stranger must have been simply touchy. He then watches as the man sets a hand on the back of your waist to point at a building up ahead, and Kurt's mind quickly changes.

Obviously, you had stepped out of the stranger's reach quickly, uncomfortable with the action, but Kurt still slinked up to your side like a cat, pulling you close with his tail as he hands you your food, resting his newly freed hand behind your back.

"There you are, Meine Liebe. I hope you didn't wait for too long." Kurt says sweetly, giving you a grin. You smile back at him, thanking him for the food. You felt relieved to see him. Sure, the stranger that had been speaking to you seemed to be a nice man, but there was a certain amount of comfort and security Kurt provided when he was near you. Kurt makes a show of leaning in and kissing you on the cheek that makes you giggle. The stranger clears his throat after a quick moment.

"-Sorry if I interrupted your date. I appreciate the directions!" He says quickly, face flushed red from embarresment.

"You're perfectly fine! I hope you're able to find what you're looking for alright." You respond sweetly, waving as the man walks off. Kurt is pouting again when you look at him, tail still wrapped comfortably around you. You can't help but giggle.

"You're so jealous." You laugh. Kurt gives you an innocent look as he brushes off the accusation.

"Whaaat? No. Ich habe dich vermisst. That is all!"

Quicksilver

I'm not even gonna lie the fic half of this is just part of that enemies to lovers hcs that I wrote

anyway!!

Pietro is a very pouty, bratty kind of Jealous.

Like sure he trusts you and all but you actually looked at someone else while they were speaking to you? >:[ Don't look at them. Look at him. Smile at him not them. You're laughing at something they said? Well, he's funnier than them!!

He's just, so pouty over the smallest, pettiest things. He just needs a smooch on the forehead and some reassurance and also possibly cuddles, and he'll be fine. God he's such a brat ILHSM

However, If someone is actually flirting with you or going too far and making you uncomfortable, he will in fact throw hands. Or do his speedster thing and find a way to embarrass them, like pantsing them or planting something embarrassing on them. One time he snatched a guy's cell and called his wife before planting it in the man's pocket so she could hear all the flirting he was doing. Now that was fun.

"So I heard you had dinner with the wolfie guy tonight." The sound of Pietro's voice makes you yelp in surprise. You whirl around to see him leaning against the wall of your room, arms crossed. You scoff, and pick a pillow off of your bed to chuck it at him. He catches it easily.

"His name is Logan, and No. Not really. All we did was happen to sit next to each other at dinner." You turn back around to sit at your vanity, but Pietro is already there, sitting on the stool with the pink pillow tucked into his arms.

"So you did have dinner with him?" He pouts. You roll your eyes at him, holding back a laugh as you shove him off the seat. He looses his balance for less than a second before there's a gust and he's sitting cross-legged on your bed, having tossed the pillow to the side.

"What does it matter to you, anyway? You're not even supposed to be here, Pietro." You tease as you sit down, unable to keep yourself from smiling. You comb through your hair as you ready yourself for bed, still grinning like an idiot as you hear Pietro huff and haw.

"Why shouldn't it matter?" He asks, watching as you complete your routine. "I- I have a reason to care." He stutters out cheeks flushing a light pink that reaches his ears. You cover your mouth to keep yourself from laughing.

"Don't laugh!" Pietro objects, and it sends you into a fit of laughter as you stand back up and flop onto your back on the bed next to him.

"He's not my type anyway." You say. It only takes a second before Pietro is leaning over you, caging you between his arms. There's the ghost of a grin beginning to form on his face, simply at the sight of your own cheesy expression.

"What is your type, then?" He asks, and you cock an eyebrow at him.

"Let's just say I prefer a man who can keep up with me." You say with a wink that may or may not have been the most terribly, corny action you could have done. Pietro doesn't seem to care as his face is split with an equally as corny grin.

Both of you are caught off guard by someone calling your same from the hallway, and then a knock shortly after. You take Pietro's moment of distraction and quickly lean up, placing a chaste kiss on his cheek. Pietro looks absolutely shocked.

"You better get going." You whisper. He smiles at you, almost in disbelief, and then he's gone, the window left open and the breeze catching on curtains, blowing gently.

[onlyangel4]

onlyangel4 1k event - P4. YT22. SMAU.

trope: secret long term relationship

pairing: yuki tsunoda x fiancé!reader

faceclaim: kiko mizuhara

1k event

y/nprivinsta

liked by y/bff, yukitsunoda, alexandrasaintmleux and 102 others

tagged: yukitsunoda

y/nprivinsta: this year was my third summer break as a wag and i have to say it was the best one yet

view all 41 comments

yukitsunoda: i fucked it for myself i'll never top this

y/nprivinsta: gonna have to think outside of the box baby

y/bff: i haven't stopped crying since you facetimed me

y/nprivinsta: i love you so much

alexandrasaintmleux: we need to go out and celebrate

iamrebeccad: i'm coming

flavy.barla: and me

francisca.cgomes: me too

pierregasly: so happy for you both

y/nprivinsta: thank you pierre!

landonorris: omg the shortest couple in f1 are getting married

y/nprivinsta: you really have the attitude of a six foot man

alexandrasaintmleux

liked by flavy.barla, iamrebeccad, charlesleclerc and 1,202,009 others

tagged: flavy.barla. iamrebeccad. francisca.cgomes. lilymhe.

alexandrasaintmleux: ladies night

view all 32,101 comments

flavy.barla: the best night ever

alexandrasaintmleux: even if we did lose y/n for a hot minute

user1: who tf is y/n

iamrebeccad: love you all

lilymhe: the best night out in a long time

user2: so we know they are all wags but who is that other girl

user3: the logical side of my brain says just a friend but the delulu side of my brain makes me think maybe we have a new wag

user4: i need to know who that other girl is

y/nprivinsta posted a story

written: watching the whole f1 community blow up trying to find out who i am has me giggling

yukitsunoda: they are guessing that you are a wag for literally anyone but me

y/nprivinsta: yeah i read an article that i'm lando's secret girlfriend

f1updates

liked by user6, user7, user8 and 45,283 others

f1updates: so lando was just questioned about the girl, y/n in alex's new instagram post and his reaction is the funniest thing ever

interviewer: "so is it true that you have a new girl in your life"

lando (confused as ever): "what? wait you mean y/n"

*he started hysterically laughing*

lando: "no me and y/n are not together, jesus christ you guys need to stop believing everything that you see on twitter, you are going to get me killed"

view all 4,211 comments

user6: that response makes me think she is deffo a wag

user7: but who is she dating lando

user8: y'all need to stop being so fucking nosey

y/nprivinsta posted a story tagging yukitsunoda

written: last dinner with my fiancée, here's to many more with my husband

alexandrasaintmleux posted a story

written: the last time i posted this girl f1 twitter almost went up in flames

f1updates posted a story

written: guys an interviewer just asked yuki if he did anything exciting with his summer break. his response was "well i got married" AND THEN HE JUST WALKED OFF

yukitsunoda

liked by y/nprivinsta, pierregasly, alexandrasaintmleux and 1,002,932 others

tagged: y/nprivinsta

yukitsunoda: introducing y/n tsunoda, the love of my life

view all 176,384 comments

y/nprivinsta: i love you more than anything

yukitsunoda: more than sakura

y/nprivinsta: know your place that cat is my child

pierregasly: the best wedding ever

yukitsunoda: do you even remember it, you were so drunk

landonorris: i still can't believe people were shipping me with your wife

yukitsunoda: count your days norris

user9: holy shit yuki married a BADDIE

user10: omg they have a cat that is so cute

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

@bibissparkles

@milkysoop

@hadids-world

@callsignwidow

@barcelonaloverf1life

@queen-of-the-hunt

@piastrams

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@nichmeddar

[thisapplepielife]

Written for @steddieholidaydrabbles.

Hot Daddy

Prompt Day 23: Hot Chocolate | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: T | CW: Mild Use of "Daddy" | Tags: AU, Meet Cute, Single Dad Steve, Platonic Stobin

"Hot chocolate?" 

Eddie's startled from his thoughts, looking to see where the unexpected question came from. He wasn't paying attention to his surroundings, off in his own world, as Wayne would say. Well, he says that, and that Eddie's lucky he doesn't accidentally walk into traffic.

Which, true. It has happened a time or two. But what Wayne doesn't know won't hurt him.

Locating the voice that had spoken is interesting, because Eddie was not expecting to look down, or expecting a hot man next to a table full of little girls clearing running a fundraiser. There's a little girl looking up at him expectantly, and she must have been the one that asked.

Hot guy's hand is resting on her shoulder protectively, and she must be his daughter, since she's his little doppelganger.

The guy is eyeing him, and Eddie knows he looks scarier than he actually is, so he smiles, trying to look less intimidating. At least the girl isn't scared of him, it seems. Not his tattoos, not his piercings, not his heavy leather and attitude.

"Hi, sir!" She says, all chipper, like it isn't freezing cold, "We're selling hot chocolate and cookies to help pay for camp."

It's a script, and a little stilted, but she's got the spirit, that's for sure. And he hasn't been called sir in, well, ever, maybe.

"Of course," he says, and shifts his duffle bag to his other arm so he can reach for his wallet.

The little handwritten sign has their pricing, which he is certain is too low, and he fishes out a ten dollar bill, handing it over.

"Keep the change," he says, and the girls squeal and jump up and down. 

The man finally grins, like Eddie's won him over, just a little. 

Suddenly, there's several girls wanting to be involved in the translation, handing him a sack of cookies, napkins, as hot dad pours hot chocolate out of a stainless steel dispenser.

"Marshmallows?" he asks, and Eddie grins.

"You know it."

He shakes some into Eddie's cup, then a few more as he meets Eddie's eyes and winks, then hands it over.

"Thank you," Eddie says, and he could look into those golden eyes all day. He'd love to see them in the daylight. He bets they are so warm.

"Thanks for supporting the cause," the pretty-eyed hot dad says, and Eddie takes one more long look at him before walking away.

It's good hot chocolate and great cookies. He's impressed. 

The table isn't there the next night, or the few after, and Eddie feels a little bummed out that he missed his opportunity to flirt a little, feel him out.

He wasn't wearing a ring.

Eddie's certain of that. He looked. He also knows no ring isn't the end all and be all, some people just don't wear them, but no ring means that he might have had a chance. And a chance is all he needs.

So, he was hoping they'd be back now that it is the weekend again, but no luck.

"Why so mopey?" Robin asks, and Eddie turns to look at her. 

"I saw a guy on the sidewalk, and I hoped he'd be back on the street corner tonight–"

"Eddie!"

"–but maybe it was just a weekend thing?" Eddie ponders.

"Eddie, are you trying to hire a prostitute?" she asks, eyes huge.

"What? No!" He throws back his head and laughs, "He was a perfectly respectable man! With a little girl!" 

She raises an eyebrow.

"His daughter!"

Eddie's just digging a deeper and deeper hole as she laughs at him.

"I'm not following," she says, leaning on the counter of the music store. She started about two months ago, and so far, he likes her.

"There was a booth of kids doing a fundraiser. The dad that was supervising was hot."

She laughs at him, but it doesn't seem mean. Then her face changes, "When was this? What'd he look like?"

"Last Friday. Good hair. My height? I don't know. A real pretty dude."

"Swoopy hair?" she asks.

"What's swoopy hair?" he asks, and she makes a motion with her hands, and well, maybe?

"Yeah, maybe," he says, as if the image of this guy hasn't been burned into his retinas.

Then, he really hears what she's been asking:

"Robin. Robin Buckley. Do you know hot daddy?"

"Ew, no. Never say that to me again."

"Sorry," he mutters, feeling chided. 

"Steve–" she starts, and he really, really doesn't want to hear about her Bobbsey Twin of a best friend Steve right now. He feels like he knows more about Steve than he knows about Robin, which is crazy for someone he's never met.

"Robin. No more Steve stories," he says, resting his forehead against the counter, banging it slightly.

Steve's a teacher. Steve's a coach. Steve played sports in college. Steve could have gone pro. Steve's a single dad. Steve's the best.

Steve, Steve, Steve.

He doesn't have the brainpower to deal with the Legend of Steve right now.

"Eddie–"

"Robin!" he interrupts. 

"Fine. Don't let me talk," she says, crossing her arms over her chest. 

And it's finally, blissfully, silent. At least for a few minutes.

Eddie's behind the counter when the bell over the door jingles. He looks up, and – hot daddy.

Robin elbows him in the ribs, "I told you never to say that again!"

"I didn't know I did!" he yelps.

She laughs, "Steve, this is Eddie. Eddie, this is Steve."

"You're Steve?" Eddie asks, and he knows his cheeks are red.

"The one and only," Steve says, and Eddie really wishes he'd paid better attention when Robin talked about him now. If wishes were horses, indeed.

Steve's holding two to-go cups, and leans up against the counter, handing one over to Eddie, not Robin. 

Eddie takes it, dumbly. It's hot chocolate, and Eddie looks down at it:

555-0083 Call me Hot Daddy

Steve winks, and turns and walks back out.

Eddie's gonna kill Robin.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddieholidaydrabbles and follow along with the fun! ☕

Notes: Punctuation is important, Steve. Should Eddie call you on the phone - or call you hot daddy. Decisions, decisions. Why not both? 🤣

[ratatoastwrites]

Playing house

Spencer Reid x gn!reader

[this was specifically written with s2 bratty(suffering from withdrawal)!Spencer in mind 🧚‍♀️]

Synopsis: “has a PhD in engineering and thinks that Ikea manuals are for stupid people” boyfriend vs “isn’t really a good handyman but is determined to follow the rules” s/o get into a bit of an argument 🫢

a/n: it’s me woo! did y’all miss me? 🌝 ofc u did!! 🥰 jkjk but umm i was inspired to write this bcuz i actually got a new chair from ikea a few days ago and i almost ripped out all my hair by the time i managed to put it together ✨ i was listening to the Like a Prayer EP from deadpool & wolverine for the whole two (2) hours it took me to put it together as well lmao 🪑 also, the pic on the left of the moodboard is my own ikea manual on the exact page i messed up!! fun 🧚‍♀️ also, did u guys like that i included a synopsis this time? i hope u did ;)

cw: light angst, arguing about something that shouldn’t really be a cause of an argument, reader has one (1) violent thought but doesn’t actually mean it and also doesn’t act on it ofc, allusion to Spencer’s addiction/withdrawal, some kinda unhealthy thoughts, Spencer is a bit 🤏 of an asshole in the beginning, mostly fluffy ending, also kinda rushed ending which is my bad :( sorry

“This is stupid. And you’re doing it wrong.”

You scoffed in exasperation at your boyfriend’s complaints, but otherwise kept your focus on the task at hand.

You’ve been trying to assemble your new desk chair for the past half hour, while Spencer loomed over your hunched figure, like an unhelpful little devil on your shoulder.

“Well, why don’t you do it then?”

You mumbled under your breath, not necessarily wanting him to hear. He did anyway.

“Well, I would. If you weren’t so insistent on using the manual.”

You could quite literally hear the eye roll in his tone, and while you usually didn’t mind his bratty attitude, right now it wasn’t helping your already frustrated mood.

“Oh, right. Silly me, using the manual that tells me how to assemble this piece of- furniture.”

You had to try your hardest not to start cursing, not wanting to let this swedish nightmare of a chair get the better of you. Spencer sighed behind you, and you were secretly hoping that it was a sigh of resignation.

“I have a PhD in engineering, do you really think that I don’t know how to assemble a chair from Ikea?”

Your hopes were proven to be futile, just like every other time you found yourself not seeing eye to eye with your boyfriend. You took a deep breath, not wanting to turn this petty argument into an actual fight.

“I don’t know, Spencer. And I’m not interested in finding out. I just don’t understand what you’re trying to prove by refusing the very idea of using the manual.”

Your tone became a little sharper by the end, although it wasn’t actually aimed at him. As you read over the manual again, you realised that you messed up the last step, cursing quietly under your breath as you had to undo the last eight screws in the armrests.

“Good thing you were using the manual.”

You were seriously contemplating throwing the screwdriver at your boyfriend’s smartass head after his smug comment. However, you just slowly put it down instead, before standing up from your place on the carpet, ignoring the crackling in your knees as you turned around to face him.

“Spencer, I love you more than words could describe, but you’re seriously getting on my last nerve right now. I’m going to make myself a cup of tea, do not follow me please.”

You told him with eerie calmness, before walking out of the living room and towards the kitchen.

You tried to ignore the guilt gnawing at your stomach at how annoyed you’d gotten over something so trivial. You knew that he was going through a rough patch in his life, and you couldn’t blame him for being more annoying than usual. But you couldn’t always have the patience of a saint, and you were already quite worked up about that stupid chair.

‘I just need a few moments of peace. Then I’ll go back and pretend like everything is okay. As per usual.’

You tried telling yourself, blocking out the voices saying how unhealthy that sounded.

You went through the steps of making your tea, doing your best to silence the myriad of emotions swirling in your chest. By the time you finished your hot beverage and put your cup in the sink, all your previous frustrations were gone, replaced by only tiredness. The weight of the day weighed on your shoulders as you dragged yourself back to the living room, although the slight aching in your muscles quickly faded to the back of your mind when you took in the sight waiting for you in there.

“Wh- Spence?”

You were dumbfounded as you looked at your boyfriend, who was standing next to your -now assembled!- chair with a sheepish smile.

“I, uh, put it together for you. All according to the manual, of course.”

His tone was almost shy, and he gave you the sweetest puppy dog eyes imaginable, which never failed to make your heart skip a beat.

“But I thought the manual was stupid.”

You stepped closer to him, still feeling a little confused, but your gaze softened in fondness as you looked at him. He shuffled on his feet a little, glancing between you and the chair awkwardly.

“It is. But it doesn’t matter. According to the studies, most healthy relationships are based on compromises. I guess I just realised that I haven’t been the best boyfriend lately.”

You frowned at his words, stepping even closer to him, until you were almost toe to toe. You didn’t like it when he talked about himself like that, and he quickly understood your expression.

“You know it’s true. You’ve been nothing but patient and accepting since I… And I can’t even swallow my pride for an hour to help you put together a piece of furniture.”

He continued before you could argue, and your heart broke as he trailed off mid-sentence. You knew that it was hard for him to acknowledge what he was going through, and you really wanted to tell him that it was okay, that he didn’t do anything wrong. But you knew that those empty words of comfort wouldn’t do your relationship any good.

“Yeah, I guess that’s true. But Spence, I don’t want you to think that me being there for you is a chore, or a sacrifice. I’m being patient and accepting, because I love you.“

You told him, reaching your hands out to hold his, interlocking your fingers as you smiled at him softly.

“I can’t even imagine what you’re going through. And you being a little annoying about a stupid chair doesn’t make you a bad boyfriend. Not to mention that you ended up putting it together for me.”

You nodded your head towards the aforementioned furniture next to you, squeezing his hand a bit tighter as you smiled at him fondly.

“I don’t deserve you.”

He said softly, tilting his forehead against yours.

“Negative. You deserve only good things in your life.”

You told him, before capturing his lips in a gentle kiss.

The two of you didn’t always agree, and you could both be incredibly stubborn. But at the end of the day there was nothing you wouldn’t do for your beautiful, intelligent, sweetheart of a boyfriend, no matter how much he tested your patience. And you knew that he felt the exact same way about you.

🧚‍♀️🧚‍♀️🧚‍♀️🧚‍♀️🧚‍♀️🧚‍♀️🧚‍♀️🧚‍♀️🧚‍♀️🧚‍♀️🧚‍♀️🧚‍♀️🧚‍♀️🧚‍♀️🧚‍♀️🧚‍♀️🧚‍♀️

Bonus badly edited pic of Spencer in my new chair ✨

[icypenguin]

Can I also request a poly sbg x reader who likes cooking for them? (Specifically Korean and Taiwanese food) and they also like calling her mom?

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚 Mom of the Group! ᥫ᭡. ˚���

cw: drooling over food, being called ‘mom’, that’s all i guess?

a/n: HII THANKYOU FOR REQUESTING AGAINNN! sorry this one took much longer than the previous one T-T but either way, i hope you’ll like this! and sorry if the foods are not what you expected and really sorry if it’s spelled wrong!

note: reader doesn’t really have any pronounce or gender but is called mom!

divider credits: @drifting-moon @chachachannah

in every kind of way you are, adding your careful personality, you’re always known as a person or a friend who likes to take care of eachother. the fact that you’re a sociable person, not mentioning how you’re a pretty good cooker, makes it even better. since (almost) all of the person in the gang are stubborn and only focuses on the phantom realm, barely taking care of themselves, you, who ARE LOWKEY DONE OF THEIR DEPRESSING ATTITUDE decided to.. try and take things more careful.

“ah, i tried making some meatball dumplings as the starter. for the main i made jjajangmyeon with the side of kimchi and mozzarella corn! aaand- logan helped me while making this ice mango and sago. please dig in everyone!” foods were laid on the table with a glam presentation. anyone who sees it could immediately drool as their appetite will boost.

aiden and taylor were practically drooling as they stared into the food with shining eyes. while ashlyn, tyler, ben and logan tried to hold their drool and act from being so hungry. i mean, who could you blame when you’ve all been stuck in a phantom realm for days and haven’t got any… gorgeous food (other than that delicious sandwich that ashlyn’s parents made).

“thankyou y/n!” “mmm looks delicious..” “best day of my life for real!” “smells amazing..” all whispers of appreciations were heard until.. “thankyou for making these mom!” the word mom came out of nowhere as aiden blurted it out unconsciously. “oops-“ he soon realised what he just said as the table went quiet, but the sound of your laugh came trailing. “no worries, it’s fine totally! i guess i do act like your mom sometimes..” everyone got some jjajangmyeon with either kimchi or corn with mozzarella and meatball dumplings.

everytime you all succeed a mission, whether in the phantom realm or real world, you always make them special food, mostly taiwanese and korean, for a feast.

though, sometimes, when everyone’s having a rough day at school, you’d make them some treats.

“ughh.. have you guys done that 50 math questions? it’s literally due by tomorrow…” aiden slumped on the cafeteria table, following ashlyn who’s already burried her face in her crossed arms. “literally forgot ‘bout those..” tyler rested his head on his hand while ben wrote something on his notebook, “i haven’t touched my math book since monday”. seeing what ben has written, taylor answered, “relatable” as she faceslaped herself. while logan, “i don’t think i’ll survive if i do all of them today..” he continued eating his lunch.

“i don’t even understand or know what’s it about…” you looked at them, trying to remember what you’ve learned. “i know right… ughh..” taylor closed her eyes as she tried to calm her mind down. but the busy background noise made it seem impossible.

the others were groaning or sighing about how complicated all of these were when you pulled out a fancy container. hearing the zip from your bag and somehting being placed on the table made aiden perked up to see what is it.

“ooh, what’s that y/n?” he looked closely while the others started to gain their focus on it. “well.. since it’s been bad lately.. i decided to make us some tteok and songpyeom.. my mom used to make these for me when i was younger. and it instantly lit up my day” you smiled, remembering the memories you’ve made.

“oooh! sounds yummy” everyone looked into the container as you opened it. “here, have some! i made sure all of us would get atleast 3” you passed the container to everyone as they chose which one they’d like.

“mmmm! i think the songpyeom fits my taste more” taylor hummed as she ate the snack. “same here” answered ashlyn, sounding grateful that you’ve made this for all of them. “i’m more to the savoury so tteok is better for me” logan pulled his opinion out as ben nodded, agreeing logan. “well- i think i’d have to agree with logan” tyler continued eating his tteok peacefully.

you were grateful that they all loved the foods you made. aiden shot a playful grin before saying, “well.. i think it’s understandable if we call you mom now! ehhe” hearing that made you laugh “well.. i don’t really mind either-“ “it totally suits you y/n!” taylor continued eating the snacks you made as aiden spammed “mom mom mom mom mom” in the background noise, earning a shhh from the group after a while.

you don’t always make them food, you’ve made them tea when you all were training too.

you all were panting from the rough and tiring practice you’ve had with ashlyn’s parents. all of you definitely needed something to boost your energy. you scrambled through your bag to find a thermos and small plastic cups (omg your efforts bruh) for all of you to take atleast a sip.

“look at what i brought, everyone!” you called for their attention as they all perked up at your direction. “what’s for today, mom?” taylor joked before chuckling. “well.. i made us some alishan tea who could accelerate metabolism” you smiled while pouring some in each cup. “oooh! that’s cool!” aiden stared at you pouring in the tea. “i think i’ve heard of it before somewhere..” ashlyn mumbled, secretly excited to taste it.

soon, you handed each cups for everyone to take. “thankyou y/n!” all of them answered. each of them took a sip of the tea and clearly most of them liked it. you let out a relieved breath as soon as you see their expression turned into happy and not disgust. “sooo.. how is it?” you asked in curiosity. “it’s naturally sweet, cool!” “yummy, mom” “just like my taste” they all answered differently but none of them answered negatively. you were happy how they all liked them.

“it’s amazing, thanks mom” ashlyn answered too. but when she did, her mom was walking towards your direction and was a bit shocked when she heard it. soon, ashlyn noticed her mom coming by and realised what she just said. “w-wait it’s not like that-! she’s just acting like our mom in the group but that doesn’t mean i’m replacing you-“ she explained, hurriedly. scared that her mom will think of something else.

but her mom only chuckled as she calmed ashlyn down. “i get it don’t worry.. i was just messing around!” she hugged ashlyn to reassure her.

you’re glad that this ‘mom’ thing doesn’t make any trouble. you’re actually happy of it. i guess being the mom of the group isn’t so bad after all, huh?

♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ. thankyou for supporting! ୨♡୧

[ffsjustletmesleep]

Silent Bonds: Chapter One.

(tysm to @kodaswrld for the cute dividers!)

Word Count: 2.5k

Daryl Dixon x Reader

(trying my best to be inclusive)

Warnings: Swearing, descriptions of gore, fighting, nothing too serious for this chapter I’m 99% sure)

(I just wanna say thank you all so much for all the support, I hope you enjoy the first chapter of the series, I really liked this one! I’m aware I skipped some stuff, I was really tired writing this so I apologize if its not as good, this is my first written series)

When the world went to shit, you were in your apartment sleeping; yeah, you were asleep while the apocalypse was starting. How ironic, right? You woke up to the sounds of your neighbor screaming, only for you to run out and see his wife, dead but alive, eating him alive in the hallway of your apartment complex. What the fuck kind of nightmare were you in? Oh wait- you weren’t dreaming, this was real, and shit was just getting started.

Atlanta, Georgia. The hot air, the busy people, you didn’t hate it, nor did you love it; you grew up on the nice side of the city, at least. Decent people, you had a decent education, a few friends who didn't bother calling you back most of the time but that's alright. You had Daryl anyway. Who was Daryl? Your friend, well, that's what you thought of him to be anyway; the fucker wouldn’t even speak to you most of the time, but you knew the two of you were close without having to talk all the time; your actions proved enough throughout the years.

How did you meet Daryl? A pretty shitty memory, but him and his brother, Merle, beat the crap out of some boys who were bothering you after school; he didn’t go to your school, he was a little older, in fact, and he lived in the shittier side of the city. Simple as that, right? Wrong. Daryl Dixon was the most complicated, stubborn, and annoying person you’ve ever met. He’d take you with him on his hunting trips, but if you even breathed wrong, he’d leave your ass in the middle of nowhere. You had no idea why you were friends with this guy, but you couldn’t stay away from him.

That's why you’re out now, walking around the city you once called home; it looked like hell now, filled with the dead, blood, and guts, packed cars just left out in the open. You felt alone without him, which is why you were looking for him and praying for his safety in this world that it had become within mere hours.

You managed to make it out of the street and into the woods, trudging along the dirt's imaginary path, letting it take you wherever it felt like it. You walked up a hill, peering through the trees as you heard some people talking. Your eyes met a group of people near a quarry. Stepping out from behind the trees, you decided you would confront the group, making sure to slip your crossbow over your shoulder before approaching their camp.

“Uh..Hello?” you called out as their heads snapped in your direction. Your hand raised to shield your eyes from the sun, you looked at them and stopped in your tracks. “I don’t mean no harm; I’m just looking for someone—wondering if you’ve seen a..” you paused. Looking around, you saw a few kids, men and women, doing the laundry, talking.

“He’s a tall guy with a real pissy attitude and has a crossbow, like this one,” you continued as you gestured to the crossbow on your back. However, by the looks they were giving you, they had no clue who you were talking about.

After conversing with a few group members, you’d convinced them to let you stay and set up a tent near the others. Once you settled, you decided to rest for a while, sighing softly and sitting on your sleeping bag as you looked down at your crossbow, fiddling with the string before you laid down and decided to get some rest.

A few weeks passed as you got to know some more of the people in the group: Carol, Ed, and their daughter, Sophia; Lori and her husband, who had recently found his way to the camp with the help of Glenn; their son, Carl; and the rest of the group.

You enjoyed Glenn’s company and his jokes. He always shared his candy bars with you after dinner, which you appreciated. Carol was a sweet older woman who gave you some new clothes and taught you how to do the laundry in the water since there were no washing machines. Her daughter Sophia was the sweetest, always playing with your hair or following you around.

The same with Carl. When you weren't so busy, the three of you would play tag or hide-and-seek around the camp. You’d also help them with their school work so Lori and Carol didn't have to stop what they were doing.

You were folding your clothes in the RV once you finished with everyone else's before you heard Carl yelling for his mother, your head perking up as he sounded frightened. You grabbed your crossbow and rushed out of the RV, following behind Rick, Shane, Lori, Dale, and a few others before Carl came running and whining into his mother's arms. You let out a breath of relief as you saw that he was okay before bringing Lori and Carl back to the RV to calm down as the men dealt with the Geek situation.

Lori gave him some water and sat next to him as she rubbed his back, waiting for him to calm down. After making sure both of them were okay, you went back to folding your clothes. After a while, you heard Rick, Shane, and the rest coming back. You picked up your clothes and stepped out of the RV with a sigh, about to ask if they were alright before you heard a familiar voice.

“Merle! Get ya’ ugly ass out here! Got us some squirrel!” a man shouted, his voice all too familiar. Your eyes darted to the man as he set his stuff near the campfire. “Let's stew ‘em up,” he continued before turning around and walking to the RV, immediately noticing you as he stopped.

You felt the air leave your chest as you dropped your clothes on the plush grass beneath your feet, staring at the man while your eyes widened. Were you dreaming, or was he actually standing right in front of you?

“Daryl...?” you breathed out, and before you knew it, you pulled your crossbow off your shoulder and dropped it to the ground before rushing over to him and wrapping your arms around him. You let out a small breathy laugh as you hugged him tightly, taking in his familiar scent and warmth as you held him.

Daryl let out a small grunt as your body collided with his, his hands grasping your waist as he held you loosely. “Y/N?? The hell’re ya doin’ here..?” he spoke before letting go of you and stepping back to look at you, his hard expression never leaving your happy one. However, his eyes held a slight softness at the fact you were safe.

“I found this place while I was out looking for you- Daryl, oh my god, I’m so glad you’re okay, you asshole, you had me worried!” you smacked his chest, which he immediately responded with a grunt.

“Damnit, ya’ know I’m fine. I can take care of myself..” he grumbled before giving you one last glance and looking away with a scoff. “Where’s Merle? Tell ’em to get his stupid ass out ‘ere,” he muttered as he looked around.

“Merle?..what’re you talkin’ about, Daryl? He hasn't been here..” you asked, confused as you looked up at him. “I figured he’d be with you,” you continued.

Daryl looked at you quietly as you mentioned his brother wasn't here. Shane came up behind the two of you as he cleared his throat. “Daryl, there's something I gotta talk to you about,” he spoke as he rubbed his chin. “There was a problem in Altana.” He glanced at you before his eyes landed on Daryl.

Daryl kept quiet a moment longer as he looked around as everyone started staring at him, he was shifted on his feet. “Is he dead?” he asked, looking over at Shane, his eyebrows furrowing. Your hand came up to rest on his arm as you looked at Shane, worried.

Shane looked at him as he let out a small breath. “We’re not sure..” he muttered as he bit his lip. Daryl let out a small scoff as he grew irritated, quickly responding after Shane had finished.

“He either is or he ain't!” Daryl shrugged your hand away and took a few steps around Shane as he looked at him, his eyes narrowing. Rick stepped in as he spoke up. “There's no easy way to say this, so I’ll just say it.” he walked up to Daryl as he looked at him.

“Who’re you?” Daryl scoffed as he turned to look at Rick, anger starting to show on his face as he stared at Rick, waiting for him to continue. Rick looked at Daryl, seeing the frustration on his face. “Rick Grimes,” he admitted.

“Rick Grimes, you got somethin’ you wanna tell me?” Daryl stepped closer to him. Rick spoke up before Daryl could continue. “Your brother was a danger to us all, so I handcuffed him on a roof and hooked him to a piece of metal. He’s still there,” he confessed.

Daryl turned away and let out a small breath as he rubbed his nose. “Hol’ on, lem’me process this..” he turned back to face him before continuing. “You handcuffed my brother to a roof, and you left him there!?” he shouted, stepping closer to Rick once more.

Rick kept quiet for a few moments before responding. “Yeah..” he muttered, looking away, his expression complex.

Your eyes widened at what you heard; they handcuffed Merle down with Geeks walking around?! You saw Daryl's face as his lips turned into an angry frown before he threw the squirrels off his back at Rick and darted at him, only to get tackled by Shane.

“Daryl!” you gasped as you stepped closer to them, rushing over to him and quickly helping him up; he pulled away and took out his knife before slashing it at Rick. Shane came up behind Daryl and put him in a chokehold. “You’d best let me go!” Daryl grunted as he breathed heavily into Shane’s arms. “Choke holdin’s Illegal!”

The three of them had a small discussion before Shane let go of Daryl. Once they had finished the discussion, Daryl almost choked up but held it back. Lori had practically told Rick that he was gonna show Daryl where they had handcuffed Merle, and Rick reluctantly agreed with his wife.

You grasped Daryl’s arms as they finished talking, looking up at him worried. “Daryl, are you okay?” you asked as he looked down at you annoyed and pent up. “Come on, just relax, okay? Rest for a bit before you go.” You ignored his scowl before picking up your clothes and your crossbow and pulling him along to your tent, sitting him inside as you put your stuff down.

Daryl sat quietly on your sleeping bag as he eyed the crossbow you had, frowning at the sight, though he calmed down. “You still have that thing?..” he asked with a mutter before picking it up and messing with it. You looked at him quietly before smiling. “Of course I do, Daryl. It's the only thing I thought I had left of you..” you sighed as you sat beside him.

Daryl looked over at you as he felt his ears turn red, quickly looking back at your crossbow with a slight grumble of something incoherent. The two of you sat in silence for a while, you lying back on your sleeping bag as he looked down at you. “I went lookin’ for you, ya know?” he muttered.

You looked up at him as your eyes widened, your face reddened as you smiled. “Really..? I couldn't find you anywhere, Daryl. I guess I still suck at the whole tracking thing..” you murmured with a small embarrassed laugh.

He let out a small grunt as he smiled slightly. “Yeah, hell, I made it to yer apartment, an’ it was trashed..thought somethin’ happened to ya’. Me n’ Merle looked everywhere for ya, Sunshine.” he admitted before looking away. You stared at him quietly, blushing even more as you huffed and looked up at the tent’s ceiling, you loved that nickname.

“I left as fast as I could..poor Mr. Shepherd was being eaten in the frickin hallway by his wife..I guess that's what he gets for having an affair..” you chuckled as you shook your head. Daryl snorted as he heard about your neighbor. Looking at you once more, biting his lip as if he struggled to say something. Finally, he let out a sigh and spoke. “M’ glad you’re okay..” he spoke softly, looking at you with a soft look he’d given you once or twice.

You could feel your heart racing in your chest. You opened your mouth to speak before you heard Rick calling for him. You both looked at each other for another moment before he got up and left your tent. You followed shortly after, grabbing your crossbow on the way out as you caught up to them.

“Wait! I’m coming with you guys!” you said as you pulled the strap over your head. Daryl looked back at you and let out a huff. “The hell you are, you ain't goin’ nowhere, Sunshine.” Daryl’s eyes narrowed at you as he spoke sternly.

“Daryl, you can't be serious-” You looked at him, shocked as you got cut off. “I am serious, yer stayin’ here. Where it's safe.” he pointed at the camp as he looked at you. You looked at him as you began to grow annoyed.

“The hell are you talkin’ about? I just got you back! And you're saying I’m supposed to stay here? What if you don’t come back? What am I supposed to do then?!” you shouted at him as you flailed your hands with a gesture of your own words.

“You don’t do nothin! You stay here, an’ ya’ wait for me to come back!” Daryl growled as he leaned closer. “I ain’t lettin’ ya get yerself killed out there, Y/N!” he continued before he turned around and walked away frustrated.

You watched him as he walked off, Rick and Glenn following behind him with T-Dog. Your heart beat heavily as you let out a frustrated scowl before retreating to your tent. This always happened with Daryl. You get along one minute, then you say something stupid, and he snaps at you and leaves you all angry. You hated it, but you knew he was right. You didn't have much experience out in this world like he did.

You lay in your tent as you stared at the ceiling, the frustration slowly leaving you as you grew tired. You missed him, you’d found him, and he was already gone again, but the smell of him still lingered in your tent as it slowly drifted you to sleep.

Thank you for reading the first chapter of my new series, Silent Bonds! I appreciate the love you all have given me, and I hope you enjoyed this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it. I'm not used to writing anything longer than 1-2k, but I tried my best, I’ll try and make them longer as I go on! Thank you for all your love and support. I’m so happy to be making this for you guys!

>Chapter Two

———————

Tag list: @dixons-sunshine @missriddle03 (lmk if u wanna be added to the tag list 🫶🏻)

[roturo]

Written All Over Your Face dick grayson x reader

→ summary: “Well, you know what they say, Love and Hate are two sides of a very, very thin line. For what I can see, you have a pent up sexual frustration written all over your face Dick.”

→ warnings: SMUT. p in v, unprotected sex (don't be dumb and wrap it), enemies to lovers, heroe!reader, breeding kink, bulge kink ¿?, not proof-read, possessive behavior, begging...

words: 2k

TUMBLR IS BASED ON A REBLOG SYSTEM. PLEASE REBLOG MY WORK. THANK YOU. ENJOY. SMUT BELOW THE CUT.

Being a heroe wasn't easy. Neither being considered a competition for Nightwing. The Ex-Robin. The Dick Grayson.

Both being ¨super-heroes¨ with no powers brought many controversial articles between you two, not only at the Gotham-Batman times, but also now at the new Titans times.

You never thought seeing him again and his boyish smile and attitude. No wonder why he has many girls falling for him, not only as Nightwing, but also as his real identity. But this rough times between the heroes, made the destiny bringing you together again.

Both of you had mutual friends, and when Dawn invited you to meet the new Titans, and asked you for help to train them, you never thought of seeing him again, neither of both of you training teenage kids how to become high quality-trained super heroes.

¨Sorry.¨ Were the last words you heard from Dawn, when she left you with bird boy at the training room, giving you an apologetic smile.

God bless her natural charm and being the trusting friend she is because you couldn't hit her face right now with the rage you're feeling.

¨Hi!¨ A green-haired boy said to you, he had the same, maybe not as pretty, boyish smile like Grayson. ¨Hello...?¨

¨Gar.¨ He told you, not putting down the smile.

With just a nod and a not so happy smile, your eyes moved into a purple-haired girl, who just smiled at you and said her name. ¨Rachel.¨ She hit the boy next to her with her elbow, murmuring his name.

¨Jason.¨ He said, ¨Is this your girlfriend Dick? Because she's pretty good looking for a guy like you. But yeah, what she's doing here anyways?¨

Oh. Yeah. Bird boy. He's here.

¨Yeah Grayson, what’s going on?¨ Completely ignoring the fact Dick was about to answer Jason’s question with furrowed brows and you obviously knowing why you're here since Dawn explained you. ¨And no, i'm not his girlfriend.¨ You looked at Jason with a smile which changed into a fake smile when your eyes returned to Dick. ¨He wishes.¨ You said, your head turning to the side, obviously trying to make him angry. At which he only scoffed, knowing you well enough to know what you were trying. ¨Yeah number two, maybe we can just pass at me explaining you why you´re here.¨

Number two? He WISHES.

¨I know why am I here. I don´t know if your little brain remembers you made Dawn bring me here to help you train this kids.¨ You got closer to him, not breaking eye contact. ¨And number two? pfft, If you were number one, maybe you wouldn't have been replaced by new Robin here.¨

That got him exactly where you wanted him. He might seem like a strong and rough guy, but behind all that image of big boy, there’s nothing else but trauma.

You couldn’t help but notice how his jaw clenched at the small giggle Jason let when you mentioned Dick being replaced. Side-eyeing him, Jason stopped. Dick sighed trying to calm himself down.

“First. I didn’t know Dawn brought you here, she just told me about bringing the perfect person to help me train them, I was not expecting you.” You could tell he was still angry at the remark, so he wanted to correct you. “Second. I didn’t got replaced. I left Wayne by choice of mine.”

“And third. I’m not longer Robin.”

It got into a really tense vibe between you and Dick trying to kill each-other with just your eyes, everyone in silence, clearly uncomfortable at this new encounter.

“Can both of you stop eye-fucking eachother and can we finally start the training?” Jason said, trying to bring both of you back to earth.

That clearly caught both of your attention to what Jason said, clearly annoyed at the wrong remark of how both of you were looking at each-other. “We’re not “eye-fucking” each-other Jason, stop getting into other’s people conversations.” With that, Dick started grabbing everything for the training of today, moving on. Jason just raised his arms at the air, (like when they’re showing they’re not armed), with a small smirk on his face.

“Well, you know what they say, Love and Hate are two sides of a very, very thin line. For what I can see, you have a pent up sexual frustration written all over your face Dick.”

That brought a hard, and big laugh to your face, how could Jason say that? This kids don’t even respect their “leader” This was going to be a funny training.

After what seemed like 1 hour of training, and getting to know the kids, you could get which were the flaws and weaknesses. Maybe you couldn’t understand quite well Rachel’s powers, but some time will do it.

You asked Gar where you could sleep the night, since it was already getting late and your most likely staying some days here, you'll also need some extra clothes at least for today.

Gar told you to stay in the spare room next's to Dick's, great, what a nice neighbor you have. He also gave you some clothes you could use tonight, tomorrow you could go back to your place and get some clothes, your skincare.... and I guess your super-hero suit.

When going out of the bathroom after a long shower (which you deserved), Dick was standing there, shirtless, all sweaty, and just with some grey sweatpants on... he looks.... nice, yeah. Obviously annoyed but when he saw you, his face turned into... panic?

He doesn't know what's happening to him right now, might be stress he needs to get relieved, yeah, sure, that's the reason he feels his pants getting tighter every-second he keeps looking at you right now.

¨Are you okay bird-boy why´re you just static over here, I know you have problems, but this a new one.¨ You looked up and down at Dick's figure, obviously checking him out, not like he needs to find out, noticing he´s quite handsome, not like you would tell him also, he's hot, and he knows it.

¨That´s... That´s my shirt¨ Was all that Dick could say, well, shit.

You knew the t-shirt had a distinct laundry soap scent which remind you of someone, and maybe a pint of perfume, but who could blame you?! Might be Gar's or Jason's!

¨And those... are my boxers.¨ double shit.

You could see he was obviously blushed and you're sure you are too, but what a coincide. It's like you could hear Rachel, Gar and Jason's laughing at the both of you.

¨Well... do want me to give them back at you?¨ You broke the tense silence, trying to take your, his, shirt-off, completely forgetting you're in front of him, you needed to find a way out of here.

¨No, no, no, stop! Leave it there, then you give it back to me.¨ He assured you, grabbing your hands and pulling them down with your, his? t-shirt. ¨And it looks better on you anyways.¨ That's all he said before speed entering to the bath-room.

¨Hey Dick!, Wait.¨ To say you couldn't feel the wetness of your pussy going out and asking for some relief, would be considered a crime. ¨What do you ne-¨ You cut him off by entering the bath-room closing the door in the process, both of your lips connecting in a perfect symphony like they were made for each-other. He left a sudden whine at the loss of the soft touch of your lips.

¨Oh.¨ Was all he could say, you don't understand what happened to you, it wasn't definitely a normal behavior between you two. ¨Oh my god. I'm so sorry Dick, I don't know what happened to me, i'm-¨ You couldn't finish the last sentence when you felt his lips in yous again. A little hesitant this time, he stops, unsure of his actions, but he lose it all. ¨Do it again.¨

That's all he needed to continue kissing you, hands caressing you neck, positioning them as a chocking posture, later going to trace your jaw as he continues kissing you.

He started giving you kisses trailing down your chin, making you moan at the specific spot that made your legs shake, he started leaving love bites between your chest, later going down on you, pulling your t-shirt upwards, getting between your breasts and marking them as his.

¨Please Dick... Please make me feel good.¨ It´s like something got into him when his hands started roaming your body like crazy, pulling your shirt off, your hand reaching his sweatpants, and later his cock, noticing he has no underwear under neat it. ¨It's like you were ready for this bird-boy, ah!-¨ Even when you try to tease him, he finds a way to tease you back even in a better way, his fingers playing with your nipple had you giddy and trembling. ¨Be a good girl if you want me to fuck you.¨

All you could do is nod and start stroking his hard cock, already leaking pre-cum which made the stroking easier, playing with the head had him as a moaning mess.

“Fuck, wait — shit. Mm— fuck. Wh-where did you learn to do that?” He left a whiny moan at the lose of your touch.

“Well, the noises you make are a pretty good indication of how you like it.” He man-handled you, turning you around, making you see yourself at the mirror.

“…God you sound so fucking cocky right now and it’s turning me on even more.”  He ripped apart the boxers you were wearing. ¨Don't worry, I have plenty more.¨ Fuck him and his fucking pretty smile.

With no more waiting, he positioned himself, and started thrusting into you. He fits just right, and could touch all the places you couldn't reach.

“Let me know if I’m doing anything wrong, okay? I want to make you feel as good as possible.” Even when he's fucking your brains out, he finds a way to be that kind and nice guy he is.

“O-Okay.”  Was all you could tell him, before & after some moans and whines from both of you, one specific thrust had you seeing stars.

His hand lingered down your tummy and he moaned at the bump he could feel, when he was going in and out with his thrusts. ¨Oh baby, I'm going to make you mine, fill you up.¨

He started playing with your clit, it had you crazy all the feelings of his body, his thrusts, him.

¨´You´re so good for me, all for me... 'm gonna' fill you up with my babies, 'm gonna make you a mommy, full of my cum every-day just to make sure.¨

That was all you needed to cum, with just some last thrusts he came inside you too, fulfilling his promise of keeping you full of his cum. He waited for you to calm down, before he inserted two of his fingers, recollecting the cum that was falling out your hole, inserting it inside you again, making you moan at the sudden intrusion.

He got the tub ready, and got you inside it, in front of him while he cleaned your sore body while kissing it.

¨I can't believe it took me all this years to realize how I feel about you.¨ Your heart was anxious at how your confession would be received.

¨Doesn't take an idiot to figure out. You couldn't tell I was and I am in love with you because you were too busy trying to beat all that rivalry. I was in love the moment you kicked my ass for the first time.¨

You chuckled at the confession, and laid your head on his shoulder where you could see his dumb smirk. ¨You have that stupid smirk on your face again, can't you have a serious conversation with me?, can we fight again?¨

He laughed at your comment ¨Not a possible thing for me when you look this cute all marked by me and confessing your feelings for me.¨ The small pecks he started leaving on your neck and back had you giggling.

¨I love you.¨

¨I love you too, bird-boy.¨

[weirdmageddon]

(originally written 8/21/24 on cohost)

there are actually a lot of things that john and aradia share beyond the bing crosbytop and fedora that are pretty intriguing to me like narratively. i was on the road and it sorta came to me as i was listening to music and i had to write it down when i got to my lab

both are the actual leaders of their session even though neither of them claim to be.

both are involved in the larger narrative of their story, on the “outside” or “above everything” with regard to paradox space. aradia’s leads with strategic understanding, watching how it unfolds, and john leads with a methodical one, putting the narrative into action. both of these end up leaving them feeling detached from everything in the end.

from andrew hussie commentary:

But even then, Aradia's only using him, too. She's playing everyone. She has a very advanced and pragmatic view of leadership when it comes to a Sburb session. She understands there's no such thing as a leader, just a bunch of sad kids getting played by Paradox Space. In a way, she's the most honest type of leader any session has. A leader by absentia, a cold orchestrator of preordained, controlled chaos, who creates the spaces for all the pieces to fall into place, and then just sits back and lets them fall. As Aradia's arc progresses and the ghostly freeze on her emotions and desires begins to thaw, one of the themes that starts emerging is the struggle over the nature of what is random in a universe where any appearance of randomness is prewritten as an essential result, and any act of destruction, no matter how violent or disruptive, only serves as a preconditional pillar for any foretold series of outcomes. As a robot, when she gets her emotional legs back under her somewhat, she gets more aggressive and starts lashing out, using acts of chaos, violence, impulsiveness, and randomness as a kind of protest against the bondage that existing in Paradox Space represents. In other words, there's no random act that reality hasn't accounted for, but aggressively enacting them is still kind of a Fuck You statement to the master. It's an attitude borne by a defiant slave, which she knows herself to be, just like her ancestor.

these evoke such similar feelings to me

(john art by @monteruu. lovely work by the way.)

john has an unconscious draw towards this information, his existence is a consequence of it, but is unable to weave it together into a framework. he doesn’t have the internal framework but he has the words so he’s confused. there was one post i once saw that had me clawing at the bars of my mental cage that's still somehow tangentially related to this general idea im trying to communicate.

(source)

and plato was.....LII. john expects reality to conform with the mental products of that guy, similar ideas that i have seen repeated throughout many other LII works, including carl jung and his idea of the collective unconscious and archetypes. and my own mind too.

“john expects reality to conform with his symbol language." that's literally how we could define the SUPER-ID block in socionics. the SUPER-ID block is the block where one is shaped by their most primitive impressions of what the world is, from the world.

for an ESE, john's type, their SUPER-ID contains -Ti → -Ne. erm...symbol language anyone? the ESE themself is the one spontaneously affected by that information, in contrast to LII, who can consciously follow this information and verbally deconstruct it.

(for description about these information elements and what they represent, refer to this. details about the meaning of the information element charges +/- can be read here.)

for me—and aradia, (and plato and jung too. also dipper pines. if you ever thought john and dipper have similar vibes youre not alone. someone pointed that out the other day i saw a tweet that said "John is kind of like dipper if he gave zero fucks what anyone else thinks of him" and i was like "im fucking telling you dude")— the SUPER-ID block of LII receives the aesthetic/sensory impressions that objects with certain energies give off (SUPER-ID block +Fe → +Si). to me the best i can describe this is receiving the dynamic, embodied expression of an individual object’s 'character' in motion and the impression it makes on me. many LIIs are musicians, or music is a big part of their life for this reason, because of this tonal + sensory impressionistic discernment.

+Fe -> +Si is the information i require from the world that i use to consciously classify things or compare them using my EGO block -Ti → -Ne. i classify things by their actual embodied characteristics, which makes me able to compare things in nuanced ways. since i have these energy-sensory impressions as a sort of backlog to compare things to, i can creatively describe something's essence in a million ways, from a million different angles. i’m even doing that in this post right now.

john is doing that in reverse. he takes the raw essence / potential itself (including himself) and can physically embody that potential in a million creative ways. think of how quickly he figured out what was available to him with punch card alchemy.

aradia knows her position in paradox space, whereas john does not. john doesn't make this distinction himself. like any introvert aradia is able to plot herself on a “map” to identify her placement / relationships among other objects (be it interpersonal, logical, within a space, and—most demonstratively for her—throughout time). i guess it allows her to cope better, but for john, this causes his depression and anguish to find meaning in his life once the narrative of homestuck ends.

theyre some of the most narratively involved characters in the chain of events of the story, but just from opposite sides. aradia exerts this as a hidden force causing consequential ripples over events in time (and she is aware of this, which is where a core theme was for her as a character and trying to rebel against the inevitable that she has to do anyway because paradox space is cruel), while being quite modest and unassuming as an individual. i think this is why ive seen people "forgot about her" because she wasn't in the spotlight and wasn't well understood, the weight of the role she played. i've likened this to her (4/2) demonstrative +Ni and (2/1) vulnerable -Se pole in the socionics framework. we see her story told mainly through the past and how she came to be in this state. a huge part of her arc that people take away is how much transformation she has been through. changes and relationships things hold to each other over time is a Ni concept. aradia constantly demonstrates this as an individual. i guess why it's called the demonstrative function. haha? i have the same information element placements as aradia, so i can draw comparisons to flesh this idea out further. my friend told once me something very pertinent: "Honestly I think a lot of your bigger influence is subconscious and something that most people have to circle around to appreciate. Like they have to live a little to appreciate your wisdom"

john is the opposite — we follow him. we see his role as it unfolds, we're along for the ride with him. his impact in the story gets more spotlight, he is the main character after all. and it's so interesting how john spontaneously adopts these roles to live up to through his actions. it's like he subconsciously knows he's the main character in some way, and acts accordingly: he serves as a more active presence in the present moment of the narrative than aradia whose primary effects are a result of that which stretches back to the beginning of these chain of events. john's actual presence in major events are crucial. (e.g. getting the code for Quills of Echidna to scratch the beat mesa, sticking his hand in the house juju). this is his (4/2) demonstrative -Se. we see him involved in these things, right here, right now. not in the past, but his presence right now. but there's a shadow side to this. as jung says, "No tree, it is said, can grow to heaven unless its roots reach down to hell". so given all of this, being an action hero constantly involved in the present, at the same time builds up as an inner experience of the self over time — (2/1) vulnerable +Ni, which we cannot see from the outside, but is a consequence of that presence that simultaneously evolves with every action john takes in the story. what do the collection of these experiences represent over time? who john is as an individual being in a narrative sense is something important to analyzing him as a character. what myth does he embody? what myth or idea is it that is essentially forced upon him by the world against his will, given his position among other objects? (1/2) suggestive -Ti → (2/2) mobilizing -Ne. this 1000% relates back to that symbolic language post. by the way.

when it comes down to it, it seems like outside world's mission for john's existence is because he is someone necessary. who else is going to do these things? john exudes optimism, capability, kinetic energy. this is why we see him spontaneously latch onto the positions (suggestive -Ti) that he finds himself in.

EB: but now they don't have dream selves left! EB: who ever goes will be risking their life for good, won't they? CG: THAT WOULD BE THE LOGICAL EXTENSION OF THOSE FACTS, YES. EB: this is unacceptable! EB: couldn't i do it? EB: i am apparently immortal, because of this god tier business, so the bomb probably would not kill me! CG: OK, BUT DON'T YOU THINK THERE'S A REMOTE POSSIBILITY THAT GOING ON A SUICIDE MISSION TO SAVE ALL OF REALITY WOULD COUNT AS A HEROIC DEATH? EB: hmm... EB: maybe i could try to be not all that brave while i do it? CG: YOU ASSHOLE, OF COURSE YOU'D BE BRAVE. THAT TENDS TO BE WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU DO SOMETHING REALLY FUCKING COURAGEOUS. EB: ok, well what about this. EB: since she is mortal, and i am not (sort of), and i don't need to do the scratch for a while, can i go help her? EB: maybe she could use some protection? maybe that is what dave was just trying to do, when he temporarily died. EB: remember, jack is still on the loose! he has killed rose and dave once, and me twice. CG: NO NO NO NO NO NO. CG: SWEET BLEEDING JEGUS, EGBERT, YOU KEEP BRAGGING ABOUT YOUR IMMORTALITY, AND THEN BRAINLESSLY ANNOUNCE PLANS TO GO OFF AND DO SOMETHING HEROIC! YOU'RE GOING TO HAVE THE SHORTEST LIFESPAN OF ANY IMMORTAL IN HISTORY. EB: sorry. :(

aradia’s trollian handle is apocalypeArisen. the final book in the new testament describing the apocalypse (book of revelations) is authored by a person named john. that’s all he refers to himself as, and nobody knows his actual identity. many iconic mythological figures come from there, like the four horsemen of the apocalypse and the biblically accurate angels covered in eyes from front to back and shit. like that’s the blueprint of the ‘apocalypse’ myths that pervade culture. apparently the book was written from his visions in patmos, greece. the only reason i made this connection was because of the amazing musical adaptation of it into the album 666 by aphrodite’s child (1972) that has be absolutely hooked, but still it made me do some reading since i wanted to know what was up since i'm secular, and that's where i found intriguing links to my thoughts about them.

because etymologically.... apocalypse (ἀποκάλυψις) is a greek word meaning "revelation", "an unveiling or unfolding of things not previously known and which could not be known apart from the unveiling.” sounds familiar to things i have been describing in this post, particularly from john (egbert)'s perspective. my friend said "john is like a guy lost in a desert without a map with random landmarks that don’t make sense and aradia is like watching him from a helicopter with a map".

one more thing. i read that the johnannine works took a more gnostic approach than other parts of the canon.

The origins of Gnosticism are obscure and still disputed. Gnosticism is largely influenced by platonism and its theory of forms. Many Gnostic texts deal not in concepts of sin and repentance, but with illusion and enlightenment.

and oh god and so much of homestuck has roots in gnostic thought AND plato's theory of forms. keep in mind that homestuck is a creation myth itself. like, yaldabaoth the denizen IS the demiurge. no wonder theory of forms is such a vital idea to homestuck's mythology. and that's why john seems to fit so well into that world, because he expects reality to conform with his symbolic language.

[jacks-little-jacky]

How do you think the other captains would react if Jack a soft cute so but in the battle field she’s just as violent as him

The other Captains | Jack the Ripper x Reader Headcanons

This is the second time I've written this request and I swear to god if Tumblr crashes again and deletes everything I will start pre-writing everything on docs. Also, this isn't my usual request of writing for Jack but rather the other Captain's opinions on something that has to do with Jack, so I hope I somewhat nailed them.

Yami Sukehiro

Honestly he's so confused about how Jack got a gf

She's cute??? Huh???

Since I see them as the best buddies, he's glad that Jack got himself a pretty and sweet gf but he fears how long he's able to keep her because the man is batshit crazy

so he's a bit surprised but relieved when he sees you go crazy too

he was a lil afraid Jack would become too much or maybe try to dull himself down as he only saw your cute side, so seeing how you're able to match him is good in his eyes

still makes jokes about Jack being too dumb to keep a relationship but he secretly ships it fr

William Vangeance

he likes you! you're sweet and nice!

maybe a little weird next to Jack because you seem his polar opposite

doesn't think too much about it, he's glad you make Jack happy

like Yami he spends a little moment to wonder if maybe he'd get too much for you

also relieved but not as much when he sees your other side

also... a little concerned.... especially if you're not a magic knight.

Rill Boismortier

oh! Captain Jack has a girlfriend! He has a heart! A soft side!

and you're so sweet too???

he def. would try to get along with you, partially because he really thinks you're sweet and he's a very friendly guy

also because he hopes it puts him in good books with Jack because he's lowkey scared

His reaction when you reveal your crazy side is like: "... Oh no... they're both insane..."

He likes your passion though! And how it matches with Jack. He sees a certain beauty in how your differences become irrelevant in a dire/battle situation and you both "dance" on the field

Mereleona Vermillion

she doesn't care all that much tbh

she thinks you're sweet but doesn't really waste another thought on it

only get's interesting when she sees how intense you can get

I guess she'd like Jacks willingness to fight so to see that you're kinda double trouble would be relationship goals for her

doesn't really spend much time thinking about it tho

Charlotte Roselei

How

No, just how? Jack? Pulled a girl? A sweet one like you?

She's baffled

You're so sweet? And nice? And that all for someone like Jack?

Charlotte doesn't like most men in general and while I am a firm believer of Jack x Charlotte in a platonic friendship way... She still would be confused how someone likes him ROMANTICALLY

a little happy for Jack tho, she knows he's not that bad (and she likes roudy guys Yami too)

likes you a lot more when she sees you can dish out some too, maybe would even suggest for you to join her squad

a little worried about Jack and you riling each other up though

Dorothy Unsworth

she likes you, you're sweet and she ships the difference in everyday attitude

Now it depends, if you're being unnecessarily cruel, she'd frown at it but she understands well that it's fun to let loose and play with your magic (which can be very destructive at times)

so yeah Dorothy would like the energy but if you're like crazy violent in a sense of hurting more than you'd have to for no real reason she'd be put off a little

she'd pull you into her glamour world sometimes to show you versions of Jack who totally swoons over you because that how it looks like to her LMAO

Kaiser Granvorka

he's also a little concerned about you at first

sure Jack has to be somewhat sane and respectable to be a Captain but I don't think Kaiser thinks too highly of him

he likes you tho, hopes that maybe you'll rub off on Jack a little

when he sees the way you behave in battle he's more concerned

maybe... he doesn't want you to rub off on Jack. He is crazy enough

After all, this man is married as far as I know and I belive he's still as happy as he can be for you two

Nozel Silva

he's... confused.

Now if you're a noble or a royal his mind is genuinely blown and he thinks Jack did some dirty trick to get you with him

if you're a peasant he doesn't care. at all. maybe raises an eyebrow but doesn't care too much.

if you're a noble/royal he's a bit "concerned" about your violent side but of course, you'd be powerful. it does shift his view on the relationship in a more positive light to see that you don't need to use Jack as a bodyguard/are not dependent on him

if you're a peasant his only thought is "Great, now there's two of them..." - he doesn't like your boyfriend and your chances for him to like you are very, very thin

he might like you more than Jack though because you at least have a sweet and soft side that is socially acceptable

Fuegoleon Vermillion

he's pretty much a middle ground of William and Nozel here

he thinks his part but you won't catch onto that

very glad you're a well behaved and mannered woman and you seem to manage Jack's personality well

he can see the appeal for Jack when you match him, you have no reason to be scared if you're the same and you certainly understand his odd... hobbies like this

but also a little concerned that there are now two of that kind together

Julius Novachrono

Man is in everybodies business

he doesn't say or think much of it tbh, he has seen a fair amount of people and how layered they can be

he likes that you're sweet and soft because it definitely could be handy for Jack (he doesn't cause trouble that much but damn him and Yami at the same spot is always a ticking time bomb and oh does your presence keep Jack focused on something else than Yami)

the violent part is only really interesting depending on your magic, if somehow you and Jack worked on a spell or something that boosts both of you when near each other he'd be intrigued

just hope none of you gets hurt (or does something illegal)

[fairyysoup]

western nights

♫︎ western nights - ethel cain ♫︎

pairing(s): eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: You're on a road trip to nowhere. Eddie wants to get the hell out of dodge. It's a match made in heaven- if only it were, actually, heaven.

words: 13k

cw: explicit, smut, piv sex, oral sex (f + m receiving), exhibitionism, light choking, spitting, eddie is 24, reader's age unspecified (over 21), illegal activities, theft, smoking, alcohol consumption, strangers to lovers, bonnie & clyde type dynamic, mechanic!eddie, eddie's trying hard to be a good boy he's just got issues, pining, perv!reader, some slight dubcon/somno for a sec if you squint, there was only one bed, graphic depictions of violence, a drunk guy being nasty to both eddie and reader, bar fight, blood, arguments, angst, hurt/comfort, panic attacks, an overall janky relationship here, inspired by the song western nights by ethel cain

a/n: *slaps fic* this bad boy can be written with so many cold medicines in my head <3 ethel cain if you see this do NOT interact i have done zero justice to your song and also completely disregarded some key aspects of the themes of it lol this is loosely based at best

ALL MY WORKS ARE 18+ MINORS DNI

He’s never looked more beautiful on his Harley in the parking lot, breaking into the ATMs, sleeping naked when it gets too hot…

You’ve become something of a connoisseur of gas station coffee. 

You know which chains have the best. Love’s always has the best and freshest, with the most options of flavors. Pilot is usually a crapshoot, depending on what area of the country you’re in. Occasionally, if you can find it, Bodega doesn’t disappoint. And the worst, by far, is always Shell. Shell coffee, you think, must come directly from the sewers of whatever backwater town you’re trundling through.

You’re somewhere in Indiana, you guess, judging by the state-shaped keychains on the rotating rack next to the cash register. You grab a state map from a magazine stand and toss it in with the rest of your purchase. You were lucky to have found a Love’s so you could finally afford yourself some proper dark roast coffee; all the watered down arabica stuff you’ve been getting since Cleveland has only been making your head ache. 

“What’s the quickest way to Indianapolis?” You ask the dead-eyed attendant ringing you up, a 20-something year old guy with bags under his eyes and bad skin. 

He chews his licorice like a camel chews straw, staring up at you blankly. “I dunno. Never been.”

You look from him, to the map, and back. “Cool. What town is this?”

“Hawkins.” His bored-by-you attitude is overwhelming.

“Thanks so much for the help.” You afford the attendant a tight smile as you grab your bag of snacks and head out. It’s going to be a long night. 

The air outside is stifling, summer heat hanging in the muggy air like a fog. The humidity makes your hair stick uncomfortably to the back of your neck as you peel off your old green hunting jacket and tie it around your waist. You’ve parked your van under the fluorescent-lit gas pump overhang, providing the proper lighting for you to spread the map of Indiana across the hood and bend over it, using your full coffee as a paperweight. You rip open the singular Slim-Jim you could afford for dinner, and pore over it.

There’s commotion across the parking lot, which stirs you from your rumination over the map. You glance up; there are two guys loitering by a telephone booth in one corner of the lot, sharing a cigarette. Teenagers who have nowhere else to be on a Friday night, you suppose. Five yards away from them, a third crouches in front of a badly vandalized ATM, the cause of the commotion. He seems to be hacking at the wiring with a pocket knife.

You ignore it. So far, on this trip, you’ve seen far worse than a guy stealing petty cash from a gas station ATM. Tracing your fingers across the paper, it looks like if you take state route 13 to I-69, you’ll be in Indianapolis by midnight. Shouldn’t be too difficult, as long as you can find the 13, and then you can find a place to crash in the city.

Grabbing an old highlighter from your pocket, you mark your route in bright pink. The guy from the ATM seems to have gotten what he wanted, moving quickly across the parking lot with his head held high, like he has every right to be there. He approaches a motorcycle parked on the opposite side of the pump from you, and begins feeding dollar bills into the machine. 

“Hey, do you know how to get to the 13 from here?” You can’t see much more than his leather-clad shoulder and hip jutting out from around the pump, the front tire of his Harley sticking out from behind his leg.

There’s a pause, and then his head pops out from around the pump. A curtain of unruly dark hair frames a long neck, big doe-like eyes and flushed lips pouting at you in confusion. It makes you freeze. “Sorry?”

“I, uh-” What were you trying to do? Get on the right course. Right. Of course. “State- uh- state route 13? I’m trying to get to, um, Indianapolis?” You cringe at your own stuttering, nails digging into the paper before you. 

The man stares at you for a long time, dark eyes framed by thick, curling lashes sizing you up slowly. Then, he rounds the pump. “The highway’s just down the road- keep going west and you won’t miss it.” 

“Great, thanks.” You grab up your coffee and the map, crunching it between your tense fingers. He hasn’t moved, still leaning against the gas pump, arms crossed, staring at you. It makes you nervous, in more ways than one. 

“You won’t get far in that heap, though.”

You pause. Your knees threaten to wobble under you as you look up at him. Your hand is on the door, you could simply ignore him and get in, but something in his gaze makes you stop. Is that… genuine concern? Or is he just putting on a show for you? 

“What do you mean?” The heat of the coffee burns through the paper cup and torches your fingers.

“Well, your fender’s bashed in and, I dunno if you noticed, but you have a crack in your windshield,” he gestures at the long crack running horizontally across the glass, just above where your line of sight usually is. “Probably got a lot more shit wrong with it, too, I could hear you coming a mile up the road. Junkyard find?”

“Something like that.” More like, sat in your parents’ garage for so long that you took a chance on the fucked up radiator and bailed. “She’s good, though. She’ll get me another 80 miles, easy.”

“Are you only going 80 miles?” The guy questions, “Or are you going way past that and only doing the 80 miles tonight?”

If he wasn’t so pretty, with a note of flirtation in his voice, you’d be hesitant as hell to tell him. “The second one.” 

ATM guy sucks on his teeth, rocking back on heels that creak with the movement. Rubber soled work boots flash at you from beneath torn blue denim. “Dunno if I should let you go alone, then. You might bust your carburetor halfway there and be stranded.”

That puts alarm sirens in your head. You’d back away if your car wasn’t situated between the two of you. “Thanks, but, uh… I think I can handle myself.”

The teasing smile drops off his face quickly, replaced by a look of subtle desperation. “No, don’t get me wrong, I’m not- I’m not saying you can’t handle yourself. Obviously. Or you wouldn’t be trucking along by yourself through Nowheresville, Indiana,” he chuckles. “I just, ah… let me level with you?”

Your face screws up, but you lean your hip against the fender nearest you- the one that isn’t fucked up. What is it with this guy?

“I’m trying to jump ship. Anywhere’s better than here, but I really want to get to the west coast. I don’t know where you’re headed, but I’ve got my sights on San Francisco. And, uh, I have experience fixing cars, working in a garage,” he confesses. “But I don’t have a ride of my own- this isn’t even my bike, really. So, if you’re heading to the city, and you could use someone to make sure your car doesn’t kick it going over 75, I’m your man. Besides,” he bats his pretty lashes at you, his fingers fiddling with the end of his long hair as he brandishes a wad of ATM-stolen cash, “I have gas money.”

“You want to hitch a ride with me?”

“If you’re okay with it. Otherwise, I bid you fair and safe travels.” He bows dramatically, throwing his hand in the direction of the highway you’d asked about. “But if you ask me, I think you’d be doing both of us a favor in the long run if you let me come with. Just for insurance, y’know.”

“Insurance?” You parrot incredulously.

“Yeah,” he grins. He has dimples, a wide smile that stretches across his face and makes him even prettier than you can stand to look at directly. “Just insurance. No other reason.”

“Mhm,” you grunt, going over the positives and negatives in your head. 

Positives- your car is a piece of shit and you’re sure he’s right, you’re working on borrowed time and you’re less than halfway to your desired destination. Plus, he’s unfairly nice to look at. 

Negatives- you don’t know shit for fuck about him, other than the fact that he’s apparently trying to leave town and makes a hobby of breaking into ATMs. And, hell, even Ted Bundy was supposed to be charming and cute, at first. This guy could be a crazy ax murderer, could be a rapist, could be a junkie who’ll steal your car and leave you stranded, could be, could be-

“MUNSON!”

“Fuck.” ATM guy glances over his shoulder, then ducks quickly around the side of the gas pump as the station attendant comes storming out of the store. He crouches, pressing his hands to the glass window of the passenger’s side and peers through the cab at you on the other side with pleading eyes. “Can you get me a couple miles down the road, at least?” 

“What about your bike?” 

“Not my bike,” he tells you for a second time. “My buddy’ll pick it up when he hears about this, please.”  

The station attendant is making his way across the parking lot now, looking miffed. It’s clearly the most energy he’s put into anything today, but he isn’t moving very fast. 

You’ve made worse decisions in your life. You sigh. “Shit. Get in.” 

“Thank you, thank you.” He pops open the passengers door as you slide into the driver’s seat, tossing the crumpled up map in the back. You guess you’ve found a GPS, for the time being.

“Does my insurance have a name?” you ask as you peel out of the gas station. The attendant hovers by the pump you’d been occupying, looking lamely at the abandoned motorcycle in your rearview. 

“Eddie,” ATM guy says. A ring-clad hand lifts between you, hovering over the gear shift and waiting for your own to settle into it for a shake, “Eddie Munson.” 

You eye his outstretched hand, your stomach doing flips, but you’re unsure if it’s because of him or the very situation he’s just put you in. You lift your hand and bat his with your knuckles, a half-hearted acknowledgement without the formality. “Pleasure doing business with you, Eddie.” 

Eddie coughs, shifting up in his seat to peer behind you at the station. “Fuckin’ Keith. You can just drop me off at the next exit, it’s no biggie.” 

“Hm? I thought you were coming with me to Indianapolis, hot stuff.” 

Eddie whips his head around to look at you. “Seriously? You don’t- you don’t have to, I know it’s a big ask-” 

“You want me to change my mind?”

“Not particularly.” He sinks down in his seat again. “Guess I figured you think I’m more of a liability than anything.”

“I do, but I need all that cash you swiped from the ATM,” you hum with a snarky grin on your face. 

Eddie chuckles, wringing his hands in his lap. His knuckles tighten and relax beneath heavy steel rings. “Yeah, better I do it than you, huh?” There’s an awkward pause, and then he blurts, “Do you have any road music in this thing?” 

You reach forward and hit the volume button for the stereo. You’d been halfway through Danzig’s self titled album- Mother kicks in with the chorus. In the darkness, you don’t see the way Eddie’s eyes sparkle with adoration as he looks at you.

“I think you and I are gonna get along great, sweetheart.” 

You ignore how your thighs press in on themselves while you sip your coffee, and you turn onto highway 13, headed for Indianapolis.

When you step out of the bathroom in the motel room in Indianapolis, you find Eddie hunched over by the window, wearing nothing but a pair of blue plaid boxers. The chain on his wrist jingles as he smacks at the A/C unit beneath the drawn curtains.

“Everything okay?” You ask, pretty much knowing what the answer is. Your hair drips water down your back, but you can still feel the muggy summer heat in the room practically smothering your pores. 

“Damn Motel 6 A/C,” he grumbles as he gives it one last smack on the side, to no avail. “The unit’s broken, there’s gonna be no cool air in the room.”

“That’s okay, we can crack a window.” 

“In this part of the city?” Eddie scoffs, looking over at you. “Believe me, princess, I applaud your optimism- I would have just driven away from me there at the gas station, given the chance. But if we crack that window, we’re gonna get fucking robbed, first thing. Believe me.”

“I believe you,” you huff, clutching the itchy motel towel to your wet skin. Usually you would just pull on a tank and a pair of panties and call it a night, but there’s no such luck for you here. You have a backpack full of old, dirty clothes, and no clean underwear to speak of- you’ve been washing them in public bathroom sinks since Columbus. “Well, I’m just gonna sleep naked, then. You do what you’ve gotta do.” 

“What- you’re gonna- what?” Eddie blathers, sitting back on his heels. You stare at him for a second- he’s a vision of flushed skin and a cloud of brunette hair cascading over his shoulders. Knobbly knees stick up at awkward angles, hairy thighs disappear into the hem of his boxers drawn tight across his skin. Your eyes glance over the ominous bulge in the crotch of them, not willing to think about those parts of a man you barely know. “You really think- I mean- is that wise?”

“Are you gonna get frisky with me, Eddie?” You ask with a teasing voice. You’d learned enough about him on the way to the city- 24 years old, no prospects, big dreams, ran a D&D club in high school, worked in a garage to help pay the bills- that you’re fairly certain he’s a good enough guy to keep his hands to himself. You just enjoy watching his big eyes go rounder at the insinuation.

“No, of course not. Wouldn’t dream of it.” Eddie looks mortified. He backtracks, “Unless- unless you wanted me to, I mean-” 

“Don’t overanalyze it,” you tell him mildly, turning your back to him to rifle through your bag. “We’re both adults, it’s hot, there’s one bed and we’re both paying for it. Something tells me you’ve done worse things than lay next to someone without clothes on.”

Eddie blows a long breath out of pursed lips, not moving from his seat on the floor. He doesn’t deny your accusation, just mutters, “You put so much faith in me, sweetheart.”

“Don’t make me regret it.” 

You drop the wet towel on the floor and round the bed to turn down the sheets. Eddie’s eyes trail you; you can feel them burning into your skin, lit by the dim yellow light on the bedside table. It takes a moment for him to finally move, a single trembling hand reaching up to swipe a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from the table.

“You gonna sit there on the floor all night?” You muse as you lay back on the bed. It’s too fucking hot. The dampness from the shower hasn’t dried, but now it’s simply growing with the rate your body is perspiring. Your hair and skin stick to the white sheets, which feel pasty each time you move.

“Just getting my bearings,” Eddie says, his voice tight and hollow. “You smoke?”

“Not especially, but I won’t stop you.” 

The smell of tobacco hangs in the heavy air more potently than you expected. The humidity dampens the vapor, making it sting your nose and leech into your mouth, even though you’re not the one directly breathing it. It strikes you as devastatingly intimate- the thought that you might be breathing the smoke that’s already touched his lungs. 

“Do you mind if I strip down, too?” Eddie asks after a long time of deliberating as he smoked. “Not that- I mean, I don’t have any pajamas, so…”

“Do what you need to do, honey,” you murmur, repeating what you’d told him before. “We can find a laundromat in the morning. Maybe get you a change of clothes somewhere.”

“Right.” He doesn’t say much after that, but you listen to him rustling around, stubbing out his cigarette in an ashtray and flicking off the bedside light. 

He straightens up, silhouette looming in the blue-dark from the curtained window. You watch from the corner of your eye while his backlit form hooks its thumbs in the waistband of his boxers, and drops them.

He clambers onto the bed beside you, careful not to bump any part of you. You refuse to look at him, scanning the asbestos popcorn on the ceiling above you with an overabundance of scrutiny, willing yourself to focus on anything but Eddie’s beautiful body, especially what he has below the belt. It’s a bad idea, no go. You don’t want to see it, don’t even want to think about it- what it looks like, how big it is, how it curves, what kind of hair surrounds it, if any-

You’re thinking about it.

And you told him not to overanalyze it. To be calm about it. What a fucking joke.

“You know, I’m not as easy as I might seem,” you blurt out suddenly, unaware of why you even do. You mostly come off sounding like you’re trying to convince yourself of it.

Eddie’s head rustles against the pillow as he glances at you in the dark. “I don’t think you are.”

“Okay. Just- just making sure,” you stutter out. “All evidence to the contrary, and all.”

“I’m not expecting to get lucky with you,” he tells you honestly, a little flatly, like he’s afraid of any inflection in his voice betraying him. “You know, beyond the ride west.”

“Right.” 

“Right.” 

You both regress into silence. You think you’ve both said your piece on the matter. You might not trust Eddie, not entirely, but you at least know he’s not gonna try anything stupid if you let yourself fall asleep. You actually think that he’s asleep after so many minutes, until he opens his mouth again.

“It’s really fucking hot, isn’t it?” He croaks. His hands twitch by his sides, feet jammed under the downturned covers, but everything else bare to the open room, like you. His pinkie brushes yours, and he nearly smacks himself jerking his hand back toward his stomach.

“Yeah, it’s not… it’s not good.” You blink into the darkness. “Sorry, you must be regretting coming with me all this way.”

“Nah, not a chance.” He brushes it off, waving a hand in the air dismissively. “I’ve been itching to get out of there since I graduated. Feel kinda bad that I didn’t leave a note for my uncle, but it’s not the first time I’ve bailed on him. I can always call him from a pay phone. Kinda wish I had my guitar, though.” 

“You play guitar?” you ask dazedly. You don’t have a hard time imagining it, now that you think about it. He has that rocker look about him, the kind that could grace magazines and be on posters on teenage girls’ walls, if he played his cards right. If he got his lucky break.

“Yeah. Pretty good, too, I guess.” He sighs. There’s a wistfulness in it, like he’s reminiscing on something from his past. “It’s okay. I can pick up another one once I get to California. Dropped a mint on the one I had back home, but I guess Wayne can always pawn it. Maybe get himself a nicer place.”

You chuckle. “And you think I’m the optimist here.”

“I never said it was a bad thing,” Eddie scoffs, then deepens his voice quite suddenly. “Two optimists, both alike in dignity-”

A burst of laughter bubbles from your chest, making Eddie grin as you gesture at your bodies. “Or lack, thereof.”

“In fair Indianapolis, where we lay our scene.” He ends his recitation giggling, the flimsy bed frame jolting with the shaking of his chest. “Radiant Juliet, you never did tell me where your chariot is taking me.”

“I’m not sure, really,” you admit, mellowing your laughter into a quiet giggle. “I just wanted to leave home. I was suffocating there, I needed to get out. See what’s out there for me, if anything.”

“And have you seen much?”

“Not much,” you tell him quietly. “Mostly truck stops and shitty roadside attractions. But we’re in the midwest, you know.”

“Don’t remind me.” He lays his hand back down on the mattress beside you. 

You turn your body towards him, damp sheets clinging to your skin as you move. “California might not be such a bad idea.”

Eddie turns his head and glances at you, dark eyes finding you in the dim moonlight. “No? I’ll have to fix your car, then.”

“You do that, and I’ll make sure to get you where you’re going,” you whisper.

“Deal.” His eyes linger on your face, just inches away from his on the pillow. Flickering in the moonlight, two voids that hold all the stars in the night sky seem to take you in like you’re more beautiful than they could ever be.

This time, when your fingers brush, he doesn’t jerk away. This time, you don’t avert your eyes when you look down at his cock, but you sure do regret it when you don’t reach out to touch it.

He’s so pretty. You want to.

I watched him show his love through shades of black and blue, starting fights at the bar across the street like you do…

Your underwear and his come out of the dryer wrapped around each other. You spend a minute disentangling them, a small heap of clothes in a rolling laundry basket in front of you. The closest laundromat to the Motel 6 had been a five minute drive down the street. 

You’d woken up with your head on his chest, your arm draped across his bare stomach, despite how you’d fallen asleep barely touching him. As if your unconscious body had known more about your wants than you. His hand had been tangled in your hair, palm cradling your cheek and a bit of your neck, like his own unconscious wanted to keep you against him, too. 

The morning had been easy- the easiest it’s been since you hit the road. Eddie seems to have given you a sense of purpose you didn’t have before, driving around aimlessly, only stopping for fast food every once in a while when you remembered to eat something other than beef jerky and coffee. Once you had extracted yourself from his grip, you’d gone to buy him clothes from the resale store next to the motel. It wasn’t hard to find a plain black shirt and jeans, but used underwear was something you didn’t want to mess with. You’d brought it back to the motel, along with some food from the Waffle House across the way, and you ate cross legged on the bed while he showered and put on his new-ish clothes.

But now, you can’t stop feeling his hand cradling your head. His hot, sweaty skin against your arm. Your fingernails raking lightly through the trail of hair on his stomach, dragging through his pubic hair, your knuckles just barely brushing up the side of his length- thick, uncut, and so so pretty. Then, stopping nervously when you’d gotten too bold, fingers skimming over sensitive skin too close to his groin, and he’d twitched in his sleep.

You want him. You don’t even know him, and you want him so badly you can feel it even now, an aching blush between your legs turning into a dull throb when you so much as think about him. 

You toss all the freshly washed clothes into a plastic bag that you’d grabbed by the door to the laundromat, and haul it out to your van. He’d told you to meet him at the bar across the street when you were done, since he needed to make a few calls on their payphone- he’d even given you his weathered denim vest before he left.

“For insurance,” he winked. “Uh, don’t wash it, though… I stitched it by hand, it’ll fall apart.”

You don’t put it in with the clean clothes. It smells like smoke and alcohol and him, the edges frayed and yellowing a bit. You hold it in your lap for a second, plucking at the stringy bits around the arm holes. Maybe you can convince him to let you soak it in a sink somewhere, hand washed and dried carefully over a working A/C unit, wherever you can find one. You don’t know when he last washed the damn thing, if ever.

When you pull into the parking lot of the dive bar, and you clutch the denim vest in your hand as you step out of your van, something sharp prods your thumb. You hiss, slamming the car door shut and examining what it was. The sharp point of a pin on the vest- which reads Motörhead- had come loose and pricked your skin, which now threatens to ooze blood all over the aged denim.

“Fuck,” you murmur, bringing your thumb to your mouth as you lock the car. You struggle with the vest while you walk towards the door to the dive, trying to resituate the pin so it doesn’t go missing.

You find him loitering beside a billiards table, pool stick in hand, a cigarette in his mouth. When he sees you walk in, his eyes light up, and he nearly drops the stick prancing over to you. 

“Told ya I’d still be here- hey, you okay?” His grin turns very readily into a frown when he sees you sucking your thumb like a child. 

“Yeah, no, I’m fine,” you mutter clumsily, “your pin just nicked me s’all.” 

“Oh, shit,” he curses, reaching for your hand. “Lemme see- no, let me see.” He forces your hand open when you try to close it, and scrutinizes the little pin prick as if it’s the worst battle wound he’s ever seen. “Should’a checked to make sure all the pins were right, this happens all the time. I’m so sorry, baby, my fault.”

Baby. Your brain tries to process it. He called you baby. 

He’s also kissing your thumb, cradling your hand with excessive care. He’s tasting your blood, sucking a little on the pin prick like you had been, so your skin is wet with a mix of his and your spit. You don’t think you’ll ever get tired of the way he touches you. Fleeting as his touches have been, anyways. You melt a little under his gaze as his round eyes blink up at you innocently.

“S’okay,” you tell him with a wobbly smile. “Did you make your calls?”

He looks at you softly, a reserved smile on his face. “I did. Wayne’s miffed, but he’ll live. Told him I’d send him a postcard.”

You giggle at that, thinking you’d sign it along with him. Sorry for stealing away your nephew; it will happen again. “Good. Buy me a drink, handsome?”

Eddie beams at you, and his dimples crease his cheeks as he turns to the bartender. There’s a sweet, boyish manner in the way he puffs out his chest and orders you a drink, his arm circling your waist as he moves you smoothly toward the bar. As soon as a whisky sour has been placed in front of you, he turns and squeezes your arm.

“Hey, I gotta finish this game,” he nods at the pool table he’d been stationed at. “I got some money on it. Y’okay with hanging out for a minute?” 

“Sure,” you chirp, sipping your drink. “Wipe the floor with ‘em for me?”

“It’s in the bag,” he whispers at you conspiratorially. You push his vest at him, imagining he wants to take his insurance back now that you know he’s not taking off on you, but he shakes his head. “No, you wear it. It’ll look good on you.” 

His eyes light up when you shrug the vest over your worn out white t-shirt. As you lift your drink, and he turns back to his game, you think you’d do anything to keep him looking at you like that.

Eddie wins. You don’t know how much he bet on the game, but there seems to be hurt feelings when he collects the money that had been placed on the table. You’ve never been much of a gambler, and he hadn’t struck you as one- but what do you know? He certainly bet on you getting him out of Hawkins, and you certainly took a chance on him. 

You don’t think much of it. It’s late afternoon- the sun’s going down, and you figure you’d better get going, but Eddie wraps his arms around you and says, “Dance with me.” And you do.

The jukebox in the corner only plays country classics. Patsy Cline croons over the speakers, taking you back to a time in your far off childhood. Eddie sways with you to the music, and even though there’s barely any rhythm to his dancing, you find yourself falling into it with him. Your head on his shoulder, his curly hair tickling the side of your face. His breath on your neck, cool on your heated skin. 

That is, until a hand wraps around Eddie’s shoulder and jerks him away from you. A man with blond hair, clearly a few too many drinks in, snarls at him, “That game was bullshit and you know it.”

Eddie blinks at him. “If by ‘bullshit’ you mean I beat you, then sure.”

“You di’int beat me, you cheated,” the man sneers. “I want my money back.” 

“Yeah, no.” Eddie claps the man on the shoulder, trying to push him away. “I won the game, I get the money. That’s how gambling works.” 

You step back when the man’s beady eyes fall on you, peering at him over Eddie’s shoulder. “What’re you lookin’ at?” 

“You leave her out of this, buddy,” Eddie growls dangerously, still forcing the man back with one strong hand on his shoulder. He’s trying to put himself between you and the man, you know. Still, you feel the need to fist your hand in the back of Eddie’s shirt and pull him away.

“I ain’t your buddy. Whatcha lookin’ at, bitch?” The man reaches out and yanks roughly on your arm, making you yelp in alarm.

And that’s when Eddie’s fist connects with the man’s jaw.

There’s a sickening crack. In the chaos, it somehow occurs to you that Eddie’s wearing all those chunky rings. You wonder if they could be considered a deadly weapon, in the same vein as brass knuckles.

It takes you a second to get through the initial shock, finding it hard to focus on who’s doing what. Eddie and the man have barrelled through a couple of tables, knocking over chairs. Eddie has the man pinned to the edge of the pool table, a flurry of fists moving from all sides. 

“You don’t touch my girl!” Eddie shouts at the man. “You don’t fuckin’ touch my girl!”  

His girl.

They tumble to the floor. The man curses and spits blood at him from a cut lip. A strong fist hits the side of Eddie’s face once, twice-

“THAT’S ENOUGH!” The words are shouted by the bartender, finally intervening, pulling the blond man off of Eddie. As the bartender restrains the unruly man, a second pulls an equally enraged Eddie away from him, separating the two. 

By the time you collect a bruised and bloodied Eddie into your arms, you’ve already tuned out the rest of the ruckus going on around you. Someone suggests that you should leave, but the words only barely register. You’re already pulling Eddie out the door and to the car.

You don’t even remember if you closed the tab.

Trouble’s always gonna find you, baby, but so will I. Crying only because I’m happy, hold me across every state line…

You don’t know when you started crying. Maybe it was around the time that Eddie fell unconscious.

Tears burn in your eyes like you’ve poured gasoline in them, but no matter how badly it stings you just keep sniffling and driving, tearing down the interstate away from Indianapolis, toward St. Louis. You hopped on I-70 as quickly as you could, and from there you’ve been lost in a world of your own.

He’d almost look peaceful, if it wasn’t for the blood on his jaw and the nasty shiner on his cheekbone. You keep telling yourself it’s not bad enough for him to need to be taken to a hospital. You can’t afford to go to a hospital, and even if you could, you’d have to explain how he got in this condition. It’s a recipe for jail time. You know that. You know.  

You just want to keep him safe, that’s all. 

He hadn’t instigated the fight, not really. He’d just swung first. He was just defending you.

His girl.  

When it gets to be too much, you pull over. Headlights gleam bright and then pass by in the dark with a whoosh of air. You think you must have crossed over into Illinois by now, or you’re getting close to it. The traffic has lightened considerably. 

You rest your head against the steering wheel, taking deep breaths, but the tears keep coming in streams. A while ago, you had a mattress in the back of this van. That was before it started having problems, and it sat in your family’s garage for a year and a half. You should have put a mattress in it when you took off, but you weren’t thinking that far ahead. You were having a breakdown, something like you’re having now, only worse. It was a manic, get-away-or-die-there kind of breakdown. 

Breathe in. You’re not gonna die. Breathe out. He’s breathing.

Once Eddie cracks his eyes open, he flexes his jaw with a groan. You can tell he’s confused by the inquisitive noise he makes, but when he looks at you, all that disappears in a heartbeat.

“Hey, what’re you- oh, god. Sweetheart, don’t cry.”  

As if that doesn’t make you want to cry harder. His hand lands tentatively on your shoulder, stiff fingered but light in touch. He shuffles closer to you, pulling you against him to sob into his secondhand shirt. 

It’s pathetic, you’re sure of it. You feel pathetic, twisting the cheap cotton of his shirt in your hands and saturating it with tears, as he shushes you and soothes a hand over your hair.

“It’s okay, baby,” he whispers into your hair, pressing his aching lips to your scalp in an attempt to calm you down. “We’ll be okay. I’m right here. What can I do?”

For some reason, the question makes you mad. “You don’t fucking fight,” you sob at him, the anger in your voice making him freeze. “You don’t- you don’t get into fights. I can deal with a lot of shit, Eddie Munson, but I can’t deal with that.”

“Okay, honey. Okay.”

“No fighting.” 

“No fighting,” he repeats affirmatively, petting your head. Then he adds, “No gambling.”

“No bars.”

“Well-”

“No bars.” 

“All right,” Eddie resigns, resting his chin on top of your head. Once you’ve stopped crying, from what he can feel, he tells you softly, “I’m not… I’m not like that, you know. I want you to know. I don’t fight, not usually.”

“You did.” 

“I did,” he agrees. “I just don’t like… I didn’t like him touching you. Disrespecting you like that- did he hurt you?”

“No,” you lie. The guy had yanked your arm a little too hard, your wrist still smarting a bit. Nothing near what Eddie had taken. “He hurt you, though.”

“I’ve had worse, trust me.” His tone is ominous, like you don’t really want to know the heavy details of it. “I’m not a fighter. Used to be if I saw danger, I’d just turn tail and run. I usually just take shit on the chin. But I never had anything to fight for before, really.”

You sniffle loudly, grossly. “I don’t want you to fight for me.”

“I’m gonna protect you, sweetheart. No matter what,” he insists. “Long as we’re together, I’m gonna do everything I can to protect you. Okay?”

Long as we’re together. Like you’re a couple, like you didn’t just meet by chance at a gas station a little more than 24 hours ago. Like you’re in love. 

His girl.  

“My dad’s in prison,” Eddie blurts out, raking a shaky hand through your hair. “He, uh… he was a fighter. And a thief. And a gambler. And a liar. He tried his best to make me be like him, but I don’t- I don’t wanna be like him.” Eddie sighs, a sad sound that rips through your already bleeding heart. “I thought maybe getting out of Hawkins would set me straight. Finally give me a chance to make something better of myself, prove I’m not like my old man. I tried, but after high school I got in some trouble, and Wayne had to sell my old van to pay for my bail. Now I’m here, and… Guess you just take yourself wherever you go, huh?” 

“Yeah,” you agree. Your fingers curve against his hip, squeezing the skin there. “So we have to try to change ourselves in the meantime, while we get where we’re going.”

Eddie breathes in, and it sounds an awful lot like a sniffle.

“Eddie. Are you crying?”

“No.” He is.

You lift your head with a wet, coughing chuckle at his futile attempt to hide it. You look up at him, your fingers tucking a lock of unruly, dark hair behind his ear. He’s staring back at you with glassy eyes, the tip of his nose gone red with the tears he’s holding back. He just barely flinches when your knuckles brush the bruise on his cheekbone.

“Hey, handsome,” you coo at him softly, your touch featherlight on his skin. He blinks, a tear dropping from his lashes. “I’m gonna get you cleaned up, okay?” 

“Okay.” His lip wobbles. “Let me hold you a little longer, first?”

“Of course, Eddie.” You fall into his grasping hands, yanking you to him like a child searching for the comfort of his favorite teddy bear. You’d let him hold you as long as he liked.

You wash his face in a dirty rest area just west of Terre Haute. In the middle of the night, no one is around to tell you not to, so you follow him into the men’s room and take your time wiping the blood from his jaw and his hands. You gingerly apply a bandage from your car’s console to his bruised cheek, while he sits in the front seat and brackets your hips with his knees.

He gazes up at you like a man seeing God.

The neighbors beat on the walls, while I'm face first in the bed. Show me how much I mean to you while I’m lying in these sheets undressed…

You sleep in the rest area that night, in the back of your van. No mattress, just your backs to the hard floor of the cab. With no A/C again, you shuck your clothes and spread a single white blanket over your bodies, more for modesty’s sake than anything else. Even though it’s unlikely that a cop is going to run you down in the middle of nowhere, you’d rather not get cited for public indecency. 

He holds you all night long, his arms around you and his chest against your back giving you peace, but he doesn’t touch you in any of the ways that you desperately want him to.

It takes the better part of a day to drive to St. Louis. Eddie swallows a couple tylenol for his face with his truck stop coffee and eggs, smiling softly at you from across a bright yellow plywood table in a cafeteria. From the look on his face, you doubt that he regrets the fight that gave him his wounds.

By the time your old van rattles up to another Motel 6 at the outskirts of the city, Eddie’s shaking his head. “The car’s not gonna take much more than this. I need to give it a good look, maybe borrow a tool kit and give it a tune up.”

“Whatever you say, magic man,” you muse at him. “Let’s just sleep in a real bed tonight, huh?”

His head tilted back, he looks at you sideways with a lopsided smile. You can tell his face is still hurting, but he puts on a brave face and bats his eyelashes at you. “Sounds good to me, princess.”

His touch lingers on you more, now, than it did yesterday. His fingers grazing your forearm as you open the glass door to the motel office, his hand hovering over your lower back as you sign for the room. His arm slung over your shoulder as he follows you down to the room, twirling the key around his finger. 

“You think the A/C will work this time?” He asks you lightheartedly as he turns the key in the lock.

“Only one way to find out,” you return with the same warmth in your voice. If you from two days ago could hear yourself, and that ooey-gooey note of lovesickness in your voice, your past self might keel over and die. When did this happen? 

You drop your bag of clothes on the bench by the bathroom door. Eddie bangs around the A/C unit a bit, until something starts whirring, and he makes a gleeful noise.

“It’s aliiiiive!” He announces dramatically, emulating Dr. Frankenstein. You giggle as he leaps toward you, practically throwing you onto the bed in excitement. “We have cool air. We can actually wear clothes to bed tonight.”

“Yeah,” you sigh, not even trying to hide your disappointment at the thought. The best part of your last two mornings has been waking up to his naked body beside yours, warm and soft and littered with tattoos that you just can’t stop looking at. 

You mean, I won’t get to wake up to your skin on mine tomorrow? I won’t be able to pretend like I’m not staring at your dick and imagining all the things I want to do to it? How will I be able to admire you for my own perverted gain?

You don’t even realize that you’re stroking your fingers across his bruised cheek until he leans into your touch. Then you take inventory of your current position- your back to the mattress, his body hovering over you, half covering you. Caging you in with his arms. His long hair creates a veil around your faces. 

When he blinks his eyes open at you, you can tell where his mind is before he opens his mouth. “Did we have our first fight yesterday?”

You frown, a puff of air exiting your nose. “No, I think I’d call it laying ground rules.”  

“Ground rules,” Eddie nods, his sore cheek rubbing against your hand. You’re starting to wonder if he likes the pain, since he won’t stop pushing into it. “I’m not great at remembering rules. What were they, again?”

“No fighting.”

“Right, and no gambling.”

“No bars.”

He squints. “Is that one still up for negotiation, or…?” He trails off, giggling as you smack your hand lightly against his shoulder. “Kidding! I’m kidding. No bars. Got it.” 

“And that was it,” you tell him sweetly. “Unless there was another one you wanted to add?”

He stares at you for a long moment, his fingers twirling in the hair right beside your ear as he gets lost in thought. Say what you’re thinking, your mind practically screams at him. Please, god, say what we’re both thinking…

Eddie licks his lips and finally says, “No sleeping with clothes on?”

Gotcha. A creeping smile stretches your face, trying to play coy even when your heart’s beating a mile a minute. Eddie’s eyebrows raise at you, waiting for an answer. 

“I’m not easy, Eddie.”

“I know,” he tells you, mirroring your smile. “I don’t expect to get lucky with you.”

“I know,” you hum. Your hand drifts up the side of his torso, a more firm and languorous touch than you’d previously been brave enough to give him. “But do you want to?”

Eddie shudders, and it’s the first honest to god evidence you have that you turn him on as much as he does you. The realization feels rapturous. 

“God, yes.”

He kisses you then, open-mouthed and passionate, his hand cupping your jaw to keep you where he wants you. Your nails scratch up his back with a loud tearing sound against his shirt, and he chuckles as you frantically clutch at him with all your strength. 

“I know, pretty girl,” he murmurs, pecking your lips briefly before descending to bite at your jaw. “You’ve been wanting this since that first night. Feelin’ me up in the morning, like I wouldn’t notice…”

“I didn’t wanna wake you,” you hiccup as his hand cups the crotch of your jeans, rocking the meat of his palm firmly where you’re dying for friction. “Oh, ffffuck Eddie, m’sorry…”

“And here you were, thinking I was the pervert,” he grunts. “‘Least I can keep my hands to myself, hm?”

“I’m sorry, I’m s-sorry,” you babble at him, hands shaking as they grip onto his shoulders. Now that the aching throb between your legs is back, and he’s finally giving it attention, you can’t seem to come up with a more coherent sentence. Your face grows hot, but not at the fact that you’d been caught in your lechery- just because he turns you on more than you can think to admit.

“Don’t be sorry, sweet thing,” Eddie whispers. His dark eyes are lined up with yours, the curtain of his hair shielding them from reflecting any of the light from the desk lamp- it’s just you and the starry voids of space, locked in your own little world. He rubs his hand back and forth with practiced pressure against the front of your jeans, your hips kicking up against him. “I want you to touch me. Want you to do whatever you want with me, baby.” 

“Whatever I want?” Your fingers dragging up his lower back, under his shirt to feel the heat of his skin.

“Anything,” he insists, kissing you again. Wet and sloppy, teeth clacking as you grind up into his palm. Your thick denim jeans are about the most abominable things that have ever existed.

You feel like your head’s on sideways with how pent up you already are. “I want you to fuck me Eddie- jesus chr- can we do that? Right now? Please?” 

Eddie laughs. A happy, whole-hearted, almost disbelieving laugh. “Thought I was gonna be the one begging you, after all this…” His breath hitches, the touch of his hand leaving you so that he can push himself back. “Lemme get you out of these clothes, yeah?”

You nod quickly, earning a pleased hum from him. The way he undresses you is touched by reverence; his fingers slow as they drag the cotton of your shirt over your head, grazing your skin all the way. His lips dancing across your collarbone as he undoes the front of your stupid fucking jeans. You just want them off, done with and laying in a pile to be forgotten about by the motel room door, but Eddie has other plans. 

“Slow.” He grabs your hip to stop your wiggling, fingers curled around the back of the waistband of them as he pulls the denim down your thighs. “We’ve got all night, baby. I’m not leaving. Not going anywhere.” 

“I want you,” you insist desperately, sounding like a broken record. Your distress is evident on your face, in the way you clench your thighs together to hide the obnoxious wet spot growing on your cotton panties. You wonder if he’d felt it when he was touching you over your jeans, if the heat and dampness had soaked through the denim as well. You wouldn’t be surprised.

“You have me, sweetheart,” Eddie ensures. “Don’t… I don’t want you to worry about it. M’gonna make sure there are no worries in that pretty head.” 

He yanks his t-shirt off, the one you’d bought him from the resale store. A cloud of frizzy, dark hair obscures his pretty face for half a second, the shirt landing on the floor somewhere off to the side, and then Eddie’s eyes find you again, grinning at you widely with pointed teeth.

You grab for him, your fingers looping around the chain that hangs from his neck. Tugging him down, you press a gentle kiss to his lips. Then to his sore jaw, where a tiny scab has formed on the right side of his chin. Then to his bruised cheek, where he flutters his eyes shut and groans softly at the brush of your lips. 

“My boy,” you whisper to him, and you don’t even know if he understands the significance of it to you. His girl. Your boy.  

Eddie smiles against your skin. He peppers kisses everywhere he can reach, down onto your chest, dragging his sharp teeth every once in a while just to hear you keen. You’re certain you’ve ruined your underwear now, feeling the wetness grow cool against your skin. 

What a fucking concept. Cool air. 

Eddie seems to have the same thought as you, as he slips his fingers beneath the white cotton and peels them down your legs. Strings of your arousal stick to the wet fabric, dropping off in thick tendrils onto the sheets below you as he groans lowly.

“Fuck,” Eddie curses, shaking his head in chastisement as he settles between your legs at the end of the bed. He tsks, “Just look at you, poor thing. Should’a said something to me, can’t have you going around like this.”

You shiver as he trails his mouth up the inside of your thigh. His day-old stubble scrapes your sensitive skin, making you break out in a cold sweat. “M’not- I didn’t want you to think-”

“That you’re easy?” He coos with a condescending smile. “No, honey. I know, you’re a good girl.” He nips at the widest part of your thigh, plush flesh indenting with the imprint of his teeth. “But I’m no good. You should know that, better than anyone. No good for you.”

Eddie’s tongue burns and soothes at the same time, leaving your brain a scrambled mess on the mattress beneath you. He gathers all of your collected arousal into his mouth, groaning like he’s been desperate to taste it all this time. “Been dreaming of this since I saw you, pretty girl.” 

Pulling your leg over his bare shoulder, he all but crushes you against his face, his sturdy hands wrapped around your hips to hold you still. Your back arched, your hips fully off the bed as he lifts your lower half into the air.

You choke out the first part of his name, your hands fisting in the comforter next to your head. There’s a twist of pleasure deep in your core that makes you whine far louder than necessary, a waterfall of words spilling from you before you can stop them, “Oh shit- Ed- I don’t- s’too good-”

“Too good?” Eddie snickers, eyes bright as he watches you from between your thighs. “Nothing's too good for you.” 

Then he spits onto your already soaked and swollen pussy. You sob, positively crying from the feeling of it, drenched and dripping along your sensitive flesh. Eddie spreads the wetness around with his tongue, and your cunt clamps down hard at the lewd squelch of it, the mortifying slurp of his lips closing down and sucking on your labia. 

“Oh fuck, what the fuck-” you whimper high to the ceiling, mouth hanging open in shock. 

You could have been doing this for days. He could have fucked you like this the first night, when you lay next to him, naked in the dark. Your body aches at the thought of being deprived of this longer than necessary.

“That’s it, baby, just stay still. Let me ruin you, huh?” Eddie murmurs, letting your thigh rest heavy on his shoulder so that he can move one hand, his thumb rubbing tight circles on your clit in front of his face. He watches your cunt glisten and throb for him, listening to your desperate sobs echo through the otherwise silent room, and whispers, “Shit. Like my own little fuckin’ pornstar, sweetheart.” 

Normally, you wouldn’t exactly take that as a compliment- but with the way he says it, with his voice thick and dark like that, and with the way the hot, slick velvet of his tongue dips into your channel and shoots electricity along your skin, you figure he must have meant it like one. 

He goes slow, thrusting into you gently, taking his time to get familiar between your legs. Still, it doesn’t stop you from positively shrieking toward the ceiling when he licks you from hole to clit, the entire expanse of his tongue sweeping along nerve endings that are charged like live wires. 

Eddie chuckles, hot breath spilling out over your feverish skin, and he pauses there. Lets you feel the warm press of his flattened tongue before he just barely rubs it back and forth, back and forth-

“Eddie-!?” You gasp, an erotically loud moan spilling out of your mouth right before you come all over his. You crumble, your hips threatening to buck out of his steady grip as searing euphoria rips through you. He scrambles, ringed fingers locking tight enough on your waist to bruise, keeping you against him as you thrash wildly. 

He keeps you like that for a long time, purring into your spasming pussy while an array of unhinged noises pour from your body- your mouth, your hands tearing at the sheets and at your head, your cunt and all its wet filth drenching Eddie’s bruised face. 

If it hurts him, he doesn’t let on. He just keeps going, and going.

Until something pounds against the wall behind your head. You hiccup, your dazed, post-orgasm brain unable to comprehend where the sound is coming from. That wasn’t- couldn’t have been me…

“Pretty sounds,” Eddie giggles as he finally pulls his mouth away from you. “Guess the neighbors agree.”

“Oh, god.” Your hands cover your face, hot and sticky with sweat. Your eyes feel heavy, fuck-drunk, your heart still pounding in your chest from the adrenaline of the orgasm Eddie gave you. You feel embarrassed, like you ought to be going over to apologize to whatever sorry person happens to be sharing a wall with you, now.

Eddie has other plans. “Think we should give the audience a good show, huh?”

It’s merely a suggestion- you know that you could always find a way to quiet yourself, stuff your mouth with cotton and stifle your moans- but the implication of it makes your toes curl. Your breath rattles in your chest when you inhale. “You… you want everyone in the building to hear you fucking me?”

Eddie crowds you on the bed, your legs still slung over his shoulders so that you’re bent nearly in half. He’s still too fucking clothed for your liking- his leather belt digs into the back of your thighs as he presses a sloppy kiss to your dry lips. “I want everyone here to know you’re mine, sweetheart.”

Your hands cradle his face, pulling him in for a deeper kiss as he slowly lowers your legs from his shoulders. Your over extended legs flop down onto the mattress, and you whine into his mouth as he massages his tongue with yours.

“I’m yours, Eddie,” you moan against his damp skin. “Oh god, I want it- want everyone to know.”

You take the initiative, with one last kiss turning in his grip. His hand slips, catching himself from toppling off the bed as you scoot onto your stomach, your knees planting on the mattress so that you can wiggle your hips up at him. 

Eddie sucks in a sharp breath, smoothing a gentle palm over your ass before he kisses your lower back. He pauses, drawing soft kisses up your spine until his breath sweeps your shoulder blade. “You’re so beautiful. How’d I get so fucking lucky?”

A quiet keen is the only answer you give him, shoving your hips backward to get him to just fucking touch you, but he pulls away too quickly. There’s the clink of a belt buckle, a zipper being pulled, and you tense, your hand closing into a fist around the pillow at the head of the bed. Following the rustle of clothes, you hear the crinkle of a condom wrapper- you hadn’t even realized he had one. It didn’t even occur to you, in your dizzying need to fuck him, like some loveblind idiot.

You almost berate yourself for it, but then you feel his cock press against your entrance, and all those thoughts die away. He rolls his hips, and every single muscle in you tightens.

Eddie chokes on air as pleasure positively tears through you. Your eyes roll back, your mouth wide open and threatening to drool onto the pillow you’ve been shoved face-first into. 

“F-fuck, you’re so big.” It’s the only thing you can choke out around moans. He splits you so wide, dragging through your slick walls that are still so sensitive from your first orgasm. 

“Holy shi- oh my god-” he gasps behind you. “M’so sorry- I can’t- Feels so fucking good-”  

You groan, unable to form words to adequately answer him. All you can manage to do is jam your hips backward in an attempt to get him deeper, as far as he can fucking go inside you. Your body blazes, everything coming up smelling of sex and sweat as you wail hopelessly into the pillow.

Eddie snarls, a deep and dangerous noise in the back of his throat as he draws his hips back and presses into you again. There’s no time for you to adjust, each thrust a little more forceful than the last. His cock hits sharp heaven deep inside you, punching loud and guttural moans from you each time his hips impact your ass. 

“That’s a good girl- so ffffucking wet, goddamnit,” Eddie praises you through clenched teeth, ringed fingers and bruised knuckles wrapping loosely around your neck to lift your head from the pillow. “Let them hear all those pretty noises for me, baby.”

“Eddie…” You hiccup, your voice kicked up into a shrill whine. You swallow against the press of his fingers on your throat, holding your jaw into the air so there’s no place for your sounds to go but to the wall and through it. 

Above your head, the banging on the wall starts back up. Eddie drops your chin and slams his hand on top of the headboard, gripping tightly at plywood that threatens to hit the wall as he ruts into you. Your face hits the pillow again, but your sobbing moans still come out loud and disruptive as Eddie speeds up his hips in retaliation. 

“Doing so good f’me. Feel me, princess? So fucking deep,” Eddie groans. His cock licks up a sweet heat inside of you, and you know you’re going to come. He curses lowly, his hips pistoning into yours hard enough that you have to smack your hand into the headboard to keep from knocking into it. “Taking me so well. So perfect- s’like you were made for me, I know it, I just fucking know it…”

Eddie’s arm wraps around your waist from behind, and he hauls your back into his sweat-slick chest. You almost feel weightless, for a moment, before you’re settled back into his lap, your thighs bracketing his as he kneels beneath you, clutching you against him. 

A gasp tears from your mouth with a loud, “Shit!” His cock hits a different spot inside you, bursting color behind your closed eyelids as you throw your head back against his shoulder.

Eddie’s breath fans across your neck, sweat-damp hair tickling the side of your face. His hand greedily palms at your breasts, bouncing you in his lap as his tongue traces a wet line along your shoulder. 

“Just know you were made for me,” Eddie repeats quietly in your ear, his breath feeling like flames on your neck. “That’s why you found me, baby. You were meant to be mine, my girl.”

His girl.

“Yours, Eddie,” you blubber, reaching back to dig a fist into his hair as his hands squeeze your breasts. “M’all yours.”

“Yeah?” Eddie murmurs, his voice saccharine and velvety. He moans in your ear when your cunt clenches down, a threatening throb at the outskirts of your orgasm. “Say it again.”

A whimper, high and needy in your throat. “I’m yours. Your girl- oh, f-fuck, Eddie- I’m gonna-” 

“That’s right. My good girl. Only easy when it comes to me, right?” 

Eddie’s hand drags purposefully down, fingernails dragging just through your pubic hair, just barely grazing where you want him- just like you did to him, that first morning. The realization makes you seize up, all tense from head to toe. 

“What’s it like, when I do it to you? You like it?” He whispers, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. You suck in a sharp breath, a hiss through your teeth as you nod. His laugh is barely a ghost of a breath on your skin. “Yeah. I did, too.”

Eddie’s voice in your ear says, “Come for me,” and not even a fraction of you would deny him that.

His finger drags slowly your clit, calloused skin catching on the swollen bud, and you come. Your body slumps against him, and you’re so grateful for his arms around you to hold you through it. You’d swear he was splitting you in half with the sounds coming from your mouth. Your head tilted back on his shoulder, every breath is punctuated by a hoarse cry that breaks in your throat. Your hand clamps around his arm, which is still cradling you close to his chest as his own moans ring in your ear, his hips driving up into you as your cunt pulses around his cock. You know that he comes when his teeth wrap around the muscle of your shoulder and bite down.

Silence settles over your sweaty bodies, but thunderous banging is still furiously happening on the other side of the wall. You hear voices, words too muffled by the drywall to be intelligible, but they still sound angry.

Eddie won’t let you go, not yet. He’s clutching you, his mouth still wrapped around your shoulder, even though his teeth aren’t biting anymore. You pet his forearm, and lean forward just enough to knock lightly on the wall.

“We’re done!” Your voice cracks with the effort it takes to call out to the people on the other side.

“Fantastic show, my love. I think we deserve five stars.” Eddie laughs, nuzzling his face into your neck as he finally releases your shoulder from the trappings of his jaw. “I think I’m corrupting you, sweetheart.”

You hum, still petting his arm. “I think you already have, teddy.” 

Eddie freezes, his grip on your waist tightening just a little. “No one’s called me that since I was a kid.”

“What, teddy?” He nods. Your fingernails drag dully down his arm, tracing over a tattoo of a swarm of bats, which breaks out in goosebumps under your touch. “Is that… Can I call you that?”

“Yeah,” he rasps. “Yeah, you can- you can call me teddy.”

It’s quiet after that. He rocks you in his arms until you kiss his knuckles and lift yourself gingerly from his lap, earning a pacified grunt from him as his softened cock slides out of you. You watch him as he ties off the condom and tosses it in the wastebasket a few feet away, then flops backward onto the bed so that his head hits the pillows. 

You chuckle, sliding forward to run your hands along his stomach. “Honey, you still have your pants on.”

He hadn’t taken them completely off, only pushed them down far enough to free his cock and have at you. What’s more, he still has his boots on, too- big, black motorcycle things that nearly hang off the end of the bed. 

Eddie grunts dismissively. “C’n deal with it in the morning.”

“No sleeping with clothes on.”

He huffs petulantly, but the scowl he tries to give you turns into a lovesick grin pretty quick. He tucks his hand behind his head in mock-nonchalance. “Hey, pretty lady. You come here often?”

“Once or twice, so far.” You grin at him as he laughs, rolling your eyes as you move down the bed to finish undressing him. You untie his boots and let them fall with his jeans and boxers onto the floor at the end of the bed, glancing up at him once you’re finished.

His eyes are closed. You don’t think he’s sleeping yet, but he’s flushed, covered in sweat. He’s still so much of an enigma to you, but you adore him. You’re enamored with him. 

You crawl slowly up the length of his body, feline-like in your movements. You appraise his tattoos, smoothing your hands over them as you go. You lean down and press featherlight kisses across his beautiful, bruised face. 

Eddie cracks his eyes open at you with an inquisitive smirk, just barely puckering his lips to kiss you back when you land one on them. “Feeling me up again, sweetheart?” 

You hum, kissing his chest. “You’re hot.” It’s the only explanation you afford him. And once he’s shut his eyes again, you carefully move down his body, peppering kisses across his naked torso.

“What’re you-?” He twitches when you drag your tongue over his cock, still wet and salty with his cum. He groans as you slowly lift it, suckling on the head gently. “Oh… Sweetheart, m’not… I don’t think I can-”

“I’m just cleaning you up, teddy,” you tell him gently. “S’okay. You can go to sleep.”

He hums tiredly, his hand lifting to run through your hair, stroking tenderly against the back of your head. “My girl just can’t keep her hands off, huh?”

“Not a chance,” you tell him, giving him another slow lick. “You’re just too fucking pretty, Eds.”

“And you’re too fuckin’ perfect.” Eddie only really falls asleep after he comes again.

I’m never gonna leave you, baby, even if you lose what’s left of your mind…

A few days later, the car breaks down in Colorado Springs.

It had been acting up for a while, of course. Even though you enjoyed watching Eddie when he was bent over the open hood, bare arms sweaty and streaked with grease in the afternoon heat, you knew it ultimately wasn’t going to end well. 

Each time Eddie tinkered with it, more and more concerning things came to light. “One of your cylinders misfired,” he said one time, shaking his head. He’d insisted on driving it from that point on. Another, “The fucking spark plug has gone out. We have to get a new one.” That was $75 you didn’t have to spare.

You guess the car had just fucking had it when you got to Colorado. You went to start it up at a truck stop, and the whole thing just sputtered and coughed at you, and then you didn’t have an engine anymore.

After Eddie paced around and cursed about it for a couple minutes, you both crawled into the back of the van and locked the door. And now you sit cross-legged across from each other, with everything of value that you have to your name in a little pile in front of you.

When you left home, you’d saved up a couple thousand to live off of until you got somewhere you felt comfortable working and living in. Since then, you’ve squandered it on food and motels and gas, never staying put and now rambling along with Eddie.

From the ATM, Eddie had stolen around two thousand dollars. He’s in the same boat as you, now looking at only a couple hundred in between the two of you. Hardly enough to afford a hotel room or bus fare for the both of you. Certainly not enough to get you a new car, or even rent one.

He scrubs his hands down his face, dirty fingernails pressing into his skin. “You should take it.”

“What?” You squint at him. 

“There’s enough here for bus fare for you, at least,” Eddie murmurs, his fingers poking at the pile and scooting it toward you. “Getcha where you want to go. Get a nice job at a tourist shop in Vegas or Santa Monica or something.”

“Are you fucking kidding me, Eddie?” you snap. You swat his hand away from the pile, looking affronted. “I’m not taking the money, so cut it out. We’ll figure something else out.”

Eddie shakes his head, like he’s already made up his mind. “We had a deal. I fix your car, you take me with you. And I didn’t fix your car.”

“Yeah, but that was before…” you trail off, scrutinizing his expression. He won’t meet your gaze. He won’t look at you. 

Eddie’s mouth opens and closes like he’s a fish out of water. Then, he says bitingly, “Before we fucked?” 

You can feel all the emotion drain from your face, leaving you a blank, hollow screen with dead eyes just staring at him. It’s your best defense against bursting into tears at the very tone of his voice. 

When he glances at you, you can tell that he wants to take it back immediately. His teeth worry his bottom lip, ripping at chapped shreds of skin. “Don’t do me any favors, sweetheart.”

“It’s not a fucking favor- I thought we were doing this together.”

Eddie talks over you. “You don’t need to keep dragging me around with you, okay? You’re off the hook.”

“Eddie, you’re being mean,” you croak at him. Not exactly the quick, biting wit that you can usually whip out- he’s shocked you.

He drops his eyes, his hands squeezing his knees. “Yeeeah,” he grumbles, his fingers tapping sporadically against his denim jeans. “Well, I told you, I’m no good for you. You didn’t listen.”

You told me that while your tongue was in my pussy. The words are balanced on the edge of your teeth, but they won’t fall out. Your hands itch to reach out for him, grab his chin and force him to look at you, somehow. 

Instead, they snatch up the little bit of cash from your side of the pile in between you. You crumple it in your hand and shove the wad into your jacket pocket before you grab the strap of your weather-beaten backpack full of the last things you have to your name, and kick open the back door of the van. 

It’s summer, but it’s windy in Colorado. It must be something about the mountains, you guess, and it being early morning. Condensation hangs in the air, making the air both heavy and cool as you breathe. Funny- if you slept naked, you’d probably have to curl up into each other for warmth, for a change. 

You’re either vibrating from rage or from the abnormal chill in the air. Standing on the street corner with the gas station sign lit up in neon behind you, you kick the crosswalk pole with your dirty converse. You’re still arguing with him, in your head. We were in this together, motherfucker. I told you, I’m your girl. I put all my eggs in your basket. Whatever fucking martyr complex this is, you can shove it right up your stupid-

“I know.” Eddie’s tattooed arms wrap around your waist and pull you into his chest, his face buried in your hair as he whispers urgently into it. “I know, I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

So, you weren’t arguing with him in your head. You were actually yelling everything you were thinking, and he chased you as you stormed off. Seems about par for the course. 

“Fuck you, Eddie, did it even mean anything to you?” you blather at him, your voice thick with impending tears. “‘Cause it meant something to me.”

“Course it did,” he rasps at you, his arms squeezing you to him so tight that you’re running out of air to breathe. “I didn’t- I was being shitty. I’m sorry. Please, don’t leave.”

“Then don’t push me away.” The tears collect in your lashes, finally dripping down your cheeks. You turn in his arms and whack your hand flat against his chest. “Don’t treat me like some slut, don’t- I didn’t sleep with you just because I wanted you to fix my fucking car, you jerk.”

“I don’t think that,” Eddie insists quietly, wiping your tears away with his thumbs. “C’mon, now.”

“You said-”

“I know what I said,” he cuts you off. “And I didn’t mean it. I have a bad habit of throwing away the good things in my life, ‘cause… ‘cause of that martyr complex, you said-” He jams his tongue against the roof of his mouth when you hiccup, staring up at him with a wobbly lip. “Don’t let me throw you away. You’re the best thing I’ve ever had, ‘n I don’t wanna lose you just because I’m an idiot.”

You sigh, your head falling neatly into the crook of his neck like it’s meant to be there. He’s too quiet, holding you against him at the street corner. Eddie breathes in deep and kisses the side of your head longingly. 

“I can get us a car.”

You lift your head to look at him. He wears a disappointed expression. “But we don’t have any money.”

“It won’t take money,” Eddie mumbles as he strokes your back. “I, uh… I didn’t want to end up like my old man, but…” he shrugs, his eyes cast away from you. He chuckles sadly. “Nothin’ I can do about that, now, I guess. I mean, look how you met me.” 

Oh. You can infer what he means by the far-off look on his face, like he’s resigned himself to his fate. You lift your hands to cradle his face; the bruise on his cheekbone has faded to yellow, the scab on his chin almost healed. He’s never looked more beautiful to you.

“You’re a good man, Eddie,” you tell him sternly.

Eddie’s smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Don’t be too sure of that. You might change your mind.”

‘Cause you know I’ll be right there beside you, riding through all these western nights…

The sedan isn’t exactly flashy, or new. It’s a tin can on wheels that’ll crumble into bits if you so much as side-swipe a trash can. You keep a lookout as Eddie jimmies an unwound wire coat hanger between the glass window and the door, and a second later the door is unlocked.

You’re unnervingly calm. How did you get to be so calm about all this? Stealing money, driving getaway cars, stealing other cars when those ones don’t work. Suddenly an accomplice to whatever illegal shit has to happen for you to get where you’re going.

What’s worse, you think, is how badly the sight of him hotwiring the car turns you on. It’s practically horrifying the way your skin crawls and your core burns as you watch his hands fiddle with the wires beneath the console, so quick that your mind can barely process it. You’re not sure if the adrenaline in your veins is from looking to see if anyone’s coming, or if it’s because you want to jump his bones.

"I swear to you," he's saying as he swipes at frayed wires, "I swear, when we get to San Francisco, I'll never- I'm gonna get an honest, real fuckin' job, I'm not gonna do anything to hurt yo-"

The car starts, and you leap into the front seat without giving it any more thought. “Eddie?”

“Yeah, sweetheart?” He looks up at you, his brows tilted up expectantly. He’s still tucking wires back under the dashboard, preparing to take off once he gets the door shut.

“I slept with you because I’m falling in love with you.”

Eddie’s eyes go wide as moons, glittering in the light of a fluorescent floodlight at the corner of the dark parking lot. 

“You don’t have to love me back,” you tell him honestly. “I just wanted you to know. I’m with you. And I’m not gonna leave.”

You don’t know if he loves you back- not yet, anyways. He doesn’t say it to you. But he kisses you like he does.

I'll be screaming your name past the gas stations, trailing down the interstate. Please don’t love how I need you, and know that one day, you and I could be okay.

[shoyoist]

𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄 — haitani ran.

haitani ran doesn't care for anything. 

he has always been that way. laid back look in eyes, lips set in that impassive slant that somehow passed as a smile. you've known this about him for the lengthy amount of time you've been friends, and you were used to his languid attitude — and you didn't mind it, honestly.

you knew he only really cared when it was something about himself. his hair, his pride, or something to do with his little brother getting into danger.

which is why you're staring at him the way you are. 

watching him rub the darkening bruise at the left of his mouth as he fixes his hair (of course. his ever so precious hair.) after it had come loose, seated on your couch with that nonchalant look in his eyes — like he hadn't just beat the absolute shit out of your ex boyfriend.

thinking back on it, you weren't even sure why you'd called ran and told him about it. 

all you knew was that you'd just barely managed to move on from the way your ex cheated on you and dumped you months ago; and seeing the jerk at your door, hearing him tell you that he regretted everything and wanted you to give him a second chance — it had you fumbling for the phone in an instant.

"ran," you'd muttered, trying to keep your voice from reaching the guy standing more or less patiently behind the door you'd slammed in his face. "ran, he's here. and he says he wants me back. after everything he did—"

ran had cut you off with a simple 'give me five minutes, yeah?' — and then he was there, grabbing your ex by the collar and spitting in his face before throwing him onto the ground.

you'd stood there for a moment, confused, shocked and stunned to see the anger in ran's usually placid eyes. to see the way he used his fists, rather than the weapons he preferred. to hear him cuss your ex out, talking about how you deserved better than a piece of shit, about how if he ever showed his ass at your door again, he'd kill him on the spot.

you'd only snapped out of it when your ex managed to land a punch on ran's face, sending his head twisting to one side, blonde-and-black braids following the movement — and then you were stepping out, screaming at them to stop. 

ran looked up at you, recognized the upset written over your features, and withdrew. not without one last kick, but the fact that he'd immediately, actually stopped was another surprise. "get the fuck away." he'd hissed at your ex.

naturally, your ex had left the scene without further protest, hopefully never to return, but you were still stunned. because for a moment, it looked like haitani ran cared.

"lemme get a glass of water," he'd mumbled, all casual, shouldering past you into your house and making his way into your kitchen.

you followed, poured him his water, watched him drink and wash his mouth with it, and then followed him back into your living room where he now sat, redoing his hair.

deciding that you'd stared enough, he looks up. "what is it, huh?"

"ah," you scramble to find words that would make sense. "i was just wondering. you got here pretty fast."

"i was on my way." he explains dismissively.

"you were?" you ask. he nods, fixing one braid and undoing the other, letting the alternating waves of dyed hair fall across his shoulder, creating soft shadows over the slant of his face, against the watery sunlight coming through your window. "was gonna take you out for some ice cream."

"oh." and then you realize that in fact, he'd been doing that a lot the past weeks, after your break up.

showing up unannounced and asking you if you wanted to go out for some nothing-in-particular, telling you almost teasingly that he'd freed up some time just for you, so you better accept his offer.

you'd been appreciating his gestures as kindness shown to you by a friend — albeit one that was involved in various criminal activities, that you'd decided to look past because you'd known him for long enough to not care — but now, you were starting to wonder if it was something more.

the signs were all there, after all.

"ran, do you—" the words spill from your lips without your intention, and you hesitate, even as he looks up, flicking a strand of his hair out of his eyes that were now glowing with the light pooling in them. "yeah?"

fuck, you think, as his gaze grows sharper, steeling itself against yours.

"i'm just, uh," you really don't know how to say what you wanted to say. "it's just, you ... do you care?"

he raises an eyebrow, giving you a scrutinizing look. "the fuck's that supposed to mean, hm? care about what?"

"about ..." you take a deep breath. "scratch that. do you like me?"

he freezes momentarily, upon hearing your question — only for a fraction of a second — but you're watching him closely enough to catch it. you don't know what else to say, and there's silence in the air between you two for what feels like an age, before he simply finishes braiding his hair and stands up. 

your heart starts to beat faster, wondering if he was about to walk out with no explanation — perhaps you'd hit a nerve, perhaps you'd assumed wrong and thought too much about something that had no meaning. "wait—"

"look, i don't wanna be a rebound or anything." he starts, voice a little stiff, a little cold — and you shut your mouth, allowing him to continue. "i'm not about to get played or made a fool out of. so, so we'll take things slow. i'll wait for you to get over shit at your own pace. you take your time, and tell me if you ever wanna give me a chance."

"g-give you a chance?" your heart picks up pace again, because god, you weren't expecting him to say all of that. it wasn't like him to be so — so this way, and it was rendering you just a bit speechless. "ran, i . . . you, you really—"

he turns to you again, rolling his eyes — but you don't see any real annoyance behind it. "not in the mood to talk about it right now, love. let's just go get some food. and you know it's not gonna be any tacky shit like what ass-face treated you to, so hurry up."

and now, after that thrown out half-confession, the way he called you love sounded softer, less of a joke and more of something else. you felt bad, but you also can't help but feel relief. 

why relief?

because you know how you used to have a crush on him. 

hell, you'd been in love with ran, going as far as to break things off with your friends that tried to convince you that he was no good. 

and because you can't help the way you've been looking forward to his impromptu visits as of late, daydreaming and wondering when he was going to surprise you next, and with what.

you know how you'd seen your ex at your door and only felt fear and anger stir in your gut — and you know how you'd immediately dialled ran, and felt near-tears with consolation when he picked up so quickly, when you heard his voice in your ear.

because you were starting to wonder if your past love for him was slowly coming back.

you still needed some time to move on, and ran knew that. which is why he'd just said, that he's willing to wait. because he has feelings for you?

"but are you sure you're willing to," locking the door, you turn to him and walk after him, out to where he had his motorcycle parked across the street. "you know, willing to wait?"

"whatever." ran shrugged, not looking at you. you quickened your pace, catching up with him and grabbing his sleeve to cross the street together. his gaze was fixed on his motorcycle, but it didn't look like he was focused on the vehicle.

the breeze rustles gentle in your ears as you walk with him to the other side of the road, and the sound fills in any awkwardness that blooms between you two.

the sequence of events that had just played out, hadn't taken even an hour. but as you search your surroundings for any signs of any unwanted presences, you see nothing.

there's only a couple of kids passing by on bicycles, birds coming down to land on the branches of a tree growing some distance away, and pale sunlight sifting down frim between the clouds to pool on the asphalt at your feet.

you feel calm. ran shakes away the grip you've got on your sleeve, but as your hand falls down to rest slack at your side, he grabs it, and gives it a small squeeze — and you feel a tingle of something bright and hot run through your chest. 

swinging his leg over, he leaps onto the motorcycle, slipping the key into the ignition. you get on behind him, grabbing onto his shoulders for support, suddenly feeling warm despite the chilly wind that was starting to pick up. 

"i've waited long enough already, anyway." he added belatedly, sounding ever so laid back, despite the cherry colour tipping his ears. "take your time. nothing to it, waiting some more."

and as your heart warms, you think that perhaps you were wrong. 

perhaps haitani ran does care. for you.

note: interactions, reblogs & feedback are much appreciated!<3

[nutzgunray-lvt]

Why I Hate Canon Dadzawa

I'm pretty sure I've said this before multiple times, but Aizawa is my second least favorite character in MHA behind Bakugou and ahead of Shinsou. Most of this is because of his canon actions/how he's written, but a lot of this is due to people INSISTING that Fanon Dadzawa is Canon Dadzawa.

To put out a disclaimer, I don't mind Fanon Dadzawa. There's been some really well written Fanon Dadzawa fics that I like, and I'm of the belief that you can and should write whatever fics you want. I also think that Canon Dadzawa/Aizawa as a whole could have been such an interesting character had he been written better. Instead (like with almost every other character in MHA) we get someone whose actions don't match how he's supposed to come off as.

This topic is a sore spot for me, because the people who got me into MHA tried selling me on Dadzawa, Dadzawa, Dadzawa. I felt so tricked when I first got into it and saw that none of what they were saying was true.

Just like how Bakugou is a Temu version of Vegeta (so insulting to Vegeta) and Sasuke (who is another character I don't really like, but will put well above Bakugou), Aizawa is a SheIn version of Kakashi; a conventionally attractive, badass, no-nonsense teacher who genuinely cares about and is protective of his students. I have my problems with Kakashi, but it's at least been actually shown that he cares for his students, and whenever he does a "Rational Deception", he not only immediately explains himself, but he only ever did them in his introduction. For that matter, he's actually a good friend to Guy.

Aizawa, on the other hand, is a hot mess of a walking, talking contradiction in writing and Character Shilling. We're constantly told that he's this amazing teacher and amazing person, but the evidence doesn't match up with these claims.

He never owns up to his failings, choosing to a) ignore them entirely, b) excuse them away, or c) throw other undeserving people under the bus to make himself look good. We see this in how he halfheartedly acknowledges Ida angrilly calling him out on his repeated lying to 1A, when he excuses away his utter failure in curbing Bakugou's awful behavior with his "deep seated conviction" in bring a hero, and when he tries throwing All Might under the bus when Hound Dog calls them out in exaserbating Izuku's trust issues after the Gentle Criminal fight.

For that matter, he has yet to apologize to Izuku after his realization during the Liberation Front War of how much of jackass he was to him. Seriously, Izuku has saved his ass I don't know how many times, and he continued being such an ungrateful bastard towards him. I'm not saying he should have gotten on his knees and proclaimed his life to him, but you would think that would have at least changed his attitude towards him.

And speaking of Izuku, while he's always on his ass about his Quirk control... he completely ignores the issues that Aoyama and Kaminari have with THEIR Quirks. Kaminari being taken hostage at the USJ due to his lack of Quirk Control goes completely unacknowledged, and Aoyama's lack of Quirk Control is treated solely for comedic value. You'd think Dadzawa: Best UA Teacher would try to help the two of them as well, but nope.

I could go on all day about his expulsion record, but the point is, he's ruining these students' lives due to him projecting his own traumas onto them. I have to reiterate this, but these expulsions DO IN FACT stay on their permanent records. In Japan, having an expulsion on your permanent record CAN AND WILL prevent you from getting a well paying job. Expulsion is treated as an absolute last resort for a reason, and to see him throw that threat around like it's nothing is horrible of him. Nedzu is a horribly negligent principal for letting Aizawa do this, and the fact that nobody has sued UA for this is a miracle.

Then we get to his favoritism of Bakugou and Shinsou, probably the biggest indicator of his hypocrisy.

It makes absolutely NO SENSE that Aizawa's presented as this strict hardass of a teacher, and then he's shown giving preferental treatment to an abusive egoist (that was canonically how Bakugou was described in his character profile) and a whiny, Quirkist Troll doll that's not even in the Heroics Course. This is especially egrigious considering how often he bitches and moans about All Might mentoring Izuku! He sticks his neck out for Bakugou when he absolutely doesn't deserve it and when you know for a fact he wouldn't do this for his other students.

For that matter, he's such an awful friend to Mic and Midnight. His relationship with both of them is all take and no give. Mic canonically surpressed his own grief and trauma surrounding Oboro and Midnight's deaths for Aizawa's sake, and while it was wrong of Midnight to throw Aizawa's name into the teacher's ring behind his back, he repays her trying to get him a job by doing all the above I just listed. His relationship with them is unhealthy as hell, especially since they NEVER take him to task for his awful behavior.

On top of all of THAT, he genuinely thinks he's this amazing teacher and person, given how angry he gets at Mic for calling him a terrible teacher during the Sports Festival. He calls Vlad King a better teacher than him... but doesn't do ANYTHING to change his ways. You can't have it both ways, Aizawa.

In conclusion, Aizawa would have been such an interesting character had he been allowed to examine and change his attitude and teachings. Instead, we get someone who unfairly has a reputation of being a paragon of goodness and rationality.

[the-s1lly-corner]

Hewo I know Halloween is over but may I have TADC cast x Jack Skellington!Reader? Plus their dog also got transported and turned into Zero.

Imagine an 11ft tall skeleton rising out the giant ballpit thing

If Jax or Caine pisses them off they do the scary face thing

TADC cast x jack skellington! Type reader!

I dont mention the dog much since I dont really. Have many ideas for them <\3

Also I have not seen nightmare before Christmas in YEARS so UHUH! This may be a bit off

Written on mobile

I'm down with the sickness but the sickness is not down with me (too sore to sleep)

CAINE:

You guys walk bubble and your dog together/j

Actually no that would be.. kind of funny.. I can definitely see caine doing that if hes trying to befriend you

Chaotic gentleman (is that a thing? Honestly I'm just basing the gentleman part on the fact caine says stuff like "my dear" and goes out of his way to welcome new circus members but uhuh) and calm gentleman duo

Things happen

Honestly I think you would balance him out, like either he tones down or you compliment his personality enough to make it more bearable to others

POMNI:

Similar to the skeleton reader post, pomni is a little offput by you being a skeleton. It's like how you instinctively get freaked out when you see an exposed brain, usually means somethings very wrong. Same case with your bones I think. At least for pomni while shes getting used to things. Though your gentle and kind demeanor really helps ease things along, and pomni finds herself comfortable around you!

AND you come with a dog? Tbh I can see pomni being a dog person

... If that's your dog, assuming it's not an NPC, does that mean your dog got a mini headset...?

RAGATHA:

Kind lady and kind person. You guys kind of just brighten up the room whenever you two are around, and even more so if you're together... though, that isn't saying much given the general attitude of the others..

You both tend to band together to look out for the others during IHAs, I think

Let's you rattle on about your interests; I'm sure most others would let you do the same, but I think Ragatha would actually be actively engaged in it! I think Kinger would be too...

Sets you three down in a corner and observes

JAX:

Writing this down first before I forget but Jax would do an exaggerated fake scream when you do the scary face thing. I don't think jax would be all the phased by it. If you're a skeleton you're cursed with him trying to undo your bones, very similar to the TADC cast x skeleton reader post from a few days ago

Personality wise? Jax is going to try to find your limits and break them. Oh you're a gentleperson who handles things with grace? Not for long.. unless you have the patience and forgiveness of a god

KINGER:

I think he would enjoy your prescence! Just dont do the face thing around him, hes probably gonna freak out even if it's not directed towards him. Kinger doesnt strike me as the type to like scary things..

Pets your dog, a lot

Emotional support animal/j but actually I can see him becoming attatched to your dog

Not much to be said here but I'm chalking that more up to me being tired <\3

ZOOBLE:

Is a little annoyed by your enthusiasm to learn as much as you can about whatever topic ha syour interest; bonus if you're current interest is the digital world and trying to figure out all the ins and outs of it

....they're more of a cat person, I think... ir maybe a snake person... or reptile person in general.. doesnt hate your dog, though

Can at least appreciate your mannerisms and politeness

I can see you two being decent friends , I think

GANGLE:

Another one where I think you guys could make decent friends. Honestly, I didnt write this to be romantic (though some of these can be interpreted as such!) But I wholeheartedly believe gangle would develop a crush on you. I mean, come on! You're a gentleman, you're a lil quirky, you're kind and curious, and so on! Bonus if you look the part, too. I have a hc lying around somewhere where I believe gangle used to play dating sims in the real world and tbh. She would definitely go after characters that reflected you... and oh look youre a real person, hell yeah

It was either characters like you or the dark mysterious ones

But maybe I'm hella projecting onto gangle

Gangle is our x reader enjoyer rep/hj

[lemons4u]

𝐈 𝐌𝐄𝐓 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐍𝐄𝐓 ! - 𝐀𝐋𝐇𝐀𝐈𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐌

𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒┊i’ve left you guys w nothing for so long 💔 so take this small series (multiple chapters) as a apology, hopefully you guys will forgive meeee— AND i’d like to add the kazuha smut isn’t gonna come out till the end of november or thee begging of december, anddd expect a albedo smau ❤️

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒┊fluff, suggestive (ofc, it’s written by pri, what else do u expect?), fem! reader, modern au, somewhat ooc alhaitham not rly though, AND CUTIE PATOOTIE READER… w a little attitude

“ come on alhaitham! it can’t hurt to try dating someone… ” kaveh tried to reason with him— claiming that he’d been single long enough and needed a relationship. ( also he is very attractive, and has chicks swarming all around him… you’d think he’d make the effort to start something with one of them… but! guess not! )

“ kaveh, i said no. i’m in no need of a reltionship— plus all these.. girls. ” he hesitated— thinking of a proper way to describe them.

“ their annoying, and clearly don’t care much for their studies.. i need a partner who actually has a brain. ” alhaitham said sourly.

“ ugh… ” kaveh pouted, “ brains aren’t everything, you know? if i were you i would’ve got a girlfriend already!! ”

“ i hope one day these girls realize you’ve got no personality and are rude and— and well, you know!”

“then they’ll realize what a true man is… ” he grinned. “ aka, me. ”

“ brains aren’t everything? i disagree… a persons brain is—”

“ shush! i don’t need one of your lectures about how blah blah means blah blah. ” kaveh scoffed, frowning once more.

“ one day you’re going to end up dating a no brainer, just because their pretty. ” alhaitham murmured, closing his book and leaning his head back on his seat.

“ and you’re gonna end up dating no one. ” kaveh snapped back.

“ fine by me. ” alhaitham said stoically, but to be honest… he did want to love someone eventually, but he wouldn’t admit that to kaveh.

“ you know what? if you can’t find anyone you like here at our uni… why not get a dating app! there’s plenty of smart people on those! ” kaveh exclaimed excitedly, desperate to get his “lonely” roommate a partner.

“ and get catfished? no thank you. ” alhaitham declined quickly… but seriously, a dating app might be a good idea— maybe he could meet someone at his intellectual level.. not some dumbass like all the girls here.

“ not everyone on dating apps are catfishers, come on! please try one! and i’ll pay you a visit to the library…!! ” kaveh pleaded. “ you don’t even have to date… you can just make a friend! ”

friend….? well he certainly needed more of those— as well as new books.

“ a visit to the bookstore, not library, and you have a deal. ” alhaitham tilted his head up at kaveh.

“ ugh… fine. just don’t buy too many books! or else i’ll never be able to afford supplies for my project. ”

alhaitham hummed. “ alright, i’ll limit myself to… eh, three books. ”

from the most expensive section too…

“ three?! come on make it at least two… ” kaveh pouted. “ you always get the most expensive books, so two! ”

alhaitham sighed, “ fine, two books, and i’ll try that stupid dating app. ”

“ bet! ” kaveh gleamed, picking up alhaitham’s phone which made alhaitham jolt up a bit.

“ hey what are you— ” kaveh shushed him.

“ getting you the app, obviously!! ” kaveh chuckled, flashing the phone over to alhaitham’s face for face-id.

poor alhaitham couldn’t even snatch it back.

kaveh was typing away on alhaithams phone ( without alhaitham’s consent too! how rude! )

“ here! now you can set up your profile. ” kaveh handed alhaitham back the phone.

“ okay, okay. ” alhaitham muttered, sounding unhappy… but in reality he was a little bit excited.

“ kaveh. why do you even want me to date someone….? ”

“ because haitham, your 23 and haven’t even gotten a peck on the lips— and your like, i dunno, attractive? i have no idea i just wanna help you live a little… ”

alhaitham blinked at his friend a couple of times… live a little? he was already living his life the best he could.

well actually, that was debatable.

“ yeah, okay. ” alhaitham clicked on the profile… he needed a profile picture and bio..

“ use the photo from the festival! you know, the one with the glasses and you actually smiling! ” kaveh suggested.

“ that one…? okay. ” alhaitham scrolled through his gallery, which was mostly just photos of kaveh making faces, books, and some things he found appealing (aesthetic sunsets, and photos of trees and plants).

“ what about for my bio? ” alhaitham asked kaveh, who seemed to already be conducting something “good”.

“ say your name, age, mbti, zodiac, and major! and whatever else you think is important for your soulmate to know. ” kaveh nodded proudly.

“ soulmate? you make me laugh. there’s no such things as soulmates. ” alhaitham scoffed. “ people fall in love and that’s it, there’s no mystical soulmate thing behind it— think realistically kaveh. ”

“ i am thinking realistically! ” kaveh snapped back, brows furrowing. “ your so ungrateful. ”

“ and my zodiac? the fuck does that have to do with anything? ” alhaitham raised a eyebrow, but typed it down anyways.

“ i thought you believed in astrology! ”

kaveh sighed, trying to calm himself down— screaming wasn’t going to help him. he couldn’t get a another sore throat from alhaitham.

“ whatever, just put anything down at this point…”

“ i should write down ‘ lover has to be smart ’… ” alhaitham said with the faintest smile.

kaveh gave him a look.

“ it’s a joke dumb ass. ” or was it?

( 2 days later ) it was about 1:24 a.m— and for some reason alhaitham was awake watching tiktok.

i mean he couldn’t sleep because of kaveh’s loud snoring.. and he has finished his books— and didn’t exactly want to binge on his new ones all in one night.

and that’s when he got it— a silly little notification.

‘ you matched with… [ name ], [ last name ] ! congratulations!! ’

“ the fuck… ” alhaitham squinted, clicking on the notification to be brought to your profile.

he examined it for a moment, you took the same major as him and were fairly… pretty.

he stared at it for a moment longer before receiving another notification.

‘ [ name ], [ last name ] would like to chat with you! ’

of course, he quickly clicked the approve button.

⟣ master list ⋆ next ⋆ prev

[spliffymae]

WRITTEN OFF.

synopsis: it’s just you and your ex husband speaking…at three in the morning…with tensions at a crazy high…you’re totally fine.

⚠️, swearing, mentions of cheating, smut, oral (m receiving), toji is a dickhead, reader experiencing body issues during pregnancy, angst with a mix of sadness.

pt.1 if y’all haven’t read it already :)

kio’s notes - guys i am so proud of this part. omfg idk what it is but i ate this shit up. also wanted to just say thank you all so much for interacting with my posts and loving my stories 🫶🏽🥹 honestly makes me so happy to know y’all love it!

now playing:

⊱ ──────── {.⋅ ♫ ⋅.}──────── ⊰

“so my name can’t be said in your house, toji? what, am i voldemort now?”

“might as well be.” he mumbled, looking anywhere but at you. he couldn’t, not when you wore one of his old college sweaters he had forgotten at your house when you two started dating, four years ago. you ended up keeping it as a part of your wardrobe.

unfortunately, you hadn’t a clue that you were wearing something of his.

you folded your arms, leaning on your right leg. you were going to start with your attitude, you knew that for certain, and you didn’t care. “really? that’s how we’re acting? grow the hell up, toji. i’m not the one who ruined our marriage.”

“no just the one who ended it, right?”

you scoffed, “well i wonder why!” you said sarcastically. if he could play the ass then so could you. hell, you’d do it better.

toji rolled his eyes as a response. “i’m not doing whatever this is with you, (y/n). just tell me what megumi took and let me go take care of him.” he pinched the bridge of his nose with his empty hand. he was stressed, the evidence all over his face.

unbeknownst to you, he had been having the hardest time as a single father, trying to manage the complexities between todays adolescent life and the development of a baby. now add on his hefty paperwork from his missions and he was positive he could be sent to an early grave from stressing so hard. there wasn’t enough time in the day.

“i don’t know what the drug is, he—.” toji cut you off,

“the hell you mean you don’t know?” he spoke as if you should’ve known, almost judging you for not. the tone had your brow raised, now looking at him with narrow eyes. it was your way of telepathy, non-verbally telling him to ‘watch it’, because he was on paper thin ice.

“like i was saying—he got in the car and didn’t say. i didn’t even think to ask at that moment because i was just concerned with bringing him home first. it was a priority but at—.”

he cut you off again, this time with a scoff.

“just not top priority, right?”

you blinked.

you blinked again.

there was a silence between the two of you. a thick silence holding all the tension you two had created from being in the others presence.

toji had regretted the words just as they came out. he knew he messed up. he knew megumi had been your top priority when he didn’t have to be. when you were nothing more than toji’s friend who would just babysit the young boy whenever his father went out on missions.

megumi had been your first child, whether it be by blood or not. you loved him like he was, raised him, and became the parent he never knew he needed.

toji would always say it was your smile that drew him in, or say to his colleagues at work dinners it was your beauty, but truthfully—honestly, it was the way you loved his son like he was your own.

“i’m gonna give you a chance to take that back,” you spoke softly, voice slightly cracking. “because i know right now you’re just saying shit to hurt me. i love megumi, and if you wanna swing low, i promise you, toji, i will swing to hell.” you pointed. your eyes had become glossy with tears and you hated it.

megumi was a soft spot for you, always has been. whenever you and toji would get in spats in regard to him you were always on the defense for megumi. you were his advocate when there was no one else. but you were also reminded by toji (only when boiling points had been reached) that your advocacy did not need to be respected because you were not megumi’s real mom.

toji looked at his daughter, who had fallen asleep against his chest, soft and shallow breaths leaving her lips. she was your twin and he knew it was his karma. karma for his infidelity, his lying ways. he knew he shouldn’t have said anything, but he couldn’t help it.

“say it, toji. tell me i’m not his mom—do it!” you stepped closer. your eyes quickly darted to your daughter to see if your sudden volume increase had startled her awake. thankfully it didn’t.

“tell me he’s not my son, go ahead. tell me i went to every sports game, recital, and parent-teacher interview by myself because he wasn’t my son. say it, i want to hear you say, ‘(y/n), you’re not megumi’s mom. he’s not your son.”

there were tears in your eyes now, droplets falling after you’d blink. “let me remind you while you were out getting your dick wet in another bitch, i was home, pregnant and alone, with megumi who had a high ass fever. i took care of him when his own father put pussy over him. so don’t come to me about my priorities, ight?”

at the mention of his cheating, toji’s lips pressed into a thin line. he had definitely struck a nerve with his previous comment.

“i told you she meant nothing to me. i wasn’t in my right mind and—”

“and were just mad at your pregnant wife, so you decided to cheat on her. that would show me, huh toji?”

how many times was he going to have to apologize for what he did?

for doing the one thing he swore to not do?

he opened his mouth to speak. what he was going to say was what he didn’t quite know just yet. he wasn’t sure if he wanted to defend himself or just fight back. what was even the point of fighting back? everything you were saying was true.

rin had fussed from under him, her little whines being a reminder to her parents she was still present.

“i—” toji began but you cut him off by raising your hand up,

“shut up and feed my child. i’m going to go check on my son.” you didn’t wait for response from him as you turned to head upstairs, stomping away to let out some anger.

you left toji to realize he was in fact about to feed rin before arguing with you. and he cursed himself for forgetting what he originally came downstairs to do.

“shit.” he muttered as he went to the couch. he took her out the carrier and sat down with her. thankfully her bottle hadn’t spoiled and was still warm. damn you for being aware of your daughters needs.

“sorry, rinny. got distracted.” he kissed her forehead as he put the bottle to her lips. there was that feeling he felt in the kitchen again, that guilt. he hated it.

it was like someone took a fire to the inside of his stomach. it was hot, burning even. he was uncomfortable whenever it came because it was a feeling he couldn’t suppress.

he felt ever since that night, and it only ever grew as the days progressed.

toji had come home later than he told you, he had to stop to bring home food for you and megumi, as well as shower to rid himself of the smell of sex.

he didn’t mean to do it, honestly. he was just mad and needy. you hadn’t been giving him the attention he wanted from you. you wouldn’t let him touch you or even kiss you anywhere that wasn’t on your face. he needed the intimacy, and you only wanted privacy.

you claimed it was because you felt gross. you tried to explain to your husband how the pregnancy was affecting your mental state, mostly how you viewed your body. you already had body issues prior to being pregnant, but now, at your six month mark, you felt like you didn’t know who was staring back at you in the mirror.

but toji couldn’t understand. he kept trying to tell you how pretty you were to him, how beautiful you were all big with his baby, but you would never really take in his words. you just shrugged them and his reassuring kisses off with a fake smile and a quiet “thanks.”

you were supposed to go with him to this big work dinner. you had promised him you’d go and be his pretty little wife months ago. smile big in front of potential clients, mention your husband’s various accolades, basically put toji on a pedestal so they would choose him.

but when the night came, you weren’t feeling up for the event. toji of course wasn’t pleased as he had been telling you about this dinner for months. he tried to convince you to come but like previous disputes you two have had, it ended in yelling and arguments.

you yelled at him for his apathy; not understanding just how tired you were from carrying his baby, working during the pregnancy, and being the present parent for megumi in terms of school while toji went on his missions.

he yelled at you for not giving him the attention he deserves as your husband. for not being there for him when he needed you. honestly he knew it was dumb to have this argument. he should’ve just kissed you and agreed to let you stay home. but his stupid pride got in the way.

so he ended up going alone, dressed in his fancy suit and shoes, silver audemars piguet watch on his wrist and cuff links to match. he walked into the banquet hall and decided he would do it all himself—like he always did.

that’s when he stumbled into her, shoko ieri. she had complimented him on the way he flipped one of the biggest and most stubborn drug lords in the city to hire him for a hit job. she offered to buy him a celebratory drink, whiskey—since she was drinking it too.

it happened fast, at least to toji. the way they went from a playful banter by the bar to sitting next to each other at one of the tables. she had been a guest of his colleague, satorou gojo. she was a doctor for men in his line of work.

“so if i get injured on the job…” toji remembers starting, leaning back in the chair and putting his arm around the back of shoko’s. he had a smirk on his face as he manspread in his seat.

“then just stop by mine and i’ll make it all better.” she patted his cheek, eyes twinkling in mischief.

she ordered another round of whiskey for the two of them. the more he drank, the more you and megumi slipped from his mind. the more he ignored the gnawing sound in the back of his head. the one that kept telling him to stop.

another round of whiskey lowers the volume of his conscience. he can hear shoko better as she tells him about an impromptu surgery she performed on toji’s other colleague—and the godfather to your daughter, suguru geto. she touches toji’s bicep every now and again, as the story reaches turning points and it’s climax. the noise in his head comes back once she finishes the story, reminding him that you are waiting for him at home.

“but i don’t want to talk about me. i want to hear about the one and only toji fushiguro,” she leans in to him and his heart swells.

another round of whiskey. the noise has been minimized to a hum toji now hears every now and again as he tells her about an operation gone wrong in nagasaki. the conversation takes a flirtatious turn when shoko’s hand flies to his knee in a somber stroke, mumbling about how tired toji must’ve been after. his ego bursts.

another round of whiskey and toji does not recall there ever being a noise in his head. it’s quiet now, with only the sound of the jazz band and shoko having his attention. her hand remains on his knee, cherry red nails scraping against his thigh as it inches higher. toji makes a comment about switching to water for the night but shoko reminds him that just like the night they are both young.

another round of whiskey. toji’s hand is squeezing shoko’s thigh, his fingers grazing higher to places he yearns to explore. her lips now the colour plum, stained from the red wine she was nursing in between shots.

“there’s a hotel above us, y’know.” her eyes were piercing into his own. lips in a smirk and cheeks red from being flustered.

“so why are we still sitting here?” toji asked, lifting a brow. shoko smiled and unlocked her phone, passed it to him with the contact page open.

“add yourself. then wait for ten minutes.” she had a confidence about her that toji found captivating. so he did as she said, tapping his thumbs against her screen and filling out the information. when he gave her back the phone, she smiled and stood up, sauntering away.

his dick was hard. he was leaning back in the chair, wiping a hand down his face to calm himself down.

in the moments he spent to himself, the noise he had long forgotten slowly made its way back to max volume. he signaled to the waitress for another round.

the glasses of alcohol were brought in front of him, two tall shot glasses. he took them down without a thought, the liquid burning his throat.

his phone vibrated on his lap,

unknown

room 615.

it happened in slow motion, at least to toji. the way his fist knocked against the door of the hotel room and shoko answered with a smirk before pulling him in by his belt. then things started to pick up.

the way he cupped her face and kissed her hungrily. his anger from earlier and passion from the lust he felt were put into the kiss, the sounds of their lips smacking and shoko moaning ringing in his ears.

she broke away to flash a wicked smile before she bent down in her heels, becoming eye level with his crotch. she began pawing at the bulge in his pants, emitting a groan from him. his hand grabbed at her hair, chestnut coloured tresses bunched up in his fist and a gruff “suck it” leaving his lips.

his dick was hard and it was leaking for her. the way she sucked on his reddened tip had his eyes fluttering closed. she opened her mouth wide and took him until her nose was brushing against his freshly trimmed pubic hairs.

those same nails that had his leg jumping traced his prominent v-line. toji was seeing stars as she began to bob her head. he hadn’t gotten head in so long, months probably. her throat was so tight, so warm.

does it help if he said he thought of you during it, the cheating?

when he had her back arched over the bathroom sink and stared at her fucked out expression through the mirror, he saw you for a minute. he blamed the alcohol, of course.

would it make you feel better if he said he used condoms?

he didn’t want to bring anything back to you. and after that night, he got tested sometime that week to make sure everything was okay. it was, and he let out a sigh of relief.

can knowing he felt like absolute shit once he finished bring you solace?

when she had come for the third and final time in the bed, he gave her a kiss to the forehead as she fell to sleep. he walked bear to the shower and at the sight of himself in the mirror he wanted to throw up.

he came home just after midnight to find you were sitting outside megumi’s door with a blanket over your body and head resting back against the wall.

“love,” toji crouched down and shook you softly. you should have been in bed. “(y/n), wake up.”

you stirred, but eventually your eyes opened to see your husband, with a curious look on his face. “you’re on the floor.”

“why didn’t you answer your phone?” was the first thing you asked him. you didn’t say hi, you didn’t ask how the night was—you got straight to it.

toji pulled his phone out from his pants pocket and turned off his do not disturb to see he had five missed calls and ten texts from you.

“i put it on do not disturb so i could focus on the clients, m’sorry baby. what happened, are you okay?” he quickly scrolled through the messages:

wifey👩🏽‍❤️‍💋‍👨🏻💍

you seriously are going to throw a fit bc i’m pregnant and tired?

wifey👩🏽‍❤️‍💋‍👨🏻💍

fine fuck you then

wifey👩🏽‍❤️‍💋‍👨🏻💍

ok not fuck you fuck you. fuck you for now

wifey👩🏽‍❤️‍💋‍👨🏻💍

megs is sick and his head is burning. is your dinner close to finishing?

wifey👩🏽‍❤️‍💋‍👨🏻💍

toji i get we are beefing atm but our son is sick and i need your help

wifey👩🏽‍❤️‍💋‍👨🏻💍

he just told me to leave him alone bc he doesn’t want to get me sick and possibly harm the baby. i told him that won’t happen but he won’t listen to me. toji pls call him

wifey👩🏽‍❤️‍💋‍👨🏻💍

bro can you not be on your petty shit for a hot minute and just answer me?! i don’t know what to do he has chills now! holy fuck

wifey👩🏽‍❤️‍💋‍👨🏻💍

toji !

wifey👩🏽‍❤️‍💋‍👨🏻💍

update: it’s been an hr, idk what tf you got goin on but megs is still sick. i made him soup and he had a little before throwing up. i gave him some medicine and cold towel for his head but there’s no change. idek why i’m texting this shit to you 🙄

wifey👩🏽‍❤️‍💋‍👨🏻💍

if i lock your ass out pls know it was justified.

toji looked at you with apologetic eyes. you were mad, rightfully so. you had expressed to him how uncomfortable you had been lately, with your body in more pain then before. standing up for long was difficult, he knew this. he had heard the doctor tell you not to over exert yourself and take it easy on your body.

“started to think you wouldn’t be coming home.” you pushed the blanket off of you, dressed in one of his tee shirts and a pair of your pajama pants, your cornrows tucked away under your hair scarf.

you struggled to get up on your own, your max weight now being shifted to your front and creating an imbalance. but you did it with a huff, toji standing tall now and watching. he had offered to help but you slapped his hand away.

“(y/n)—.”

“shut the fuck up. i’m going to bed and you’re on the couch.” you pushed the blanket into his chest. he was still slightly drunk so he stumbled back a bit, but caught himself.

toji didn’t have any more time to dwell on his past actions. or to recall the night you found out, because you had come back downstairs. “megs’ still high, but he says it’s better than how he was before. he said he and his friends took a pill—probably molly. i ordered him some food to eat so hopefully it comes down fast. rin doing okay?” you stood at the bottom of the stairs, leaning against the banister.

in front of you was toji’s back as he held rin, who was fast asleep in a formula coma. the bottle was empty and she was content, snoring away in her fathers arms.

“she’s fine now.” he mumbled but you heard. and with a nod, you walked to the door to put your shoes back on.

“great, i’ll be on my way. listen out for his food. kiss rin f’me.”

toji heard you unlock the door, and heard the sound of it opening. before you walked out though, he called out to you.

“yes?”

“was there any part of you that would’ve taken me back….after everything?” he turned his head so he could see you in his peripheral. he wasn’t going to look at you as you said it, he couldn’t.

he doesn’t think you understand how hard it’s been to look at you since that night.

you blew air out your mouth, cheeks puffed and eyebrows raised. you hadn’t expected for this to be the question he asks you as you get ready to leave. not at damn near five in the morning.

but might as well, right?

“honestly, yeah. i would always have these random moments where i would feel like i needed you again, in my life or in my bed…but then i would remember that you cheated on me when i was pregnant, and when i was in the darkest period of my pregnancy, at that.”

the emotions were still raw for you, the betrayal and the pain. it was a feeling that felt almost close to that of stabbing. a piercing blade through your heart that turned deeper into the organ anytime you’d think about it.

“i, uh, remember how i stayed up crying for months after because i just knew that whoever that woman was, she must’ve been the definition of gorgeous—because you used to tell me there was not a being alive who could outshine my beauty. and i believed you.”

“i didn’t lie” toji said. his voice was shaky and he honestly didn’t know why he asked you such a question. it was obvious there was no sign of reconciliation between you two. but yet he asked anyways, hoping some higher being somewhere would give him back his family. he didn’t appreciate it at first, but he’s learned now.

you chuckled dryly, “no, you were just proven wrong. goodnight, toji.” you quickly left after that, not wanting to wait around for anything he had to say.

as far as you were concerned, that was the end. it was over.

pt. 3